METH MADNESS NOT WORTH THE FALSE ILLUSION

Insanity: The impossibility of reason; self-delusion and self-loathing.

That's what I think of when I hear the term "crystal meth."

I know a few things about this drug because I did a series at the last
paper where I worked. I took time to interview some recovering addicts and
look at the impact on the community.

Marshall County authorities made the largest single meth bust in county
history earlier this week.

When I heard about this, it reminded me of the story of Shelly Gardner, a
31-year-old from Fort Payne whose horrific scars remind her every day what
methamphetamine can do to a person's life. Shelly was cooking meth in a
trailer she shared with her mother and son, using candles for light because
she hadn't paid the power bill.

"I knew of the danger," she said, "but I didn't think anything would happen
to me. Even though I knew better and had stopped a guy a week earlier from
doing the same thing, I splashed some Coleman fuel everywhere and set a jar
with a candle on top of the container. It took three hours for me to get
from Sulfur Springs to Erlanger hospital in Chattanooga (a 30-minute trip)
because my so-called friends were afraid they would get in trouble," she said.

"I begged them, I screamed. I held a water hose over myself for the longest
time. My boyfriend at the time put me in the bathtub at his momma's house.
She finally convinced them to take me."

As proof of how addictive meth is, Shelly used it again.

"I continued snorting it because it made me feel better than other people.
I felt all-powerful, larger than life, but I actually lost my trailer, my
car, my son and almost my life."

She became a kleptomaniac to support her habit, and it took rehab for her
to confront her low self-esteem. Meth created the illusion of pleasure
while reality became a sort of hell.

"I would have done anything for meth because the addiction took my
conscience and morals," Shelly told me.

Then there was the case of Jess Bewley, a popular cheerleader, National
Honor Society member and part of a state championship soccer team. She came
from what some people would call a "good" family. Self-esteem wasn't her
problem, but she worried about the extra weight she put on after giving
birth. She saw her husband, Brad, out partying with skinny girls using
meth, so she tried it herself. From that moment on, she was hooked.

The baby was handed to one set of grandparents to raise, and the Bewleys
missed Christmas because their only priority was finding some more meth. As
messed up as that sounds, at least the Bewleys did not cook the volatile
chemicals in front of the child.

The breaking point for her was the day her father stopped by their house to
visit while the Bewleys were cooking meth with a dealer, who revealed a
pistol when the father knocked on the door.

"[The dealer] said,'If he comes in, he's dead,'" she recalled. "I hid. We
all did, acting like we weren't there, but he knew."

Brad Bewley once heard a car turn around in the driveway and poured
gasoline into the carpet, holding a lit match in case someone burst through
the door. When Jess left him, he led police on a high speed pursuit that
ended with 17 revolvers pointed at him.

If anyone out there reading this is tempted to try meth, please don't. We
don't want to report in this newspaper that you've been arrested or
worse... run your obituary.