My story started when I was around seven. I started injuring myself. That went on unnoticed until I was about twelve, when my mom confronted me. After a big “fight” or whatever you want to call it, I told her straight up that, “I cut myself.” It was the first time I ever admitted out loud what I was doing. Also around twelve or eleven, I started doing drugs. It began pretty innocently, I guess. I was asking regularly for Adderoll from my boyfriend at the time to help me to study or to lose weight. Eventually, it ran my life. I wouldn’t eat for days, sometimes a week, at a time. I’d stay up all night either exercising or studying. That kept on until I was about thirteen, when I started smoking marijuana, drinking, and taking other kind of pills.

The drugs were doing for me what I couldn’t do myself. All I wanted was to feel better, and that was easily accomplished through getting plastered or stoned out of my mind. Oblivion was easy for me and extremely comfortable. My dad and mom then began taking me to regular ER visits for attempted suicide or stitches. I began to go to different psych wards around Houston and I started running away and getting locked up shortly after that.

By the time I was 16, I had tried AA more than once and accumulated thirteen months of being a dry drunk. I was most definitely not sober. I was still going to inpatient places even after I got sober off the drugs and alcohol for my self-injury. I had found out about AA through a rehabilitation center, where I stayed 2-3 months. I began to go to meetings, and Youth AA Groups, such as APGs (Alternative Peer Groups).

Two APGs and about two years later, at ten months sober (the most I had ever had since I started using), I went to inpatient in Denton for my self-injury. The epitome of a dry drunk: Once having removed the alcohol and drugs, I was left with feelings, emotions, thoughts, and actions, which would normally be taken out under the influence. Without any type of a spiritual experience, I couldn’t change my life. I was “white-knuckling” it, as the AAs said. I was miserable, discontent, angry, and so on. I was still acting out on my worst addiction: self-injury. When you’re in jail, it’s pretty damn hard to get some drugs or alcohol. But no matter where I went, self-injury was an easy accessible tool. So I went to Denton to seek help.

I was raped in Denton, and therefore had a lot of resentments towards the place I went to, God, the rapist, the hotel, etc. etc. Most of all, I was angry at God because in my eyes, I had gone to get help and stop self-injuring, and then that happened. For a very long time, I felt as if it was God trying to tell me I wasn’t ready to stop cutting. What a delusion that was! But they were my feelings, and therefore legit. I was very angry for a long time because I wanted God in my life and I wanted to stop hurting and to stop harming myself, and then someone else harms me. I didn’t think it was fair. Now I realize that God does throw curve balls, but I don’t need to justify it. I needed to take it as it came, accept it, realize that bad things happen to good people, learn, heal, talk about it, and move on.

After the rape, I stayed sober for about 4-5 more months until I put myself in a position to get high again. I wasn’t thinking about getting high, it just happened. Once again: I was without defense against the first drink/drug. I ran away that day for about three days and when I tried hitch hiking home, the woman that had picked me up flagged a policeman down. I was taken into custody, and my dad picked me up later that day from the juvenile detention center. After that, I went to another placement and decided to run away from there. I ran away with someone else and lived on the streets for about a month and a half.

Within that month and a half, I learned how to sell my body, and I began a life of drugs all over again. I had never done “hard drugs” before I ran away, and by the time I came back, I was hooked on crack and had done meth, ecstasy, cocaine, and several others as well. For a long time I only saw myself as a crackwhore. It was really hard for me to look myself in the mirror and accept who I was and what I had become. I had lost all knowledge that I didn’t have to be that way. So when I got back home, I chose to continue doing drugs, just not to that extreme. This was around March 2008. I continued to go to school high and I had no self-respect.

