“Tell me every terrible thing you have ever done, and let me love you anyway.”

-Edgar Allan Poe

I grew up in the bible belt in the deep south, in a very highly controlled religious environment. Because of this, mental health was not real and therapy was a bad word. I was also horribly abused for as a long as I can remember by a family member that I loved very much, and I believe this started me down a path to finding something to numb the pain. I started drinking and smoking cigarettes around nine years old. By eleven, I was partying with full grown adults in fields and run down trailers. No one knew because I learned young how to keep secrets and how to act around different people.

Then I got a step mother and we moved to the city. She was diagnosed bi polar but did not believe in mental health so she remained unmedicated. I never knew if I was getting the sweet version or the manic angry version. So everyday was a guessing game and I had to adjust to her moods. I was bullied in my new school for having a thick southern accent and the way I dressed. I studied fashion and elocution to try and mask my country upbringing. I then found refuge in the outsiders and outcasts. They never asked me to change or be something that I was not. But that came at a price as well.

Around thirteen I started smoking weed. By sixteen I was smoking almost everyday. One parent was busy climbing the corporate ladder and the other was in the military and was deployed most of my childhood. We still attended church during this time and, needless to say, I did not fit in there, either. But it was very important to my parents to still keep up appearances. It was draining to say the least - trying to be someone else because you were continuously told the real you was so flawed.

I left my home two weeks after I turned 18 and moved in with my older boyfriend. By the time I got to college and had real freedom I went wild. I tried just about every drug imaginable during that time. The partying was fun until one day it wasn't just parties, it had become my life. It was unsustainable, and I was tired. I was lucky though, around this time I gave my now husband a chance. A good guy that wasn't in my friend group or lifestyle. He encouraged me to see a therapist and I did. And that one decision changed my life completely. I now had a support system. It took years to deconstruct from the religious and emotional trauma and to get my meds just right but I had a shoulder to lean on and that made all the difference. My parents divorced after 22 years and I was able to rebuild my relationship with my real mom while my stepmother cut me out of her life completely. And I believe that was best for us both.

I've been sober for 13 years, happily married, and blessed with the best kid ever! But I want you, dear reader, to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I hope we can walk that path together.