I've been through a lot of hardships in my life, things I very rarely choose to to speak about. However, I want to open up so that others may find hope in my story. Maybe you are in need of some inspiration to get through a tough time in your life, maybe you know someone who may need it, maybe you just liked to be armed with experience you can share with others...whatever the reason may be that you are reading my story, I hope you get something out of it.
I grew up my whole life with two parents who despised each other. I honestly can't recall even one moment in which they got a long. They would argue, scream, throw things at each other...it was World War III in my household. From very early on, I hated my life. My mother was verbally abusive; at one point, she told me she hoped I would drown in my bath. My father would just leave and not come back. I'd sit up all night calling him, and when he quit answering and eventually turned off his phone, I'd just sit there and leave voicemails. My brother would lock me in my room with really loud music so I couldn't hear my mom screaming and telling me all the terrible things she could think of. When I was about 8, I was blamed for my mom having to go to the mental doctor. She admitted herself to the hospital, but they sent her to a psychiatrist instead. All the medicines they doped her up on didn't really help; they just made her sleep through a big portion of my life.
When I was in the 6th grade, I cut myself for the first time. I snapped a hanger and took the sharp edge, and dug it in my skin. I barely left a scratch, but it was enough. I was instantly hooked on the release.
The very beginning of my Freshman year of high school, I lost my virginity to a guy who I honestly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. Later, I found out, he cheated on me the very same night that he took my innocence. We broke things off a few weeks later.
That is when one of the most tragic things ever happened to me: I was raped by my best friend. My rapist was not only my best friend, but also my first kiss, a year prior. He was always there for me when I needed him, and I thought he'd always be there for me. Then, one evening, as it was getting dark, he took me in the woods near my house. We started fooling around, but I asked to stop. He wouldn't allow me to, however. He held my head there, and kept thrusting into my mouth. I fought against him, pushing him away, crying, gagging...it wasn't working. This was the beginning of me giving up. When I gave up and let him have his way, I believe I gave up on my life entirely. When he was finished, he left me all alone in the woods. I cleaned myself up, walked back to my house, and vowed to pretend nothing had happened, even though I was completely broken inside. I began to cut more. Not just more, but deeper. I almost bled out a few times over the next few years. It became an addiction.
A year passed, pretty uneventful, until the summer after my freshman year. This is when I started my journey into the world of drugs. I started dating a guy who was a heavy smoker, and I took my first hit off the magic pipe. I was instantly hooked to the way it made me forget everything around me. He got locked up at the end of that summer for heroin, and so I met a new guy.
This guy didn't believe in drugs, alcohol, or anything illegal, really. He had a car, and I felt so adventurous. One thing he was skilled in, however, was sex. We did it multiple times a day, and if I refused, he'd just start doing things, anyway. Things were good for a month or so, then the abuse started. I wasn't allowed to see my friends anymore, and I was lucky to even see my family. He started to call me fat, ugly, said I didn't try hard enough to get rid of my depression. He blamed all of our problems on me. He would cuss me out, make me feel like total shit, every single day. He made me feel like I couldn't leave, as if I was damaged goods, and I was incapable of being loved by anyone else. So I stayed. For a whole year, I stayed.
Then, one day, while he was at work, I said "screw you," and I went to a friend's house. He wanted me to leave her house, so he dumped me, knowing I'd go home to cry alone. When I got home, however, I didn't cry. I grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, and I took them all. About an hour later, I started to feel weird, and I freaked. I realized I didn't want to die after all. I told a friend, who told my father, who rushed me to the ER. I stayed a week, in the psych ward, where I decided it was time for a change. When I got out, I broke things off with him, and called up my old dealer. I had been off drugs while with my controlling ex, and I had no idea I could get back on them so quickly. The next year and a half is a complete blur in my brain. I was constantly drunk, constantly smoking pot, and I tried various pills. I hooked up with man after man, with a woman or two between. I used my body to get me drugs and alcohol. I was raped, taken advantage of, used. A year and a half later, I was completely used.
I can't tell you exactly why I quit, but all of a sudden, something in my mind just clicked. I realized I wanted to make something of myself. I got kicked out of school half way through my senior year. This is exactly the point I realized that I had hit rock bottom. It was time for a change. I dedicated all my heart and mind into bettering myself, into building myself back up. I went to a new school, met good friends, and focused on my studies. I graduated high school in 2014, with a decent GPA, and enrolled a community college.
This is when I began to date Zack. This is when I became Jadon's mother. This is when I realized that I could never go back to that life, or I would lose my family that I was beginning to love.
I now no longer mess with drugs, I only drink a few beers here and there, and I am helping my fiancé to raise his son. I haven't cut in quite some time, and the suicidal thoughts have decreased drastically. I am still working to build myself, to learn who I truly am, but I work hard each day. I hit rock bottom, and I recognize that. I have vowed to never end up that low again, and I have to consciously work each and every day to stay away from that. Rock bottom is the foundation on which I have built this absolutely amazing life. I am a survivor, I am recovering, and I am still here.