Eventually, my actions caught up to me and I was locked up for assault and domestic violence. I had hit my dad. The abuse I caused him went on for years before I finally “got caught,” but today I’m glad. My dad and I have an amazing relationship and when I talk to other people about him, I often refer to him as my “knight in shining armor.” He’s always been there for me through everything and has never left nor rejected me. He’s always loved me for exactly who I am. “I don’t love the things you do, but I love the person you are,” he often says. So when I sobered up in jail after the assault, I had a lot of guilt and shame riding on my back, to the point of where I couldn’t speak to him civilly in a window visitation while in JDC.

I got out on house arrest fifteen days later, and still thought I could play the system. I thought probation and house arrest were merely jokes. Two days later, I was back in jail, under the influence. After not coming home for two days straight, my dad caught me and turned me in. I was so mad at him at first. I remember telling him I hated him and I hoped he would die. I live with that every day, now. Yet, I know things don’t ever have to be that way anymore. From JDC, they sent me to a rehabilitation center in North Texas since I had been admitted under the influence for the second time.

I spent nine months in that rehab, and everyday I live today; I thank God for the events that caused me to go there. I don’t think I would have ever sobered up again on my own, no matter how much God I had. I think it really took a lot of time away from that kind of atmosphere to gain a clear head and decide not to use again. I cut for the first month I was in there, and then realized that cutting wasn’t getting me anywhere either.

As far as what it’s like now, I have to maintain a spiritual connection with my higher power, because I know that if I don’t then I’ll end up right back where I started from. Today I’m so grateful that I don’t EVER have to be that person that I used to be, and I believe that is the greatest miracle God or recovery could have ever given me. I’ve been through a lot, and today I consider myself a survivor. I don’t act anything like I used to and ultimately I’m just not the same girl that I used to be. I can’t really express my gratitude anymore than that. I’m happy, joyous and free today and for that, I thank God. I value my freedom more than anything today, and right now I don’t wish to put anything in it’s way. I’ve spent about an accumulated two years behind gates and fences and maximum security places. Today, I don’t want to live that way anymore. I want to live my life the way I’ve always dreamed of and be successful. I know I can accomplish all things through Christ, and that’s my plan.

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“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Have you ever loved something such as a hobby that it made you a better person? Have you ever lost that one special ting? If I didn’t have music in my life, whether it be creating music or just listening to it, I would not be here today. Music is my number one passion, my confidante, and the only thing that has kept me alive besides the Grace of God.

I think it’s crucial for everyone to have something they love – whether it’s a person place, hobby or idea that keeps them going and gives them guidance. For me, that thing is music. Music and performance have been in my life since I was a baby, still in my mother’s womb. My mother used to put headphones on her pregnant belly with me inside. I would jam out to Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, and Vivaldi. Once I grew older, I found the joy of my life. In middle school, I joined orchestra and started playing the double bass.

Really the double bass found me. I went to orchestra orientation and my new orchestra conductor asked me what I wanted to play. At that point in time, I had an attitude problem and I told her I really didn’t care. So she pointed at a big wooden instrument, bigger than a cello. I picked it up and even though I was tall, it still stood taller than me from the ground up. I experimentally plucked a string. It was actually the E string, the lowest string on an upright bass. It had such a deep, rich tone. I immediately fell in love. From there, I learned how to read music and taught myself piano, guitar, drums and the violin.

There have been times in my life where I have felt a lot of regret, shame and guilt over the things I have done in my past as well as things that have been done to me. These things affected me in such a way that I started to act out. I began using drugs and started cutting myself with razorblades. Because of this, I lost my music. I started getting locked up, sent to rehabilitation centers, and was arrested on a consistent basis.

Music in my eyes is the Universal Language. My double bass carried me not only physically to other places, but also through my trials and tribulations. Yet, at the same time it showed other people how I was feeling. That’s just something one musician can see in another.

The way one creates such a melodic, melancholy vibrato is beautiful to me. I believe my emotions flow straight through my fingertips onto the fingerboard and strings of my bass. Have you ever heard an instrumental duet? Notice how each instrument’s voice battle each other, loves each other or even cajole each other. I also believe musicians communicate through their instruments – a language of love and passion or anger and strife, a language of happiness and joy, or sadness and depression.

