User:Jessolson

=English Composition=

Statement of Intent
After thinking about our 11 week writing assignment and how creative I should be,an idea popped in my head. I remembered something I had yet to accomplish, and this was an assignment that I was given when I was in rehab. The assignment was to write our life story. We were given a piece of paper giving us directions; 10 chapters and each chapter was to be written a certain way and about certain things. Writing this life story was not only a requirement to graduate rehab, but also something to help us look at our lives and get help with the things that went wrong and give other people a better understanding of me. I was lucky enough to somehow skip this and not have to do it. All my peers were able to experience what writing the story brought them… I stayed away from it, and nobody seemed to notice. I was released from rehab a little over a year ago and I still haven’t wrote the life story, I feel that I may be missing out on the opportunity and freedom that writing the life story can bring me. I am free from the walls of a prison or a jail cell, but also feel as though I am stuck inside myself and I am looking to free myself. And I am hoping that writing the life story will help me do so. Since I still have the outline for writing the life story, I want to follow that and see what it can bring me, as far as freedom within myself goes. And I think this is a great opportunity to do this, because otherwise I don’t think I would have ever done it any other time because there was no real reason to do so.

HOW I GOT HERE: A GOOD LOOK AT MYSELF AND THE YEARS I SPENT USING

Write a 10 chapter life history. Each chapter should have a least 2 pages, typed, double spaced, Times/Roman 12 point font. TO GET STARTED, YOU CAN HAND WRITE YOUR CHAPTERS AND TYPE THEM LATER. The margin on the left side of the page should be changed to 1 ½ inches; the margin on the right side should be ½ inch. This way we can punch holes in the pages and keep them in a binder. These are the titles for each chapter and some questions you should answer as you write the story. Remember, this is your story; write it like a chapter from the A.A. Big Book.

Chapter 1:	MY NEED TO FEEL GOOD “The first ingredient to make an addict” What was my family like when I was young; How my friends treated me; How I was materialistic; How I used people

Chapter 2:	CURIOSITY AND ME	“The second ingredient to make an addict” How I got into trouble (not with alcohol and drugs, just into trouble) at the following ages: 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17; limit testing

Chapter 3: 	MY INTRODUCTION TO CHEMICALS “The final ingredient to making an addict” Exactly how and when it all started with each of the chemicals I’ve used

Chapter 4:	DOUBLE CROSSING MYSELF AND OTHERS How the chemicals started taking over my behavior; “Cunning, Baffling, Powerful”; How my family became the victims of my addiction; How I started taking hostages, not friends

Chapter 5:	THE CONSEQUENCES My list of things that come with using; My anti-social behavior; Probation; Going to counseling and treatment

Chapter 6:	ME AT ROCK BOTTOM Depression; Suicidal thoughts; Relapses; Commitment to DJC or BOP

Chapter 7:	MY HIGHER POWER What it is; How it can help me; How I learned to trust it

Chapter 8:	REPLACING FEAR AND ANGER WITH HOPE Changing from a Hater (of authority) to a normal person; Attitude; Humility; What I look forward to now

Chapter 9:	THE PEACE I’LL FIND IN SOBRIETY Sobriety is not an event, it’s a way of life; Pain, not love, motivates me; Accepting the 12 steps; How I’ll have to change the way I do business with the world and how that will make my life better

Chapter 10:	WHERE I AM NOW AND WHERE I’M GOING FROM HERE Sobriety is my #1 priority; What I’ve learned about my triggers; “me too fools”; Why people didn’t want me around and how I’ll change their perception of me; My winning qualities

(above is the guidlines for my chapters)

I plan on having each chapter 2-3 pages long.

Rationale
Like i stated before I really hope to get a sense of personal freedom within myself, not just what i have been given as a reward for doing good.

Publication/Presentation
I am thinking of telling my classmates on how i came up with my topic, give background information and either pass it out for them to read or read a little bit from each chapter to them.

Schedule
week 1: get the outline from my mom's house. and write an introduction to explain what and why. 2: write chapters 1 & 2 3: chapter 3 4: chapter 4 5: chapter 5 6: chapter 6 7: chapter 7 8: chapter 8 9: chapter 9 10: chapter 10 11: re-read and go over everything making sure its in it's best possible state

Anticipated Problems
I am thinking i may get stuck on my feelings throughout writing this life story and how tough things may get as i have to go over the bad things that i went through. but i intend on reminding myself on how this will help me better myself. i dont think time is a problem, a week is long enough to write each chapter and will give me enough time to work on my other classes.

Week 6 Project Review
 I am ahead of my planning right now. i am on chapter7, just about to start chapter 8. i anticipated a chapter each week and i am 2 chapters ahead of the plan. i believe i got past all of the hard parts; its all up hill from here, and ill just keep moving forward and be ready to present week 7 for my work shop. i am still extremely nervous about bringing such into the class and reading it out loud, but ill figure something out. i believe that this project has already begun to help me overcome the things that i have experienced growing up and become a better person; as much as it hurts to see it written down for others to see, but it even helps to see it written down for me to read.

Reader's Report


Project
HOW I GOT HERE: A GOOD LOOK AT MYSELF AND THE YEARS I SPENT USING

Write a 10 chapter life history. Each chapter should have a least 2 pages, typed, double spaced, Times/Roman 12 point font. TO GET STARTED, YOU CAN HAND WRITE YOUR CHAPTERS AND TYPE THEM LATER. The margin on the left side of the page should be changed to 1 ½ inches; the margin on the right side should be ½ inch. This way we can punch holes in the pages and keep them in a binder. These are the titles for each chapter and some questions you should answer as you write the story. Remember, this is your story; write it like a chapter from the A.A. Big Book.

