This is a true story of a female drug dealer, you should know that, this is my story. The names have been changed for my own protection.

A time in my life I am not proud of, but I did what I had to do. At least I thought so. I was smoking so much crack and injecting heroin constantly, I was too impaired to see another choice. This is not intended to be grandiose, and yes when I started, I felt like a superstar. It took only two years to end in tragedy. I got through it however, and am sharing my story to continue my quest in spreading awareness about the disease of addiction and alcoholism.

My name is Kimberly Gray, I am a recovering addict with a Bi Polar and Borderline Personality disorder/mental illness. I am 43 in a few weeks and was dealing drugs from 38 to 40 years of age. I should also mention I used cocaine and heroin for 24 years ad of that, 22 years by needles.

So now we have a white, 105 pound, female, middle aged,'nice' dealer, knowing nothing about the business.

Regardless, I started on a Wednesday in July.

Let me back up a bit. I was 9 months sober living with my father in Toronto after a year of living in Malibu and Hollywood in drug rehabs. Through a former drug dealer I was talking with, I just happen to meet a 60 year old Colombian who swept me off my feet. I never told my family about him and we were engaged within a month. I hid from everybody, using drugs again, primarily smoking crack. I was still living in Toronto, but now with, I would learn, Cartel.

Police Encounter #1-I didn't know there was a missing persons report out on me for the past 2 weeks and a search was underway and growing. How worried my family and friends must have been. They found me one day and 4 cops showed up from a from a trace on my phone, which I had turned on once to check messages. They explained I was reported missing and called my Father immediately. He refused to talk to me, as did the rest of my family until recently.

So there I was, alone with friends, that were Cartel partners, bosses and 'runners' (small time dealers and errand boys working for the older generation). There were many that would visit from Peru, Argentina and Columbia. I still had an empty apartment on the lake that I kept for emergency purposes. Little did I know when these visitors would stay in my apartment, they were doing big business.

Police Encounter #2-Amigo, (my fiance) and I went to his weekly parole appointment and they decided to piss test him, which came back positive. The police were called and I watched them take him away for charges of parole violation. A no tolerance rule for cocaine usage, possession or trafficking. It was then I learned where and what Amigo had been through, and who he really was.

It was also then it hit me. This was not small time and now I was on a police list for a Cartel circle. I never did find out what that really meant. I do believe I had been watched for other contacts. Cartel however, do not deal with women and their wives are protected and taken care of by each other. I did not know this then, as I watched Amigo be cuffed and put in the back of a swat car. They wouldn't even tell me where they were taking him.

There I was, scared, lost, alone, driving his car without a licence trying to think of what to do next. I called no one and learned everything there is to know about, Provincial Jails and the rules that limit your rights even as a spouse or family member. I would visit him in Jail, talking in code. We were under surveillance by a third party on phone, given his charges but more so, his history.

My only saving grace, terrified in his home alone all those nights, and being an addict, was an endless supply of free cocaine. Amigo had somehow arranged a runner to keep me in supply.

Okay, Amigo. Had been charged with International Trafficking of 8 kilo's of cocaine in Miami airport to Argentina 15 years prior. He was sentenced to 25 years. He served 12 in a Federal Jail in Canada, now a citizen. Served time in Kentucky, Miami, Columbia and 8 jails in Canada. Escaped from one and that put him at high risk, converting to high security penitentiaries and Interpole's list of flight risk. He would be on parole for the next 12 years. At 60 with the addition of a few months stay, here and there, Amigo had already served almost a combined Jail time of 25 years anyways. If he was caught dealing now, he would be gone for another 25 years, no less.

So, here he was, back home again, and dealing. I didn't ask to many questions but now understood some of the reasons behind his behaviors.

Police Encounter #3-He pissed dirty (positive for crack) again. Back in Jail again. Runners again. I had one problem. The police were starting to visit me and ask a lot of questions and I was not as scared of the cocaine but the unregistered, stolen pistol under the mattress. I feared them doing a search. See, I was the only one home so I would be held accountable. And if Amigo was, he'd be gone for life.

Police Encounter#4-We have a law here where there is an official pardon for people who bring in weapons to the police, with no questions asked-Amnesty. So I decided to bag the gun and I brought it in saying I found it. They lied. Given who I lived with, they started drilling me for information, showing me pictures, as in fear I kept lying. I did know all of them, when I said I didn't.

11 hours, they kept me and kept alternating detectives, for 11 long hours. I learned, as 3 cop cars drove me home and checked the house thoroughly (thank god for the covered hole in the floor), that the gun I brought in was stolen from the RCMP, and just around the corner they suspected who had them. A cruiser sat with 2 police officers outside my house all night.

