I had to debate with myself so hard before I finally decided to post my dirty laundry on my blog... then I decided that nothing anyone can say about it would hurt me any more than I've hurt myself in the past... and, since I am my own agent I decide what to put out there about myself. So here goes. Here's a little about my climb from the dungeon to the tower of my own "inner castle."
What follows is a whirlwind story about spousal, drug and all forms of abuse, combined with motherhood, addiction, recovery and chasing my ultimate dream of becoming an author.
Now, where was I? Oh, right, eighteen. I quickly learned that my husband and high school sweet heart is a controlling, physically and emotionally abusive redneck and that the only way we could tolerate each other was by smoking a lot of weed. Twenty: It’s time for a baby! Yeah, I thought maybe a crying, stinky swaddled mess of adorable would save our marriage. Ha! Thankfully, my daughter, combined with a new drug, cocaine, would be the beginning of the end of my first pitiful marriage. When he decided to hit me in front of her at ten months old and strangled me because I wouldn’t let him put coke on certain body parts, I decided it was time to leave.
At twenty, I took my girl and ran over to where my dad moved. I met up with my other high school sweetheart, got my own place for the first time and got clean for about six months. Then I met White Boy Larry, the equivalent of my pimp in disguise. White Boy Larry was his code name to get into the crack house where he introduced me to my new lover, Crack.
Crack and I got along splendidly! He would keep me up all night, make me feel like superwoman, helped me lose weight, and cleaned my house, the perfect life companion, right? Our relationship was one of few words and little emotional growth. He always seemed to know what I wanted, when I wanted it and I couldn’t get enough of him! If he was gone, even for a second, I would miss him so badly! I would go out at all odd hours of the night to try and find him and bring him safely home. The only issue was he wanted me all to himself and would rarely give up any space in my brain or heart so I could share it with my daughter.
After six months, our beautiful relationship began to take a serious nosedive. When he found out I was cheating on him with Sam, my soon to be second husband, he got a little angry. When I told him my daughter meant more to me than him, he got even angrier; so angry that he kept me up for three days, stressed me out so much I developed hives and couldn’t’ eat or drink anything!
Finally, with Sam’s encouragement, I was able to break up with Crack. Sam told me I had an addiction to Crack and that I needed some serious help to get over him. At ninety pounds, with hives and an empty shell of a soul, I made a decision to enter into substance abuse counseling with sixteen other addicts like myself.
That was in 2003, at age 23. I had a few epiphanies while in counseling. As I sat in a room with sixteen other ladies, the counselor told us all that one of us would still be clean within one year’s time. As I looked at the other ladies with their scars and tats, the empty sadness in their eyes reminded me of wounded animals in a cage. I decided that I would be that one person and that no one would stop me. For once, my stubbornness was on my side and not against me.
I quit using all legal, (alcohol included) and illegal substances. I became a wonderful mother, married Sam in 2005, quit smoking cigarettes in 2007, and became a religious exerciser and a vegetarian. Today, I have been clean for eleven years, I run 3-5 miles a day, 4 days a week, I earn a dependable 50K a year, I have a car that’s paid for, my own place, a fabulous 13-year-old girl, I’m a published author and I just took a huge leap of faith by leaving my second husband because I wasn’t in love anymore. My next step at self-preservation is getting off my anti-depressants and working my way to the top of a best sellers list!
So I love crack cocaine because it took me to the dungeon so I could appreciate moving up to the tower of the castle. Without starving in its shadows, I never would have been able to be thankful for any light that crept through between the bars of my dungeon cell. It has taught that if I love myself, everything else will fall where it’s meant to. Not always where and when I want it to, but where it’s meant to.