Chapter 1:	MY NEED TO FEEL GOOD “The first ingredient to make an addict” What was my family like when I was young; How my friends treated me; How I was materialistic; How I used people

Chapter 2:	CURIOSITY AND ME	“The second ingredient to make an addict” How I got into trouble (not with alcohol and drugs, just into trouble) at the following ages: 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17; limit testing

Chapter 3: 	MY INTRODUCTION TO CHEMICALS “The final ingredient to making an addict” Exactly how and when it all started with each of the chemicals I’ve used

Chapter 4:	DOUBLE CROSSING MYSELF AND OTHERS How the chemicals started taking over my behavior; “Cunning, Baffling, Powerful”; How my family became the victims of my addiction; How I started taking hostages, not friends

Chapter 5:	THE CONSEQUENCES My list of things that come with using; My anti-social behavior; Probation; Going to counseling and treatment

Chapter 6:	ME AT ROCK BOTTOM Depression; Suicidal thoughts; Relapses; Commitment to DJC or BOP

Chapter 7:	MY HIGHER POWER What it is; How it can help me; How I learned to trust it

Chapter 8:	REPLACING FEAR AND ANGER WITH HOPE Changing from a Hater (of authority) to a normal person; Attitude; Humility; What I look forward to now

Chapter 9:	THE PEACE I’LL FIND IN SOBRIETY Sobriety is not an event, it’s a way of life; Pain, not love, motivates me; Accepting the 12 steps; How I’ll have to change the way I do business with the world and how that will make my life better

Chapter 10:	WHERE I AM NOW AND WHERE I’M GOING FROM HERE Sobriety is my #1 priority; What I’ve learned about my triggers; “me too fools”; Why people didn’t want me around and how I’ll change their perception of me; My winning qualities

Jessica Olson English Comp. January 15, 2010

Introduction

I am writing this in order to better myself. I spent three years in a St.Anthony, Idaho Youth and Rehabilitation center for my addiction to alcohol and drugs and for continuing to break the law and going against my probation. During my stay there me and the other residents were given an assignment in order to advance in our levels and make our way to complete our program and be released. I would always start the life story and never finish when I had to face the hard things that happened to me through my life and the things that I did wrong to others. Somehow I managed to skip this step and program and never did complete the assignment, somehow it was over-looked and I managed to graduate the program without it. However, through my procrastination I saw the good that it did for my other peers around me who lived much different lives than I did. There was always a little bit of me that wanted to write it, but a major part of me didn’t want to. I was mostly afraid because I would have to show my family and there was too much that they didn’t know about me and that I hadn’t told. I was too scared of their reaction and mine for I would be reenacting the worst times of my life. Now, I am here to enjoy the difficulties it will bring me as I write and the joy it may bring me in the future. I think this is something to complete my rehabilitation, because I am still healing everyday to overcome my addiction. It isn’t the easiest thing I have done, but running away was, and I don’t want to do that anymore. So here goes nothing…

Chapter 1: My need to feel good

When I was a year old or so my mom and dad decided to get a divorce. I never hear why or any words of it after that. I swear, my first memory is me as a baby sitting on the floor playing with my toys; oblivious to my parents yelling and screaming above me. After the divorce my mom left and I stayed with my dad, I never saw my mom much because she said she ‘needed to get back on her feet again’ and left my father alone and young to raise a child. She married my step dad the day after my 3rd birthday; I did not attend the wedding for a reason that I am unsure of, still. When I was about 6 years old my mom decided she was stable enough to return back into my life and all of a sudden she wanted me to live with her and took my dad to court. My mom won custody of me and my dad was able to see me every other weekend. I moved from my dad’s house in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho to my mom’s house in Ephrata, Washington. My step dad had two kids whom he had with his previous wife. Alex is 1 year younger than me and Chase is 4 years younger than me. Before I lived with my mom things were weird between me and my dad, I never particularly got along with him and he did strange things that always bothered me. However, I didn’t particularly know better, he had me shower with him all the time until I was about 6 years old. Then every other weekend after I moved in with my mom and would make the long drive to Idaho and all I would get out of it was a constant argument that never ended and would carry on till the next time I saw him, then another fight and another fight. I was constantly put down and insulated and begged to love him more than my mom. Eventually insults grew to punches and kicks. Every time I came back to Washington I was in a very irritable mood upsetting my mom and step dad creating an argument, I never told them what was going on at my dad’s house. I believe they had their assumptions about what may be going on because my mom once asked me if my dad was hurting me, but I got nervous and said no. Not only this, but my dad is a diabetic and didn’t take care of himself. He was an alcoholic and never took his insulin. Almost every night I would wake up to my dad screaming in the middle of the night. As a little girl I had to call 911 to say that my dad is going ‘negative’ (or that is what he called it when he lost control and his blood sugar was low.) All the time there were ambulances roaring their way down our street waking the neighbors and causing a commotion. People would come outside and see what was going on, sometimes they would come up to me and make sure I was alright. Other times I would be brought upstairs and I would see the people restraining my dad and giving him shots. The next morning he would yell at me because I should have done something different or waited for it to pass because now he has to pay the bill. There were too many times during my childhood that my dad would not wake up. His Diabetes or lack of taking proper care of it also caused other problems; when I was maybe 5 years old I was supposed to be in a parade with the rest of my daycare, my dad started driving downtown and all of a sudden took the wrong road. I thought that my dad had to make a quick stop somewhere first, but then he started acting weird and as he would if he was ‘negative.’ I took off my seatbelt as my dad started swerving all over the road and tried to talk to my dad and get him to go the right way. When I realized telling him the directions wasn’t working I tried taking the wheel from my passenger seat, and he yelled. Before I really came close at all he took my head and threw my back towards the window, and I got really dizzy. Then he started speeding really fast and being unaware of everyone around him. There was a red light and my dad went faster and faster and then he slammed into the back of a parked car and then my head flew towards the windshield due to the impact of crash. My head hit so hard I broke the windshield. I went unconscious from there and don’t remember anything, I was coaxed awake by someone who came out of the fire truck. When I woke up, I saw that my dad was gone and blood was scattered among the car. They wiggled my teeth to check them, and indeed they were loose. I wasn’t able to register what was really going on. I didn’t know anything. I was taken to the hospital. Going to the hospital my hair was ducted taped to the gurney due to the fact that my head was just flew through a windshield and I was in extreme amounts of pain, I remembered that much. From that moment on I don’t remember anything until I woke up a long time later, I woke up about a day later and my dad was sitting right there when I came to. He apologized to me saying that he was taken to a different hospital that focuses strictly on Diabetes. He handed me a popsicle and decided that made everything better. We never talked about it again. I don’t know if my dad got into trouble, but I know he never went to jail. I walked around school with a neck brace and stitches in multiple places. I remember the doctors gave me a teddy bear and I carried him around everywhere I went, he was the best thing I ever had. I thought that he was my best friend, he meant a lot to me. Then one day at school I accidentally set him down really quick, while my back was turned he was taken. I never did see that bear again. I still think about that bear to this day, he means a lot to me. Growing up I had visited many counselors to get to the bottom of my ‘problem’ or whatever was going on. Nobody ever seemed to be able to fix me, since I think that is what my mom was looking for, but I would never tell these counselors anything. I didn’t know these people I didn’t understand why I had to tell them anything. Every counselor was the exact same, the same problem and just seemed to be a waste of time every week. I could tell my mom grew frustrated over the many years after all the private talks she had with my counselors explaining that I needed to become more comfortable and open up. My home life with my mom wasn’t perfect, my mom and my step dad worked really late hours most of the time. I was expected to come home from school and do chores, homework and take care of myself until they came back home When me and my brothers would play on the trampoline outside in our side yard a man who lived across the street from us would always try and get us to come over. He was a much older man who lived by himself and was constantly in trouble with the law, he was an alcoholic and on parole. We never listened to him because mom told us to ignore him. I was alone a lot of the time during the week. One day after school and it was getting dark I was sitting in my living room watching television and behind me is a huge window looking into the living room and into our front yard. I heard a loud bang behind me and looking in was that man from across the street, he was yelling and screaming. He wanted me to let him in or for me to come outside. I started crying and he kept banging on the door and the window, I called my mom and as soon as I got on the phone he ran away. My mom came home as soon as she could and she took me to the police station so I could explain what had happened, I described the man and that he was always somewhat of a bother. My mom had a private talk with the officer, and after that I never saw him again, my mom said that they moved him to another area away from us. That never really changed my mom and her late hours, I was still home alone until late at night. In the second grade when I was about six I had to leave my school in Coeur D’Alene and transfer to Columbia Ridge Elementary School in Ephrata, WA and start all over. I didn’t gain many friends in Ephrata I mostly remained by myself and didn’t talk much besides the occasional classmate coming up to me. As the years went on through elementary school and middle school things got better I gained more friends and I was doing really great in school and got good grades. But in about the 6th or 7th grade I befriended a girl also by the name of Jessica who was a bad influence, but talked to me and I liked having that company. As we started hanging out more and more my grades started to drop and I started being rude and careless to other people at our school. I ended up in the principles office in trouble and having to explain why I was rude to another classmate and promise I would never do it again. I remember getting my first failing grade and having to tell my mom. I knew I probably shouldn’t hang out with her, but she was the only friend that I had and I knew that I had ruined many relationships with other people since being her friend and if I chose not to be her friend anymore I would be by myself and not have any other friends and it would be very hard to gain the respect of others again. Due to those reasons I stayed her friend. My mom never approved of Jessica or her family; they were all very strange and very dishonest. My mom never would let us hang out outside of school, and I knew everything my mom was saying was probably right but she was my only friend. We were friends for about 2 years and one day she turned on me and beat me up on school grounds for an unapparent reason. She kept punching me and I never once defended her back. Someone who had saw what was happening notified a close by teacher and it was immediately stopped. We were both brought into the principles office. No matter how many times I explained that I did not lay a finger on her or that I had no idea why the fight erupted and what her reasoning behind it was. He seemed to not believe anything I said. Jessica called my step dad derogatory names due to his color of skin and his Philippine heritage. We were both suspended from school for a week and when we returned to school we would have detention after school for another week. I was never her friend again and my mom had me change schools to a middle school in Soap Lake, which is about 8 minutes away from Ephrata. I got a new start there, but things were still bad, I didn’t have many friends, I tried to completely start over and do better in school; I played for my school’s volleyball team, I was on the drill team, and I volunteered at local stores. Even though I did all those good things I was still getting horrible grades in class and not making an effort to really do any better, I lost all motivation.

