METH ADDICT FINDS RECOVERY IN PRISON

Meth: Shattered Lives

Another year in prison. Another year of sobriety. For Laura Tabor, another
year passing has put more distance between her and the methamphetamine
addiction that ate away her life. It has softened her urge and strengthened
her resolve to live a different life should she be paroled this October.

So she hopes.

In her five years of incarceration at Mabel Bassett Corrrectional Center in
Oklahoma City for manufacturing and possessing meth, Tabor has seen plenty
of other meth addicts leave their insulated prison life, only to return again.

"The recidivism is so crazy," she said. "Sometimes they're so far gone or
they're just mentally damaged."

A different path Tabor, 34, is determined to go the other way. She says she
wants to spend her time speaking to children about the evils of meth,
instead of resuming the familiar cycle of tweaking and cooking, tweaking
and cooking.

Like any irresistible drug, meth hooked her with a euphoria that can only
be repeated for so long. She'd tried other drugs before, plenty of them,
but meth quickly became her favorite.

"I felt 10 feet tall and bulletproof. I just felt like I was worth a
million," she said.

It took about six months into her 10-year addiction for the high to go from
fun to desperation. Meth, of course, became an obsession. When she was
introduced to cooking meth, the obsession went wild.

"Cooking it, that was more addictive to me than actually doing it," she
said. "It was weird. It grabs a hold of you, making that white powdery
substance. It seeps into your pores and you get higher doing that. You get
more addicted with the cook than with the drug itself."

Along the way, Tabor lost custody of her three children. She lost a few
teeth. She lost days after crashing from a weeklong high. And she lost
weight. Her 5-foot-10 inch frame withered to 108 pounds.

"I thought I looked good," she said with a bitter laugh. "It was horrible."

For a long time, Tabor managed to work as a cocktail waitress and
bartender, but eventually she lost that as well.

"At the end I couldn't work. I was too far gone. I had lost too much weight
and I was in love with the drug."

Hearing voices Occasionally, reality surfaced, and it was too much to bear.

Oddly enough, evangelists frequented her doorstep, wanting to talk about
Jesus. She never let them in, which made her feel guilty.

Once, she had been high for days and had not eaten for a week. Voices
entered her head. Just do it, they said. Just shoot yourself. She picked up
a .357 and aimed it at her head.

"I squeezed my eyes shut and it went off. My ears were ringing and my eyes
were still closed and I just laid there and started crying. I really don't
know how I missed my head, but it's something I look back on often," she said.

Five years later, the memory still makes Tabor cry.

One day, Tabor was across town from her Newcastle home when friends warned
her that her home was being raided. She took off, traveling to Iowa and
Nebraska, from motel to motel. In Colorado, she started cooking meth in a
motel room.

When the money ran out, Tabor returned to Newcastle. The law soon caught up
with her, and it was a relief.

Ready to quit Her biggest fear wasn't losing her freedom, but giving up
meth. Still, she was ready.

"I was so tired of running," she said. "It was finally over and it was a
good feeling to know that I don't have to look over my back, that I could
stop worrying my parents."

For months afterward, Tabor had dreams about cooking meth, which slowly
faded. More painful, was facing reality.

"I have great remorse for the lives I damaged by cooking this stuff and by
giving it to them," she said. "I wished I would've never contributed to any
of that, but I did, and it's something I have to forgive myself for."

While in prison, the former meth cook has taken college courses and has
faced some facts about addiction, namely that it will always be there.

Tabor has a plan. She will make amends to her children and parents.

"For so long I was selfish. My actions don't only affect me, they affect
everyone who loves me," she said.

"I just, I have a lot to give back. I have a lot of things, I know it seems
like I'm trying to sound like a martyr or something, but I want to help
people. That ain't a life for no one to live."