your story support group

[Montana Mommy]

Hi all. Im thinking about starting a support thread were everyone shares stories about their childhood. I was just thinking it could help people like me, cause we never get to share bad and good times about our childhood with any one. I personally would like to share the bad ones to help myself and others, and really share the good to replace the bad ones. If anyone wants a go for it go head. Im gonna do mine too. Its just that drinking is so intertwined with so much, I thought this would be a good thread. Hope some can open up.
Tam

[Montana Mommy]

your story support group

Hey all,
Here's mine in a nut shell. Mom loved Dad.. Dad hit Mom. My mom stayed for awhile but couldn't take it and we moved to a abused woman shelter. We live there about a year. We moved on our own. She found a new guy. Yay!!(Not) Mom got depressed, we got the brunt. We moved 2 times a year from 4th to 8th grade to stay away from Dad. Dad just wanted visitst with me and my sister. More later cause it sucks talking about the rest. I just wanted a thread cause we all have a reason.
Tam

[UKSean]

your story support group

My childhood..Oh boy..

I was born in a little log cabin NO NO wait a minute that was someone else...

I was born in Liverpool England on January 8th (yep same day as Elvis, but he couldn't sing like me 1954.
To Harry( a scouser)( to the American people, a scouser is someone born in Liverpool) and June From Hertfordshire (They met and married in Baden Baden Germany just after the war) I had two older brothers Harry & Jimmy. My first recollections of childhood were playing "with me mates" in bombed out buildings and house's (Britain was still in the process of rebuilding from the second world war) My Mother and Father were the best parents any kid could ask for. Dad was a lorry driver and Mum worked for the English Electric on the line building washing machines. Dad delivered meat for a local chain of butchers in and around Liverpool.Mum must have been a lousy thief as we always had meat on the table , but Mum never once brought home a washing machine (Actually butchers would give Dad meat when he changed his route when they were running low).
I was a sickly kid from the get go. I was born with meningitis which back then was a very serious thing for a baby. I spent the first 8 weeks of my life in an incubation tent(Mum couldn't even breast feed me and that's probably why I have been a breast man ever since .lol
but I lived I had a lazy eye with an awful turn in it. The kids on the block used to call me "crossed eyed John" and when the Doctors Put a patch on my good eye they changed to "Johnnie the pirate" and "One eyed Jack" as you can imagine I had the best self esteem in the neighbourhood(something I still have trouble with to this day.) I
was also privileged to get all those nasty little illness that went around, Measles,German Measles,Mumps,Chicken pox, Yellow jaundice, and a wonderful exciting thing called Pleurisy (If you have ever had it I am sure you know how those pains in your lungs are just a joy to experience) (I cant believe I am going to tell you this but what the hell the truth will set you free One day I noticed every time I touched my left groin I would jump 20 feet in the air and hang from the ceiling by my nails quivering like Jello,
so Mum packed me off to the Doctors after touching my groin and helping me down from his ceiling the Doctor turned to my Mum and said " Mrs Scott( yes now you all know my last name) "it's nothing everything is going to be fine"" it's an undescended testy" you can imagine what I said "yer wot?? Mum whispered in my ear(God knows why she was whispering I was the only one in the room that didn't know what the bleedin hell was going on) I thought for a moment "I HAVE A BOLLOCK IN ME GROIN??? AAHHHHHH
Well as all you mum's who's sons have been through this it was a simple procedure to surgically remove it from the groin and put it in the sack (Unless of course you call the nurse who helped the Doctor being a fekkin neighbour of ours simple.) I never could look that girl in the eyes ever again (another ego boost)
Of course like all little Scousers I had the plastic Beatles wig and would play"The broom"in front of Mum and Dad when the Beatles made Liverpool a household name in the 60s.Like the rest of England we jumped for joy when England beat West Germany in the world cup final(soccer) I never learned anything at school. Everything I learned I have learned since I left school at 15. All my school years I couldn't see a thing. The eye Doctors had put that patch over my good eye to strengthen and straighten it . They put me at the front of the class, the middle of the class and finally at the back of the class were I remained seeing nothing. I was OK at English, OK at History as these were things I could
mostly learn by listening, but math,science and anything else were you had to really be able to see the blackboard,forget it. So at 15 (I didn't pass the 11 plus, big surprise huh?) They sent us on our merry way all ready for the working world. It was at this time I was introduced to drinking. I was tall and lanky and could get into some of the older less popular pubs and have a few pints. I took to it like a duck to water. It did something for me that I could not of imagined IT GAVE ME CONFIDENCE, I WAS ABLE TO TALK TO GIRLS, I WAS BLEEDIN FUNNY AND FUN TO BE AROUND. this was it the elixir of life. I found my first love.and I have been addicted to it ever since.