Back while I was being interrogated, S.W.A.T destroyed the tattoo parlor, retrieved a few more guns and busted 3 men who owned the place. Only 3 people knew about this gun, Amigo, me, and a guy who took it, Antonio. Talk about scared, and what about Amigo. 2 Days later I found out a new set of detectives drilled Amigo in jail, just before visiting me. Somehow we dodged any arrests and Amigo's boss talked with the store owners, and the situation was never brought up again.

To try and speed things along, I was smoking crack around the clock, never going outside but learning a great deal about how the Colombians work on principle and are only violent when you owe money and hide from them. It was obvious when Amigo and his boys had those collecting chores. It doesn't need to be said what is done, it just is.

I had no friends to speak of, or family. My only contacts were Amigo's clients as sometimes I would help out if there were a lot of deliveries. Learned to cook crack and that you never cut the coke - based on principle. So I Became his partner and would weigh, cook and bag the coke or crack for him, and he would go and deliver. We got rid of the runners, they were too unreliable.

Police Encounter #5-40. When Amigo broke Parole again, his punishment was now long term. and in a Federal High Security Penitentiary. He somehow cut loose and went on the run. He ran for 40 days, dodging the cops. I was visited immediately by police and his parole officer explaining there was a Federal Warrant in his name and they are by law able to do whatever it takes to bring him in. Also because he was a flight risk, Interpol was looking for him. Here's the nightmare. Like your FBI, we have the RCMP. A division only people in my situation would know about. They are called the "Rope" Squad. As legal Bounty Hunters they drive SUV's and travelled in numbers of 5. They dress in street clothes , a gun on each hip, they're big , and were about to pay me a visit. They all seemed to know he would try to contact me. So Rope would also be surveillance me 24 hours a day. Once, they actually busted in one day and I was smoking a pipe of crack. I had a lot. Rope says to me, just try and quit, that stuff is no good for you. They were not after me, and they needed me, I suppose.

And that they did-daily. Thinking Amigo was hiding in the house, guns drawn and 5 strong. Never told you what time they were coming or lied about the time, to surprise you. They came with dogs, which are terrifying. Sometime there would be 15, 5 on me, and 5 at each neighbors house in case he ran there. One night there was someone whispering my name by the bedroom screen which I left open for obvious reason,and I still to this day have no idea who it was, but I called the cops and I kid you not, my place and the neighbors were swarmed within a minute and a half. Most convicts on the run come back home at some point, if anything, they certainly call from a phone-booth and leave the call to under 2 minutes.

Thar's what Amigo and I were doing. At least I could warn him about home and he could be shot. I would tell Rope he called and wouldn't disclose his location. We were crazy enough to meet up a few times-that was interesting, loosing Rope, they're not stupid, but we did it. I wasn't about to have him taken down hard at the age of 60. I slowly started working with Rope on them arresting him in a civil way because I was terrified of him, more so, homeless on the street. I would talk to Amigo and tell him everything. Weeks later he finally decided to turn himself in. Rope-one guy was going to meet him at a restaurant and not cuff him, he would go with some dignity. I knew deep down they would never do this, Look at the way they treated me and I wasn;t wanted. But he had to go, and they would take off the extra time he now accumulated by running.

He was on his way to turn himself in, we had said our goodbye's, when he got pulled over for not wearing a seatbelt. The traffic officer called me because he had no I.D. and just my number and by law I had to disclose the details of the warrant, and the situation. He was brought in by a traffic cop and since he technically didn't surrender he had to serve the extra time for running.

The next time I saw him was when I presented his case pleading early release to 15 parole board members in Prison. Prison is a nasty place, and worse no one is segregated anymore. The rapists eat with the child molesters and murderers.

But before any parole hearing, Amigo in prison, I didn't have a dime to my name, the landlord said I had to get all of his belongings out, they repossessed his car, his drivers licensee expired, and they worst of it all, silence. Suddenly nobody knew me or wanted anything to do with me. The police can't help you, the landlord of 9 years just wanted it over with and was embarrassed by the neighbors knowing her business. With no car I couldn't transfer anything to my place on the lake, where I would be living now. This knowing my family wouldn't come around or call.

A few days later I returned to Amigo's apartment and she had disposed of everything. When I had left earlier, I had grabbed 3 things; his papers, a phone book and a large amount of cocaine. Now besides papers, he had nothing left. Nor did I.

So I took the phonebook, most everyone knew he was in prison, and offered to supply should the need ever arise-cocaine is called 'food' on the phone and people started calling for food almost immediately. I knew so little, just to cook and weigh and bag. What was I going to do when my food ran out because my client base was growing, given the product was very good quality.

I called and met with Amigos Boss. Reluctant, he helped me and taught me what to look out for, how to properly and safely make an exchange, and the prices he would charge me. Mostly I was to be honest with him, they would be close by, the bigger it got and never, ever lie to him. The rules were crystal clear.

