I crawled into rooms of people who were in similar situations, and yet who seemed hopeful.
And who was mean when he drank, at least to me. I don’t mean to be hard on myself, but by the time I admitted I needed help, I was engaged to a man who drank – hard.
Get help – Believe it or not, my first step was realizing – admitting – that something was wrong. So, I decided to do my best to break free from my past. That not being able to find a future – and present – of joy and love is not okay. I’ve come to realize that there are so many of us who have a past that haunts us, and keeps us from moving on to a life of joy.īy the grace of something, I was also able to grasp that being shackled by our past is not okay. I’ve certainly come to realize that I’m not damaged. I’ve come to realize that my past may be different from most others, but I’m not that different. Two contrasting, competing, diametrically opposed, weird – if not harmful – worlds. I was raised in a religious cult by one parent, while my other parent’s religion was sex, drugs, and rock and roll. You know, “a past.” A past that set me apart from everyone else and that had, pretty much, damaged me beyond hope. I used to think I was the one with a past.
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