The fatherless teen girl who turned to sex, drugs and alcohol for peace of mind...
It began around the ages of 15-16, a sudden awareness of the fact my biological father had really disowned me through no wrong doing of my own. It is a gut-wrenching feeling after years of praying for him to love you, ending in nothing but a ' I wish I never had you'.
Out of nowhere alcohol, drugs and men became so appealing, I had a friend who was a few years older but not much wiser. She would purchase the alcohol and cigarettes, we would run out of school and find shelter somewhere until we was ready to go back and face reality. It was through this time period I found myself in the hands of an abuser, I was weak; vulnerable. There wasn't a man in my life who actually wanted me or who could encourage better behaviour, I was barely an adult with the weight of the world on my back. Nothing my mother could say to me would of ever changed how angry I was at the world.
Every sip of alcohol eased another stained tear on my heart, it covered it with a temporary bandage that unwrapped as soon as sober hit. You need constant hits of something to re-cover all the wounds, this is a very dangerous cycle of self-destruct.
I didn't love myself, I never thought I was pretty or smart even though I was an A grade student prior to this I made the decision to throw my education away and assume that I knew best, my strongest subject was English Literature, I loved the way the words had a way with my mind, like fireworks exploded every time I picked up an anthology book but it never was enough to keep me on the right path. What alcohol soon stopped healing, drugs could fix and when they became boring the temptation of trying harder, stronger stuff sneaked in. I don't know to this day what saved me, I just don't think it was in my purpose to spiral down that road.
A year had passed and it was no longer such a good coping mechanism anymore, nothing gave me the same buzz now and I was in desperate need of pain relief. An old notebook was hidden at the back of my bedside cabinet with short poems and stories I used to write as a child, I put the paper to pen. I allowed the free will of words to take a pain away that I never even knew I had then, all these new pains surfaced and was covered by the magic of expression.
This wasn't an overnight process, I filled over 20 books for weeks on end, my body ached in agony for a quick fix, I had the sweats so bad I soaked bed sheets through to the mattress and had to air them out. I would shake till I would shake myself to sleep, then wake up with the joy of being able to write something new and beautiful. Who would know that something so simple could have such an uplifting, life changing outlook on my life..
I think this is the first time that I've heard of someone coming out of addiction by writing. I wonder if you still have those 40 books of writing that you can publish.
I have a good friend who has a very similar story to yours in the beginning, only she had a child before she ran away (her son is a big supporter of her today) and has struggled with addiction and relationships all her life. She wants to write her story, but has trouble focusing on it and we do not have enough time together for me to help her write it yet.
Potential meets purpose for great accomplishments in the life of a young student.
A young student is interested in learning coding programs. He applies and is rejected because of his age. He does not give up and tries again and is accepted. Eventu
These song lyrics and art are tales, tides and twinkling lights - tunes telling stories of warmth and sun, city and sand, paths that lead, and the coins we can keep in the Karma Bank. Spirit's been bypassed for sorrow, dreaming of a better tomorrow .
Potential meets purpose for great accomplishments in the life of a young student.
A young student is interested in learning coding programs. He applies and is rejected because of his age. He does not give up and tries again and is accepted. Eventu