Sean x


TYFE:l

[Mackeral]

your story support group

First off excellent thread Tam..Its interesting to see what shapes people to become addicts, if anything..Nature v's Nurture and all that. For most of us i think its the latter.
Second Sean.. Bloody hell mate you have been through the mill, without trying to sound morbid that was a really good read and i was in your world for a little while then..The bit about your mum being a crap theif had me giggling..
Seriouslt though i can really understand why drink at that age gave you the confidence and release you NEEDED.
Gonna pop back later when i got a bit more time and quiet and have a pop at mine..
Thanks again Tam and Sean:l

[ezzmae]

your story support group

Thanks for the story one2many. I cried and not just for you but for my husband and everyone else that I knew that was brought up in a similar circumstance. I was lucky, I have always known I was lucky. I have never had any real excuse for drinking, nothing turned me to drink. I just started as a young person and never grew out of the habit. My parents relationship was the same, one drunk and another person bitter about how life turned out. But I decided that at a young age it was between them, I guess I realised that around the time I was 8 when I was forced to take my mother's side and when they made up they just completely ignored me, it was all about them. Their relationship does define my relationship with my husband, we are best friends, our kids are happy and loved, we rarely argue, let alone use violence.
Thank you to everyone for sharing their stories.

[aidanspappa]

your story support group

This is a great thread

Thanks for starting this...the story's are amazing how similar we all are (even if the stories are completely different); pain as a child festers into numbness as an adult. I posted my story in another thread and will add to it when I get more time. Look forward to reading more about my new friends.

Oney; I cried for the little girl inside of you which had to endure your childhood. I am so proud of you...really, proud to know you.

I'm not forgetting the rest of you, I just have to go to another Birthday party. This one is for the Father In Law. I wonder how he is feeling today after his grandson's party yesterday...hmmmm

Peace

[aidanspappa]

your story support group

OK, here goes...

I just reviewed the "Your Story Here" post...and it had more to do with when and how AL entered my life and less to do with the personal nature of this thread. I have so enjoyed hearing and getting to know Montanna Momma and UKSean better...it is my turn to share.

Shit, I don' want to do this.

OK. My parents met in College (University of California at Berkley) during the Vietnam/Civil Rights era and were young and confused. In the U.S. this was a time of calling the government out as a bunch of liars (Watergate, The War, Bullshit Communism threats, etc) which prior to this era was unheard of. If the government said grass was blue...well, then my eyes must be wrong because the government was always right and had the best interest for the people. Anyhow, angry and confused my parents got drunk-had sex-and my Mother got pregnant. My Father had never had sex before and my Mother had already gone through an abortion 3 years earlier. They agreed to get married and do the "honorable" thing. After a Christmas wedding I was born a month later on the 27th of January 1970. An "old soul" penned by my Irish Great Gran born to parents who needed to find themselves and their way in the world.

My first memory was of my mother knocking me to the floor after reaching for some cookies on the back of a high chair. She slapped my hand, I fell over. No big deal, just my first memory. My father joined the Navy before graduating college and had us stationed at Guam (in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, about a mile wide and 17 miles long). He was never home, Mom was. When the two of them were together it was physical and abusive. I spent many nights and days hiding in closets, the neighbors house, anywhere else. I remember having this raggity ann doll I carried everywhere, I didn't want them to have it; afraid they might hurt her too. When my Brother was born (two years younger than me), I was later in life told he was to keep me company, I found an increased sense of needing to protect him from them. Often we played alone, away from the scary voices and mean feeling in the house.

