For two decades, methamphetamine controlled John Nesting's life.

Drug use consumed his paychecks and destroyed a marriage, a job, his health and even his teeth.

Five years ago, Nesting had simply had enough of the drug that once made him feel like he could "whoop the world."

"I just up and quit," said the Terre Haute native, whose first encounter with the stimulant was about 25 years ago in California.

He made the decision to stop using meth after his girlfriend became pregnant.

He locked his front door, shutting out the people who, through the years, had partied at his home. Distancing himself from other users was key to his recovery, he believes. So was his desire to stop using the drug.

"People have got to want to quit. That's the whole thing," he said.

While Nesting was able to quit on his own, many addicts don't have the willpower to do so.

"Some people clearly need treatment," said Richard Rawson, the associate director of UCLA's Integrated Substance Abuse Program and a renowned expert on treatment for meth addicts.

Across Illinois and Indiana, the number of people seeking help for an addiction to meth is on the rise, according to statistics compiled by the U.S. Department of Justice.

In Indiana, meth-related admissions at drug treatment centers more than doubled between 1998 and 1999, with 694 seeking help in the latest statistics available. In Illinois, the number also more than doubled, with 740 admissions in fiscal year 2000 and 1,528 a year later.

With the influx of meth addicts, some addictions counselors are finding that programs need to be tailored to the specific addiction.

"Our traditional treatment just wasn't enough," said Judy Brown, clinical director at the Human Resources Center in Paris, Ill.

A new program, expected to begin later this month or in early February, will include more intensive and more frequent contact with clients, Brown said.

Rawson, who has researched drug abuse for nearly 30 years, said meth use can affect a person's ability to think as well as impact emotions. It often takes four to six months before brain function returns to normal, he said.

With that in mind, there are certain steps essential to curbing relapse for meth addicts.

Longer term treatment programs, no less than 90 days, lend to better success, he said. That's especially true for addicts who inject meth. They tend to be more severely addicted and require residential treatment for success in recovery, Rawson said.

In addition, emotional exchanges at self-help meetings don't appear to be as effective for meth addicts, he said. With methamphetamine addiction, treatment should be more like coaching than therapy, he said.

For those in outpatient treatment, once-a-week therapy simply isn't enough. At minimum, therapy should be three days a week and should include information that helps meth addicts understand risks and triggers and suggest ways to relieve boredom, Rawson said.

While meth users' needs may be different, they have the same underlying condition as other drug users, those in the field explain. Simply put: Addiction.

"It's absolutely a disease," said Dr. Randy Stevens, a Terre Haute family practice physician who specializes in addictions medicine.

Rawson adds that people sometimes slip. "They do relapse," he said. That doesn't mean they're a failure, though.

Those who stop using meth, which is psychologically as well as physically addicting, often have intense cravings, said Julie Baesler, director of Fellowship House, a residential recovery center in Terre Haute. They also commonly experience depression due to a depletion of the brain chemical dopamine. It can take as long as two years to get back that "feel good" chemical, Baesler said.

Key to staying clean during that period, addictions specialists say, is to change the people, places and things of the past.

In Terre Haute, treatment options range from outpatient help at Discover Recovery and Hamilton Center to residential programs at Light House Mission and the Fellowship House.

Help is also available in the confines of K-Pod at the Vigo County Jail.

Home to the jail's drug treatment program, the jail block built for 18 typically holds 22 men, said John Paulson of the Hamilton Center, a counselor for the jail recovery program.

Don Blair was among the inmates seeking substance abuse treatment in December.

"Methamphetamine has ruined my life," the 34-year-old Terre Haute man said.

He's like most of the men in the jail's K-Pod. They've lost their families, their homes, their cars. The culprit: Drugs, and for at least three-fourths of them, methamphetamine.

Bernie Burns, director of the Robert H. Brown Alcohol & Drug Program -- a county-run substance abuse evaluation and monitoring program -- believes jail treatment is important. But he also stresses it isn't the answer.

Burns, who explains he's not against punishment, is concerned at the emphasis on building more jails while communities lack needed residential addictions treatment centers.

With an addition that opened a year ago, the Vigo County Jail can house 268 inmates. Of those, 22 are treatment beds. "I think that speaks volumes right there," Burns said of the priority given to recovery programs.

Jessie Cook, a Terre Haute defense attorney, said she believes the many meth-related arrests aren't solving the problem. If the community wanted to do anything, money would be put into treatment, instead, she said.

While jail may not be the ideal setting for recovery, for some, including Spencer Basham, the program in K-Pod has offered hope.

"I was powerless over my addictions," Basham, 34, said in December, admitting he was thankful for being in K-Pod, where he found a "higher power."