Chapter 2: Curiosity and Me

When I was in the 5th grade or so I probably got into my first real big trouble; I wrote took a check from my mom’s purse and forged it for fifty dollars. I took this check in order to give it to my school for lunches. I still don’t understand why I did that since my mom was paying for my lunches everyday. I think I did it, just to do it. When I was caught I was brought into the principles office to meet a police officer. Most people would think that it would scare me, but it only did temporarily and then I kind of forgot about it and continued down the bad path I started to take. After that I was stealing other things from my mom; her cell phones, money and other important items and then lie about it. during this time period is when I got my first failing grade and had to break the news to my mom. It definitely wasn’t my last failing grade, I never wanted to go to school, all I cared about were the friends that I had and the boys surrounding me. I grew enemies throughout my schooling in Soap Lake; there were many girls that wanted to fight me and other girls who couldn’t stop talking about me behind my back. I took everyone who was a true friend of mine and turned them into another enemy among the rest. In order to befriend the popular I needed to leave my unapproved friends behind. I soon learned that these popular girls weren’t worth it by any means, soon after we became friends they turned on me leaving me alone. Most often I would be caught walking alone regretting what I had done, but I was too ashamed to turn it around and fix things. As the years went on and the constant visits to the principles office and the threats to get my ass kicked, eventually my mom had to pull me out of public school and home-school me. However home-schooling wasn’t exactly any better than public school, it forced my mom and I to be together more than either of us wanted to. We got into a huge fight in which forced her to gall my dad and ask to take me of her hands. I actually don’t remember what happened or what that fight was about, all I remember is packing everything of mine in hopes that my mom would realize what she is doing is wrong, but she didn’t take it that way. Within a day or so I was shipped off to Idaho to live with my dad which was a nightmare that I never wanted to have to imagine, but it did and things only got worse from there. My dad grossed me out so bad; it was so bad that I would not even eat the food out of his house. When I got hungry I would go and steal food. My dad was a very unclean person, not only his house, but his personality. When I got uncomfortable I would leave his presence by jumping out my bedroom window on the 2nd floor so he wouldn’t see me leave, I would just go out on the town. Or I would simply just stay in my room where i knew it was semi-safe. When I would leave for my adventures on the town, it would usually lead to me going to stores and steal just for the heck of it. I had no real reason to steal, but I did it. Sometimes I was caught; but rarely, and the times I wasn’t caught it would make me feel powerful. One day when my friend Jennifer and I decided to go downtown to the resort we stole some things. Jennifer asked me to steal something specific, I took it and put in my purse and let her know I got. Jennifer looked at me and said “Wow you are good; I didn’t even see you take that.” That comment kept my ego high and I definitely didn’t want to stop stealing because I knew I could get away with it. There were other times when I took a cell phone from a peer at school because I didn’t have one and I was jealous, so I took hers. However in that case I was caught and charges were almost brought against me. There was another time when I was in the girl’s locker room and I took this girl’s MP3 player and ruined her clothes because she was rude to me one day. Somehow I was caught and charges were pressed against me. I was charged with destruction of property, I believe I got a weekend or so in juvenile detention center. Stuff like that never stopped me; I continued to do as I did. I didn’t act like I didn’t care that what I did cost me relationships with other people, but it really did bother me. I was too ashamed to fix the things that I have done so I continued to go on the same path I already was because I felt there was no turning back and people already hated me, I didn’t see the use for change. I kept stealing and betraying others and hurting those around me.

