Letters Written in White (20 page)

I ALWAYS KNEW something was wrong with me. I was sixteen years old when I started cutting myself. Till this day I'm not sure why but the cutting felt good, which scared me as I got older but I still couldn't stop. I was way too quick to get upset. I was constantly irritable, lashing out, screaming at friends and family, it drove me crazy. I was freaking out, having panic attacks and couldn't understand why. I would spend weeks and months being depressed, then I'd spend weeks feeling amazing and on top of the world, only to crash down hard into depression again. My emotions were out of control and I wanted it to all end. I was losing my boyfriend and my young daughter. I knew I was a horrible mother but I could never seem to get myself together enough for her. It wasn't until she was five years old and asked me one day, "Mommy what's wrong with your face?" I asked her why she said that and she said, I didn't look normal. That night I cried myself to sleep. I was depressed and had reached my lowest point.

When I was twenty-eight years old, I started seeing a therapist for help and for my daughter's sake. At twenty-nine, he told me it was time for me to see a psychiatrist. That's when I was diagnosed with bipolar 2 and anxiety disorder. That was the best and worst day of my life. It was also the beginning of the new me. I chose to start medication right away. Even though I was scared, I was losing everything and everyone in my life. I was pushing them away and I desperately needed them back.

After months of adjusting my meds over and over, I finally have the right dosages for myself. I have my family back and my daughter and I are closer than ever. I finally feel whole inside. I had to fight for my life; I was at war with myself. After years of struggling, I finally won this battle at the age of thirty-one. I am terrified that one day I will lose myself to this illness but I always remind myself to stay strong and that my life is worth fighting for. I’ll never give up and I hope that others will stay strong too.

I AM A drug addict, well, a recovering drug addict. For fourteen years I used methamphetamines every day, often more than that. I used during both of my pregnancies, and tried all the different methods of getting the drug into my body, whether it was by snorting, smoking, putting in it a capsule and eating it, to letting my boyfriend at the time shoot me up. When he wasn't there to do that for me, I'd break off the needle and stick the syringe up my butt.

There were days that I just cried from desperation, not wanting to feel this way anymore, but couldn't function in life without being high. It wasn't even about feeling high anymore, it was about maintenance. I had to do a little just to have the energy to take a shower; to push out words from my lungs was exhausting. I wanted so desperately to stop, I just didn't know how.

The day came to get admitted into the hospital for delivery of my daughter (I had preeclampsia, and gestational diabetes, and needed bed rest) I already had an eighteen month old son at home, and couldn't imagine how I was going to have the energy for a new baby, let alone rest time. So knowing I was going to be at the hospital for who knows how long until I delivered, I went and got high one last time, knowing it'd be a while before I could again. But I had this feeling that maybe something would happen and this could be the end...no more drugs holding me prisoner.

So when I arrived at the hospital, the nurse handed me a cup and told me to pee in it, and I knew this was a new beginning for me. I prayed to God for the first time in a very long while that He help me and hear my desperation. I asked Him to take away this addiction, remove the cravings and withdrawal symptoms, and make me never to be tempted by meth again. And my prayer was answered.

I've been clean for thirteen years as of July 18th (my daughter was born on the 24th) I'd lost custody of my kids to my parents for one year, until I could prove (by doing three urine drug tests a week for a year, and a plethora of other requirements) that I was drug free. I got custody back one year later, and have never for one moment craved meth, or any other drug since. I didn't suffer with withdrawals, it was like I'd never used before. I had more energy than I ever had while high, and haven't looked back. I couldn't quit on my own power, but with Jesus, all things are possible. He saved me...I'll never give credit to anyone else for my recovery; my life hasn't been the same since asking Him into my heart and my life. I am forever grateful.

WAKING UP, PUTTING on the coffee, begging the kids to wake up; this is my morning ritual. When it is hard to be happy with yourself, it’s even harder to instill self-happiness in your children. But I try every day. I smile, when I want to cry. My girls don’t know that inside I too am a scared child; waiting for someone to come save the day. I am a single mother by choice. I chose to leave my alcoholic-abusive husband. I chose to start over. I did not choose to be the mother and the father. To be the only one who shows up for sporting activities, school conferences, and everything in-between.

Some days, I want to give up; to crawl away; to become a part of the house that is crumbling around me. Of course I have moments of happiness for myself. Times when I think the person looking back at me in the mirror might just make it through the day. No one I know knows the real me; no one! They only see what I allow; only what I want people to. I’m not alone; I’m not the only one. I know this. But I don’t reach out. I don’t ask for help. I don’t allow people to see my faults. I push on and do all I can. I try to tell myself I have done a good job every day. But it’s hard. It’s painful…

MARCH 2015 CHANGED my life forever. I was diagnosed with Bipolar. I was in one of the worst lows of my life but at least I had an answer why. Taking care of my kids was a monumental task. My husband checked out. Instead of standing with me, he left me in June. Some people can take it and some people can't. I was already seeing doctors and therapists and working to find a balance but it was nothing short of hell on wheels. I was put on meds that made me tired, gave me blurry vision, the shakes, or kept me awake for days. I worked through it while he walked away and left me to fight this on my own. Oh how I resent him every day for it. Today, I stand on my own, still fighting but better than I was just four months ago when I split from him. I have realized things about myself that I never knew I was or that I could do. I fight every single day for ME and for my kids. Some days I win and some days I don't, but each day I wake up saying I CAN and I WILL.

I’M SITTING IN my room, scribbling down some lyrics for the new song I’m writing for the band, and movement outside my window catches my eye.

Lily Evers.

We’ve been neighbors since we were kids though she’s always been a mystery to me. She’s sitting on her deck, reading. She’s always reading. Reaching up to twist her long hair into a bun, a few loose strands fall just below her tan shoulders. As I stare, I wonder why the hell I’m staring, and then realize, what guy wouldn’t? She’s gorgeous. Only thing is, she’s an epic bitch. One of those closed off, snooty,
I’m too good for you
bitches. Not that she has any reason to feel that way. She lives here on the wrong side of the tracks just like I do. Where she gets off acting like she’s better is beyond me. She glances over in my direction and our eyes connect through the window. Curtains, blinds, something, needs to be put on these damn windows. Dammit! She quickly looks away as soon as she sees me, and once again Lily Evers has dismissed me. Who cares? I know I don’t give a shit what she thinks. Girls are a huge pain in the ass, and I don’t have time for them. I have my boys and our music. One day I won’t be a high school student in a garage band. I’ll be on the road, and there’s no room for love and relationships on the road. I just have to make it through senior year and I’m free to live my dream.