The reason the little baby bird has it's mouth open... Is for it's MOTHER or... Someone to feed it. It's hungry... Like all babies... like all children. And... what you are fed... plays a huge part... In what directions you take in life. Hind-site (Understanding the past)... Is a healthy thing... Of course if you live through it. My story stems from being abandoned by my mother (Who I tend to believe is the most nurturing person in a child??s life.) I lived with my mother and her husband, my step father, until I was 7 years old. It was a dysfunctional setting (which I now see is so very common.. sadly.) I was spoiled by my step dad, but don't have all that much memory regarding affection from my mom. He had a great job. I had lots of toys, a clean home, I was dressed and cared for appropriately and all that kinda stuff, but I do remember them fighting, sometimes pretty severely. I recall my dad trying to brake down the front door as I stood against it from the inside screaming. I recall a gun one time. But this is what was "My normal". We went on vacations and took airplane flights around the country and this was in the 60's and early 70's. My dad loved me. He was MY Daddy. When they fought... I remember feeling more on my daddy's side, but as a child... He may have (Or probably) made it work that way (especially knowing him now.)

I was very smart. I still have a letter from my teacher in 1st grade who said I scored the highest out of 60 other kids on an IQ test. Anyway... There WAS allot of good things about me... but... I couldn't have told you 1... Not 1. Why... Because (I believe) of what was fed into me. Children??s minds are fragile and precious. My mind... Was destroyed... Therefore I tried to destroy myself... Throughout the rest of my life... Until... I just woke up... Spiritual awakening... Matured... ??? Call it what you will, but certainly... I call it "I have been blessed". You can be blessed too. Just hold on... and don't let go. At age 7, my mom put me in a state children??s home. There were 72 kids, including me. When I went there, I was the youngest out of 71 kids and when I left, I had been there the longest out of 71 kids. I have some good memories of the children??s home, but I remember crying for my mom, wanting to go home with her. Part of me understanding... Today.. Is that I have a bunch of letters that I wrote to my mom from "The Home". It's really a sad thing... To see me as a child... like starving for love. The letters all say: I'm sorry for being bad, I'll be good, Please let me come home etc etc etc. How could a mother read this stuff and ignore it?? maybe she fed on it. I really don't know.

I just know that some people... Many people... Just don't know how to love. And... Like you... And everyone else... Our parents became who they are by what was fed to them... And their parents... And so on. So... Although the thing is... So who's fault IS it?? It doesn't really matter. We're not responsible for our addiction.. But we are responsible for our recovery. Not fair... But the truth. So... Running away became my hobby (Great hobby.) I kept getting put in homes: Youth homes, Girls training schools, Foster homes, Psychiatric wards, etc etc etc. So "I"... Took whatever path "Felt" good... Hence... Addiction. It was the ONLY place I felt no pain. IT SIMPLY FELT GOOD. And then of course... Time went on and I became a drug addict. Choosing the worst people and the worst situations possible. I mean... After all... How could anyone (including myself) love me?? When my own mother didn't love me. THAT"S... What I was fed. So after years and years of overdosing on drugs and alcohol and living (slowly dying) the life that brings... After wasting more than HALF of MY LIFE... I now know. I know... It's not my fault. I am not responsible for my addiction... But I am responsible for my recovery. After coming to an understanding with that... I have been in recovery for 30 years. I didn't say clean and sober for 30 years. I said recovery. At this time I have only 1 year clean. Do you believe that?? I've had 5 years, 4 years and even 8 years, but right now I have 1... And I am so very grateful for this 1. It is just so worth it. Yes... It's very hard... But it's VERY worth it. Never quit quitting. Please never quit quitting. I was one of those that when they read at the meetings "Some of don't have the capability of being honest with ourselves", I cried... Because I thought I... was one who just couldn't do it and it broke my own heart. Never quit quitting. Fake it till you make it. All that stuff. Please. YOU... Are worth every bit of recovery.