Most inmates in the pod are there on court orders. Without such an order, the wait for inmates on a list, which currently numbers 30, can be at least two months, Paulson said. Inmates headed to state prison, where some waiting lists are as long as 400, are ineligible.

Paulson said program funding, which comes from a local grant, limits it to one pod. Ideally, if more money was available, Paulson said the program could expand to a second pod, with a third available for continued recovery.

For now, counselors must concentrate on who they can reach.

"Our idea is to provide the client with HOPE," which stands for Hamilton Center Offender Program of Education, Paulson said. The six-week program includes weekly counseling and daily 12-step meetings.

Also important, the men in the program explain, is it separates them from the rest of the jail population -- allowing them to focus on recovery without being surrounded by negative influences.

As the men gather on one Tuesday afternoon, they talk about what HOPE has done for them.

"It's made be feel like I fit in," says one.

"It's saved my life," says another.

For those fresh out of jail and others who've lost everything, the Light House Mission at 1450 Wabash Ave. is another place to turn.

"For the most part, when they've come here, they've pretty much bottomed out. Drugs have been so dominant, it's all they know," said Tom Ballard, who as the mission's chaplain oversees the 10-step, faith-based recovery program, which has one focus.

"We tell them, 'Your only hope is Jesus Christ,'" Ballard said.

Many in the program are walks-in. Of those who are from the Terre Haute area, at least 80 percent have used meth. The same percentage have been in jail, Ballard said. Some as old as 60 have been doing drugs since their 20s.

During Bible studies, Ballard stresses the importance of overcoming temptations and reconciling with friends and relatives. He requires participants to memorize verses and materials from the 10-step program.

"I can't make them get this in their heart," he said. "But I can make them get this in their head."

Situated in the middle of a south-side public housing complex in Terre Haute, Fellowship House offers a home-like environment with the structure needed by those on the road to recovery, said Julie Baesler, director of the residential center.

Some at Fellowship House are there on a court order, others are self-referrals and still others are recommended to the facility by family or friends.

The 90-day, two-phase program allows residents to work or attend recovery meetings during the day.

A year ago, the program had space for 12 people. Last fall, it expanded to include 24 beds, half in one building for women, half in a separate building for men. And there's no trouble keeping the beds filled, Baesler said.

Bob, 42, who credits Fellowship House with helping in his recovery, believes more residential facilities are needed locally.

"There's not enough options," said the Parke County native, who agreed to talk on the condition his last name not be used.

Debbie Chaney of Chrisman, Ill., said she realized that was true when her 16-year-old daughter admitted in July to having a problem with drug abuse -- especially methamphetamine.

At first, "we didn't know what to do. We hadn't confronted it before," Chaney said of the situation.

Chaney's ex-husband began making calls to find a long-term program, but both soon realized little help existed locally for a teenager.

After a short time at a facility in Champaign, Ill., Lauren began living at a long-term South Carolina facility, which is a member of the World Wide Association of Specialty Programs and Schools.

Run similar to a military school, the $3,000-a-month program is designed for students who are struggling in their home, school or community, according to the program's Web site.

The cost has strained Lauren's parents financially, but "to know that she's safe, it made me feel a lot better," Chaney said.

Since taking Lauren to South Carolina in late July, Chaney has been able to communicate with her daughter only by mail and more recently occasional phone calls.

The idea behind sending her to a distant location, in part, was to get her away from the environment that led to meth use, Chaney said.

While Lauren's future remains undetermined, there are Valley addicts who have stopped using and remained drug free -- some for decades, others for shorter periods of time.

Ed Ross, who used a variety of drugs --including meth -- is among those in recovery who now help others.

A couple of decades ago, Ross -- who had been in and out prison on drug charges -- was arrested once again for dealing drugs. At the time, he faced a minimum of 60 years in prison. It was in jail therapy that he had a "spiritual awakening."

Not long after that, things starting falling into place. The judge gave him a break. And so did Hamilton Center, where he soon began volunteering about 50 hours a week.

In recovery for 15 years, Ross works full time at Hamilton Center, where he is supervisor of addictions services.

"There are successes. People do change," Ross said.

Jeff Meier, a 39-year-old Sullivan County native, said his addiction to meth wrecked two marriages, cost him a steady job and led to prison time.

"I had to change my whole life," he said of what led to recovery.

Clean for more than three years, he now runs a church-based support group "Whosever Will" which includes people in recovery, but also extends to those facing other life problems.

Nesting, who quit on his own, acknowledges an addict never overcomes addictions, but "it gets easier to say 'no' the longer you're clean."

He's replaced the high of meth with getting high on life through everyday activities, including spending time with his daughters.

He knows others can do the same.

"I honestly feel if I can [quit], anyone can," Nesting said.