In the past few issues, Windy City Times has looked at the scourge that is crystal meth. Among the aspects we have covered are the fundamentals of the drug; they have ranged from its appearance to the devastating toll it takes on an addict.
Ed Negron, 34, knows firsthand about the dangers of this powerful drug, having gone through the nightmarish journey of addiction and withdrawal. As someone who has recovered, Negron is part of a very small minority. ( According to a statistic mentioned at a recent meth forum at Sidetrack, the drug only has a six-percent recovery rate. ) Now, Negron has channeled his energies into something more beneficial: studying to become a substance abuse counselor.
Negron recently talked about everything from being caught in meth's deadly grip to battling back to reclaim his life.
Windy City Times: I understand that meth was not your first drug.
Ed Negron: I actually got high at a pretty young age. I started smoking weed when I was seven. I was also drinking; we had these little parties where people would steal liquor from their parents.
WCT: Wait a minute. Where did you get your hands on weed at that age?
EN: It's not hard to get your hands on any drug you want at any age. We lived on top of a halfway house, so a lot of convicts would come in. We'd run errands and they'd pay us with weed. I may have started drinking, though, because alcoholism ran in my family. So I may have started drinking even younger than that.
WCT: Before seven?
EN: Yeah. The community [ where I grew up ] is like 'Yeah, give him a little liquor,' and the people laugh about it without thinking about the consequences it might have on a kid.
In eighth grade, we moved next door to a liquor store. I became friends with the owner and he gave me a job cleaning up there. I would steal little bottles of Bacardi [ rum ] . So in school I was the shit because I would come to school with this alcohol.
In high school, things escalated. I started gang-banging so I could sell drugs. My mom was a single parent with four kids of her own —and a foster parent. At one point, we had 13 people living in a two-bedroom apartment and my mother couldn't support us all. Then, I got into PCP. That was a hardcore drug; I loved it.
WCT: What did you love about it?
EN: I loved the hallucination and the feeling of being on cloud nine. It started off as [ a result of ] curiosity and then I just enjoyed the high. In my senior year, I started focusing on school; I even made the honor roll, which totally blew me away. I was actually put in an alternative school for the bad kids. That was a blessing; Chicago needs more of those because they're smaller and there's the chance for more one-on-one interaction. Then I joined the Army and was in the reserve for six years ( 1988-1994 ) ; I had stopped getting high. I married a woman, knowing that I shouldn't have; we divorced in 1993.
I knew I was gay but I had my family looking up to me.
After three years, we knew it wasn't working. I started exploring my sexuality more and I went to places like Berlin. I started seeing this bisexual woman who helped me tap into my gay side. It was then that my drug use started again.
WCT: Tell me about the first time you did meth.
EN: I did meth at an after-hours place. For me, I actually thought it was a taboo drug, like heroin—mainly because I heard you couldn't get a hard-on if you took it. So they were passing the tray around and told me that it was cocaine. I took a bump of it and it burned the hell out of my nose. I then realized that it wasn't coke and one of my friends told me what it was. I was so mad—but I was also so awake. I was sold.
WCT: How long did the feeling last?
EN: I took more than one bump, but the feeling lasted for the weekend. There was a lot of sex, but I was mad about not being able to get [ an erection ] . But it was good.
However, I was still trying to be a responsible user. I would just stick to GHB, Special K, or the occasional bump of coke. But then I got back into selling drugs once I found out how much I could make. It ended up being a four-year deal for me.
I met this guy who was a crystal addict. He was HIV-positive and his excuse for taking meth was that it calmed down the side effects of the medication. I didn't believe him but he was cute, so I didn't care. So I ended up selling drugs to support our meth high. But it got to the point that, for months, I didn't know what it was like to be sober or without any chemicals in my system. I look back now and it just seems so sad.
The street name for meth, as you know, is Tina. Let me tell you: Tina's a bitch and she plays for keeps. Once she gets her claws in you, she's not gonna let go.
WCT: What symptoms did you exhibit while you were addicted?
