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" I grew up with opportunities most people can only imagine. At 18 I was beautiful, wealthy, ambitious, and in love. I had just been hired to work on the New Mexico set of No Country for Old Men as a makeup artist, where I met and befriended famous actors, and was quickly introduced to the allure of the film industry. But the love of my life, Max*, was not as lucky. He came from a poor family, broken by divorce, and two of his cousins were murdered before he turned 14. He was hardened from the start, and at an early age was pulled into meth and a life of crime. I met Max at the old Allsup&amp;#039;s gas station. I was 15. My car had stalled and I couldn&amp;#039;t get the engine to start. An old white pick up truck pulled into the parking lot and out walked Max. It was like one of those old movie scenes. We gazed at each other from across the pumps. He saw me struggling at the wheel and walked right over to my car, reached his arm through the window, and miraculously, the thing sprang to life. After that, we were inseparable. It was us against the world. But when I started working on the film, we began to grow apart. The more my life soared, the more scared and dangerous Max became. I was torn between two worlds: one filled with everything I could ever dream of\u2014movies, fame, beauty, passion; the other, forbidden love punctuated by dangerous choices. Related: Is It Normal for Your Ex to Haunt Your Marriage? After the movie wrapped, I was given an opportunity to move to Los Angeles and I jumped at it. Leaving Max behind was the hardest decision I had ever made. He stayed in New Mexico and spiraled down a path of destruction. A couple months after I settled in Los Angeles, the phone rang with an unknown number. When I answered, an automated voice asked me if I would accept a call from an inmate at the New Mexico State Penitentiary. Max had been arrested for fraud and was placed in a maximum-security penitentiary with a sentence of four years (though he was ultimately released after only two and half). Hearing the defeat in his voice was heartbreaking. I remember collapsing on the ground and crying. All I could do was cry. Even though we weren&amp;#039;t together, knowing what he was going through left this void in me. It made me want to run away. I had money so I packed my bags and decided, on a whim, to move to Spain. I shaved my head on a balcony in Barcelona (either my ultimate low or my ultimate high). After a few months, I grew complacent and moved to Australia, then New Zealand. I lived on boats, island hopped, partied, and tried to pretend I was a normal 19-year-old. But all the wonders of the world couldn&amp;#039;t fill the emptiness. Related: Meet the Cast of &amp;#039;Orange Is the New Black&amp;#039; My wanderlust ended in Africa, where I began to feel like I was finally healing and connecting with myself\u2014with the person I was without Max. It was my refuge. I ended up in a small village in Tanzania called Bagamoyo, which means to &amp;quot;Lay Down Your Heart.&amp;quot; And that&amp;#039;s what I did. I left part of my heart there. Being in Africa gave me hope that I could be whole again. When I returned to America, I started a non-profit to help aide the school in Bagamoyo. The more I worked with them, the less pain I felt. That should be the end of the story, but it isn&amp;#039;t. When Max got out of prison, I went back to him. I guess I felt as if I needed to right the wrongs I had done by leaving him. But he was even more broken than before. Despite the fact that I was running a non-profit and had found happiness outside of our toxic love, I gave into his drug-fueled lifestyle. Nearly four years ago, I finally walked away from Max for good, but not before losing everything I owned, everyone who was dear to me, and trying to take my life by overdosing on heroin. After a lengthy rehab stay, I finally ditched the bad habit. And the drugs, too. They say what doesn&amp;#039;t kill you makes you stronger. I&amp;#039;m living proof. *Name has been changed "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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