Time passes, Dad finishes his degree, rejoins the military (Air Force this time) and gets stationed to Massachusetts. Mom gets home sick, complains and fights with Dad all the time and they split up. So far, nothing unusual here just a lot of fighting and pain. I thought the divorce was going to mean less fighting, less pain and was for it at the start. I had no idea how bent it would become.

Mom takes Brian and me (I am now 7 years old) to Davis, California to live with her Parents. I wouldn't see my father again for another 7 years. Any mention of him would cause my mother to fight with her parents and I was begining to realize my mom was a miserable person. Her friendships were few and always ended with other adults, never carried longer than a year or so. She had a part time job and blamed the world for her situation, especially my father. She even told me to watch Brian when she was gone and that I was the "man" of the house now. As I got older she would confide in me, share things about herself which were too heavy for a 10 year old to hear. But I would listen, rescue her and felt like I needed to 'save' her from herself...dysfunctional at its best!! After a time Brian went to go live with my mother's parents leaving me with mom. We became roommates of sorts, rather than mother and son. Then dad showed up at the door. Married, and living a couple of towns down the road. It was after my dad tried seeing Brian and me again when my mother started to hit me. One day I was so sick of her telling me I reminded her of him, and sick of her hitting my face, I punched her in the chest...hard...and meant it. She hit the floor stunned...as was I. She cried, threw me out of the house...and I spent the first of many nights on the couch in the garage...away and in my own world. I would sneak food, and over time she would try to convince me to come back into the house-while drunk. She didn't mean it, it was the AL talking...not her. Anyhow, I didn't want to be there...anywhere close to her.

At 14 I was confused, hurt, angry and overall sad about life. I didn't have a girlfriend yet longed for the affectionate attention my other 'mates' were getting from the opposite sex. When I would finally get a girlfriend all I could think about was how my mother was so hurt and angry all the time, and often ended the relationship early without a real reason I could think of. Besides, it always came down to 'coming over to my house'. What was I going to do, show her the garage? I didn't want simpathy and I just didn't want to cause any pain to someone else, yet so desperately needed some sort of positive reinforcement in my life. I found it, through sports.

Turns out I'm a good athlete. All of a sudden, like flipping a switch, I had the attention of the popular crowd-both girls and the cool guys too. I was invited to parties, girls wanted to be with me-even passed me notes which would make me blush (which I think was the game to be honest). I was painfully shy, carefull not to offend or take advantage of my new found fame and did everything to keep the feeling of being wanted. That means, when you are young, doing things you wouldn't do otherwise. Like drinking, and every risky adventure that comes with it. If I didn't, I was afraid I would be cast out...back to the life of loneliness and isolation. Besides, I had this new perception to uphold...whatever that meant.

High School was fun now and I didn't want to risk anything, so I did everything. Smoked, drank, had unprotected sex (sorry if that offends anyone-but I'm keeping it real here). Then graduation came along. My father lived a couple of towns over but stayed out of my life for the most part; and I spent my last 2 years of high school living with my Irish Great Gran (she lived closer to school and my mother loved being free of me). Back to graduation, the day. My grandfather thought it would be fun to see if the parents of his graduating grandson could become civil for this day. So he tricked them. Unaware, I met them at the meeting place-the driveway of my grandfather's house. So...here we are, my mother, my dad and me. Together for the first time since I was seven. Wierd, and it would get worse.