EN: I lost over 30 pounds. I told my family and friends that I was working out. I actually was buying pants with 29-inch waists. I came out of my mother with a 29-inch waist. [ Laughs. ] I was also paranoid half the time; I always thought that someone was watching me or was after my drugs. I wouldn't even trust my clients. That was a scary way to live, but I couldn't escape it. The drugs were controlling me.
WCT: When did you feel like you hit bottom?
EN: When I didn't know what it was like to be sober. I pretty much lost everything. I was living with a friend and doing more drugs than I was selling. I became my best customer. At the top of my game—and I hate using that term—I was raking in $3,000-$5,000 a week. But I was spending that same amount a week. I would sell one drug to buy another. It was a constant party for me.
In the last month, I couldn't even breathe out of my nose. I would take a bump and it would fall right back out. I would spend my nights crying and praying for someone to help me stop. When I started hallucinating that my mom was dead and her spirit was talking to me, that's when the reality set in that I was fucked up. I called my brother and asked him to call mom. My brother knew the state I was in and he just talked to me on the phone. I would wake up and cry—but with a bump. It was because [ I thought ] I needed it. The drug intensifies the problem. What you're trying to escape comes back to you tenfold. The fun was over.
WCT: How did you escape the grip of meth?
EN: On that last day, I was making a deal with a former client [ who was setting up a sting ] . I woke up that morning with the feeling that I was going to get arrested. My greed and addiction carried me over [ to the spot of the eventual arrest ] . However, it was also wanting to stop that made me go. It was like a higher power said, 'You're not stopping on your own? I'll fix that.' I drove over to [ a Lakeview restaurant ] . As soon as I got into my car, it was like the whole police district just walked over and got me. I had this look on my face like 'Thank God it's over.'
WCT: You were relieved?
EN: Yeah. I was definitely relieved. I wasn't scared. I damn near accepted it with open arms. My friends who I used to gangbang with wanted to get [ the guy who set me up ] . I actually ended up shaking the guy's hand and thanking him. I ended up spending some time in Cook County [ Jail ] , where I did what I call my self-detox. I slept it all off. I went through some shit.
WCT: What was withdrawal like for you?
EN: I can't say that I went through too much physical pain. But the whole psychological and emotional attachment was tough to overcome. As I came back to reality, I started thinking about all the people I fucked over and it got to the point where I got suicidal. Those four years of partying flashed before my eyes—but it was only the negative stuff that I saw. I wouldn't want to go through that again. I wouldn't even want my worst enemy to go through it. That's how hurtful it was. I don't know how it happened but I was blessed with two amazing lawyers. I got off with two years' probation and intensive outpatient care. Here I am six years later, drug-free.
WCT: Have you forgiven yourself?
EN: Oh yeah. It wasn't easy, though. It took a lot of time, but I'm at a place now where I've accepted that part of my life. I know that that's not me. The experience was just part of my journey. The reason why I'm still here—and I know it's a cliche—is that I have things to do. I'm back in school, I've had a partner for four years, and I'm helping people. Who could ask for anything more?
People have their own war stories. There were some fun times. But would I go back to [ that life ] ? Hell, no. I don't miss it at all.
WCT: Have other people forgiven you?
EN: You know, I can't control what other people feel. I've talked to those people who I hurt. To those who can't forgive me, that's fine; I understand. I wouldn't forgive myself for some of the shit I've done to some people. But I have to move on; c'est la vie. I hate to say it like that but I can't control another person's actions. I'll tell you this: 99 percent of the people who were in my life back then are not in my life now.
Sometimes I go to bars now and I see the same people doing the same shit in the same corners—sometimes wearing the same clothes. It hurts to see that they haven't moved on. If they need me, though, I'll be there for them.
WCT: What have you learned about yourself through all this?
EN: Hmmm ... good question. I've learned that I'm a stronger person than I gave myself credit for. My life means something and I know what my purpose is: to help and support others. I learned that I'm a caring and loving person.
WCT: Do you think that going through the whole experience will make you a more effective counselor than someone who hasn't?
EN: No, not really. One of my instructors just told me that a person with cancer is not going to reject a doctor because he hasn't had cancer. You go because you know that the doctor knows what he's doing.