Chapter 3: My introduction to Chemicals When living in Soap Lake I messed around with alcohol a little bit with a few other girls that I befriended for a short period of time. I got drunk a few times, but that was really it. My addiction to chemicals didn’t start until my move back with my dad in Idaho. However I had other addictions that started in about the 6th grade. I became addicted to eating disorders. My dad was constantly telling me that I was fat and that I needed to loose some weight before I was pretty. I stopped eating like normal and would have an occasional snack every now and then and that was it. I did loose quite a bit of weight and to the point that it was very unhealthy since I was already normal weight before-hand. I kept that going for about a year and in the 7th grade I became bulimic. I liked that a lot better since I was able to eat all the food I wanted, but I was still able to loose weight. This became something I enjoyed doing, I felt really good when I made myself throw up and I was slowly able to see the weight coming off. My dad still saw me as fat, I don’t know why I was trying to loose weight because of what he said when he grossed me out anyways. I guess I thought what he saw in me is what everyone else saw; I just wanted to be beautiful. I was obsessing over my weight and constantly concerned about things my weight; which wasn’t even a problem. When my mom kicked me out and had me move in with my dad, I had to start school again in Coeur D’Alene. I started at the middle school. Nobody knew me, I was bran new and I didn’t have to be a loser anymore. I didn’t have to admit to my past, only move forward. I gained friends really quick and I was immediately accepted by many groups of people. Boys were asking me out on dates, girls wanted to hang out. However I seemed to favor the ‘rebels’ a little bit more as opposed the ‘preps’ who may have been a good influence on me. Soon enough I was skipping classes, failing classes, not putting effort towards anything school-wise, only my friends. I was dating boys and going to parties. Things between my dad and I were a mess. We never talked unless we were arguing; otherwise it was complete quiet in the house. Things between us seemed to get tenser, he would talk to me and I would disrespect him. When I wouldn’t get what I want I would be horrible towards him, I would yell and scream until he didn’t care anymore. One day things got really tense and she came up and slapped me across my face and pushed me into my room. I jumped out my window to my friend Hannah waiting for me down the street. We went to a few parties that night and I got really drunk and I was with a bunch of people that I didn’t know, I had no idea where Hannah was. But a few guys asked me if I wanted to snort a line of cocaine, I wanted to try it and so that is what I did. After the cocaine I went and sat downstairs with my good friend Wacey who I had an on and off again thing with him. And he passed me a pipe with marijuana in it. I took one hit of it and I was totally gone for the night. I felt extremely sick; I rushed to the bathroom to throw up. When I started dozing off I decided to get up and I wandered into a room and passed out on the bed. Not too long later a man walked in the bed, I tried getting up in fear that it was his room. He pushed me back on the bed and held me down, he striped me of my clothing and made me take his off or else he would hurt me, from then he proceeded to take advantage of me no matter how many times I asked him to get off of me, he ignored me or told me to shut up. He called me nasty names and put me through what I would consider hell. It was definitely the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life since I was a virgin prior to this. When he was finished with me he left me in there by myself and closed the bedroom door as he left and reminded me to never tell anybody. Apparently my friend Hannah had been looking for me and when she found me I looked sick and upset, I had tried to clear my face and body of all evidence and found a pair of sweats that I decided to put on and I hid my other pants in the outside garbage. Hannah was really drunk herself and didn’t register anything that was going on. As the party died down we got a ride back into town to Hannah’s house and we smoked more weed and spent the night together. What I didn’t know was that my dad had called me in as a runaway. When Hannah’s mom saw me she notified the police and they came to get me and bring me back home (you don’t break the law until your 3rd runaway, until then you get off without facing court.) The cops came and determined that I had been smoking marijuana, and had my dad come and pick me up. Screaming and fighting erupted from the moment that I sat down in his car, he was disappointed in me, and thought I was better than that. As soon as I walked in the door to our house he was behind me, I started up the stairs until he talked me to the ground and restrained me. he started shouting in my ear telling me how disappointed he was in me, and how horrible I was for running away. He held my arms behind my back and I had no room to move, when I tried moving he would shove his elbow into my lower back knowing that I had severe back problems already. The pain grew so intense that I couldn’t take it, all I was able to reach with my mouth was his arm, so I bit it in hopes of being let go; and I was. My dad notified the police and pressed charges against me I broke the skin and caused little bleeding. My dad said the reason he restrained me was because he didn’t want me to runaway again. I didn’t disagree with my father because there was nothing I could do, I knew they wouldn’t believe a teenager who was just out partying all night and ran away, and used drugs. My dad was a saint to them, and I was the one who did everything wrong; I could never be right in these type of situations. I was arrested on a count of battery. I went to court the next day and I was to serve a certain short sentence in the juvenile detention center and come back to court again once I had taken a psychological evaluation and was saw fit to be released back into the world, or should I say the wild.

