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eyehatejames-blog1 · 7 years

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If you are going to follow my blog about my recovery, my sponsor urged that we talked about ourselves so we have more of an understanding of each other. So allow me to explain my position to you. I was born June 9th, 1992 in South Side Bethlehem PA, at St. Luke's hospital. My father died in a car crash before I was born, he died of alcohol and drug related issues while driving. My mother? Did not have the best of upbringing, she suffers from bipolar and manic depression like I do. I remember seeing her from a young age taking lithium and Prozac to help counter act her problems, but in the long run it just made them all worse. When my father died, my mother dated a man who was also an addict, he was abusive to my mother and myself. I remember watching him hit my mother, push her down stairs, rape my mother and so forth. When I was about four years old he sexually molested me for quiet a while, I didn't tell anyone this until later. When I was about 5-6 years old, my mother tried to take her life. I was the one who found her dying in her bed, she swallowed all her prescription drugs. She was taken away for awhile and I was stuck with the man who was molesting me. She eventually came back and she left him and she got government assistance and got her own place. She dated many many men, most of which where abusive to the both of us and also addicts. Around the age of 8-9 my mother decided to date my uncle and she uprooted us and moved us to Florida. Jacksonville Florida back in 1998 was absolutely the asshole of America. It was hot, humid, muggy. Everything I hate about weather. My uncle was not a nice man, especially to me. He would bite me and hit me, he wouldn't feed me for days. Once I gagged on some cabbage and noodles and he wouldn't allow me to leave the table unless I ate my own vomit. He threw me in a mount of fire ants, he ripped a fishing hook out of my body, I was just a play thing to inflict pain on. While living in Jacksonville we lived in a trailer with one of my uncles friends, we didn't know at that time he was a registered sex offender. He liked children. He never touched me, but he was extremely creepy. My grandmother get lung cancer and my mother decided to move us back up to Pennsylvania. We got on a bus and moved back. We had none of our stuff, so she had to go back down with the same uncle to get some things. On the way back, they got into an argument and he left her in another state, she had to hitch hike back. I was without my mother for about 6 months at one of her friends houses in Bath PA. Needless to say I haven't had a very good childhood up to this point. I was maybe 7-9 years old. Maybe younger. My perception of time is horrible. When she finally came back to get me, we moved into my aunts house. She was wealthy, my mother and I had nothing and she used that against us. At first she was humble, dinners, toys, adventures. My life seemed to be getting better. At that point in time I felt like I belonged. A few months go by and things started to get weird, we didn't do much, my cousin became very protective of his stuff, he wouldn't share. I was the problem child and they made sure I knew it. My mother would have to buy our own food, we could take two showers a week, things like that. This is about the time I realized that I was different, if my own family didn't like me, when who would you know? I felt like a burden. Around that time I was in middle school, I started to become antisocial because I thought I didn't fit in, I didn't know how to handle conversations, I liked things other people didn't. I just didn't know how to be social. This was relevant most of my schooling career. Around half way through middle school my mother and I moved into a town called Schwenksville near King of Prussia incase anyone is interested. This is the town I had my first kiss in, my first girlfriend, my first fight, my first substance abuse problem. Towards the end of middle school 8th grade or so I gained so much weight from not doing much of anything due to my social issues. I'd go home and just eat food. Of course kids would make fun of me, call me names and pick on every little thing. I was the butt of ever joke there was. My best friend made fun of me for years, my peers would make hints about my weight and my well being, I was 14-15 years old and weighed 256 pounds. Around the time of 10th grade I met my new best friend named Andrew, he was passed out from perks on a park bench, I helped him home and that's where my first addiction came into play. He gave me drugs for almost four years. You name it I tried it. Vicodin, perks, ambien, adderall, whatever it was I didn't care. I swallowed it. In the next few months I went from 255 down to 156 pounds. I gained confidence, girlfriends, I even heard I had the best body in the school. Why the hell would I not continue to take them? I developed a terrible Xanax addiction, along with taking adderall constantly through out the day. I met my first true love while fucked up pills, during a fireworks show so it was really ironic. Love at first sight you know? She left my best friend for me about two weeks later, we dated for a bit, then broke it off and on for about 2 years and then I finally left her. I stoped taking drugs and claimed edge. I found another girl who caught my eyes and dated her for a few years until I graduated high school. As soon as I graduated my mother got married and moved us away. I never got the chance to go to school I never got the chance to see my friends graduate. I moved somewhere where I knew no one. Which is terrible for someone who alienates themselves. I left the girl I dated after my first love for another girl who was even better looking, do you see the pattern? We dated for about 8 months, I bought my first car, I had a good paying job. I had a lot of good things. She eventually left me and that started a downfall of emotional distress in my life. I called out to my first love, convinced her to give me another chance. We dated for probably until I was 22. We got engaged when I was 21, we moved in together at the age of 22 I believe. My alcoholism started when she left me the first time. I loved her you know? I went to the state store and bought a bottle of Jack Daniels. My brothers egged me on to take my first shot, I took it without any problem. Liquor always went down smoother when I was upset. I drank the entire bottle. That's the beginning of my drinking problem. I woke up in the bathtub puking more times than I can count, I've woken up outside in the yard when I started drinking in my room upstairs. I cut and scared my body. I shit on my mothers dead dogs grave. Worst of all out of all the pain and suffering that it caused me in the short time I lived with my mother in Glenmoore, it broke my morals. Something I said I would never do. Something I took a stand against when I claimed edge, took a hold of me and I wouldn't let it go. My ex fiancé, got back with me despite the drinking problem, despite my suicide attempts, despite the self harm scars, despite it all. We got engaged, and we moved in together. There was never a moment when I didn't have a drink in my hand, woke up went to work came home and drank for 8 hours. There was not a time I did not drink, in king of Prussia it led to broken glasses, cuts and terrible bruises (most of which I don't remember getting), lies and cheating. I cheated on my ex fiancé, I did that. Am I proud of it? No I'm not. Did alcohol make me do it? No it did not. I did it because I truly wasn't happy. I did it twice with the same person, both times black out drunk, I woke up with her in top of me. I did other things too, texts and pictures. At the time I thought it was justified, probably due to my foggy brain. I can't justify my actions or offer any excuse. I thought I loved that girl, someone I cut myself because of, picked up my first drink because of. I cheated on her. I did that. It's still hard for me to come to terms with it. She sooner or later found out and kicked me out, it was nasty and disastrous. I moved back in with my mother for about four weeks, then she hauled me off to Bethlehem. I lived with my god father, for about four years. He also suffers from alcoholism. He enabled me for quiet some time. Buying me liquor when I was jobless, taking me to private bars, just generally letting me run wild in the streets. I've done so many things I never thought I'd do while living here in Bethlehem. So many bridges have been burnt, I'm an excellent swimmer. I've attempted suicide a few times, in the room I'm currently laying in now. The first time I blew a .42 I basically should have died from that they said. The second, I was drunk but not drunk enough, the third I finally caved in and took the medication. I stoped soon after and picked up again. There is a little more of my life that I could explain to you, but as to where I am now I'm not to sure how that is going to turn out so I'll leave the story there. When I became powerless over my addiction to alcohol, I did not stop until I was willing to ruin everything. I let my addiction control me and my actions. It's ruined me in ways I can not fathom. It's taken so much from me and given me so little. I used so many excuses to drink, but I always chose to drink.

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