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Passion, Pain, and Progression



Good evening friends! My husband and I were talking and there were a lot of things I went through a few years ago that I haven't mentioned to anyone...not even him. But I reached a point in my life where I'm ready to talk about it, and that's important!

In My Chaotic Life: The Final Piece, I discussed vaguely my time being stationed in Korea. I was stationed there from 2016-17 and was obviously recovering from an almost, but not-almost assault. I wasn't talking to my parents at all during this time and I was carrying a lot of emotional baggage from the passing of my Grandma and Nana, which I started discussing in Welcome to My Darkest Hours: Part 1.

Life was really hard on me in these years and even though I kept trying and trying to deal with them, in some ways I was still running. I know I keep saying this, but it bears so much truth; if you don't deal with them, your skeletons will fall out of the closet...dramatically.

For me it did.

I was under a lot of pressure because in order to maintain my career field in the Air Force, I had pass Security Plus by Comptia. It's a security certification to meet the requirements for my job. Why does that matter? It brought stress to work because I'm terrible at tests. And this was on top of all the other stress I've had.

After 15 days of being in Korea, they allow you to drink. And on day 15, I turned 21. I drank on my birthday in some on-base hooches (bars), but I didn't go past my limit at all. I had a pretty fun night.

I think I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. I got mixed up with a crowd of people who ran away from their own problems and drank it all away, so I followed suit. I drank and drank and drank. What I also did is got involved with a guy who was completely unavailable for so many reasons. He was in love and well established...and my coworker. What I thought was love then, was actually just infatuation. He was an alfa-male type who didn't acknowledge a problem in the world; it was like none of his personal flaws bothered him. Because he didn't see them, I didn't see them.

Being with him was like being addicted to an expensive drug. I loved it, but couldn't have it near as much as I wanted. He was my friend, but my head was too clouded with pretending my life was fine when it wasn't. My drinking allowed things to get worse. I started coming out of drunk blackouts in random people's beds. I would stop them, put my clothes on and leave, feeling guilty about whatever I got myself into.

I had - and luckily still have - two friends who cleaned up after many of my messes. They followed me around to make sure I didn't lose my career. They chased my through the hallways of dorms I screamed through, crying as my problems spilled over the edge. I got in a push fight with my roommate of the time and couldn't believe what she had done to ME. I was a victim in my own head. I kept drinking and drinking. And then one lonely night crept along with one bottle of Jack Daniels, when I was supposed to be writing a letter to my "then" best friend's son. It inspired me in a disgusting way. Instead of writing a letter to him, I wrote letters to all the people in my life that I thought I cared about. That I thought were important. Not the ones I really should have. I sealed and labeled them, twisted up some bedsheets and hung myself in the closet.


My breaths were becoming further and further apart. The room started getting dark. I'm not going to say I saw a light, because I don't know what I would call it, but maybe a shimmer of hope. One last bit of hope that.... Well, I just had to check. So I used the little bit of strength I had and pulled myself up and untied myself. I was so drunk, I could barely get around. I jumped into bed and went to sleep.

When I woke up, clearly I had a mess to clean. I was sore, my head hurt, I was bed-bound hungover and what I did to myself probably had a lot to do with how I felt. I tried taking a shower but I couldn't even hold myself up. I felt so sick, but I was so hungry. I called a friend I was still okay with. I told him how awful I felt and he nursed me back to functioning conditions without having a clue as to the evidence I threw in my closet to hide. But I made myself a promise that day: I will be better. I didn't know how and I didn't know when, but I would.

I went to mental health, got a counselor, went back to church. I worked on myself. I worked on healing as best as I could. Then, I met my husband. I knew him, but never really KNEW him. He seemed so interested by me and it was the first time anyone cared to even get to know me. Life changed after that. Enough waking up in strange people's beds. Enough following men around waiting for them to use me for self gratification. Enough letting people walk all over me. Enough of me convincing myself that it was okay for them to use me, because I was using them too. Enough was enough. I was done with my life being so complicated. So I clung on to my husband back then because he was so...normal. He saw how broken I was. Even though I was better, I was still bruised. He cleaned my barf when I drank, he held me when I cried as those "friends" who used me, left. Maybe he didn't think anything of it. But he healed me. He made me want to be a better person without saying anything at all.

With only a few days left in Korea, he asked me to marry him. And I wanted to. Many others would think I'm crazy for wanting to marry a man I've known for a total 6 months. But how could you not love a man who sees who you are through all your own crap? I wasn't trying to be cute, compatible, or anything remotely close to that. I was just hurting and trying to heal when he found me. He loved me when I was broken and never turned away from me.

So I said Yes.

Now, I'm not saying that getting married will solve your issues. I'm just saying that when you have someone who genuinely cares, turn to them, not away from them. Still to this day, I can tell my Husband the craziest stuff and he doesn't even flinch. Because he knows that I've been through some difficult things and he listens. He absorbs. He doesn't pressure me and he doesn't overwhelm me with unreasonable responses. Just because they don't know your whole story, doesn't meant they can't save or change your life.

Now, by all means, we do NOT have a perfect relationship. But, if he stayed with me through all of that? It's set the standard for our relationship. A good and healthy standard where we can be there for each other when things get hard or we make huge mistakes. It's possible to be loved. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

So please. If you think about it, have thought about it, or are currently thinking about it, right now, message me. Because I care. I will listen. I will understand. If you don't think you have one person, I'm your girl. But please get help! Iv'e almost spent my whole life in counseling and it was a GOOD thing and I have found so many ways to cope with my life and I know you can too. Please call the below number if you do not have the resources available:

National Suicide Hotline


Things can be better. You can get better. Don't forget, somebody, somewhere, loves. you.

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