Too hard to go into. Let's just say I survived against all the odds. I was lucky. Others haven't been. My mouth, I believe has saved me a lot. And luck. I was nearly raped at eight years of age, but my wits saved me from that.
My father was an alcoholic - I left home at 16 by climbing out the window - he'd locked me in.
I managed after leaving home. I wasn't allowed back. I coped fine. I moved to the country and hitchiked back for my brother's wedding. I'd hitchiked around the City prior, but not country areas.
A deviant picked me up and was intent on raping and murdering me. I tried the door handles, but they were locked from the inside. This bastard was taking great pleasure in telling me what he was going to do to me.
I would be dead today, I'm sure, if a truckie hadn't seen me hitchiking and was intent on picking me up. That same Truckie saved me. He followed behind the driver because he thought there was something wrong. He didn't deviate from that position. The "person intent on doing me harm" kept looking in his rear vision mirror and knew he was being followed. I knew it too. He ended up pulling over and throwing me out - I actually had the audacity to ask for my bag - which he threw out as well, and then he took off.
The Truckie actually ended up driving me home - miles out of his way. I am so grateful to that person, and I don't even know who he is.
This story of mine is not about alcoholism. It's about survival.
It's not about me today. It's about the history of abuse and how I overcame it with willpower and wits. And how I have the power to overcome this demon of drink.
Kath
My father was an alcoholic - I left home at 16 by climbing out the window - he'd locked me in.
I managed after leaving home. I wasn't allowed back. I coped fine. I moved to the country and hitchiked back for my brother's wedding. I'd hitchiked around the City prior, but not country areas.
A deviant picked me up and was intent on raping and murdering me. I tried the door handles, but they were locked from the inside. This bastard was taking great pleasure in telling me what he was going to do to me.
I would be dead today, I'm sure, if a truckie hadn't seen me hitchiking and was intent on picking me up. That same Truckie saved me. He followed behind the driver because he thought there was something wrong. He didn't deviate from that position. The "person intent on doing me harm" kept looking in his rear vision mirror and knew he was being followed. I knew it too. He ended up pulling over and throwing me out - I actually had the audacity to ask for my bag - which he threw out as well, and then he took off.
The Truckie actually ended up driving me home - miles out of his way. I am so grateful to that person, and I don't even know who he is.
This story of mine is not about alcoholism. It's about survival.
It's not about me today. It's about the history of abuse and how I overcame it with willpower and wits. And how I have the power to overcome this demon of drink.
Kath