This is the very very condensed version of my story. Tl;dr at the bottom.
I was 16, just weeks away from turning 17. I had a boy that promised I could move in with his family, and after a particularly difficult night at home I packed a trash bag of things and left. Only, it turned out that the boys family wasn’t okay with me living with them. So we lived in his bright red Jeep Liberty. I started working a minimum wage job and had this dream of getting our own place, and getting married. Only it turned out that minimum wage 13 hours a week doesn’t cover much in food let alone an apartment. I made budget after budget only for him to blow through it. I hardly ate on most days. After a month or two an old friends mom called me out of the blue and told me to come to her place. She wanted me to live with her. Her only conditions? I couldn’t get pregnant and I had to pay some amount of rent. Okay fine. The boy moved back in with his parents. He would drive me to work on the days that I worked and I had a plan to go back to school.
Then I found out I was pregnant. I was 2 months along and I knew I wanted to place the baby for adoption. So I quietly moved out of the apartment without letting the friends mom know, because I was so ashamed of getting myself pregnant. We told our parents the situation and the plan for adoption because I was still on my parents insurance. The boys parents let us move in with them until the pregnancy was over.
9 months later I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and watched as the fathers we had picked for her held her.
A month later I quit my retail job and started selling life insurance. Things were looking up, I could support myself and the boy (who was actually a piece of s**t and didn’t work the entire time we were together) and we got our own place. I was working crazy hours trying to save up enough to buy my own car and go back to school. Eventually I broke, had a panic attack in a clients house and when I finally made it home I had realized I needed to break up with the boy.
2 months after that I had moved out of my apartment, quit my well paying insurance job, and moved in with a new boy, because clearly I am great at making decisions.
The new guy was awesome. He was a marine and worked decent hours and we were happy. We would go out and spend nights with his friends who took me in and loved me. Then one night at a party somebody brought c*****e. He bought some and I tried it.
From that point forward I changed. At some point some friends of his offered me a job out in Louisiana and I accepted believing I’d come home with a car and a couple grand after 2 weeks. When the day came for them to pick me up I was sick as a dog. I had called asleep and when I woke up I was 7 hours away from my house and into Louisiana. We arrived at their place and they made it clear I wasn’t leaving. They held me there with no real contact to anybody in my life for a week. At the end of that week after having guns held to my head and forced to do things I never thought I would do, I convinced them that I was playing along. That maybe I should call my boyfriend and let him know I was okay. When he got on the phone I invited him out to see us. He came and as soon as I got a chance we jumped in his car and drove home. I was terrified and he knew something was wrong but I couldn’t tell him.
I began cheating on him because I felt trapped and scared and alone. I turned to c*****e and alcohol even more, because at least I knew how it made me feel.
Eventually I started working again and making good money. I got close with my d****r because I could finally buy for myself. I still had no car, and no real future but I was convinced I’d get there.
That brings us to December of 2016, I had broken up with the marine and come clean about my behavior. We began to work things out as I was still living with him when one night I decided to end my life. I called my d****r and made a huge order. But when he got to me to drop it off he asked if I wanted to hang out. So I did. That was the start to a 4 day binge. Then Christmas came. I called my mom and asked if I could come home for the holiday. I was coming down from a great weekend and wanted to try and reunite with my family. She said no, because my siblings would be uncomfortable.
3 days later, sitting on my dealers couch, I got a call. My older brother had been hit by a car. He was brain dead. I went to the hospital and saw my whole family for the first time in 3 years. I cried alone. Away from my family because I didn’t want to take any attention away from my brother.
I went to the funeral, and when it was over I realized I was homeless. I called my d****r as we were kind of dating at that point and I moved in with him. Over the next ten months, he beat me, convinced me to run for him, isolated me from everybody I used to know, and convinced me I was trash.
On September 12th last year he stomped on my face because I was trying to leave. I wound up in the ER and refused to press charges. My parents let me stay with them for 5 days. At the end I went back to him.
On October 13th 2017 I went back to my parents and asked them to buy me a plane ticket out of state. An old family friend had offered me a place to stay. Saturday October 14th I arrived and was greeted with open arms. I got sober that day. I’ve been sober for the last 6 months. I got my GED, I started working two jobs and got a car. I am working on myself every day. I found a great church and through it an amazing group of friends. For the first time in my life I see a future that isn’t filled with pain and threats of death. I am finally learning to let myself be happy. I’m moving forwards. I have my first public speaking gig which will hopefully translate to more in the near future and I plan on going to school in the spring.
Tl;dr: 3 years ago I ran away from home. I made some really good choices and then made exclusively bad choices. I was hurt and let myself be a victim. 6 months ago I ran away again. Only this time into open and loving arms. I’m sober and happy and safe for the first time in a long time.