I was a good student and earned the right to speak at graduation (I will post the speech should anyone want to see it) so I needed to be at the Hall before anyone else...which meant whatever 'we' were going to do we needed to be done by 5pm. It was 3pm and we would never make it that far. Dad gets into his little truck (Datsun King Cab), Mom in the passenger seat and me in the back (cramped). On the highway now, trying to find somewhere to eat, they start fighting. Screaming at each other about cheating on each other (I guess they were seeing each other again, even though Dad was married again-news to me in the back seat). Then dad pulls over and kicks mom out of the truck-on the fucking highway! I reach forward, pull the emergency brake and get out myself of a still moving vehichle. I had burn/scrapes on my hands and my shoulder felt out of place. Mom is banged up bad, and we walk to a hotel. I call a cab, leave her in the room to get better and head off to graduation 10 minutes late for my speech. Took the money (cash) I got for graduation and paid for the hotel and the damn cab. Broke and late I had to borrow a professors robe and didn't have a cap. Gave the speech of my fucking life.

Watched everyone leave the pavillion, saying things like "I'll meet you there" stuff like that. With every hand shake it hurts (from earlier), hands burning and swollen and my shoulder starting to stiffen up. Soon it was just the janitor and me. Jim (his name) asks me why I'm still here, I told him I was thinking. He asked about the swollen hands as I was looking pretty lame I guess; it only served as a reminder to me that I wasn't like the others going to party that night. I had suffered the real world already for 10 years, and it sucked. He told me he never had thoughts that big and that I was too young to be so serious about life (we talked a lot that night). This was before cell phones, so I don't know how my mom got home or what happened to my father. They never talked about it. I left, and never looked back. Joined the military and the rest is in the post mentioned earlier. I have been independant ever since; and paranoid of becoming my father.

So, childhood pain festers into adulthood numbness. Different story, same result.

All for now, thanks for reading.

[dexterhead]

your story support group

:l:loh my lord ... your stories of survival are amazing.

[dexterhead]

your story support group

One: I STILL want to know where you got that photo of my ass

[Red]

your story support group

Here's my little "slice of heaven" as I like to refer to it.....

My mom and dad were inseperable and we had a wonderful family life. My dad died suddenly when I was about 11 years old. My mom was only 40. My mom developed a "closet" drinking problem. She met a cop and started dating him. He acted like he saved her life and all. A year later she married him and he began sexually abusing me from the time I was 12 til 13 yrs. old. He's a real a-hole! I've never said anything to my mom. Mostly because she's gone through so much and I want her to be happy. I figure someday when he's gone I'll tell her. But anyway, I started drinking in my early teens and by the time I was 16 I was binge drinking all the time cause I guess it just felt better to be numb than everyting else in my life. It has carried on until now. I will be 29 in June. I guess I'm just a work in progress.... But I have amazing support in my husband. Right now I'm just happy being happy I guess.

But, I've got 9 days today!!!

[Montana Mommy]

your story support group

Thank you everyone who shared. One, I remember you posting your story, thats what gave me the idea. Sometimes we just have to get things off our chest. I've tried to talk to family about things, but they get defensive and take it the wrong way- like Im saying they messed me up. Its just nice to share and read you all's stories. It helps me a lot.
MM

[Prest4time]

your story support group

These stories really are healing. It is a proven fact that getting our past out whether through counseling, writing or just having a good friend listen is therapeutic.

I never posted my story since being a member here. Normally I wouldn't jump in, but I'm extremely depressed at the moment and just having a rough day, so maybe it will divert my mind and help. This is long, so if you dont like long posts, skip this one!

I was born in 1968 (yep, I just turned 40!) and am the baby of four. My sister still reminds me of that. My childhood was very comfortable. Not perfect, but when I hear some of the painful stories, I realize how fortunate I was. My mother inherited a small fortune when her father died unexpectedly when she was 17. My father came from a very poor family. They met at Auburn their freshman year of college. My Mom was intensely grieving the death of her father when they met. My Dad quickly filled a deep void in her life and I am sure no one stood a chance after that. She got pregnant and they quickly got married. My Dad finished college and became an accountant. My earliest memories were of crying while my Mom would leave every day to go play Bridge and have lunch with her friends. She never worked and we always had a maid. My Dad owned a car dealership that I would later learn he bought with my Mom's money. Thoughts of money never occurred to me as a child.