Chapter 4: Double Crossing Myself & Others My family seemed to grow less and less happy with me; I was growing away from the good influences and getting closer with those I shouldn’t. I became best friends with Amanda Smith during my freshman year of high school. Nobody really liked her; she was somewhat of an outcast. As we got closer and closer I left everyone else in my path, sort of forgetting them, but not really wanting to, I knew Amanda was a bad influence, but I was drawn to her. Amanda and I skipped school together, smoked cigarettes and got high together; just all around supported each others bad habits. I think being around her in turn made me more of a negative, mean and angry person. Things progressively worse with my dad; the fights were daily and I was constantly disrespecting him for no reason at all, or when he wouldn’t give me what I wanted. I was always angry towards him and therefore I was taking everything out on him. There were days that my dad would try really, really try to get along with me but I would blow him off and find some way to yell at him; I truly hated him growing up. Not only was I disrespectful to my dad, but I lied to him and stole from him; I took cigarettes from him and money; I lied about where I was going and who I was going with. Or other times when I wanted to go somewhere, I wouldn’t ask I would just sneak out in hopes he wouldn’t look for me. One night my dad allowed my friend Antonia and her sister Lanita to spend the night at my house! As soon as lanita fell asleep late at night Antonia and I walked the streets just because we felt like it. I knew my dad wouldn’t let me do that so I didn’t ask, I just did. However while we were walking around the cops stopped us and we were called in as runaways. Thank god the officer was nice and realized we weren’t runaways otherwise I would have had a probation violation worse than what I was already receiving for being out past curfew, possibly jail time. Even for simple things I would go behind my dad’s back, I would never be honest. Soon I started asking to stay late after school so I could study or go to the library, but I was really getting high with my buddies. I would even lie and say I got in trouble for skipping and say that I have detention, even if I didn’t; that was my most believable lie considering I usually did have night school/detention. I was ordered by the court to see a counselor and once a week my dad arranged a taxi to come and pick me up and take me to my counselors office, my dad also gave me money in order to ride the taxi. But most of the time I would just keep the money and not take the taxi and just find a way home before my dad found out. I saved the money for drugs and cigarettes, I was stealing from him whether or not I thought so, or cared enough at the time. My dad has very little money due to his diabetes; he has to spend a lot on medicine and insulin to keep him healthy during his diabetes. Even though he had little money left over he would often use it for the bars and to bring home alcohol. That doesn’t excuse my behavior of stealing from him, but I did it without a regard for his lack of money and how hard it was to pay bills and keep up with me. I was a selfish person when it came to my dad; but he wasn’t the only person that I was hurting. My mom was in and out of my life, but she was still my mom and as much as I loved her I was the worst daughter she could ever ask for. I was rude and seemed like I used her. When things weren’t good between my dad and I, I would run to the phone and call her and tell her how bad things were at my dad’s house and threaten my dad that I would move with her. I brought my mom into all my problems when things got tough, I hoped she would help even though she was probably fed up with everything that I would put her through. On the weekends that I would visit her I would also steal from her and hide the truth from her. Once in a while I would get high in my bedroom without her ever knowing. My biggest problem was just lying and being a manipulative person, I was manipulative by using threats like; ill hate you, or ill never come back, I’m running away, etc… I ran away a lot and it was half because I hated my dad and the other half was to get back at him and make him feel bad. My dad wanted to go to Costco; I didn’t because I had other plans; to leave him. As soon as he walked out of the door and drove away from the house I gave my dog Nikki love and I left. I ran down to Amanda’s house, I didn’t even call before hand to see if she was there, all I knew was that I wanted to be away from my dad. As soon I got to her street I saw her outside of her house I ran into her arms and gave her the biggest hug, I told her what was going on and that I just wanted to leave, she agreed that she would come with me. I had her call my house and ask if I was there to trick my dad, I’m not sure if he fell for it, but soon enough when we were both called in as runaways he put the pieces together. Amanda and I stayed the night at her house, I hid in her room away from her dad. The next day after her dad left for work we gathered all the stuff we needed, ran to her mom’s house and took about $500 and a carton of cigarettes. We drove to post falls and were just dropped off there, my friend Robbie lived there and Amanda had a friend who lived there also so we went to her friend’s house first. It was a house full of guys and we just drank and had a place to stay for the night. We made it to Spokane a week later after we stayed at her friend’s place and we went to the mall. We were asking random people our age if we could stay with them and that we were kicked out of our parent’s house. Some people were willing to help, other’s weren’t; they believed that we were runaways. Eventually we ran across someone who wanted to go talk to his friend about it first. Amanda and I waited outside and anticipated the answer; he told us that we could stay with them. We took our bags out to their jeep; I had front seat and Amanda was sitting in the back. We were offered to get high with them and we accepted after many many rounds of passing the pipe we decided to take a trip to Arby’s and get some food. The driver decided to take us back to the mall just for a second to pick up his friend. Amanda and I decided to go to go get more food in the food court and he would be waiting for us. As we were deciding what to eat a guy came to our table and sat down with us and started asking information about us; he wanted our phone numbers to contact our parents and our names. I didn’t think this guy was a cop because he was only a little older than us and wasn’t in uniform, but I wasn’t completely sure. I started getting really nervous and kept telling Amanda that he was an undercover cop and to not give him any information, and she didn’t. He eventually introduced himself to us and told us that he was a friend of the guy who was driving the car we were just in and he told us that the driver was planning on having sex with us some way, whether he was going to force it on us or if we were going to comply and do it willingly. We sort of freaked out, but all that we really cared about was getting our stuff back from the back of his car and finding another place to stay. A half an hour later while wondering the mall two security guards came up to us and we thought we were done for, but it turns out that they had picked up our belongings that were thrown in the mall parking lot. They knew it was ours because they had found a camera with pictures of us on it; that wasn’t all they found, they found and confiscated a smoking pipe, but didn’t ask any questions about it. All we had to do was sign our names and give a phone number. Amanda and I both gave fake names and numbers in hopes they wouldn’t find out who we were and find that we had warrants out for our arrests. They let us go and it was getting really late, it was 11 at night and we needed to find a place to stay quickly. We walked out of the mall and towards the movie theater. We spotted a cute guy and decided to ask him, he agreed and let us go to his brothers house, a party was in progress as we arrived and we immediately joined in drinking alcohol and getting high on various drugs such as cocaine and marijuana. The night progressed and eventually ended up over the toilet and Amanda somewhere that I wasn’t sure. There was a guy named Brandon there that I thought was really cute and we sort of hit it off right away we hung around with each other the whole night and slept together, I felt a strong connection with him and he helped us out a lot when he offered us that his apartment in Spokane that he never stays at, but we could stay in it for however long that we wanted. We were so grateful and happy that things may work out and we wouldn’t have to worry anymore. We stayed in Brandon’s apartment for about a week and went back to his friends house that we started at to party again, and we were told that we couldn’t stay the night there so we went to the mall again to start our search all over. But when people started reporting us to the mall security we were taken back downstairs and they remembered us from the week or so before and they looked up our names that we signed as and they said there was no such number and we were forced to give our real names and numbers; after they ran our names they found out that we had warrants out for our arrests. We were separated into different rooms; I was put in a holding cell and Amanda was left in the lobby. For some reason Amanda was let go back with her family and I was taken to Spokane Juvenile Detention Center and kept there for a week until I could be transferred back to Coeur D’Alene and go to court. It took about 4 days for the drugs to start wearing off and I could function somewhat normally. I was really fuzzy the entire time I was there and I can’t remember my stay at all. I barely remember being transferred either, but I was and I was brought to court and sentenced for release 90 days later on house arrest. Tightly attached to my right ankle was a bulky black box that would track my every move. I had to be in certain areas at certain times unless otherwise approved my probation officer. The only time I was ever allowed to leave the house was during school hours. I knew I couldn’t break it because I would have another charge, but they did tell me that if it was submerged in water for too long it may malfunction, and if it was around something magnetic for too long it could cause problems. I tried so hard to take extremely long baths with my leg under the entire time, but I could never find anything very magnetic; despite my efforts it hung on and I was unsuccessful. My dad thought I could leave the house if I called my po and left a message first. I knew this wasn’t right but I needed out of the house. I let my dad unknowingly break the rules and all we had to say was that we didn’t know and ill play along with him, we never got into any trouble for that. As always my dad and I were fighting and I was trying my hardest to avoid him. One day a fight erupted as usual and this time he took his arm and swung his hand across my face. I fell back on my nightstand and hit my neck on the edge, my nose started gushing out blood all over the carpet. My dad got mad that I was making a mess on the floor and he shoved me back on the floor as I tried to stand up I fell in the stains I had created on the carpet, wanting and waiting for the yelling to stop to grab something to clean up my mess. He went back to go watch football and I went back in my room, when something fell off of my bed he yelled at me to shut up. I had to learn to tip toe around a place that was supposed to be my home, but instead it was just a house; a haunted house, and evil house. I could see my dad guzzling those beers, that never met anything good, but I tried to be quiet and pretend I wasn’t there, I was hoping he would forget about me, but out of nowhere he came at me, bursting through my door an angry man pushed me up against the wall in my room telling me I shouldn’t talk to my mom and that he is sorry. As he was speaking he had his hand covering my mouth and holding me against the wall, when he was done speaking and yelling at me he kept one hand on my mouth and raised the other above me ready to strike. I took my arms and tried to push him away he lost his ground and fell I ran to the living room and tried to block out the yelling, but I didn’t know where to go from there. He did what I thought he would; he called the cops again to press charges and have me taken away on a probation violation.

