toronto_intheair123
New member
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2011
- Messages
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I saw this site looking around the net, and came across a thread where this user was telling their story. They were getting a lot of support, and I felt good for whoever posted it, because I could tell they were happy they did. I have a story, and unfortunately for me, nobody knows it. I wish somebody did, but I bottle **** up, it's what I do am unfortunately I think it will be how I am the rest of my life. I have no idea what I'm doing here lol maybe somebody is listening.
I'm a male, 23 living in Canada, on my own now but I grew up in a small town, my parents were well off, my dad was a farmer and my mother was a Social Worker. I was adopted, btw. I never met my birth parents, really I only found out their names a few years ago. My adoptive mom was always a real hard-***. She never spoke about the adoption much, and when I brought it up she would get upset. I usually just played it off because I was always walking on eggshells around her anyway, I was used to it. There wasn’t much love in our family, there was a lot of “pretend” but now that I’m older I’m a lot better at telling the real from the fake.
Fast forward to about 7 years ago, how much will this site let me put here? Lol.. anyway as time goes on and I go through high school, I graduate, and even complete French Immersion along with it. So there, I got my Diploma! It all went down the ******* from there!
When I had to live at home for the next year the family fell apart. It was falling apart anyway, but now we all had to sit in the house and pretend to be a family. My brother got kicked out a year before me. He was a bit of a handful for my parents I guess, but really the worst thing I heard of him doing back then was smoking. He was 18, my mother smoked. I smoke now, too. Whoopity doo! Anyway, I haven’t seen my brother more than twice since then, I don’t know where he is I don’t know how he’s doing. But there was no real “love” so I guess it wouldn’t really effect me, right?
Then I got kicked out. I wasn’t a bad kid, people. I didn’t smoke, I didn’t drink, I didn’t party and I went to bed before midnight even til grade 12. I listened to my mother because I she intimidated the **** out of me. When I graduated we ended up going from not getting along to completely not getting along, So one summer, I was walking down the road with my suitcase, they sold the house and the land and moved to the other end of Canada to start their new life. I haven’t seen or spoken to them more than once since. This was 5 years ago. The next couple of paragraphs (if the site allows) are the 5 years that made me who I am today. It was all like nothing I’ve ever seen before, life got hard, really hard.
To speed this up, when I left my parents house, I was after saving up about $3500 from working my job while I lived at home. 2 weeks later, $3500? Blew it. Every Penny. That started the downward spiral, when you’re on your own and you don’t have a damn clue about where to go or how to live, or how to take care of yourself for that matter, **** hits the fan. I was sheltered as a kid to say the least, I didn’t know anything about drugs, I heard it in school but ****, that wasn’t gonna be me! Or was it? I guess you can only imagine what happened after I spent that last $3500 on. Absolutely nothing. I had no money, I got the freedom I’ve always wanted, but with a price.
The next 3 years are nothing but homelessness, drug addiction, robbing to eat supper. You have no idea what you would do until you get into the position where you gotta eat. I sold drugs, I did them, I hung out with the rough crowd. I did a lot of ****. I didn’t know who I was, I had completely forgotten anything about my past life, at points I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep the life I had, even. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? I kept going, might as well I was young, things could change.
I’m not going to keep going on and on about the dark sides of my story, because I came here to tell a positive story and the story takes a turn, this is where I pulled myself up by the balls and said enough is enough, and I took responsibility for myself for once. I stopped relying on others and expecting them to help me and feel bad for me when really the whole bunch couldn’t have given two ***** about me. They knew that person wasn’t me, and they watched me kill myself. I woke up one day and looked in the mirror and remembered who I was. And I told myself that I was gonna rise above what I was doing and be the man I’m supposed to be. Nothing from there was easy, I was still on the streets and it’s hard to quit drugs when you’re on them people, it’s really hard. But I was intent on NOT being the ******* loser I was turning into. I knew I could be more, it’s do or die. I was gonna die if I never stopped. I just did what I knew how to do best, I worked. My dad was a workaholic, 365 days a year that man would slave away because he owned a business, he knew his responsibilities and he did them.
Today I work 3 jobs, I work construction during the week, I work as a bouncer at 2 clubs downtown, one from 11-3 each Friday and Saturday, and one from 3-6. It’s an afterhours bar. All the people I told you about before that I hung around with while I was on drugs are the ones who come down to the club and do what I tell them to do. They get thrown out when I decide and they listen to me. I have a lot of respect where I work, some people know me, and what I went through, some don’t. The one’s who don’t respect me for being a hard worker, being 23 and holding down 3 jobs is hard. But I’m not going back, I have my mind set on going forward. Sometimes, you know especially at times like Christmas, I do get lonely, hell I cry even. Everyday this month, actually. But I know that as long as I have me, everything will follow. Everything gets better, but only if you stay you. And if you is an arrogant *******, sucks to be you!
