Seven years ago I experienced a loss. My sister overdosed. I vowed to be better for her. She deserved better. In the wake of these events I lost my way. I ended up doing what I swore I would never do. Compound this with my past (abusive, molesting father/bullying throughout school/depression/anxiety/constant identity crisis, to name a few) and I was a disaster.
I didn’t know where to turn, I didn’t know how to stop, and I didn’t know to cope. I felt as if I didn’t know how to live life. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Using drugs cost me my job (and so much more). A job I worked really hard for, over a long period of time. My life was just getting started, and I blew it. I resisted recovery. I fought to change my ways. I wanted to continue numbing, I didn’t want to feel a thing. My scars are reminders of how desperate I was to feel something. Other close calls of wanting to leave this world. I was married to a man and I felt trapped in a life that didn’t feel right. I seemingly had everything, from an outsiders point of view. And I didn’t want any of it. No one knew how uncomfortable I was in my own skin. In my own life.
I’ve been fighting this fight to have this life I lead now. I lost of lot of things, but gained better ones in their places. I am fortunate enough to now have family who accept and embrace me. I have an amazing girlfriend who loves me for who I really am. Flaws and all. I had to learn (and am still learning) to let go of my past, and to let go of things I can’t control. I had to find myself and learn how to live again.
Story submitted by Stephanie.