I Found Another Way

I’m sorry this has taken me so long to write. My story is difficult to talk about, and I’ve only told a handful of people the full truth of what I’ve been through. But I want to share it now because I want people to know that it is possible to come through some incredibly dark places and still build a life you are proud of.

Before I tell you about my past, I want to tell you a little about who I am today, because sometimes it is easy to look at everything that has happened to someone and forget that their past doesn't have to define them.

Today, I’m involved in suicide prevention and support groups, I help abused and abandoned young people, and I try to give back wherever I can. I’ve found faith, music and a purpose that I never thought I would have. I’ve finished high school, I’m living independently, and I’m working towards a future that once seemed completely impossible to me. But it wasn't always like this.

My dad was an alcoholic and much of my childhood was spent experiencing his anger and violence. My mum also struggled with alcohol, although she coped in a very different way. Neither of my parents was really able to give me the kind of safety and support that a child needs, and for a long time I carried an enormous amount of anger towards both of them.

When I was twelve, my life began to change dramatically. My cousin died, and I struggled to cope with the grief. I became desperate to belong and stopped knowing how to say no to people. I started drinking and going to parties, and before long alcohol and drugs had become a huge part of my life.

By thirteen, I was struggling with addiction and self-harm. I was also dealing with another devastating loss when my best friend  died. I didn't know how to process any of it, so I kept looking for ways to escape what I was feeling.

The following years brought even more loss. When I was fifteen, I lost two people who meant an enormous amount to me. One of them had been like the father I wished I'd had, and the other was someone I loved deeply. Their deaths completely broke something inside me, and I reached a point where I couldn't see a future for myself anymore.

I ended up in hospital and, for a while, things became even more chaotic. I continued struggling with drugs, alcohol and self-harm, and I experienced further losses that made me feel as though everyone I loved was eventually going to disappear.

Eventually, I found myself without a stable home and living on the streets. My substance use became more dangerous, and I reached another crisis point that resulted in another hospital stay. I felt completely lost and had very little idea what I was going to do with my life.

Then, when I was seventeen, I met someone who changed the direction of my life. She had experienced difficulties of her own, but she had chosen a different way of coping. Instead of running from her pain, she had found music, friendship and faith. She helped me see that I could do the same.

For the first time, someone wasn't simply telling me that I needed to change. She showed me that there could actually be something worth changing for.

Together, we went back to Michigan, and I began treatment for my addictions and mental health. Recovery wasn't quick or easy, and there were plenty of difficult days, but slowly I started learning how to live without relying on the things that had once helped me survive.

I learned that surviving and living are two very different things.

For years, I had been doing whatever I could to make it through the next day. Eventually, I started thinking about what I wanted my life to actually look like.

Today, I still carry the memories of everything I've experienced. I still have reminders of the person I used to be, and I know that recovery doesn't mean forgetting your past or suddenly becoming completely okay. But I'm proud of how far I've come.

I've found things that give my life meaning. I've found people who care about me. I've found music, faith and friendship. Most importantly, I've discovered that the pain I've experienced doesn't have to be wasted. I can use what I've learned to help someone else feel a little less alone.

I used to believe that my past had already decided what my future would look like.

Now I know it doesn't.

I can't change what happened to me, and I can't bring back the people I've lost. But I can decide what I do with the life I have now.

And for the first time, I'm genuinely proud to be here.