I'm a male, 23 living in Canada, on my own now but I grew up in a small town, my parents were well off, my dad was a farmer and my mother was a Social Worker. I was adopted, btw. I never met my birth parents, really I only found out their names a few years ago. My adoptive mom was always a real hard-***. She never spoke about the adoption much, and when I brought it up she would get upset. I usually just played it off because I was always walking on eggshells around her anyway, I was used to it. There wasn’t much love in our family, there was a lot of “pretend” but now that I’m older I’m a lot better at telling the real from the fake.
Fast forward to about 7 years ago, how much will this site let me put here? Lol.. anyway as time goes on and I go through high school, I graduate, and even complete French Immersion along with it. So there, I got my Diploma! It all went down the ******* from there!
When I had to live at home for the next year the family fell apart. It was falling apart anyway, but now we all had to sit in the house and pretend to be a family. My brother got kicked out a year before me. He was a bit of a handful for my parents I guess, but really the worst thing I heard of him doing back then was smoking. He was 18, my mother smoked. I smoke now, too. Whoopity doo! Anyway, I haven’t seen my brother more than twice since then, I don’t know where he is I don’t know how he’s doing. But there was no real “love” so I guess it wouldn’t really effect me, right?
Then I got kicked out. I wasn’t a bad kid, people. I didn’t smoke, I didn’t drink, I didn’t party and I went to bed before midnight even til grade 12. I listened to my mother because I she intimidated the **** out of me. When I graduated we ended up going from not getting along to completely not getting along, So one summer, I was walking down the road with my suitcase, they sold the house and the land and moved to the other end of Canada to start their new life. I haven’t seen or spoken to them more than once since. This was 5 years ago. The next couple of paragraphs (if the site allows) are the 5 years that made me who I am today. It was all like nothing I’ve ever seen before, life got hard, really hard.
To speed this up, when I left my parents house, I was after saving up about $3500 from working my job while I lived at home. 2 weeks later, $3500? Blew it. Every Penny. That started the downward spiral, when you’re on your own and you don’t have a damn clue about where to go or how to live, or how to take care of yourself for that matter, **** hits the fan. I was sheltered as a kid to say the least, I didn’t know anything about drugs, I heard it in school but ****, that wasn’t gonna be me! Or was it? I guess you can only imagine what happened after I spent that last $3500 on. Absolutely nothing. I had no money, I got the freedom I’ve always wanted, but with a price.
The next 3 years are nothing but homelessness, drug addiction, robbing to eat supper. You have no idea what you would do until you get into the position where you gotta eat. I sold drugs, I did them, I hung out with the rough crowd. I did a lot of ****. I didn’t know who I was, I had completely forgotten anything about my past life, at points I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep the life I had, even. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? I kept going, might as well I was young, things could change.
I’m not going to keep going on and on about the dark sides of my story, because I came here to tell a positive story and the story takes a turn, this is where I pulled myself up by the balls and said enough is enough, and I took responsibility for myself for once. I stopped relying on others and expecting them to help me and feel bad for me when really the whole bunch couldn’t have given two ***** about me. They knew that person wasn’t me, and they watched me kill myself. I woke up one day and looked in the mirror and remembered who I was. And I told myself that I was gonna rise above what I was doing and be the man I’m supposed to be. Nothing from there was easy, I was still on the streets and it’s hard to quit drugs when you’re on them people, it’s really hard. But I was intent on NOT being the ******* loser I was turning into. I knew I could be more, it’s do or die. I was gonna die if I never stopped. I just did what I knew how to do best, I worked. My dad was a workaholic, 365 days a year that man would slave away because he owned a business, he knew his responsibilities and he did them.
Today I work 3 jobs, I work construction during the week, I work as a bouncer at 2 clubs downtown, one from 11-3 each Friday and Saturday, and one from 3-6. It’s an afterhours bar. All the people I told you about before that I hung around with while I was on drugs are the ones who come down to the club and do what I tell them to do. They get thrown out when I decide and they listen to me. I have a lot of respect where I work, some people know me, and what I went through, some don’t. The one’s who don’t respect me for being a hard worker, being 23 and holding down 3 jobs is hard. But I’m not going back, I have my mind set on going forward. Sometimes, you know especially at times like Christmas, I do get lonely, hell I cry even. Everyday this month, actually. But I know that as long as I have me, everything will follow. Everything gets better, but only if you stay you. And if you is an arrogant *******, sucks to be you!
LOL 
