It was December 2015 when Isabella first started using ice – the first anniversary of her son’s death.
“I had no idea how much it would destroy my life,” the 23-year-old tells me.
“I knew about drugs, but you never know how addictive they are until you’re stuck in a world where you rely on them to do simple daily things.”
Isabella only remembers small parts of the life she lived while high. It mostly felt like someone else’s life, and hearing stories from the time makes her question everything. Wow, really? She’d think. That doesn’t sound like something I’d do. Except it was.
Ice took away Isabella’s thoughts—that’s why she did it so often; so she wouldn’t have to live in the now, and think about all the hardships she’d been through.
“It made my mind happy, so I must have been happy, right?”
It took away her speech and communication skills.
“I could barely talk or put sentences together. I would mumble a lot, and wouldn’t look at people’s faces," she says.
Isabella isolated herself and tried to not communicate with anyone face-to- face, aside from other users. Her only form of contact with the outside world was through text or Facebook—where they couldn’t see or hear her.