Growing up too fast

By the time I was sixteen, I had to grow up. I never got the chance to actually be a "normal" high school kid. While everyone else were going to parties, dances, and football games, I was going to rehab and AA meetings. While other girls biggest worries were what they were going to wear, my worries were how I was going to get through the next week.

Everyone's expectations of me were so big, and I felt as if I had to meet them all.

So now, at eighteen, almost nineteen, I feel like the world is on my shoulders. Unlike other people my age, I have to worry about financial problems...my parents aren't going to pay for anything, so I don't even ask.

I don't have time to worry about the little things in life, I never have been able to.

Now I'm in beauty school, and I'm trying to find an out. However, since I have no money or any source of income, I don't know how I'm going to be able to transfer without being in major debt.

I'm exhausted. I just want to run. I want to run from school, I want to run from my family issues, and I want to start over.

I've accepted I'm nowhere near being a "normal" nineteen year old. I spend my time at AA meetings, volunteering at my old rehab, and being in school for nine hours a day.

Sure, I'm jealous. But hey, it is what it is...I grew up to fast.

Gettin' rowdy in Rockford

Spoonful Of Cinnamon...
Starring me, Maggie, and Tricia.
Apartment 6

Me and Mariah were supposed to be cleaning...

Batman and Robin

Amy vs. Maggie & Krystina...

Contact Controversy.

Oh Rockford..I miss you so much!

Ha, when I saw this, I thought to myself.. "Wow, it's sad because this is so true."
Rockford may not be the best place to live, but Rockford has changed my life.

I miss all the people I met out there..especially this one woman, Jen, and her two-year-old daughter, Mariah, that lived downstairs. She was my 'Mini Me' and she was always by my side where ever I went. When I moved out, she wrapped her arms and legs around me and in her cute, squeaky voice she said, "Tina, you no leave." After I explained to her that I had to go, she said, "Okay, me come too." She then got down, blew a kiss to her Jen, and said, "Bye, Mommy, love you." It was so hard leaving her behind, it was so hard knowing that I couldn't go downstairs anymore to go see them, and worst of all, it was hard knowing that she might now remember me.

I miss other people out there, too. Like my roommate, Maggie, and even my other roommate, Amy, who was a complete dumb ass.

I miss another girl that I grew very close to, Lauren, she was just like me, and she understands me.

Living back home has been a lot harder than I thought it'd be. I'm still getting the hang of things, and I know that I'm not going to be going anywhere anytime soon. I'm glad to be with my family, but my real family is still out in Rockford.

Throwback

I was born on March 15th, 1993, in a suburb right outside of Chicago to a proud mother and father of two little boys. I was their princess, their angel, their little girl. At the time, they couldn't be happier with what they'd been blessed with. They thought I completed that "picture perfect" family; but boy, were they wrong.

I've always been different. I've always been the black sheep of my family. I never had good relationships with anyone. And I never had that "mother-daughter" bond. When little kids would have play dates, I'd rather sit in the back room of our basement and play alone. Whether my parents were busy watching and coaching one of my brothers' soccer, baseball, or basketball game, I'd be somewhere else, wandering around, always looking for something new.

Everyone saw me as an angry, defensive little girl by the age of four, but behind the anger, I was just lonely. I was too scared to let anyone get too close to me, I never wanted to get hurt. My guard was always up, and it was almost impossible for anyone to get in.

Something was wrong with me. All little girls have temper tantrums, but for me, a temper tantrum was an understatement. Some called me a spoiled brat, but what no one knew was that I couldn't control it.

Imagine waking up in the morning so happy that you don't even know how to express it and then imagine another day waking up mad and irritable for apparent reason. Think about sitting in your room, crying over absolutely nothing, or wishing to die even when you had everything to live for.

Now picture yourself getting so angry that your body locks up, your pupils covered your irises, and you've lost complete consciousness. And at the end of the day, left frustrated and being so ashamed at what people told you what you've done.