Chapter 5: the consequences When I got my first battery charges against my dad I was sentenced to go to so many anger management classes that were provided every Thursday. In order to complete a class we had to participate and get a certain amount of poker chips as a sign of participation and get signed off. I hardly ever got any chips simply because I didn’t care, I didn’t think that I need any sort of treatment. Attending those weekly I was also seeing a counselor every week. From the time I was a very little child I had been seeing counselors a majority of my life, I didn’t care for them especially when my counselor in the past had doubt about the things I said about my dad, and ever since then I was very reluctant to be compliant with any of them. I never opened up with any of them and it caused great frustration for the both of us involved, as closed off as I acted I really did want to talk to someone I just could never find the right person so I stayed to myself. And this was a consequence all within itself. I was in and out of lock up many, many times. A big consequence that I am still dealing with now is the fact that I barley was in school for my freshman year and after that I was in rehab for the rest of my high school. I never got to experience prom, senior year, homecoming, or any of that. I was in one of the best school surrounded by good people and I took it all for granted. When I was arrested for the last time I knew it was it for me I knew I was becoming a ward of the state, despite knowing it would happen I broke down in court in front of the judge and everyone else who sat behind me. it was over for me, and I knew that, I couldn’t change things now. Three years in rehab helped me out a lot, and it was my fault I was in there, but I missed out on all of my high school experience which was supposed to be the best years of my life, however I will never be able to confirm that. I cant talk to my children about my prom experiences or share my old yearbooks with them because I have none and it is depressing to think about. Even though getting arrested multiple times, humiliating myself when having to walk out of my school during lunch hour in front of everyone in hand cuffs, seeing counselors, going to anger management, and being on house arrest or being on probation were horrible and I hated them, but missing out on so much of my life, missing out on the best years of my life was the biggest regret and consequence that I regret to this day. I am thankful for the rest that I went through because it taught me so much and so did missing out on high school, but I can never change that or go back and it hurts to know that. When I was in rehab and I knew time for prom was around the corner I had my mom send me magazines that had prom dresses in them or magazines that were obsessing and getting ready for the big night. This made me feel a little more content, I picked out the dress, the shoes, the jewelry, and my date and how we would get there. I planned out my dream night that I would never have. As much as it kept me sane it made me go crazy at the same time. I try to explain to people that it sucks having to miss out, but they don’t get it, they say they wish they could have skipped that part but you really don’t. High school seems like such fun and full of learning, you meet your friends and you meet your enemies, you have your fun and you experience stress but all of it shapes you. All I have in my head is a bunch of rehab rules that I apply to everyday life. As much as rehab helped me out as a person and overcome my fears, problems and addictions I want to experience what most people get to experience, I want to go to prom and experience how fun that is supposed to be, prom was something I fantasized about since middle school. And then I missed it.

Chapter 6: me at rock bottom I was always sort of depressed and separating my self from contact of others, even if it was my family. I tried to stay in my room most of the time, when I was with my dad both visiting and when I lived there I stayed in my room all the time unless I needed to shower or use the restroom and eat if my dad wasn’t out in the living room to see me. Being so closed off from the world made me feel alone and cold. I started to hate my self and view myself in horrible ways. Every night I was either anticipating a fist fight with my dad or I was taking a razorblade to my wrist. Sometimes it hurt really bad and other days I could barely feel it at all, sometimes I would get really high and then cut all up and down my arm, sometimes to hide it from others I would cut on the inside of my leg. My dad never bothered to open the door, not even when I was sitting on my bed watching myself through the mirror cry my eyes out. I’m not sure if I enjoyed it when I cried but I would always sit there and watch myself cry in the mirror. One day I planned out my death, well I just figured that I would overdose on my dad’s diabetic pills and a bunch of Tylenol. I figured this would kill me and my dad both; since my dad’s pills were vital for his health and I knew they were extremely unhealthy for me this would be getting rid of a mean, evil man and a useless, unwanted girl. I wrote in my journal my funeral; that I didn’t want one and to tell people certain things after I was gone. I kept this hidden since I was going to do this the next night. When my dad was gone I took a whole bunch of his pills, put them in a baggy and hid them in my room for after school. When I came home I ready to act on my plan, I looked in my hiding spot and they were gone. My dad had obviously seen that I had taken them and would be back home to yell at me. I tried finding his pills again, but I couldn’t find them, he hid them from me. My dad came home and as I expected he started yelling at me and during our fight he had found the stuff I had wrote the night before about me dying and killing my dad also. He didn’t tell anybody for some reason, but I was surprised and scared at the same time. I didn’t know what he was going to do since I had planned on taking his life and my life and he had proof of it. Luckily he didn’t do anything with the evidence; it was soon forgotten before I went back into my room and hid from everything else again. I cut myself and went back to the same thing. I hated my life there, with him. I hated him. Even was I behind bars that did not stop me from self harm. Sometimes we would get hardboiled eggs for breakfast in our rooms and I would break the shell in as big of pieces as possible and hid them around my cell for use when I wouldn’t get caught. As fragile as they were I made them work. As long as I gripped tightly to the sides it stayed intact, I pressed it into my wrist waiting for the skin to break and bleed. I would never get that much blood from that method, but it always made me feel good no matter what. Sometimes they would see cuts in my wrist and I would be put on suicidal watch where the staff members were supposed to check up on my more often than the other inmates. They never did do that though so I safe when I would bring in my shoes to my room and use the Velcro to scratch my wrist and place the shoes back outside my door when nobody was watching. However I must say drugs and depression and cutting myself wasn’t when I was at my worst. When I was at my worst was after I was raped and found out I was pregnant at 15. When I found this out I told my boyfriend that I was dating at the time (and had been dating for a few years and would end up dating him for 3 years and broke up before going to rehab.) I told Tyler and he seemed more so confused than anything. He was unsupportive and I was lost and confused I was looking for someone to help me out and give me answers, but I really need to find the answers myself and not depend on others. I thought of keeping the baby, I fantasized what it would be like to be a mom, but then I thought about adoption. I automatically crossed off abortion and that left me with two options. I decided to figure it out later, I guess I would just know when the time was right. The pregnancy brought me down and I was more alone than ever, but it didn’t really change my ways I continued to party hard and drink a lot and get higher than clouds in the sky and harm myself with razorblades. Without being too graphic; one morning after passing out at my friend’s house due to a lot of alcohol consumption mixed with the amount of drugs snorted and smoked, I woke up and found myself in an empty bedroom. I sat up and leaned against the wall. I felt uncomfortable and sick, I thought this was due to the consequences of how messed up I let myself get the night before. I obviously had puke on my shirt and wasn’t in good condition. I felt disgusting and confused. I started feeling sick I ran to the bathroom to throw up I sat back down with my head in my lap and realized there was blood all between my legs. I wasn’t sure what was happening I figured it was too much to be my period so I crossed that option out and then I pulled down my pants to see thick blood clots and red running down my legs staining my skin and my denim jeans. I sat in the bathroom for the next hour on the floor, confused. My friend came into the bathroom and I explained it to her, she said I had just miscarried. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was to me; I was taking prenatal vitamins or other proper medication to provide nutrition for the baby. I wasn’t even eating right for myself, I was hardly ever eating but I was drinking a lot and partying a lot which included me getting high of many different drugs that infected my body. I was still somewhat confused and a tear escaped out of the corner of my eye and she helped me up and change my pants. We threw the pants away that I was wearing away, if she hadn’t covered them up someone may suspect a murder there was so much blood and it didn’t look right. She offered to take me to the doctors, but I wouldn’t go I didn’t want to go to jail or get in trouble for the things that I was doing. I lived with the fact that I was a horrible person and had murdered somebody so sweet and innocent. I regressed, or basically just stayed the same but my depression was worse my suicidal thoughts were attacking and taking over. I tried swallowing Tylenol, lots of it but it seemed to never work; I just got really bad stomach aches but never would I even pass out and it was somewhat of a disappointment. My partying days continued, my wrist was scared more than the last day and I was still getting high. I fell like most of my life was spent being depressed and not looking at the bright side of things and enjoying my young life.

