My story.

I grew up in Canada, and I am so very glad I did.

What began as a very happy childhood with a mom and dad fell apart when I was only 4 years old. They got divorced and I was so little that I didn’t understand what was happening around me. My mom would tell me later that I was angry with her, and in my mind, it was all her fault. I would get angry in a matter of seconds. But it wasn’t just anger, all my emotions were all over the place. I would be put on time out in my mom’s room, locked in, and I would destroy everything in sight. I would physically assault my mom and I really did put her through hell and back.

Fast forward to age 7. At this age I was raped. By the brother of a little girl I played with in the neighborhood. I didn’t tell a soul for 6 years. So for 6 years this turmoil built and built within me. I wasn’t able to deal with what happened in my early years so I pushed the memories so far under that I have VERY little memory of my life as a child.

As I grew older and bigger it only became worse. My path of destruction was that much bigger.

When I began school, I was so terrified of being apart from my mom that she would leave me at the principle’s office kicking and screaming and crying while they held me there. I threw a shoe at my grade one teacher’s face. I wasn’t able to live in my natural state.

When I got to grade 3 something about the teacher frightened me, and I began to smarten up a bit in public. Throughout all of this turmoil I was able to make incredible grades and they eventually wanted me to skip grade 3. I was already younger by a year than my class so they decided against it. But they let me work how I wanted to. I worked on my schoolwork much better outside of the classroom. I was allowed to do all my work at home.

The temper tantrums and rollercoaster of emotions continued in the background though. As did my incredible anxiety about social situations. Back then one might have described me as shy, but it was so much more than that. I was so concerned with what others thought of me. I have been my whole life.

At age 13, when I went through sex ed in school it came to a point where there is a sheet that asks the parents to ask if their child was ever raped or sexually violated.

At this point – Finally – I told my mom. What I learned about what she knew filled in the blanks. She had asked me before, but I always avoided the question. She told me that a kid in the neighborhood saw and came and told her. Then when I went home that day apparently I was screaming in the bathroom and there was blood everywhere. To this day, 19 years later, I have no memory of this. But I know it happened. It’s like I know the sky is blue.

We went to the police, and eventually were let down by the system. He was 11 years old when it happened. Because of the laws in Canada, he couldn’t be charged. The police knew it happened, and could do nothing.

I went through rape counselling but at that point, I was doing better. I had finally released the words I had kept for 6 years. My mom said she had her daughter back.

Little did we know.

Throughout my childhood my dad was in and out of my life. I held a lot of anger towards him for putting us through this. Around the age of 14 I wrote a terribly nasty letter to him about how I felt, never mailed it, and stopped talking to him altogether.

When I was 15 I entered high school. I had previously attended the same school right by the house I grew up in for kindergarten to grade 9. Now I had to go to a new school, where most of my friends wouldn’t be.

I struggled. I got sidetracked by feeling so alone. PAINFULLY alone. I would eat my lunch alone in the bathroom in a stall, crying.

It felt like everyone was judging, watching. Looking back, I wonder if they actually were or if I was just hyper sensitive to it.

While I had that side of me, I also got involved. By Grade 11 I had joined pep squad and student council and the newspaper among other things. I was slow to speak up, very awkward, but it allowed me a little bit to have a place where I belonged.

I met my first boyfriend. I don’t want to use names so I’ll just use intitials.

J was the world to me from the get go. We kind of just fell into things. We dated through most of my high school years and he helped me come out of my shell a bit, allowing people in.

He took me to my first rave when I was 16. At the time I was so naive I had no idea people were even doing drugs there. But they were all so friendly and loving and accepting.

For the very first time in my life, I felt home.

I began to listen to happy hardcore and my moods elevated. I had a great boyfriend, and by grade 12 I was Co-President of the Student Council as well as coaching Pep Squad.

In February of my grade 12 year I got pregnant.

Again, I didn’t tell anyone, except for my boyfriend. Things had been getting kind of rocky and he was demanding that I have an abortion. At the time, it was the best thing for me.

I had the abortion two months in, and my relationship with J fell apart shortly after. I started missing a ton of school, went into a deep depression.

The school wasn’t much help either. I went to catholic school my whole life and the teachers were gossiping about what I did. That it was wrong.

I had been accepted to college in another city, but I dropped out just two months before graduation and essentially my whole life fell apart at that point.

I went into a deep depression. I started going to raves every weekend and not coming home. I took drugs for the first time. I began to write a lot, poetry, journals etc. But it was very dark stuff. I wanted J back so much. He was my rock for so long. I harbored obsessive thoughts about where he was. I would call his house repeatedly for hours just trying to talk to him. To the point where I was eventually blocked from calling and police were called to tell me to leave him alone.

I threatened to kill myself, I cut my arms up a couple times.

I felt so incredibly alone and empty.

I moved out of my mom’s house at 17 because she couldn’t handle me anymore. I couch surfed and went to raves. Took ecstasy and for a while, lived in a dream world. It was easier than living with the pain.

