Awakened: A Divine Healing From Drug Addiction [NOOK Book]


Erin Kalte grew up within a secure, loving family, and more material things than she needed. She was a talented dancer and a happy, fun-loving daughter, sister and friend. Erin's normal teenage rebellion lead to dabbling in alcohol and drugs until she spiraled into a deadly addiction to methamphetamines.

Erin's life flipped from living the American dream to navigating a nightmare of violence, crime and the loss of her family because of the dark world of drugs. After a failed ...

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Awakened: A Divine Healing From Drug Addiction

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Erin Kalte grew up within a secure, loving family, and more material things than she needed. She was a talented dancer and a happy, fun-loving daughter, sister and friend. Erin's normal teenage rebellion lead to dabbling in alcohol and drugs until she spiraled into a deadly addiction to methamphetamines.

Erin's life flipped from living the American dream to navigating a nightmare of violence, crime and the loss of her family because of the dark world of drugs. After a failed suicide attempt, Erin was introduced to a God who loved her and accepted her with all her addiction flaws. As Erin explored this new relationship with God, she experienced a miracle of healing from her addiction.

How could the All-American girl with everything give it all up for drugs? How was Erin able to finally accept help and seek rehabilitation? What kind of miracle did Erin receive? And what does that mean for others who have addiction problems?

"Awakened" chronicles the life of a meth addict and the healing of addiction. It's a personal revelation of a drug addict's secrets and a first hand account of a physical and emotional healing. "Awakened" is a courageous personal journey of a young woman's triumph over drug addiction.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781456740085
  • Publisher: AuthorHouse
  • Publication date: 2/21/2011
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Sales rank: 1,254,922
  • File size: 941 KB

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A Divine Healing From Drug Addiction
By Erin Kalte Lisa Kalte


Copyright © 2011 Erin Kalte
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4010-8

Chapter One


I was a 20-year-old meth addict, living the good life. Unlike all those meth losers, I was living the dream, and life was good. I had a great job, cool car and I lived in a constant state of euphoria. I was surrounded by loyal friends - all drug users - who became my family. There was nothing wrong with my life as a meth addict. I had plenty of money and I was happy - gloriously happy.

After completing cosmetology school in Northern California, I convinced my dad to give me $3000 to move to Los Angeles. My goal was to become a runway stylist in Hollywood and I had a lead on a fabulous job. My friend James invited me to stay with him while I got settled, and soon I was working at the Wilshire Grande Hotel in downtown Los Angeles as a stylist, where I did photo shoots and runway styles for some very prestigious clients.

It was an amazing life. I was 20 years old and working my dream job in the most glamorous city in the world. James and all my new friends in Los Angeles were all into the drug culture and smoking meth was a common practice at our place. It was a perfect world; go to work, make a ton of money in salary and tips, dress in the most fashionable clothes, take in the Hollywood night life, smoke a lot of meth and party like a rock star. I got my own place and began a serious relationship with a guy named Jackson.

Jackson had an intriguing edge about him. He was tall, with big dark eyes and curly black hair. Jackson not only did drugs, but also sold drugs and soon drugs were the focal point of our relationship. Jackson did all kinds of sketchy things like stealing, selling stolen goods and anything to make money. It didn't bother me; I had abandoned my values a long time ago as I became more involved with meth. Everyone stole — it was just an easy way to get money to pay for more drugs.

The first time Jackson beat me up was on December 15th - the day after his birthday. He went out partying for his birthday without me. It was fine, whatever; I didn't care if he went out with his friends. I had other friends in LA, so while Jackson was out celebrating, I hung out with Trent, a good friend who was like a brother to me. Jackson thought Trent and I had a romantic thing going, but Trent and I were just buddies - smoking buddies - who liked to mellow out together. Beyond that there was nothing for Jackson to be jealous over.

When Jackson and his friend Brad got back from their celebration, they found me with Trent, and Jackson went into a jealous rage. He broke into my place and filled the pickup bed of Brad's truck with everything I owned that he could carry. Then Brad and Jackson drove to Trent's house, where Jackson started throwing my stuff all over the street, the driveway, the lawn - just everywhere.

