The other day I discovered a photo of myself 5. I had been wearing my favourite dress and a huge grin — I was joyful. Not long following this photograph was shot my parents told me that I was embraced – that I wasn’t theirs. This is a dividing line in my entire life and from there on I began to create walls around myself and shut people out. I began to feel insecure and filled with fear for the first time in my entire life.

I remember playing with Rounders with the girls at junior school. My friend’s team won, and for some reason that I hit on around the head with a rounders bat. This is the start of my severe anger difficulties. I never felt as if I fitted-in or hated it. Being the only real woman in a college of 1200, I was badly bullied, but that I had been so full of dread I was too scared to tell my parents. From the age of 12 I picked up my very first material, alcohol, and so that I drank to oblivion.

I stopped going to school and obtained a street instruction rather. Within a year I had been a street trader in Oxford Street, sitting on a milk crate causing an obstruction of the street. The other road traders became my family and after work we would all go off into the pub, where I’d drink to market.

At the age of 14 my drinking was so out of control that my parents, neither of who are addicts or alcoholics, sought aid. I was taken to my very first 12-step assembly, but that I was too out of it to remember anything. My family GP invited Mogadon and Librium to calm me down and help me to sleep, however I found when I mixed them with alcohol I’d get really out of my head, and I personally thought it was amazing. By this time I had also discovered bud and hash, and I was very often found passed-out at the West End from law enforcement. They would put me in the cells and call my dad to come and pick me up, until one day he simply stated:”I can’t do this anymore” and I was put into temporary care. I loved being in care, since I could drink and utilize as far as I needed and no one can control me. I kept running away from home, law enforcement would reunite me and as soon as they left I would run off again.

I eventually left home at the age of 15 and went right to a barbell in Brixton, in which my medication use actually escalated, so I did anything and everything, apart for Heroin. In age 17 I had been frequently injecting barbiturates and in age 18 I discovered Cocaine. This was the late 70’s and cocaine had been quite costly, so I became involved with organise crime to cover my medication usage. I used and mistreated anybody and anything else that got in my method in order to receive my medication. I did great injury to my loved ones, my children, strangers and friends. I used ton’t care who I needed to step on or who got hurt as long as I obtained what I wanted. I didn’t want to be like that, but I had no choice. This was the consequence of my addictive thinking and behaviour.

During this time I also put myself in a lot of risk and had lots of near-death experiences. I contracted Hepatitis C, I had several overdoses, I had been run over by a car while off my mind, I had been discovered unconscious with a syringe sticking out from my arm, although not one of those things stopped me from utilizing.

At the age of 20 I was pregnant with my first kid. I believed I had been doing the perfect thing by not using Class A drugs during any of my pregnancies, although I continue drinking and smoking weed. And I always went back to Class A’s when each of my kids was born.

In 1988 my dealer, a Brixton Yardie, stated he would no more get powder, but had something he believed I’d like — squirt. And boy was he right. I was hooked on the very first pipe and became a daily Crack consumer for the next five years. Here is the way the insanity of this horrible disease of addiction had me behaving. I had two children by now and each day I would swear on their lives that I would stop. I desperately needed not to use again, but that I simply could not stop – I didn’t know how. So I’d drive into the Crack house, pick up, drive home, smoke it, then push back to the Crack house entirely out of my mind to pick up a few more. I had been a danger to my kids, to myself and to the people around me, but I simply couldn’t stop myself. I had to have it.

Miraculously I was able to come off the Crack in 1993 and stayed off it for a year. Then I met my second husband, who I married since he had been a weed dealer. We had two kids, he then started to become very violent and I became the victim of severe domestic violence. He began selling Crack, realizing I had a issue. He even wanted me to test his stash to get him. I refused for a few weeks but my powerlessness over drugs supposed I gave into him and I became his best customer — he’d all my money for the Crack I used.

I was also taking marijuana, alcohol, and sleeping pills and tablets to calm my nerves, which were prescribed as a consequence of the national violence. I recall standing in my bathroom, piping Crack with my baby inside me. I understood it was hurting my child but I could not quit, so I had the conclusion.

My husband’s violence continued, my two eldest children left home and that I set my youngest two to respite care since I felt unable to protect them. Following a couple of months I attempted to gather my children in their foster carer, simply to be informed from Social Services that they’d taken out an emergency protection order, that meant if I went anywhere near my kids, I would be arrested by the Police.

All hope had gone, and that I went of a massive drug binge. Eventually I found myself in my hands and knees desperately looking on the floor for any white spec to smoke. I’d run out money, I’d run out of credit with my dealer and I’d run from Crack. In desperation I appeared and said :”God, if you are up there, please allow me to”.

I picked up the telephone and called the NHS, who gave me the range of the Cocaine Anonymous helpline. I thank God somebody had been doing their Step 12 service that afternoon — they answered my phone and called me . We spoke for 90 minutes, but I just remember something. He explained:”You don’t have to live with this pain any further. We’ll love you until you learn to enjoy yourself again”

My final remaining sober buddy took me into a CA assembly the next day, along with the man on the phone was enough to greet me. There has been a power there which allowed me coming backagain. I was very ill, and I used to”cure myself” to some squirt following the first encounters, but something kept on drawing me back to all those chambers. I received a sponsor and I started working the 12-Step of Recovery, even though I was still using weed and alcohol.

I started fighting to receive my children back, and one day their guardian said:”Would you need your kids back, or do you need to keep smoking marijuana?” That was my first day without any substances. I attended a household unit, remained clean and eventually got my children back.

I had been clean and sober for two years when, in a brief space of time, either my dad and the father of my second child (the man I loved) passed out. I was devastated and relapsed on weed and booze. And I purchased the lie about Class A’s one longer and went back to Crack. Shortly after I started attending CA meetings , and stopped using Crack. I chose to hang out using Yardiessmoking weed, drinking alcohol, and committing offense. I almost relapsed back on Crack yet another time, however the instruments of recovery I had learned from CA kicked-in and I returned to CA meetings again. I realised that all the while I was smoking weed and drinking alcohol that I had been playing Russian Roulette with my healing from Crack, that sooner or after marijuana and alcohol could take me straight back to the Crack pipe.

The 12-steps of recovery gave me the hope, courage and faith to live happy and satisfied life, but just after I completely conceded I was an alcoholic as well as an enthusiast, and I was powerless over ALL mind altering substances.

I have learned an essential lesson: My illness, the illness of addiction, needs me dead. That it affects my mind as well as my body. That just as I put any drink or drug inside me, however small an amount, I lose the capability to stop. I have no control and I have no choice. Not knowing that this caused me a lot of dangerous relapse and also a great deal of pain.

I trust you can realize that healing from addiction is possible provided that you are ready to work to this and are ready to take the crucial measures. For me that meant after the hints of CA members who had previously worked the 12-steps of retrieval, frequently attending CA meetings and assisting others where and if I really could.

I have substituted the empty feeling inside with trustand religion, instead of drink and drugs. I am aware that when I carry on after each of the suggestions of Cocaine Anonymous daily at a time, my life will probably continue to get better and better.



Now I have a loving and caring God in my life, one having a plan for me. He turned a light on in my head and made me realise I am here for a purpose — to carry a message of hope to the still suffering addict. And that’s the reason I’m sharing my story now, in the hope this will encourage you to seek out assistance from CA and start your own journey into the remarkable and beautiful world of recovery from drug dependence.

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This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

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You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.