Henderson native helping others recover from addiction
Jul. 7—HENDERSON
At the age of 26, Tisha Temple had never tasted alcohol, nicotine, or cocaine in her life. Over the course of a single night in the early 2000s, she tried them all, a decision that would forever alter every aspect of her future, for better and worse.
Six months later, the mother of three was living homeless and addicted in the streets of South Henderson and within two years, had been sentenced to prison.
Crack. Heroin. Prostitution. Crime.
This was Tisha's life, a treacherous cycle she couldn't break free of until she reached despair so dark that the combination of Henderson law enforcement and a drug dealer intervened to force her into help.
That was the bad part.
The good news is that Tisha, a 1997 Southern Vance High graduate, has been in recovery for eight years, now living in Smithfield with her husband Casey and her stepson Caleb.
"We have to understand that some people will make it and some people are not," Tisha said. "That is just a sad reality, but we have to just keep getting up day after day and sharing our experiences of strength and hope.
And the most important thing for me is for people to know that I did not do anything on my own."
Tisha had help along the way — law enforcement, family, churchgoers, and a fellow person in recovery that introduced her to Selma-based Recovery Alive in Johnston County.
Tisha now serves as a recovery resource advocate with the Alcohol Drug Council of North Carolina and through Recovery Alive, a Christian-centered 12-step program, is working to fundraise for a Recovery Alive home in Selma that would provide a safe home for women recovering from substance abuse disorder around the state.
Tisha works with every county in North Carolina on addiction. There's help out there to be had, she said, and she wants to help others find it, regardless of their background.
"There are state-funded programs, for detox, for residential treatment," Tisha said. "There are free meetings for people to get into. We have to know what resources are available, but we also have to know that we have to engage the person when they are ready to get help. And then we have to move swiftly."
Lost
Support alone wasn't enough to keep Tisha clean when she started bouncing in and out of prison. She had a community of people in Henderson that loved her, prayed for her and tried to help her get better.
But that wasn't enough to overcome the underlying burdens she sought to escape. It wasn't enough to overcome her body's physical dependence on drugs like heroin.
She just didn't have the right tools for recovery.
"You know, it's good to be loved by the people in your church and accepted and supported," Tisha said, "but when you cannot relate to another person who knows what it feels like to be you, how are you supposed to grow in your recovery?"
Tisha didn't realize it at the time, but she was struggling to find her identity. She had been a normal high school student — a cheerleader and softball player — and after that, did all the routine things good moms do before becoming addicted and leaving her children behind.
"But I had no idea who I was," Tisha said. "I was a child who had suffered from childhood emotional trauma with a mom and dad who were active alcoholics and addicts who were not together."
Tisha had already been suffering from depression and anxiety, and the drugs provided an alternative reality.
Heroin numbed the pain, but eventually the injections were less of a means to get high and more to avoid the withdrawal symptoms — the shaking, the cold sweats, the constant wave of sickness.
"If it wasn't already bad enough," Tisha said, "heroin truly took me to the pits of hell."
Tisha came to live for the thrill of the process of getting high as much as the feeling of the drug itself. Even the sensation of the needle penetrating her skin became addicting.
"It was constant chaos and confusion," Tisha said. "It was constant moving from one crack rock and shot of dope to another. It was constant getting in and out of people's cars, being hurt myself and hurting others."
She needed rescuing.
Glimmer of hope
Around July of 2014, Tisha was so bad off that another user turned her in to law enforcement, which had more than a dozen warrants out for her arrest.
With an impending court date and the realization that heading back to prison was inevitable, Tisha threw caution to the wind.
She stole a car. Her body was riddled with bruises and sores.
Then Ryan Woodlief, now a part-time Henderson police officer, came along to arrest Tisha at a known drug house on Yancey Lane.
Angry, Tisha wanted to know why Woodlief was after her when there were so many other people nearby guilty of the same crimes.
"Today is not their day," Woodlief told her. "Today is your day."
Tisha never forgot those words.
Woodlief asked what led Tisha down this path. What happened? He told her she didn't belong on the streets. He gave her water and food.
Later in prison, it dawned on Tisha that Woodlief treated her like a normal human being.
"I wasn't a junkie," Tisha said. "I was a woman that he knew to be a prostituting, IV-, heroin-using crack addict, and he talked to me like I was Tisha."
"I literally treat everybody just like I would treat my friends," Woodlief said. "I talk to them and I try to treat everybody with respect and I start off every encounter with respect. I try to relate to somebody on some level and try to find some common ground."
Later on, Tisha wound up in Swannanoa Correctional Center for Women in Black Mountain, for a treatment program that helped save her life.
God's plan
Tisha spent six of her years in recovery in Wake County, ultimately obtaining a degree in substance abuse counseling from Wake Tech, among other related certifications earned while registering with the N.C. Addiction Specialist Professional Practice Board.
Soon, she'll go for a Liberty University bachelor's degree in faith-based social work.
Faith is an important part of Tisha's story. Most of the people Tisha used drugs with are now dead or in jail. Why was she spared?
Tisha believes it was fate, God's plan for her.
She appreciates Henderson — her children and other family members still live here — but removing herself from the city where so endured so much self-destruction was crucial to her recovery, she said.
With Recovery Alive, Tisha and Casey discovered hundreds of people seeking relief from every imaginable addictive behavior. Not just drugs and alcohol.
"It is people-pleasing and codependent behaviors and shopping, grief and depression and anxiety," Tisha said. "My husband is a suicide-attempt survivor. Twenty-two years ago, he held a shotgun under his chin and he pulled the trigger. He is a suicide prevention advocate today. He is living in recovery from opioid-use disorder after 33 reconstruction surgeries. So just being surrounded by this enormous amount of people was just so powerful to us."
Now, Tisha has great relationships with children River, Dakota and Montana.
She owes her progress to people like Woodlief, her grandmother Mary Roberson and Nicki Robinson of Harriet Baptist Church. Nicki cared for Tisha when she was active in the streets, prayed for her and mailed cards to her in prison.
Tisha and Woodlief still keep in touch.
"Not only did it affect her," Woodlief said, "but her kids, her whole family, and it changed her whole dynamic of life. And now she's helping change so many people's lives by opening up recovery houses, people hearing her story."
Recovery Alive is seeking out churches in particular to offer facilities for meetings and other resources.
The planned Recovery Alive home will emphasize "leadership, accountability, friendship, support, encouragement, and the opportunity to experience life-changing transformation through Jesus Christ."
Addiction, Tisha said, does not discriminate, no matter what side of the railroad tracks someone comes from. It doesn't matter who your parents are or where you went to school.
The solution starts with education.
"It will destroy you," Tisha said. "It will destroy communities. It will destroy your family. You will die or you will get clean and sober. There's just not another way."
For recovery resources, visit www.alcoholdrughelp.org/ or call 1-800-684-2324.