Loving music so much and then having it taken away from me has definitely taken a toll on my spirit; however, I also believe this test has made me stronger and merely love music even more. Music has always been there for me when nothing else had been there, aside from the love of my higher power. I believe with all my heart that God and music are the only things that really, truly make me happy. Music keeps me going no matter what and for that I thank God!

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Love and tolerance of others is our code.
– Page 64 of Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book

I’ve tried to run AA/NA meetings on this topic, but it seems as if everytime I try, everyone else takes it as a chance to explain their quirks and pet peeves. That’s not what I want to talk about when I try to remind them that the code of AA really is pity, patience and tolerance. Along with acceptance. The lessons that AA gives up all tie into each other into a nice little package. After all, it is a SIMPLE program for complicated people.

One thing I fear the most is tolerating people. This is because a lot of the time, I just want to run away from all my “negative” feelings like being annoyed. I want to put a filter on all my hateful thoughts that come my way. Again quoting AA, one of the sayings is that you can’t control that first thought, but you can control what you do about it. Yesterday, I was really tested in the subject of tolerance and acceptance.

I had an arguement with my dad over petty decisions and it ended when I had to go upstairs, take a breather, and calm down. I’ve abused my father in the past, and I make it a daily thing to give my anger to God so that I don’t have to be that hateful person anymore. But today, all I could think was: “I cannot live with this man. It’s impossible. I’m going to end up getting into troube because I want to rebel, and I’ll get locked up again, and and and…” I automatically presumed the worst when really all I had to do was accept what he had to say, have a little patience and tolerance, and MOVE ON.

I journaled about it later when I was still upset, and said, “I’d rather be back at rehab than live in the free where I can mess up.” When I think back on this thought, I believe I must’ve been delirious. Or maybe I was just expressing how I really felt at the time without being any kind of rational. I think the point is that I seriously need to take a step back and realize that I’m NOT going to like everything everybody does, but I do have to accept it – especially if it’s an authority figure.

I’ve never liked authority figures. They intimidate me. And while my dad’s really and truly just a big teddy bear, he can scare the crap out of me and just plain piss me off. I don’t think it’s really HIM that makes me so angry, but my selfishness, self-centeredness, and the fact that I’m extremely egotystical – which is pretty much how all addicts are.

Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way. If his arrangements would only stay put, if only people would do as he wished, the show would be great. Everybody, including himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful. In trying to make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous. He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous; even modest and self-sacrificing. On the other hand, he may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest …

What usually happens? The show doesn´t come off very well. He begins to think life doesn´t treat him right. He decides to exert himself more. He becomes, on the next occasion, still more demanding or gracious, as the case may be. Still the play does not suit him. Admitting he may be somewhat at fault, he is sure that other people are more to blame.

– Page 60 and 61 of Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book

At this point in time, the actor (or actress in this case) is extremely frustrated. I want to blame others for the way I feel, I want to believe that life is not fair and doesn’t treat me right; I am not happy with the play at all. And this is where I must accept. There’s a bit in the Big Book that I absolutely love on acceptance, and I often find myself saying it. When I want to, anyway. Sometimes I think it’s OKAY to be a complete bitch to everyone and I hang on to my petty resentments, even if theyare the number one offender and lead only to a life of futility and unhappiness.

And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.

Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. Until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober; unless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes.

–Page 417 in Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book (Fourth Edition)

So today, I will choose to accept things that come my way. I’m allowed to be frustrated, but after feelings all aspects of it, I will give it to God, because he’s the only one who can deal with it HEALTHILY. Next time my dad and I get into altracations or conflicts, I will remind myself that I am not the director and that I need to just accept what he’s saying. After all, patience is a virtue, is it not? I believe we could all use a little patience in our life!

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