Breaking a cycle is never an easy thing to do. Sometimes you don't even realize your in a cycle that you need to break. That's how it was for me growing up. I didn't know that what I was going through wasn't "normal". For me it was my normal.

 I have faint memories of happiness at a young age with my family. I remember learning to swim in our Olympic size swimming pool when I was two.

 My brothers and sister and I would practically live in the pool during the summer.

 I remember sitting on our German Shepard Bob and combing his hair with a Barbie comb (he was in heaven) in my mothers slip, in the snow in our back yard.

 That was until my mother caught me and made me come in before I froze.

That all changed when I was four and drugs tore my family apart. It was the 1980's and Cocaine was blazing a very ugly trail through society's upper crust. The rich mans drug they called it, because you had to be rich to stay high.

My father and mother both began using Cocaine heavily, which caused huge fights between them. I don't remember my father ever laying a hand on my mother but I do remember them throwing large glasses of water at each other, as well as whatever else was lying around on the counters.

Not to mention the verbal abuse going on back and forth. Fast forward to age five and my little brother, and I were left with my aunt, because we had lost our home.

At the time I was old enough to remember our mother, and miss her greatly. My little brother who was only three at the time didn't remember her after awhile.

 I realized very quickly that I was part of a package deal, if my aunt wanted my little brother who began to think of her as mom, she had to keep me as well.

Not the best feeling, especially when you don't quite understand why your little brother is treated like he's special and your on the opposite end of that.

I was more of a burden when it came to her and it showed. By the time my mom took us back three years had gone by and I was happy to be back with her. Even with all that went on I knew she loved me and was trying to do her best.

 However I began to see that though she wasn't using drugs anymore, something was wrong with her.

She wasn't the same.

She started talking about all these crazy conspiracy theories and telling us the devil was trying to kill us all. 

Kind of scary for two small children, who were taught to trust and believe what adults tell you.

Although I never really believed what she was saying, there was always that question in the back of my mind.

What if she's right?

She was so adamant about the whole thing. She was and still is convinced it was true.

 That was my introduction to mental illness and the effects it has on the families of those who deal with it.

I later found out my mom had a nervous break down and never fully came back.

 She was diagnosed with Bi-polar / manic depressant disorder. Even though she heard voices and it scared her half to death she refused to take her medication which only made her worse.

 We moved around quite a bit due to her fear from her illness, and I attended eight different schools.

As a result I struggled in school and had a hard time relating to the other kids. I was bullied a lot and found myself in the principals office for fighting on more then one occasion.

 I eventually rebelled and left home at 14. I went on to struggle with drug abuse for eight years.

 I don't think I realized it at the time, but I was on a self destruction mission. Why should I care what happens to me if no one else did?

 I was in, and out of juvenile hall. I cant say I am proud of that but its where I was at that time in my life.

Survival mode.

 It may sound strange when I say that but I really was just trying to survive my own self destructive tendencies.

 I put myself in some very dangerous situations, which make me cringe when I think about  it now. I couldn't imagine my girls in any of those situations. All of which were a parents worst nightmare.

 It wasn't until I was twenty two when I had my first child and thirteen months of drug treatment and parenting classes, that I realized I wanted to live.

 I wanted for this tiny rosy cheeked beautiful little girl, all the things I never had. A normal and loving home, where she would be encouraged to follow her dreams and have all the support she would need to succeed in life.

As parents we want the best for our children. That was what drove me to change the path that I was on.

At twenty four I met my best friend and the love of my life and his wonderfully sweet and talented son who I adore and is on a scholarship to S.F.S.U.( had to throw that in there, so proud )

Together my fiance and I have a super strong willed but very smart and beautiful four year old little girl.

Im now thirty one and finally have the family I think I was always searching for. We own our own house and I help him run his buisness, remodeling homes.

 Looking back now I see things more clearly and know that even with the wreckage of my past I still deal with, I will do my best to give all my children what I never had. I will be their advocate. They will not be forgotten or unwanted or fall through the cracks, or left to fend for themselves.

If I could I would go back in time and give the little girl version of myself a hug and tell her its all going to be ok. But since I can't and I know how it all turns out, that's going to have to be enough. And... it is.