“I was born in Tucson, Arizona in 1977. Both of my parents were addicts and hippies. If they were happy, they got high. If they were sad, they got high. If they were mad, they got high. My dad got violent when he got high. They were both promiscuous and got divorced when I was four. I was their only child. 

My dad would roll weed and pass it around a circle of friends. When I was seven or eight, I  started smoking it with them. He had me mix his drinks, but I made them bigger so I could drink some first. We didn’t think anything of this, but by age 16, I was a full-fledged alcoholic and addict. My first thought every morning was about getting high. 

I didn’t have a childhood. I grew up and realized how messed up my life was. I lost custody of all three of my kids. My health deteriorated, and I came close to dying many times, but I didn’t care. I would just numb it, numb it, numb it.

I stole for drug money and went to prison for five years. I was always in abusive relationships doing whatever the guy asked me to do. I had no self-esteem and didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. My last abusive boyfriend tried to electrocute me while I was in the bath, then beat me with a baseball bat and stabbed me down my side. 

That was Mother’s Day nine years ago.  He also shaved my head with clippers. I haven’t cut my hair since then and wear it long, proudly.

He only got six months in prison, but that was my chance to get out of Arizona and turn my life around. I prayed for God to take the taste of drugs out of my mouth and help me get clean. My mom was still using but decided to quit and leave Arizona with me. We picked Mobile because we had been there before, and it was on the opposite side of the country.

We started hitchhiking with just the clothes on our backs and our purses holding nothing but toothbrushes and lint. Two kind truckers took us across the country. Mom and I stole food and clothes at truck stops along the way.  It was scary, but I had a lifetime of being run over, and I wasn’t taking it any more. 

I was 36 years old starting over in Mobile with nothing and didn’t know anyone. We went from place to place renting rooms when we could. Sometimes we slept outside or stayed in emergency rooms when it rained, but I had already been homeless off and on for 18 years and lived in tunnels in Tucson.  

I lost almost everything I could lose. There was no money in the bank, and I had no credit, just evictions. I didn’t even have a driver’s license. The only thing I could do was try again.

I replaced drugs with coffee and started my own cleaning service, cleaning houses from 6 a.m. to 3 or 4 p.m. then delivering food for Waiter late in the afternoon. I worked on the floor at the Amazon warehouse from 10 p.m. until 2 a.m., walking about 12 miles a night. I recently transferred to delivery because I’m not young anymore.

No one tells you how to run a business. I made mistakes and learned a lot of things the hard way. I have good clients for my cleaning services, and don’t have to advertise anymore because my list is full. That is a good feeling. My mom works for me.

I want my own food truck.  I love cooking and once cooked in restaurants for drug money. 

My daddy told me, ‘do something that you love and you will never work a day in your life.’ After 18 hours of working, I can come home and cook for 10 people and not feel like I’m doing anything. Sometimes I sell my tamales to friends. 

The name of my food truck will be Twisted T’s Treats mixing the Sonoran flavors of Arizona with the fresh seafood of the Gulf of Mexico. The truck will be purple, my favorite color and my birthstone. It’s also the color for domestic violence survivors, bravery, and royalty. 

My mom lives up the street from me, and we are both still clean. My daughters saw that I was changing and started coming back into my life. I have reunited with two of them—one is living with me. We have had painful talks about why drugs were more important than they were. Thankfully, they are forgiving and can see I am not that person. I hope my youngest daughter comes to see me for Christmas. There is so much I want to teach my girls. 

Six years passed like six months. It’s still weird to sleep on a bed because I didn’t have one for so long. I don’t have much now, but I treat what I have like gold. I have a boyfriend who is like the calm in the storm, and I wake up each morning happy about it.  Life is beautiful now that I am able to  hear birds chirping and see the moon and stars. I never paid attention to those things before.

I recently won a Grind Award for my small business. It was a red-carpet night, and my first time wearing a ball gown and walking in heels. I never dreamed any of this was possible for me

Addiction is not a life sentence. We do recover. If I can go from nothing at 36 to something at 45, anybody can. I am too proud to ask for help, but I learned I am a queen and  can fix my own crown. 

There is a song by Adele called Easy on Me. She sings: ‘As a child, I was never able to choose what I wanted to choose and do what I wanted to do, so go easy on me.’

That’s my song and my life. Just go easy on me.”

Tana