'IT WAS A LIVING HELL...' FRANK TALK FROM DRUG USERS, SURVIVORS TO
HELP OTHERS

Chelsea Norris wakes up every morning reaching for a hit of the
crystal meth she once stashed in her night table.

She's still terrified of the dark; she hears voices that aren't there,
and people who aren't around.

She's haunted by memories of trying to suffocate her dog, of attacking
her mother with a rake, and introducing friends to a drug many still
can't get away from.

She can't be around those friends any more, because she can't help
them. They have to help themselves, just like she did 18 months ago.

Now 18, the freckled, brunette remembers well how she got caught up in
the addictive drug. She's telling her story as part of an in-your-face
documentary on crystal meth use, to help someone else resist the drug.

"I want to do what I can," she said during a recent visit to White
Rock beach, one of the many places she did and dealt the drug.

She said taking part in the video "kind of helps me a little bit" in
her ongoing recovery.

"I wish I'd known the consequences."

Norris was in Grade 9 at Semiahmoo Secondary when she started using
crystal meth. She had braces and acne, and was a shy, chunky 5'5".

After a squabble turned most of her friends against her, the
"magnificence" of crystal meth was a welcome escape. A pusher she
thought was a friend promised getting high would give her more energy,
help her lose weight, and make her feel more outgoing. The weight loss
sounded particularly appealing-Norris remembers thinking if she was
thinner, somebody might like her.

She started out using crystal meth on weekends. Within a month, she
was high every day. After two months, she was using six times a day.

Flying on a concoction of such toxins as battery acid and paint
thinners, she'd stay awake for days. The ephedrine-based high wiped
out her appetite and stripped her of 60 pounds within a year.

Then came the mood swings-the pusher friend never told her about
those. Her phases of irritability exploded into violence.

"It'd slowly get worse. I'd snap and freak out," Norris
said.

"I attacked my mom a couple times. I came after her and tried to knock
down her door with a metal rake."

That was the peak of her downhill slide, and rock-bottom was just
around the corner.

Norris' mom, driven to a nervous breakdown-in fact, she's still on
stress leave two years later-called police on her daughter, and in the
same breath kicked her out of the house.

"I was terrified of her, absolutely terrified," Jane Norris
said.

Chelsea's violence had been unpredictable for a year. Once, she
punched her mother, fracturing her jaw, simply because her hair caught
on an earring and pulled during a hug.

"It was like walking around the house on eggshells," Jane Norris
said.

"It was a living hell."

Homeless, Chelsea turned to a life on the streets of downtown
Vancouver, staying with other drug users or her dealers, and using
money her mom sent for food to buy more drugs. She'd go a week or more
without eating, putting her habit above everything else.

Meantime, her mother searched frantically for a treatment centre that
had room for her daughter. She called every facility in B.C., finally
tracking down a bed in Prince George. She had three days to find her
daughter, and let her know help was there if she wanted it. The only
catch was Chelsea had to want the help, had to ask for it herself.

Fortunately, she did. She's been clean since May 26, 2003, and is
closer than ever to her mom. She'll graduate from her Aldergrove high
school in June.

Her addiction left her with more than bad memories. Doctors say
Chelsea may have permanent brain damage from the drug. Once an
articulate girl, today she struggles to voice an opinion, and stumbles
for words. Even reading aloud has become a challenge.

She's on mood calming medication, and goes to counselling
weekly.

Still, "It gets better every day," she said.

"You still have low points, where you feel like you're an ex-drug
addict, but you've just got to keep hoping...relearn how to live your
life without using."