"What are you doing?" I screamed at him. I've always been a person who stood up for herself and I never took abuse from anyone. I recognized my clothes, my furniture, my CDs, all scattered around my car. I was standing at my car trying to figure out what to do and what Jackson hoped to gain from this tirade.

"Stop!" I demanded, "Stop throwing my stuff around!"

Jackson hopped down from the pickup bed and stormed over to me. Before I knew what was happening, he slapped me across the face — hard.

I was stunned. It took me a second to figure out that my boyfriend was physically assaulting me. I'd seen him angry before, but never like this, and never at me. Jackson started yelling and cussing at me, calling me filthy names and accusing me of cheating on him with Trent.

"Why aren't you at your house?" he screamed. "What are you doing here?"

I covered my cheek, trembling, "We're just hanging out," I said. "Trent and I are just friends. You know that."

"You're lying!" he screamed in my face. His dark eyes were wide and he looked like a madman.

"Jackson, I'm just friends with Trent," I said to him calmly. "I didn't lie to you. What's the problem?"

Jackson was in a drunken rage, coupled with whatever drugs he'd taken that night. His violence scared me and looking back I still don't know why I took his abuse. It was not my nature to back down from a confrontation, but I tried to reason with him, with terror pulsating in my ears.

"This is ridiculous," I said to Jackson in what I hoped was a voice of reason. "It's so disrespectful, throwing my stuff everywhere. What are you trying to prove?"

I was still standing beside my car with one arm on the car and the other on the open door. From Jackson's demeanor, I could tell that he wanted to get in my car.

"Move!" Jackson demanded. "Get out of the way."

I recovered some of my emotional strength. "No!" I yelled back. "You're not getting in my car."

It was like I poured gasoline on the raging fire within Jackson. "If you don't move I'm going to beat the crap out of you!" Then he slapped me hard three more times across my face.

I'm a small-built woman, about 5' 3" and at the time of this incident, I weighed maybe 90 pounds. Jackson was a big guy, over 200 pounds and built like an NFL player. He easily doubled me in size.

With little effort, Jackson picked me up off the ground and literally threw me across the street. I hit the pavement hard and rolled several times before I hit the curb. I was dressed in expensive dress slacks and a silk shirt and I remember thinking that both were surely ruined from the blood staining them.

I didn't move. I just stayed crumpled in the street, afraid to move, certain that I had sustained serious injury. Trent and his friend had been sitting on a bench in front of his house and saw what happened.

Trent jumped up, "Whoa Bro," Trent said to Jackson. "This isn't cool. You can't do this in front of my house."

I could hear Trent's words, as I trembled there in the street, scraped up and in pain. Slowly I pulled myself up and decided to just get away. I headed back to my car and all the while Jackson was yelling at me, calling me "stupid" and a whole string of filthy names.

When I tried to get in my car, Jackson shoved me into the back seat as he got in the driver's seat. Brad got in the passenger side and together they kidnapped me.

After robbing me of all my money and credit cards, they made a run through a fast food drive-up window and then Jackson took Brad back to pick up his truck, which was still parked at Trent's house. I thought they were both going to get in Brad's truck and let me go — I thought this nightmare was over, but I discovered that it had just begun. After dropping Brad off, Jackson took off with my car, driving me up into the hills of Pasadena. Brad followed in his pickup.

Houses are spread far apart in the neighborhood where we were and I realized that we were getting into a more rural and remote area the farther we drove. After driving around for nearly an hour, Jackson parked my car. From the back seat I watched as he took my purse and both sets of keys. I was terrified. Jackson was still so angry and in his drugged and alcohol haze he was unreasonable.

He looked over the seat at me, narrowing his eyes. "I'm leaving you here," he glared at me. "If I come back here tomorrow and you're not in this car, I'll track you down and kill you." He looked directly into my eyes with a cold stare. Then he got out of my car, slammed the car door and climbed into the cab of Brad's truck, which was idling next to my car. The two of them drove away.

Los Angeles is known for its balmy winter weather, but that December night, up in the hills above Pasadena, it was very cold. I didn't have a coat or a jacket and there wasn't a blanket in my car. I was so cold. My body hurt from hitting the pavement and I was still bleeding. I knew I needed medical attention, but I was paralyzed with fear, wondering if Jackson was out there watching me or if he really would come back and kill me. I was crying and I couldn't sleep. I found a sweatshirt on the floor in the backseat and wrapped it around my legs, trying to stay warm. I kept shaking with panic and cold. In exhaustion and fear I finally sobbed myself asleep in the cold car. I woke up to sunlight warming my bruised face.