My parents bought a farm and built a huge house that was a like a dream. We had 365 acres, a three story house, a swimming pool, tennis court. Our first Christmas there, my Dad bought us all our own motorcyle. Mine was a little blue Kawasaki and I was terrified to ride it. The first time I rode it, I went straight into a tree and it flipped over and landed on top of me. It scared me so bad that I never touched it again. My friends thought I was crazy because I had my own motorcyle at the age of ten and wouldnt ride it. But in the midst of all of this, my parents had a rocky marriage. My Dad had an explosive temper and he would take it out on my Mom. They fought a lot and my sister and I's bedroom was right above their's, and many nights we huddled under the covers crying because he was screaming at her and often slapping her in the face. I secretly began to hate him.

He was a very strict man. Apparently his father had been the same way, and he thought this was the best way to raise kids -- with an iron fist. I would hide from him a lot when I saw him coming. If we were caught not doing our chores or left our shoes lying around, or the simplest things, he would spank us with a belt. I did not think I was being abused at the time because he told us it was for our own good. He would spank us until I thought I would pass out from the pain. My mother stood by helplessly. She never stood up to him out of fear. My parents were praised by other parents for having such well-behaved children and we must have looked like the Norman Rockwell family to others.

One day in the tenth grade, I came home from schoool and my Mom and Dad were both sitting in the kitchen and my Mom was crying. I thought someone had died. My Dad said that she had been diagnosed with stage 3 Hodgkin's disease (a form of cancer) and her prognosis was slim. She would be starting chemotherapy the next day. I loved my mother dearly and we were very close. The thought of losing her and being stuck with my Dad was a terrifying thought. I prayed like I have never prayed in my life that God would heal her. My Mom had such strong faith and she taught that to all of us as small children. My Mom went through a year of chemo and radiation and was violently ill. I rarely saw her out of the bed. My Dad informed me that I was now the woman of the house and I was to keep it spotless, do all the grocery shopping and cook and clean the kitchen each night. I was 16. By this point, my sister was married and my oldest brother was in medical school, so it was just me and my brother left at home, and he was about to graduate and leave... leaving me. So I tiptoed around the house for a year trying to not to make a mistake. I left my shoes in the living room one night and the next day my Dad took a belt and beat the crap out of me before school. It was painful to sit. I was not allowed to date until I was 18, nor have a boyfriend. It just was not allowed... no questions asked. Those were the rules. But it was too late. I was madly in love with a guy in my homeroom class that I had known all of my life. We were carrying on a secret relationship behind my parent's back. I wanted to tell my Mom so bad, but I couldnt. So we would write love letters and slip them in each other's locker. I was terrified of my father finding out. This went on for almost a year. Then I began sneaking out in the middle of the night because it was the only way I could see him without my Dad knowing. Well... I got pregnant. I was horrified. Because of my beliefs, abortion was not an option. So I figured the only option was to run away and hide somewhere.. have the baby.. maybe put it up for adoption. But the thought of leaving my Mom was tearing at my heart. I knew nothing about pregnancy so I went and took the "P" encyclopedia off off the bookcase and looked it up. I forgot to put it away and my Mom found it lying on my bed, still open to "pregnancy" information. I had gone to school. So she rummaged through my room and trash can and found the used pregnancy test and knew. She told my Dad and my Dad's rage was terrible. He sent the police after my boyfriend and they brought him to our house. I was ordered to come home immediately. It was not a pretty scene. My Mom was still fighting cancer and my Dad asked me how I could do this to my mother. I felt the weight of the world. We were told to either marry immediately (we were 17) or my boyfriend would never see me or the baby again. Two weeks later we were married in our living room. I had a healthy baby boy nine months later and three years after that a beautiful daughter.

