At 15, I was pregnant with my live-in boyfriend while staying at my mom’s. I tried to hide it, but my dad found out. One morning, instead of letting me go to school, he took me to the abortion clinic. I was forced to have an abortion I didn’t want. I’m still screwed up from that. I think about that baby — and the one from when I was 16 — all the time.
Yes, at 16, I was pregnant again with the same boyfriend. This time I was smart — I hid it until I was 5 months. She was a baby girl. My mom and stepdad found out and beat me so badly I never felt the baby move again. I begged my dad to come get me. He sided with them. They took me 2 hours away to a place that did late abortions. I honestly don’t think my baby survived the beating. But back then, abortions were just starting to be legal and available — I don’t think the doctor would’ve said anything or cared. They just sucked it out of me while I was crying. No one cared enough about me to take me to a hospital to see if the baby was okay. They just wanted it gone.
The rest of my teen life was partying — until my mom had a son. Then I was left to raise him, but I couldn’t have my own. That kept me good for 5 years. I was a CNA, working and going to school to be a nurse, and with a great man who is now my husband.
When my little brother was 5, I needed custody papers, so I tried to get them. The judge gave him back to my mother even though she was homeless — because her lawyer said a 19-year-old couldn’t raise him. I had raised him since he was born. I had graduated high school, was working, had my own home, and was going to school to be a nurse.
That crushed me. I dropped out of school. Started drinking and doing drugs again. I got pregnant with twins at 21 and lost them because of an incompetent cervix. I figured it was the abortions that messed me up, and I would never have kids.
They wanted me to have a hysterectomy, but I quit going to the doctor. Then 3 months later, I had my daughter. Two years later, I got pregnant again, but the baby quit growing at 9 weeks. At my 14-week appointment, they couldn’t find a heartbeat. I had to have a D&C. Then 3 months later, I got pregnant with my son. I was so happy — I had my daughter and son like I always wanted.
Then life smacked me in the face. The doctor prescribed me an ungodly amount of pain pills — Hydrocodone and Oxycodone together — for 4 years. Of course, I was hooked. I was tired of getting sick in the middle of the night and running out. I wanted off those pills. My father suggested meth.
It worked. I was off pills — but now life was going to hell. Me and my husband split. I moved a drug dealer in with me. Six months of complete hell. My kids were placed with my husband. I hit rock bottom.
I started shooting up because I wanted to die. But somehow, thank God, I never overdosed. I was raped, tortured, kidnapped, and saw a good friend get shot and die right in front of me. I totaled my car running under a transfer truck. I had nowhere to go — it was trap house to trap house. I hated that life. I hated myself.
But thank God my husband was the only one there to help me — not my family. They didn’t care. For some reason, my family always wanted bad for me. They never wanted me to succeed.
Thanks to my husband for never giving up on me — and my kids — I’m here today to tell my story.
What Happened for You to Turn It Around?
I always said I would never be like my mother. And being a strung-out addict, I was heading in that direction — even though most of my pain was caused by her abuse and neglect.
I was done. I was going to show everyone that I am nothing like my family. I was put here for a purpose. I was going to prove them all wrong.
My husband let me move back in with him and the kids. That’s when I started to get my life back together. It wasn’t easy, and it took time — but I did it.
Name 3 Things You’ve Done to Move Closer to Happiness:
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Self-care. I had to start taking care of myself and loving myself.
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Realized I don’t have to be like the ones who raised me. You can cut toxic people out of your life—family or not.
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Tattoos! I know it sounds crazy, but they are my therapy! I plan on getting a Beautiful Disaster tattoo and also a Lethal Angel Lucky 13 tat—because I see myself as a lethal angel, and 13 is my lucky number.
Also, my kids, my husband, and my puppy. I know that’s four, but without them, I wouldn’t make it!
What Is Your Favorite Beautiful Disaster Collection, Past or Present, and Why?
Cycle Breaker because I am definitely a cycle breaker.
Cherry Bomb because I love cherries and skulls! My first tattoo was cherries, and still to this day, if it has cherries or skulls on it—I must have it!
And If It Destroys You, It’s Not Love—because all my life, I was destroyed by the people who claimed to love me.