Slowly I raised my head, peaking out over the front seat to see if Jackson was out there. I noticed a woman up the road with two dogs. I got out of my car, and limped up to her, confused and terrified. She could see that I'd been beaten and my tears wouldn't stop.

"Are you okay?" this kind stranger asked, "You need medical care. What happened?"

"Can I use your phone?" I asked, choking back my sobs and hiccups.

"Of course you can use the phone, honey," she said. "But I think I should get you some help. Do you need an ambulance or a police officer?"

"No," I told her. "Thank you so much. I just need to use your phone."

This woman was so sweet. She put the dogs inside her SUV and then ran inside, and came out with a bottle of water and a blanket. I sat down on a patio chair and hugged the blanket around my shivering shoulders. "Thank you," I told her as I began to warm up. She ran back inside and brought a cordless phone outside.

"I'm so sorry, but I really need to be somewhere," she explained, gesturing to the car and her dogs. "Are you sure you don't want some medical attention? Or maybe to call the police?"

"No," I said. "I'll be okay. I just need to make a phone call and I'll be on my way."

"Okay, honey," the woman said. "Use what you need here and just leave the phone on the patio table when you're done." She climbed into her car with the dogs and backed out of her driveway, leaving me alone with the phone.

As I watched her drive away, I picked up the phone, and then it hit me - I didn't have anyone to call. I gasped as I realized that I'd lost all the people I could count on to help me in an emergency. My mom and dad were both tired of my lies and deceit; my sister couldn't help me, and I surely wasn't going to call Jackson. I took a deep breath and I called Trent.

Trent picked up on the second ring. "Trent, I don't know what to do," I said. "Jackson and Brad kidnapped me and then left me without my ID, money, phone or car keys. I've been freezing up here and I don't even know where I am." I started crying all over again.

Trent was so glad to hear my voice. "Erin! I didn't know what they were going to do with you!" Trent exclaimed. "Where are you?"

I sighed and tried to calm down. "I don't know where I am. I think I'm somewhere in the hills above Pasadena, but I don't recognize anything."

"Well, walk down a block or two and find some cross streets," Trent said. "If you can figure out where you are, I'll come and get you."

So I walked up and down these long, winding streets in the hills above Pasadena, trying to find cross streets. I'd find a street name, and go back to call Trent, but it took several tries before he figured out how to find me.

After about an hour, Trent and another friend came to get me. But once they got there, I honestly didn't know if I should leave. Jackson's threat to kill me if I wasn't there when he returned echoed in my head.

"Let's go," Trent encouraged me. But I was nervous. This all started because Jackson thought I was cheating on him with Trent. Now Trent was the one to rescue me. If Jackson found out Trent was helping me, there was no telling what might happen.

After thinking about it for a minute or two, I finally agreed. "Okay. But I don't want anyone to see me with you." So I left my car there in the hills and hid in the back seat of Trent's car, afraid that Jackson would see me.

Lying in that back seat, just a few hours before being kidnapped in a similar situation, was the first time I recall thinking that perhaps this drug culture lifestyle wasn't as easy or wonderful as I'd been thinking it was. I kept thinking that this couldn't be happening and that it must be some kind of weird nightmare that would pass.

Vividly I remember that I truly didn't know what to do. I was scared beyond belief and even with Trent's friendship, I felt so alone. When we got to Trent's house, I went inside and asked if I could take a shower. While I was in the shower, Jackson called.

"Trent, I need your help," Jackson told him. "I need you to take me up to get Erin's car."

Trent played it cool. "Okay," he agreed. "But I can't do it right now. I'll have to wait to borrow my Grandma's car. Can you give me a half hour?"

As soon as I got out of the shower, Trent took me back to my car; and then he went to get Jackson. While Trent was en route to Jackson's house, I used the kind woman's phone again. This time I called Jackson.

"I need my keys and my stuff," I told him with resolve. "Just give me my purse, my phone and my keys and I won't call the cops."