For the first few years, we had a wonderful marriage. People were amazed. We were dirt poor, but we laughed a lot, loved a lot and I absolutely loved being a mother. But I did not know that my husband was bi-polar. It did not manifest for a few years. But something snapped one day after he was fired from a job. He turned into someone else. He started drinking for the first time as well -- probably to calm his demons, but it only made him wilder. Then he got into drugs a little bit. All of it literally made him crazy. He seemed to lose all sense of judgement. I became very afraid of him as his drinking made him very aggressive and he would not remember anything the next day that he had done the night before. Meanwhile... I did not drink at all during this time. A few more years went by and our marriage had basically disentegrated. He was going out to stip clubs at night and denying it, but I would find receipts. He was arrested for wreckless driving, DUI's, and could not hold down a job. I did not even have a high school diploma, and I had no car, so finding a job that would actually be profitable financially after paying a daycare was almost impossible. I cleaned houses some and babysat to earn money. Meanwhile, my mother pulled through the cancer and beat it. For this I was so grateful. I also began to have a better relationship with my Dad. He adored my children and was very different as a grandfather than he had been as a father. He became gentler and they wound up moving closer to us to help with the grandchildren. It was all actually very good for a while, but I did not tell them what was going on behind the scenes. My husband was becoming abusive to me and I really was contemplating a way out. I wound up meeting a man who lived close to us and I honestly did not see it coming. He seemed to be just a nice neighbor. But he would listen to me talk while our kids were playing outside. Anyway, nothing happened between us physically, but my husband caught me talking to him one day and went ballistic. He accused me of having an affair and nothing I could say would change his mind. A few weeks later (on New Year's Eve), he invited some of his buddies over. I had never met these guys... they were people he had met at bars and stip clubs I am sure. They had bought a bunch of alcohol and were quickly getting drunk. I remember having a few drinks that night and getting a buzz and thinking... "this is fun!" I was 24. I remember going to bed before midnight and they were still up drinking and being loud. Later in the night, I dont know what time, my husband came and woke me up and told me to come in the living room. He had no clothes on and a wild and crazy look on his face. My heart started racing and I tried to stay calm and tell him to leave me alone. He told me "I owed him for being unfaithful." He started pulling me out of the bed and I was trying to get away from him. Well, let's just say I was not successful. His drunk friends were still in the living room. I could not believe that something like that could happen to me... that he would have ever done that. They all raped me and that is when I turned to alcohol. I managed to get away from him a few days later. I never reported it. I never told my parents. I just told people he was getting crazy and abusive.

Anyway, my children and I went to live with my brother in Atlanta. He was now a successful doctor and had a big house. His wife was so kind and loving, and they had children the same ages as mine. They were a God-send to me. My brother paid for a medical transcription course for me and helped me get set up in my own business. I worked for him to begin with, then wound up taking a job in North Carolina. We moved and I met my "now" husband a few months later. Another God-send. Unforunately, I had developed a drinking problem. It had become my nightly comfort in those first dark months. Even when my life got better, I still wanted my wine. He asked me to marry him and I was the happiest person in the world. So I drank to celebrate. Secretly. I did not tell him I had a problem because honestly, I didnt believe I did. He was not a drinker at ALL, so I just decided that our wedding day would be a good day to stop. We had a big wedding, but no alcohol. I did not drink on our two week honeymoon. But my husband travels a lot, so I figured while he was away, I could have my wine. He travelled a LOT so my habit quickly escalated. When he was home, I would buy vodka and hide it under the sink with the cleaning supplies and sneak it into my "normal" drinks. Sometimes he would tell me I was acting like I had been drinking and I would lie. One day I left a glass of wine on top of the dryer. He found it and told me he knew I had been hiding it. He told me he was sorry that I felt I had to sneak around him, and that he wanted me to be able to have a glass of wine or "two", and that was fine as long as it was not every day or more than that. I took the ball and ran with that and gradually his guard came down and he started having wine with me. We became friends with others who enjoyed a good wine with dinner, so he began to think he had been too straight laced about it and quit worrying about me.

