When I was growing up, I wanted to be a police officer. As I got a little bit older, I changed my mind and wanted to work with children, maybe as a school teacher. When I reached the age of 16, I decided what I really wanted to do was write; whether it was to be a famous novelist or write for a newspaper, I knew that was exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. As I moved forward from an outstanding high schooler to a tuition-paying collegiate student, I assumed I was just like everyone else. I did my share of partying, drinking and smoking weed – it was 2006, who wasn’t doing these things? It wasn’t until the overwhelming college experience brought me back home to my old stomping grounds that I realized I wasn’t average and all of my dreams were slowly going to crumble away.
It wasn’t long before my days of marijuana smoking and drinking caught up to me, catching my first drinking and driving arrest around the age of 18. While the experience was expensive, I played the game, went to the sobriety classes, attended meetings and took the tests to get through the mess I had gotten myself into. Since I wasn’t able to drink or smoke, I decided to find ways around their rules by taking prescription drugs on a regular basis. I always held down a job so I was able to support my pill habit until my probation had finally ended when I had decided to embrace my freedom and venture into whatever else I could get my hands on.
I was forced to attend NA and AA meetings, so I had made quite a few friends in the program that I still visited regularly, despite still using drugs and alcohol during my visits. Close friends knew what I was doing and tried their damndest to talk me off the ledge but to no avail, had failed. After having received enough grief from my friends in the fellowship, I went off to do what I do best without their approval.