MONSTER METH: FIGHTING FIRES OF ADDICTION

Shelli Garner doesn't need anyone to remind her what methamphetamine can do
to a person's life.

Garner, 31 of Fort Payne, recalls her addiction every time she looks at the
scars on her arms and legs.

"I was cooking meth in the trailer I had shared with my mom and my son in
Ider," Garner said. "The power had been turned off so I lit candles. I knew
of the danger 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."

She was engulfed in flames.

"It took three hours for me to get from Sulfur Springs to Erlanger hospital
in Chattanooga because my so-called friends were afraid they would get in
trouble," Garner 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."

Her injuries required skin grafts to heal the burned flesh.

While in the hospital, Garner thought about all the reasons why, at the age
of 26, she tried crystal meth.

"I had never felt good enough, like I was on the outside looking in. I felt
like everyone else had it made and I was just poor pitiful me. Still, I was
in a good place. I had a job, full custody of my son, my car. I was at a
club with a friend who said, 'Look what I've got.' I said, 'Sure, I'll try
anything once.'"

She felt such a state of euphoria that the hole in her self-esteem was filled.

"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."

During her hospital stay, Garner required eight pints of blood.

"I hated meth with a passion - for about five weeks," she said. "I went
right back to doing it partly because my family seemed to think I didn't
need treatment to kick my addiction."

She posed a great danger to herself and society.

"Every time I got behind the wheel of a car, I had a sort of highway
hypnosis. I would have done anything for meth because the addiction took my
conscience and morals. One time I stole a boat to pay for drugs. I was a
kleptomaniac. If I wanted something, it was mine."

Garner became so brash that during a trip to the courthouse, she rode the
elevator to the fifth floor, entered the District Attorney's office and
stole a micro cassette recorder from a conference room table.

It was later recovered by police after a high speed pursuit ended her
downward spiral.

"I once traded a $3,500 bedroom suite for 3.5 grams," she said, adding she
started making and selling meth to support her habit.

"I learned to cook meth by watching drug dealers. They let you hang out and
watch, and it is in their benefit to cook at different places. I couldn't
make enough meth to buy as much as I needed, so I sold some, kept some and
then had to make more."

She also learned to hate the police.

"I'd heard stories about how awful [Drug Task Force members] Chris Graham
and Darrell Collins are, but I spent 38 days in jail in Georgia with no
hope of getting out. They finally reduced my bond because Darrell spoke on
my behalf. He saw potential in me. A person has to pay consequences but the
drug affects every move you make."

To battle her addiction, Garner had to dig deep inside her heart.

"The only way I made headway was to ask myself what was so horrible about
my life that I needed drugs," she said. "I realized that feeling as if you
don't fit in is normal. Drug addiction is a spiritual disease. I'd always
thought of God as a condemning I'm-gonna-get-ya God. In treatment, I had to
look at God in a different way and understand that my problems were not due
to everyone else."

When someone is arrested for drugs "they become the talk of the town. I
want to let people who are addicted know there is hope. One way I stay
sober is to help someone else."

She said Mary Reed at TST, Inc. in Fort Payne took a chance on her and
supported her during her time in Drug Court.

"I had to leave work early each Friday and be available for testing, so it
took understanding. I appreciate everyone who gave me a chance. I hope by
sharing my story, maybe other employers will give addicts a chance to get
their lives back."

She thanks the DeKalb County Drug Court and Narcotics Anonymous for helping
her get and stay clean. If she feels tempted to use meth again, all she has
to do is look at her scars and remember all she lost.