Three years ago after a major move, I became very depressed. I did not like the new city... all of my friends were in North Carolina and I began to drink heavily again. I finally made a HUGE fool out of myself one night in front of my then 16-year-old daughter and she was so hurt and angry at me. My husband told me that either I get some help, or he would get help for me. So I googled around on the computer and found MWO. It has been a wonderful tool and resource. I have never been as bad as I was three years ago. I have tried AF and moderating, and have not had much long term AF success. For the most part, I have done really well moderating with of course occasions of over-doing it. Today, I am starting Antabuse again. I need some AF time. As most of you know, my Dad committed suicide two weeks ago and I have let my drinking get out of hand again. My Mom has gone on to beat cancer three more times and is doing wonderful. My Dad turned to alcohol during the year that Mom got cancer and I got pregnant. He battled it the rest of his life. During his last years, he suffered two serious falls down stairs while he was drunk, which resulted in serious brain damage the second time. He could not take care of himself anymore and was living with my brother. He could do some things, but his brain was not right. My brother lives in the country and they are big hunters. (who isnt in south Georgia?). Anyway, we were all stunned that my Dad was able to sneak around in the middle of the night and find my brother's shotgun and the ammunition which he kept locked up. Somehow he found it, went outside to the edge of the woods and killed himself. My brother found him the next morning. That was two weeks ago.

I think I am accepting it, I just feel incredibly alone right now. My son (who is now 22) is leaving in the morning to move to Utah for a job. He and I are so close and I will miss him terribly. My daughter just went to college 1,200 miles away and I miss her like crazy as well. I have one left at home who is 10, but it feels so empty. I love having a house full. My husband will leave with my son in the morning for the long drive out west so it is imperative that I take Antabuse today or it could be a rough week.

I know this was long, but I had to write all of this as One2 said... even if you dont read it, it has helped me greatly. Thanks for letting me get it out.

[aidanspappa]

your story support group

Prest4time,

I sit here humbled by your 'tests' in life. Thank you so much for sharing, as Oney put it just now, from the soul. Regardless of who reads our story, sharing it makes it seem less painful somehow. Only speaking from experience; and not assuming in any way you don't still feel pain.

If you ever need anything, we are here for each other...and I (for one) am so grateful for the folks in here willing to share their pain. So grateful for you especially. That had to be hard to write; and even harder to live through. But you did it, and you can do this too.

Namaste

[UKSean]

your story support group

To Prest...

In the "Big Book" of alcoholics anonymous, there are lots of stories in the back, of peoples stories just like these here.
I have read them, many times over.
They are very moving and very powerful.
However I have never read a more powerful, more moving , more gut wrenching story than the one I just read here.
I don't mind saying I had to stop to wipe away tears from my eye's and my cheeks.
No words can I put down here will come close to explaining the feeling in my heart right now.
This story is sad, but it also shows the strength of who is Allie.
I applaud you sweetheart.
You are truly an inspiration to us all.
Throughout all the pain all the suffering you keep fighting this demon that is alcohol, and you do it with such grace,such resolve.
You are an angel walking the earth.
You make my troubles seem trivial when compared to what you have faced.
I say this without reservation, I pray I can be as strong and as humble as you.
God bless you in this most trying time.
No words can take away your pain, but your words give me incredible hope.
Forever your friend,
Sean.
A kiss for your hand M'Lady X.

[KateH1]

your story support group

Oney, Prest and Red, I know how hard this is to write, as I did this a while ago myself. All of your stories brought tears to my eyes. It is very hard to get past abuse, loss and abandonment. But, it can be done, we can and do move forward, leaving our stories behind. We do not have to continually "Live" our stories for our entire lives. For me, after years of therapy as well as drinking my way through the times of living back in my dark past, I was finally able to work through the last of it last year, after my fathers stroke and death. I am convinced that being sober nearly one year at that time really helped! I am now working through getting my ex husbands abuse and I am nearly there.

One of the most powerful books that I have read is Eckart Tolle's "The Power of Now"....I highly recomend it

I am sending all who shared and will share their stories, to finally gain relief and discover living in the "Now" and not in their story. The past only has the power that we give to it!

Love,
XXX Kate