Woman tells of struggles as she tries to break free
She was dropped off at convenience store in Monmouth County, hungry and broke and homeless, but still high from heroin she got "on credit" from dealers who knew she'd be back.
"I have 763 contacts in my phone and not one of those people would help me," said Lynda Saletta. "I burned every bridge -- with family, with friends."
Her new boyfriend, Jake, who asked that his last name not be used, would not let her into his house.
"I'd see it too many times," he said.
This was a few weeks ago.
She'd hit bottom. Again. And went to detox. Again. She's clean now, but has been clean before. She was clean for two years when her first child was born in 1992, then clean again - but on methadone -- when the second baby came in 1995.
But the father was a drug user, too, and violent, and her children were taken from her. That was another bottom.
Then Saletta was clean for almost seven years, working as a manicurist in a high-end salon.
"I did Patti Springsteen's nails. I did Heather Locklear's feet," she said.
But there was more violence in another relationship and "I met a guy with a pocketful of money who said 'Do you party?' and I thought, 'Why not?' "
Lynda Saletta talks about her battle with heroin which she says caused her to lose her children home and found herself working as a prostitute to support her addiction. Long story short, she wound up in jail for a year in Florida; the guy she was with got 15. That was two years ago.
"I've been in jail at least 100 times," she said. "For drugs, for prostitution. That was the longest."
She's also been through rehab "four or five" times, each time after a new low.
"I'd say there have been at least four or five 'bottoms' in my life," she said. "I hope there aren't any more, but I can't say that for certain. I'm not sure I'm strong enough. I hope I am."
Lynda Saletta's tears up when she talks about "the waste" her life has been, living - if you can call it that - from fix to fix.
"The only time you're not anxious or sick is when you're high," she said. "The second you come down, you start worrying about how to get money for more. It's serious anxiety. Panic. But that's not as bad as the sickness."
"The sickness" was the first bottom she hit 25 years ago. She was 18, still living with her mother in Rutherford.
"My mother wouldn't give me any money. I had no money and I was sick," she said. "My legs felt all rubber-bandy. I was sweating and shaking."
It was the first time she realized that heroin - and its euphoric stupor - controlled her.
Saletta has been a drug addict since she was 15. She's 43 now and telling her story because she sees too, too many young people following the path that caused her "to lose everything."
"I've lost my kids, I've lost my family, I've lost my homes, I've lost myself," she said. "I don't recognize myself anymore. Maybe someday I will."
Lynda Saletta is a drug addict who now says she is clean. She is telling her story with hopes of helping someone else because drug overdoses are the leading cause of accidental deaths in New Jersey. She's back at Jake's house now, trying to put her life back together with his help. Part of that was gathering the courage to tell her story, to do some good. She says people are stubbornly naive about heroin.: is it "everywhere" and a danger to "anybody."
"I started going to the Bronx, then Newark. Now, I can go right down the street."
A few weeks ago, while she was working as a prostitute out of a motel room on Route 35 in Monmouth County, her dealer met her at a gas station and convenience store across the street. While others stopped on their daily commute for coffee or a midday snack or soda, Saletta was outside, buying $10 bags of heroin.
She's telling her story because drug overdoses are the leading cause of accidental deaths in New Jersey, killing more than twice the number of people who die in car accidents. Let that one sink in for a moment. Last year, 1,310 people died of overdoses, compared to 561 who were killed on the road.
"It's amazing I'm not dead."
At least 10 of her friends are. Maybe more. She started to count, then gave up. "I can't remember all of them."
Equally amazing is that she was not murdered by one of the hundreds of strangers whose cars she climbed into in the middle of the night in the barren industrial sections of Frelinghuysen Avenue in Newark, or the men who knocked on her door at various motel rooms from Route 1 & 9 in Elizabeth to Route 35 down the Shore.
"In Newark, that was the real bottom."
She has been beaten and robbed; during her most recent "bottom" a guy came to her motel room, paid her for sex, then tried to steal her purse.
"I got dragged by his car," she said, showing the large road rash scar below her knee. "But he didn't get my purse."
She said "it's a miracle" she doesn't have AIDS.
"I shared needles I knew were dirty," Saletta said, showing the track marks on her neck and both arms. "But that's what you do when you're desperate. You do things ... you do things you can't believe you're doing. But you don't even think about. It's all about getting more drugs."
She's telling her story because it all happened to her - "a pretty little Italian girl," she said, "who just liked to party a little. It was fun, when it started."
There are two "read between the lines" elements to that statement.
The first is, "How did this happen to me?"
The second is, "It could happen to you."
And that's why she stepped up to tell her story.
"Maybe it can help somebody."
Mark Di Ionno may be reached at mdiionno@starledger.com. Follow The Star-Ledger on Twitter @StarLedger and find us on Facebook.