Entries tagged with "strength"
I met my husband when I was 19. Our relationship was slow to blossom because his last relationship ended badly because of infidelity. I put a lot of patience and effort into earning his trust and proving I would never cheat on him. I left everything behind to live with him on an Army base, and we decided to start a family.
I just found out my husband is cheating on me, with the ex that cheated on him. He doesn’t know that I know, and as much as it breaks my heart, I don’t think I’m strong enough to leave him.
I’m not sure I’ll ever tell him I know.
I may be lost, and I may be scared, but I am definitely NOT finished.
I am becoming the person I pretend to be. But that person is not me, and I’m losing who I really am to an eating disorder that controls my life. Most people only know about anorexia and bulimia, but I have binge eating disorder. Since no one really knows much about it, that they all think the simple solution is to just stop eating. It just doesn’t work that way. I need to find me again, and find the strength to tell someone what’s happening.
I will not fit those shoes I am expected to wear. I will not and refuse to be like my father. I will not keep abusing drugs like he, and I will stand on my own two feet and become something so unexpected. This face may be a resemblance to his, but my actions will not.
This is what I engrave into my brain everyday so I don’t go back to picking up the familiar pleasure. It’s hard and I have slipped and no one knows, but I will make it.
When I was 10 My dad died of a heart attack. My mom raised me all by herself. I thought she would always be around. I’m 27 now, she is my best friend. On March 1st, she was diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor, out of no where. She is in hospice, and will probably die within the next week. I’m so sad to know that she is leaving me… I’m not sure if I can make it without her. I don’t really believe in god, but I’m thankful to whatever higher power there is for giving me two wonderful parents, and a mother who is so strong. I’m hoping she passed some of her strength and courage on to me… hopefully one day I will have a family of my own and will have daughters and can teach them to be independent, strong women…
Why do bad things happen to good people?
My life is blessed… I’ve got three great kids. I’m getting back into my art (Musician) and having clarity and a spiritual connection has literally saved me from the abyss from which I was in for years. I was a professional musician that became a stock broker and literally had everything you could want in terms of a life. One thing I didn’t have was a connection to something and I was a total alcoholic. Didn’t even know it. Thought everyone drank until they got drunk and avoid life everyday. Anyway, wife divorced me, lost my job and became homeless (does this sound like a Country song, haha)… Long story short, went into rehab, got sober, got connected again and life is fantastic! I’m the Dad and guy I always knew I was but could never be. So, people… there is ALWAYS hope and help, just reach out for it. Life is more beautiful than I ever imagined! Peace!
I am a typical, average person; I live a common American lifestyle, I have traveled nowhere spectacular, and I have never accomplished anything extraordinary. Yes that is perfectly fine. I have come to realize that I don’t have to “be somebody,” as in somebody famous, worldly, or “popular.” Someone taught me this once: All that truly matters is being somebody special to just one person—touching just one person’s life in a way that no one else can. My life has been touched, and I have been blessed. To others it may seem ordinary, but to me what has happened in my life and all the people who have affected my life mean the world to me. So this is an average story, about my average life, but to me my life is far from ordinary. Much more is to come, and I can only hope that I one day will touch the life of another in a way that no one else can!
I am a 21 year old male who is fairly normal in most regards, besides the fact that I’m a recovering heroin addict. I’ve been trying to “stay clean” for the last five years and only have been successful for about two years of it. About three months ago I left inpatient rehab, the fifth of my career. I’m not sure how I’ve survived this long, I’d always planned on being dead before I turned 21, that way I didn’t have to worry much about the consequences of my actions. It was nice for awhile, living recklessly got me into many interesting situations. Unfortunately my plan failed, seeing that I’m writing this right now. But I have an amazing family and although at times I am rather indifferent to being alive, if I no longer were it would be something my family would have to deal with every single day. Now I realize that the “easy way out” is not an option. I’ve lived in a “transitional living” environment in Ann Arbor for the last three and a half months and life has gotten better. I realize how terrible this all sounds and that I should be grateful to be alive. To talk like this is insulting to all the people out there whose lives were tragically cut short, all those who didn’t have a choice. But why write this if I’m not going to be honest? This book and the idea behind it is important for that reason. Anonymity makes it easy to be honest, to put into words what is really going on with us, instead of telling everyone who asks that we’re “fine.” Lately I’ve been struggling with the fact that I have to deal with this addiction. It’s not the first time of course but the first time in awhile, anyways. I can’t help but crave being “normal.” Along with not doing dope, it’s a requirement that I abstain form all chemicals along with an early curfew. I often feel that I’ve been dealt an unfair hand. I’m not talking exclusively about my living situation but rather my entire situation—living the last five years constantly hurting everyone who love me, dedicating all my time and energy to drugs, whether actively using or trying not to. I’ve missed out on so much, which is why I’ve recently been frustrated and unhappy, I spend a lot of my time walking around downtown observing all the students, having the “college experience” and they seem to have it made. I can’t help but dwell on the fact that I should be one of them, it seems I’ve lost myself over the years consumed by how “different” I am. I can’t imagine how whiny and self absorbed I must sound. I try not to be, a lot of the time I’m able to accept my circumstances I mean despite the way I feel about them, they’re not going to change. So I can either just accept it and deal with it, because being miserable is easy, anyone can do it. Life’s too short, and we only get one shot at it so might as well make the best of it. I feel much better.
All my life I have been called a freak for my skin. I have eczema. Lame, right? It’s an emotional response. When I get angry or stressed, my skin flares up and turns into red, painful, embarrassing, overbearing rash. I have no control over it.
Years of torture, pain and humiliation have taught me to be strong, patient and to love myself regardless of the world. Now that I have come to terms with that, my father comments on my ”muffin top” calling me fat and asking me if I really need to eat that. Hurdle number two, coming right up.
I had to return the book. I bought it so I would have something to read while I was eating my dinner at the restaurant… I didn’t want to be alone. Reading it, I realized I couldn’t do it. My stomach felt funny, and I was going to cry.
The story was about a little girl, one who is used for sex. She relies on her pet turtle to get through it. She’s tough. I’m not. I can’t read the book, it makes me sick. I felt like it was me, I was the little girl with the tough exterior but I knew I wasn’t like that on the inside.
The same thing happened to me, and I thought I could read about it.
I’ve read newspaper articles, talked about it in class, but I couldn’t read about it when there were emotions attached. When the little girls story was me.
So, I returned the book. Pretended it never happened. If she can be tough, I can be too, right?
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