I was 16, just weeks away from turning 17. I had a boy that promised I could move in with his family, and after a particularly difficult night at home I packed a trash bag of things and left. Only, it turned out that the boys family wasn’t okay with me living with them. So we lived in his bright red Jeep Liberty. I started working a minimum wage job and had this dream of getting our own place, and getting married. Only it turned out that minimum wage 13 hours a week doesn’t cover much in food let alone an apartment. I made budget after budget only for him to blow through it. I hardly ate on most days. After a month or two an old friends mom called me out of the blue and told me to come to her place. She wanted me to live with her. Her only conditions? I couldn’t get pregnant and I had to pay some amount of rent. Okay fine. The boy moved back in with his parents. He would drive me to work on the days that I worked and I had a plan to go back to school.
Then I found out I was pregnant. I was 2 months along and I knew I wanted to place the baby for adoption. So I quietly moved out of the apartment without letting the friends mom know, because I was so ashamed of getting myself pregnant. We told our parents the situation and the plan for adoption because I was still on my parents insurance. The boys parents let us move in with them until the pregnancy was over.
9 months later I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and watched as the fathers we had picked for her held her.
A month later I quit my retail job and started selling life insurance. Things were looking up, I could support myself and the boy (who was actually a piece of s**t and didn’t work the entire time we were together) and we got our own place. I was working crazy hours trying to save up enough to buy my own car and go back to school. Eventually I broke, had a panic attack in a clients house and when I finally made it home I had realized I needed to break up with the boy.
2 months after that I had moved out of my apartment, quit my well paying insurance job, and moved in with a new boy, because clearly I am great at making decisions.
The new guy was awesome. He was a marine and worked decent hours and we were happy. We would go out and spend nights with his friends who took me in and loved me. Then one night at a party somebody brought c*****e. He bought some and I tried it.
From that point forward I changed. At some point some friends of his offered me a job out in Louisiana and I accepted believing I’d come home with a car and a couple grand after 2 weeks. When the day came for them to pick me up I was sick as a dog. I had called asleep and when I woke up I was 7 hours away from my house and into Louisiana. We arrived at their place and they made it clear I wasn’t leaving. They held me there with no real contact to anybody in my life for a week. At the end of that week after having guns held to my head and forced to do things I never thought I would do, I convinced them that I was playing along. That maybe I should call my boyfriend and let him know I was okay. When he got on the phone I invited him out to see us. He came and as soon as I got a chance we jumped in his car and drove home. I was terrified and he knew something was wrong but I couldn’t tell him.
I began cheating on him because I felt trapped and scared and alone. I turned to c*****e and alcohol even more, because at least I knew how it made me feel.
Eventually I started working again and making good money. I got close with my d****r because I could finally buy for myself. I still had no car, and no real future but I was convinced I’d get there.
That brings us to December of 2016, I had broken up with the marine and come clean about my behavior. We began to work things out as I was still living with him when one night I decided to end my life. I called my d****r and made a huge order. But when he got to me to drop it off he asked if I wanted to hang out. So I did. That was the start to a 4 day binge. Then Christmas came. I called my mom and asked if I could come home for the holiday. I was coming down from a great weekend and wanted to try and reunite with my family. She said no, because my siblings would be uncomfortable.
3 days later, sitting on my dealers couch, I got a call. My older brother had been hit by a car. He was brain dead. I went to the hospital and saw my whole family for the first time in 3 years. I cried alone. Away from my family because I didn’t want to take any attention away from my brother.
I went to the funeral, and when it was over I realized I was homeless. I called my d****r as we were kind of dating at that point and I moved in with him. Over the next ten months, he beat me, convinced me to run for him, isolated me from everybody I used to know, and convinced me I was trash.
On September 12th last year he stomped on my face because I was trying to leave. I wound up in the ER and refused to press charges. My parents let me stay with them for 5 days. At the end I went back to him.
On October 13th 2017 I went back to my parents and asked them to buy me a plane ticket out of state. An old family friend had offered me a place to stay. Saturday October 14th I arrived and was greeted with open arms. I got sober that day. I’ve been sober for the last 6 months. I got my GED, I started working two jobs and got a car. I am working on myself every day. I found a great church and through it an amazing group of friends. For the first time in my life I see a future that isn’t filled with pain and threats of death. I am finally learning to let myself be happy. I’m moving forwards. I have my first public speaking gig which will hopefully translate to more in the near future and I plan on going to school in the spring.
Tl;dr: 3 years ago I ran away from home. I made some really good choices and then made exclusively bad choices. I was hurt and let myself be a victim. 6 months ago I ran away again. Only this time into open and loving arms. I’m sober and happy and safe for the first time in a long time.