Chapter 7: My Higher Power	My higher power is definitely art. Most people would say God and some; even I did would name another person. When I was previously writing this life story when I was in rehab I was naming a person; a normal person. I came to realize as much as that person was and is there for me I don’t want to have to depend on them, I feel as though it is unhealthy and unrealistic and therefore not true. Something that is my higher power is not a person or a God; however it’s a beauty and a release. Art, it is complete freedom and allows me to let everything out without limits or rules. Art has no rules or regulations letting you be free. Maybe I am not normal for naming art as my higher power, but I am not a religious person; never have been. I am not sure if what the bible says is true or not. Something I do know is true is Art. When I need a release I’m able to go take a picture, or paint just for fun, color, or write a poem; Even when I am emotionally stable I can still do what I enjoy without rules and without regulations. It is a great feeling to have so much freedom and control. Art is almost a religion of your own that you make up as you go. You learn what you like, what are the best and what it does to your body and the release that it gives you. Most religious people feel good after praying; well I feel my best when I am embracing my creative side. Art makes me a better person, it seems to give me direction; like God is direction for a lot of people. When religious people need help they seek in God, when I need help I grab a canvas and let myself go and I feel so much better afterwards and know what to do next when I was lost not too long before. That right there proves that Art can be my higher power and we don’t all have to believe in God or be a religious person to be OK.

Chapter 8: Replacing Fear & Anger with Hope Admitting all the things that I had did in my life to get me in rehab and in trouble with the law was humiliating. Even little things that I did growing up to get my brothers in trouble, or things I did to try and end my father’s life. Or even just trying to come clean about all my lies, I’m sure I couldn’t keep track of all of the things I tried to just come clean completely. When I first arrived at rehab I was very resistant of any help and had a huge authority problem, as time went on and I gained maturity I realized the staff were here to help me and until I changed I wasn’t fit for society. I made relationships with the staff and finally listened to what my mom had to say and listen to her advice. I wasted too much time and life by arguing and being disobedient. I could have been in rehab for the shortest of 6 months, but due to my unacceptable behavior I was there for a little under three years. My teenage life was thrown away and when I realized that I knew what I had to do. My attitude was way more accepting of authority and help. In fact I wanted to be the one to help others, I didn’t want to be who I was anymore and I wanted other to feel as happy as I was. Eventually my peers looked up to me, coming to me for advice and I remember hearing so often ‘Jess you are doing so good, and I want trust you to give me the best advice.’ Every time I heard something like that it only made me want to continue my path and I realized how much better life was going on the right track and doing good things instead of being depressed all of the time. In rehab I was looking forward to a new life and starting completely over and forget my old life and everything in Coeur D’Alene. I knew I would be a lot happier living with my mom in Olympia. I was looking forward to building a better relationship with my mom and step dad. I couldn’t wait to see my little brothers who I hadn’t seen since before I was entered into rehab. I knew since I was a little girl that I wanted to go to the Art institute, and I was looking forward to that. More than anything I was just looking forward to experiencing lifer altogether, I would get my first Christmas in many years. I had so much to look forward to it was as though I was being re-born. Now, a year after being released from rehab I’m looking forward to building the things that I have already started. I have been in school at the Art Institute for a year and I look forward to graduating and be able to take my love and passion to the next level. I am looking forward to continue the relationship I have started with my mom. Also I’m learning to drive at the age of 18, I’m looking forward to getting my driver’s license and having my first car. And I have the most amazing boyfriend who has supported me through my progress and all the experiences I have gone through in order to heal. Jayme is trying his hardest to understand and be there for me in any way that he can. I’m looking forward to growing more with him and see what the future brings with us since we have already accomplished so much in our year together. Life holds so much for everybody and as long as you don’t take it for granted it can be the best life ever. I accept all twelve steps; the first step is: we admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable. During my using years I realize how crazy my life had become because I didn’t care about school which caused problems with the family, which I also didn’t care about and they always resulted in fights and an unhappy home-life. I couldn’t stand my life and how it felt like I would never be ‘normal.’ Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. Like I said in my chapter 7, art is my higher power and I cannot only rely on myself because that would only set me back and make me fail. Art was always there when I needed it. anger and other strong emotions always inspired me to make a masterpiece or something that I would end up liking the most. I can always paint or take pictures but my best work does come from the strong emotions I don’t feel as inspired when I am just normal, calm and content. Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God. This isn’t referring to just God; Some people mention family as their higher power, who they turn to for everything. If my higher power was a person It would definitely be my mom considering I do go to her for everything but as much as I love her I turn to Art for the things I cannot get out in words. Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. In order to move forward and continue a healthy life I needed to check inside myself to recognize where I was going wrong and where to change my thinking process. Step 5: Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. This is a step I have had to take in order to rebuild relationships and become an honest person and feel better about starting over. Step 6: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. I was ready to have these defects removed from whoever removed them. Maybe it was God, maybe it was simply me with the help of the people and things that I have learned. Somehow I did remove the defects and become a much better person. Step 7: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. I am not a religious person, but I have learned to trust within myself to help myself become a better person, I remove the defects within myself. I am learning to improve myself every single day. Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. I have made many mental and actual notes on paper of all the people that I have hurt and most importantly it was my family and friends. I knew that in order for me to be complete, I needed to apologize to everyone that I acted selfishly towards.. Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. I believe I definitely have made amends. I have been accepted back into the family with open arms. Even though I don’t live near my old friends that I have hurt and can’t see them as much, I do keep in touch and I did make amends and I am forgiven. Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it. Even though I have been released and I am a better person, I know that I will make mistakes all the time and I know that I do, but the mature part would be to admit it and that is what I try to do every time; Even if it is just admitting what I did wrong to myself. Step 11: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. I believe that my will is to just do the best I can, and that is what I am doing. Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs. Definitely I practice my skills everyday and I try to help those who are also struggling with addiction by not preaching but listening and just something that simple seems to help.