I thought he must have sobered up, because he agreed. "Just come and get them, and you can have them," he told me.

So I walked back down those hills to retrieve my phone, keys and purse from Jackson. It took me over an hour to get there. I was so sore from being thrown onto the pavement from the night before, but I kept walking until finally I got there.

Jackson came outside to greet me. But instead of giving me the stuff I came to pick up, he told me that he'd changed his mind and he wasn't going to give me my car keys or my purse or my money.

"But Jackson!" I was mad. I pushed aside my fear and lashed out in anger. I screamed at him. "I just walked over an hour to get here! Don't play with me. I'm exhausted, I'm hurt, just give me my stuff."

Jackson loved tormenting me. "No, you can go back to your car and I'll come and get you when I'm ready." He turned on his heel and went back into the house and left me standing there.

With nowhere else to go, I began the hour long walk back up those winding hills to my car. I returned to the house where I could use the phone and called Jackson again. "I'm going to call the police and press charges," I warned him. "If you don't bring me my keys and my purse, I'm going to call the cops."

The threat of the police got his attention and Jackson agreed to return my personal things. So I walked back down the long hills again to get the things he had taken. This time Jackson gave me my things, but he kept one set of my keys for himself. There was an evil tension between us and I was afraid to go back to my apartment. So I walked back to my car and went to San Fernando, back to my friend James.

James took one look at me and became furious. "Erin, you have to get out of that relationship. Jackson is bad for you."

I listened to James rant on about Jackson and I knew that he was right, but I didn't know what to do or where else to go. Before I could even point that out, James insisted that I stay with him.

"This is crazy, Erin." James was adamant. "You need to stay away from him. Stay here. Stay with me."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay," I agreed.

I spent the next couple of weeks hanging out at James' house. I kept thinking, "Wow. So this is my life. My life is crazy now." I went back to work part time, coming straight back to James' house, lying low and resting. I decided that I'd try to get off drugs, to put the meth out of my life and rebuild my career. Even with that resolve, I kept doing drugs with James as I recovered from my wounds.

After a couple of weeks, I went back to work full-time. One day after work, I decided to go back to Jackson's house and get my extra set of keys. I was dressed up, my hair was styled and I looked like my usual fashionable self. Even a meth addict wants to look good.

I knocked on Jackson's door, and when he answered, he smiled broadly and acted like nothing had gone wrong between us.

"Wow! Erin, you look beautiful!" Jackson hugged me. "Where the heck have you been? I've really missed you!"

Gently I pushed back his hug, and smiled. "Thanks, Jackson, but I'm just here for my keys. You still have my extra keys and I really need them."

"Oh, sure," Jackson agreed. He pushed the door wide open. "No problem. Come on inside. Why don't you stay for awhile and smoke with us."

And just like that, I agreed. I went inside, forgetting and forgiving the brutality of my last encounter with this man and the string of felonies he had committed against me. Soon I was back hanging out with Jackson, smoking meth with him daily, getting involved in his sketchy lifestyle and enjoying the edginess of the drug world.


Excerpted from AWAKENED by Erin Kalte Lisa Kalte Copyright © 2011 by Erin Kalte. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents


Chapter 1. Living the Good Life....................1
Chapter 2. Growing Up On the Delta....................19
Chapter 3. Teenage Angst Charts a New Course....................23
Chapter 4. Life After Graduation....................29
Chapter 5. Running for My Life....................37
Chapter 6. Losing It All....................45
Chapter 7. Get High and Die....................55
Chapter 8. Rock Bottom....................59
Chapter 9. Have a Problem....................63
Chapter 10. Home Sweet Home....................81
Chapter 11. Thinking....................85
Chapter 12. A New Home — A New Life....................89
Chapter 13. Rules....................95
Chapter 14. The Pain of Recovery....................99
Chapter 15. Waking Up....................101
Chapter 16. An Invitation to Something Special....................103
Chapter 17. Recognizing My Miracle....................111
Chapter 18. The Future is Mine to Claim....................117
Chapter 19. Discovering Who I Am....................121
Chapter 20. Me and My Dad....................125
Chapter 21. Me and God....................135
Chapter 22. Celebrate Recovery....................139
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