By 18, I finally went back and finished my high school degree.

The next few years until the age of 20 led me on a path of drugs and impulsive behaviours. At 19, I took cocaine for the first time.

I fell into a SEVERE addiction. I was doing it all day and night until I couldn’t stay awake anymore and had to go to bed.

I began to lose reality. The cocaine made my anger so much worse. If I didn’t have the drugs I couldn’t be around anyone. I would search for crumbs of it on the floor like a junkie you saw in the movies. I began to not even want to leave my apartment. I started suffering for a little bit from social anxiety to that point. I would have the worst panic attacks. Chest feeling like it was caving in. Even when I was totally calm and not on the drugs.

I had applied for a government funded program for youth called Katimavik. I got a letter saying I was accepted. I knew I had to get better. So I holed myself up for a few months until I left and got free of drugs.

Katimavik was the first time I had been away from family/friends/home. The people I met were amazing, and I enjoyed the experience. I still found it hard to get along with others because of my range of mood swings, but all in all it was good. I left early after 6 mths because my grandpa was really sick and I felt like I needed to be home. I cried as the plane was touching down.

For a while, things went well. I had completely stopped drinking and doing drugs. I got a really good job with a printing company. I got my own apartment. And a cat.

Later that year, my grandpa passed away. I didn’t know how to deal. I went out that night and took cocaine again.

It ate it’s way back into my life again.

This time, the addiction was much stronger. I’d do so much that I thought I was going to die. My whole body would vibrate.

But I kept my good job and kept up appearances for a long long time. Nobody knew that I had fallen from grace again.

At this time I met A. He was a dj and he didn’t do drugs. I kept this from him for a long time. He put up with everything I was doing for so long. Put himself in harms way by coming between me and a dealer. Dragging me out of places where I was doing drugs. Taking me home while kicking his windows of his car. I’d like to talk more about him later as he was the most significant and still is one of the most significant people in my life, but I think it deserves a seperate entry. So we’ll leave it at this.

In September of 2007 I went back to school. I had my own little basement suite and student loans. I kept my job part time while I went to school.

A couple years previous I had begun go go dancing at clubs to make extra money.

The bar scene began to take over my life. I would spend all weekend doing coke and then try to focus at school. It just wasn’t working. It eventually led to me going to final exams all coked up.

Two years into my degree I left school. I bounced around from job to job, and continued my path of self destruction.

Dancing became my only positive outlet. I had danced my whole life since I was a child but  it was now becoming more and more in my life. Maybe it was the alcohol or drugs, but I felt confident and my self esteem rose.

After I left school I came together with a few girls and we registered our own dance company. I started practicing the law of attraction and kicked all the people doing drugs out of my life. I still did them once in a while but I started to get better.

Our company from the very beginning was about love and spreading love through our performances. We shot to popularity in very little time. In a matter of a year we had 16 dancers under us and were doing around 25 shows a month.

I was still with A at this time, and we went through some horrible things together. He helped me get better through breaking up and getting back together over and over again.

Eventually we moved in together. The stress of everything I had to do started to take it’s toll and I began to experience extreme mood swings. Eventually, I sought the help of one of my dancers who was working towards her masters in psychology.

We found out that I was low on 3 neurotransmitters. Acetylcholine, GABA, and Serotonin. I began taking natural supplements to help with this. For a while, I got significantly better. Things ended with A and I but not on such bad terms as it would have if I was sick.

I continued to do well, and eventually I reconnected with an old friend, D. He lived in another province. I wasn’t looking for love or a boyfriend, but it just kinda fell into place. I was on a good stretch, and for all he knew, normal.

After a few months we fell in love, and it was a love that was strong.

Little did I know, it was only that way while I was well.

4 months ago, I moved to where he lived. I left my dance company behind to pursue other sides of myself. I still own the company but right now, focusing on me is what is important.

What I got when I moved was not what I expected. His lifestyle wasn’t the one I wanted for myself and the constant worry left me in a very dark place again.

I began fighting with him, throwing things, getting very angry, obsessing about where he was, why he was going for lunch with girls (who were honestly just friends). I worried myself sick.

My rational brain told me that my thoughts were irrational but I was unable to control them or my reaction to them.

Police were involved more than once, and it led to us being seperated.

We are still working towards getting things to be better again. I hope we can.

I’ve started recovery and therapy and healing. For the first time in my life I was able to see what I am like from the outside.

The purpose of this blog is to have an outlet to speak freely. Most of my friends don’t know what is going on with me. And I don’t really want to share it with the whole world.

So here it will be.

I’m going to end this extremely long post here. I’ll talk further about what I’m doing with my recovery and what my theories are on what is wrong with me in that one too.

2 thoughts on “My story.

  1. I’m so extremely inspired by you and your story. I haven’t had a chance to browse more of the other posts yet, but I feel your light and energy and it is magnificent. Thankyou for being so open and sharing your story. It helps alot of people. ❤

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