Chapter 9: the peace I’ll fond in Sobriety. Sobriety is a goal and a life-long commitment and it is not something you gain in a day, but after a long time of hard work and conquer. I conquered a lot and I know now from a year of being free and released from rehab that sobriety is peace. I am so glad for what I am now, I love myself and I can feel the difference. When I was using I was constantly putting myself down and holding the past against me and hating myself so much, and I thought I was the ugliest person ever. In my current Sobriety days I now know that I am so beautiful and smart and as good as anybody else. I’m not bulimic or anorexic, I have normal eating habits and may not be super skinny but I am now comfortable with my body and love who I am. I also know that I do not need drugs and alcohol to feel better, it just comes naturally now. Before I was a horrible person who could never find peace and believed that it was never coming; I was constantly on edge and creating problems with the way I reacted and being dramatic. Now I know that isn’t the way to be, I don’t need to be dramatic to bring attention to myself; drama pushes people away. Calmness and peaceful people will bring more people around. It’s a lot better knowing that the people in my life are in my life because they truly love me and want to be with me everyday and they aren’t there just because they have to be.

Chapter 10: Where I am now & where am I going from here. Now I am someone different; same name, just different thinking patterns. I choose to no longer abuse drugs or alcohol, but I am where I never thought I would be. I never thought I would even graduate high school, but I did six months early and started college at the age of 17. I am following through with my dreams to become a photojournalist. I have finished my first year at school and have another year to go. After this I plan on taking time to myself while living with my boyfriend and having a job and hopefully working freelance. One day I hope to eventually do something big and amazing with my photography, like an awesome photojournalism opportunity. For now those are just dreams and what I plan on doing. Most of all I plan on continuing on the path of sobriety, it is my number one priority in life because being under the influence make me an unpleasant person and that isn’t who I want to be anymore. Without the addiction I have learned what my triggers are and the main one is anger. Whenever I experience something to trigger strong emotions like anger it makes me want to use right away. Or another trigger for me is just being around people that are getting high or like to do those kinds of things. I know lots of people that use, and I don’t judge people for it, but I don’t go around encouraging it either. I have just become strong enough to say ‘no’ and my friends know that about me and they do not even offer me drugs. I choose those kinds of people because it allows me to have friends and be sober. And when I’m experiencing a strong emotion I do other things like art, a bath or even call somebody. I have had a year to change the perception of me, and I have done a good job so far. People always tell me that I have changed so much and they are proud of me, I’m a completely different person now. I was a compulsive liar before, nobody trusted me to tell the truth. Now I am a very honest person, I have tried my best to make up and recover my past lies. That is the major change that I have done and it makes a huge difference, and people want to be around me more than they used to. My dad and I always had problems from since the time I could remember, and it is still that way. Our relationship has improved somewhat, we don’t talk much and avoid it at all costs, or so it seems. My feelings for him are undecided and I’m sure the feelings are mutual. He still isn’t the nicest person and has refused to help me with school until a month or so ago he decided to give me money every month which helps me out a bit and I am thankful for that. My mom and I however are alright, I wish it was better than it really was right now, but I try and try but nothing seems to improve it. There isn’t a whole lot I can do now though. I have so many positives things about me, and that is what keeps me smiling and a positive person. Without being conceited I recognize my inner and outer beauty, I’m honest no matter what the situation is, I’m a super friendly person, easy to get along with, I have a very outgoing personality, I’m extremely ambitious, and very smart. Those are only the few of the amazing qualities that make me a good person.

Final Assessment Writing this life story was definitely hard, but not necessarily bad. Going through my life one more time sort of made it final, and made it easier for me to accept. 2 years ago if I were to have continued writing this while I was in rehab I wouldn’t have been mature about it. I would end up in a deep depression and never finished. Now I am much more mature about it. As hard as it is to accept the wrong that I did to others and the poor choices that I made. Knowing that I wasted most of my life being rebellious and trying to prove something really hurts me. Because of my decisions I missed out on prom and high school life all together. I didn’t get to go to a normal classroom, my school was going to a room and working on a packet that was based around one subject that was made in the 1980’s and I never saw a teacher. Knowing and remembering all of this and other things that I had to experience made it hard to write or finish a sentence, but I had to constantly remind myself that I’m writing the past and its ok. I pushed myself to finish a paragraph. Despite all of this it was definitely worth my it because I feel better and a little more confident within myself. I’m almost glad that I didn’t finish this during my time in rehab because it would have been made for the public to see, and honestly I doubt that was the best way to go about things. Bringing this story to those in my family would only bring up problems that would affect my changing. My probation officer, staff members, my counselors, my peers, and all of my family members would be sent a copy. I am grateful that this is not a requirement because I do not feel it is a public piece. Some things are better left unsaid. Now it’s over, and I’m happy about that.