I met Jenny in 2008; she was having a panic attack in the doorway of my youth charity. Fearing she was seriously ill, I called an ambulance. She refused to go with the paramedics and was visibly terrified, so I took her to hospital. When we arrived Jenny, with her head in her hands, quietly told me her story and how she had ended up at my charity.
She told me that as a child she was sexually abused, witnessed domestic violence, and so struggled at school. She started smoking cannabis aged 13 and swiftly progressed to ecstasy, cocaine and speed. By 17 she was using crack cocaine and injecting heroin. Now, aged 20, she’d started doing “jobs” for the dealers.
Realising her life was spiralling out of control, Jenny said, she had started to say no to the drug dealers; in response, they’d bundled her into a car, raped her and left her on the roadside. She’d gone to the police but her attackers had found out and, with a knife to Jenny’s throat, had threatened her mother’s life. Silently, listening to her story, my heart broke and I felt Jenny’s despair. There and then I silently promised her that I would help see her through.
For the next year, I offered Jenny intensive support through the charity and she made significant steps to overcome her heroin addiction and keep safe. But after several suicide attempts she was admitted into a mental health ward with post traumatic stress disorder.
On discharge she moved into a supported accommodation project. Although Jenny was no longer under my charity’s geographical remit, I agreed with my manager to support her on a personal basis. Jenny was still so vulnerable and other drug users on her project started to take advantage.
I was at a loss what to do, so I confided in a Pastor. “She needs you,” he said “take her in.” It seemed like a crazy idea, plus my husband and I had just had a baby, but I was worried sick and I knew Jenny’s situation was deteriorating. We had to do it, so Jenny moved in with us, eager for a fresh start.
The next five years were a rollercoaster of recovery and trauma. There have been many challenges including further suicide attempts and subsequent mental health ward admissions, but perhaps the lowest point for me was two years ago. Following threats from a family member, Jenny foolishly went to visit her ex boyfriend, who introduced her to a new drug, mephedrone. She stayed away from home for three days on a drugs binge.
I felt sick to my core. I knew this drug could consume her and start a new addiction, fast. When I picked her up, she could hardly breathe and was covered in bruises from injections. As she was craving more drugs and wanting to kill herself, I drove straight to the doctor. Under his guidance, I nursed Jenny slowly back to health. I was heartbroken. My husband and I questioned if we could continue. We’re thankful that we did.
There have been countless wonderful moments as we’ve watched this courageous, kind and inspirational young woman transform her life into one worth staying alive for. Last year she even won an award for her volunteering efforts in the community and is planning to start an apprenticeship. Best of all, Jenny is now a part of our family and we love her to bits. My daughter calls her aunty.
Jenny’s life is by no means plain sailing but she is a world away from her past. Three years ago she couldn’t bear the thought of living. Now she is looking forward to her future.
Some identifying details have been changed.
If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123 in the UK. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is on 13 11 14. Hotlines in other countries can be found here.
The day I made a difference is the Guardian Voluntary Sector Network’s series that showcases the work of people involved with charities. If you have a story you want to share email voluntarysectornetwork@theguardian.com with a short summary of your experience or fill in the form here.