Now I had worked in Marketing and Advertising for 20 years, but couldn't now given my mental disability so here I was,a drug dealer. It got big, really fast, and I had 'friends' coming out off the woodwork. You have to remember my 2 biggest downfalls, I am an addict myself and nice, which people were quickly figuring out. So, I was smoking my profits and sharing my food.

Amigo couldn't call from Jail because you have to call collect and I had no land line. We didn't speak until the parole hearing. By that point I had made many other supplier contacts and was doing this all on my own, selling, smoking, sharing, over and over.

I took on a partner at this point who said he could help with his large Client base. He too was an addict, while we brought in big profits, times were crazy, partying, constant people all hours of the night.  I had all the contacts and I didn't even have one enemy in this sea of men. I held my own and also offered the service of delivery now. I preferred delivering to people rather than coming to the house and lingering for hours. Ultimately It was never the money for me but as an active addict, it was the drugs. My new Partner, Santos and I were now smoking more than our profits.

It quickly dissolved any form of partnership, let alone friendship. There are no friends in the drug business. I repeat, there are no friends in the drug business.

Back on my own, no Cartel,no runners, no watchers, I was using small time dealers to deliver to a slim amount of clients. I became a middle man. A middle man has the worst odds of luck. You can imagine how many things can go wrong. It was then, I learned what stress and fear truly was. Because I am kind and honest as much as I was taken advantage of, I was also, on some weird level, respected. People knew my word was good. That is everything in this business. I now was only selling crack, and before long selling only on the streets, dirty hotels, phone booth, coffee houses, parks and eventually, the worst, crack houses.

Police Encounter #41 & 42- I was arrested twice but not convicted. I was always prepared for the "Boys" and good street smarts can save your life. But not alway protect it.

I was badly assaulted on 3 different occasions. Things were bad. I wasn't even making profits anymore and my 'friends' who bought from me on credit, were no where to be found. I owed a lot of money and an old business friend of mine started checking in on me, seems when I was in most need. I could talk to him, he would bring me real food and even helped me get out of debt with the dealers.

Police Encounter #43- I came home one night, which would not be the last of this type of night, to find all of my belongings stolen. Everything, toiletries, food, clothes, drugs, and linen. Everything but my mattress and my unregistered firearm between the mattress. Can you believe I wasn't arrested because I told them the gun was there- How many times was I going to push my luck? They said any robbery like this was a hate crime and having the gun, and a bunch of needles left behind, was intended to get me arrested. So now I had enemies and no idea who. I was running a crack house from my apartment so it could have been anyone. I got back on the heroin and thankfully right back off in a month.

He saved my life. Looking back I would have been dead either by overdose or someone else, in not that long of a time, given my environment and amount of drug use. He was in the program and even took me to 12 step meetings. I was still using but truly trying to stop and turn my life around.

I had to move into a completely different area and tell no one, to get out of danger.

It took almost a year to become functioning again without fear and start the beginnings of a home, step by step.

After everything I have seen and experienced it still wasn't enough to get out and have some respect for myself. I did start dealing to make ends meat as I did have rent and needed food . But my disease of addiction is more powerful than the daily necessities of life. Had I not been using I could have made a fortune, to have it stolen, or confiscated or arrested.

Drug dealing is ruthless, fast paced, violent, sneaky, illegal, but I tell you even today in greater demand than ever before. Dealers are actually choosing their working hours or turning clients away if they don't spend enough.

Occasionally, very seldom, I run into an old acquaintance, still dealing,  still on the same beat, still charming thinking your coming to buy. It's a man's business, from what I have seen. People prefer buying their drugs from men, yet they fear them more too. Other female dealers may disagree with me, but this is just my feelings given the places that you go when it's 4 am. It's who you don't know. to fear when your meeting with.

I have lived two lives completely opposite from one another. I choose neither and enjoy being in business now for myself, writing and editing my website www.dearaddict,ca.

Lastly, Amigo got out, found me, paid off my debt to his boss, had nothing, on parole, so I gave him my apartment. We live separately today and knew drugs would destroy us again.

But I received a call  about a month ago from Amigo offering me food at no cost in celebration he was dealing again.  I hung up the phone and cried.

 I finally got it. I really finally got the insanity of it all.

In Recovery, especially early Recovery, our feelings and emotions, many we don’t even remember, seem overwhelming.

Your not going crazy, your going forward. Embrace these feelings and emotions and make a decision to allow yourself those moments. All feelings and emotions will pass. They cannot kill us. In fact, in time, it is this that does make us stronger.

We’re changing, our thinking is sharpening, our bodies are healing, our minds are clearing,our finances are organizing and spirituality we’re starting to trust.

It is Faith, not religion, but Faith that will gift you with more change.