How would you feel being told at only thirteen years old that you had this mental illness that will never go away. Being put on so many different medications, as if you were a guinea pig, and trying to find a balance. And yet the doctor still tells you that you'd have to learn to deal with this the rest of your life, that there is no absolute cure.

School didn't make anything better. Through out middle school I was made fun of so much I went home every day crying and by freshman year, I'd been sexually assaulted in school, verbally, emotionally and physically abused by the selected few boys I let into my life, and getting high or drunk on a daily basis. In the middle of the school year, I was sent into the Psych Ward and once I was released, all hell broke loose.


I rebelled  that following year, in hopes to drive my parents, specifically my mom, insane. I started dating this guy who did what I did best, drugs and drank, I started stealing, fighting, and running away. My life was completely unmanageable by the time I was fifteen years old.


I had been evaluated into a rehab in early sophomore year, yet that didn't stop me from using and getting drunk. I continued getting fucked up, and the consequences continued getting worse.


On New Year's Eve of 2008-2009, my boyfriend told me he had gotten my "friend" pregnant. At that point, I cracked.


I remember laying on the ground in my shower, screaming, crying, hyperventilating. By four o'clock in the afternoon, I was taking shots of tequila.


I kept drinking until about fifteen minutes before the new year. I drank my self to a point of alcohol poisoning. I remember being brought home by I don't know who, I remember being carried off the ground up to my room by my brother's friends, and worst of all, I remember my mom debating whether or not to take me to the emergency room. You'd think after that I'd stop, even after my brother told me I was pale, my lips were blue, and he thought I was gonna die, but I didn't.


A month later, I took my last drink and drug. I was arrested for domestic battery, and that's when my life completely changed. I was admitted into an outpatient program for nine months. In a way, I felt trapped, but in the long run, 
                                                                                                                                               I was set free.


Within those nine months, I dealt with not only my drug addiction, but my sex addiction, my codependency issues, my self esteem issues, eating disorder, and worst of all, the emotions I had covered up my whole life.


Sobriety has never been easy. Starting in November of 2010 to September of 2011, I was stuck in this unhealthy relationship that I couldn't break free from. He was my everything. He was sober and so was I, so I couldn't see the unhealthy part. However, my family and friends did...so I pushed them away. Soon enough, he was all I had left. He was my only friend, my only support, my rock.


It was a vicious cycle that never ended. I couldn't live with him but I couldn't live without him. He was like a drug. I kept going back to him expecting things to be different, but they were always the same, if not worse.


In August of 2011, after we broke up, once again, I decided to sleep with two of his close friends. After having sex with them, I still went back to him. But when he found out, things were done...this time for good.


I took a pregnancy test in September of 2011 and it came back positive. I knew it was his. So unfortunately, I had to tell him. On September 20th, 2011we went to the clinic, Planned Parenthood, to find out if I was for sure pregnant. Luckily, I wasn't. After we found out it was negative, we went out to eat and back to his house...and then he kissed me. All my progress of getting over him was gone. Emotions came flooding back, and I had hope. But little did I know what was going to happened next.


As I was driving him to our old rehab, where we sometimes volunteered, he told me that I was a lost cause, that I was disgusting, and worst of all, that I never made him happy.


Then, I cracked. That was it. I dropped him off, went home, and after getting into a fight with my parents, I left. I ended up doing cocaine that night... I threw two and a half years of sobriety away. The insanity was back, and once again, I was miserable.


Three days later, after throwing everything, literally everything away, I got an intervention. It was either I get help or I get out. At first, I said I'd just leave, but then I came to my senses and decided to get help.

After being sent into an inpatient program for twenty five days and living in a "sober living" for almost five months, I'm finally back home.


So here I am, sitting in front of my computer, stuck on what I should write next.

I still have my rough days, my life's no where near perfect, but at the end of the day, I blog.
So day by day, I'll give a little story.


Hello Blogger... My name's Krystina.