I was recently divorced as of May of this year, when me and my husband seperated it was for the best but my world came crashing down. I lost everything. I lost the perfect house, the perfect family, the perfect marriage. I lost what I had always dreamnt of having. I had been a stay at home mom for 3 years prior to leading up to the separation. I went back to work full time almost immediately. I didn't have time to breathe. I didn't have time to cope or heal I just did what any mother would do. I fought for us to be okay. I had to figure it out, with or without the help. I have two baby boys I had to do it for. Somewhere along the way I found myself in active addiction but I was oblivious to it for months. I just wanted back what I had lost and I trusted anyone that would tell me they were different. They weren't. After packing up our house by myself, moving by myself, going through all our old memories by myself, hurting by myself I started to numb the hurt. I suppressed it with alcohol which then in return led me to a bigger, greater.. harder relapse for me. Meth. After so many moves, and packing our stuff time and time again I by the grace of God and a little luck got into a place. It wasn't the perfect house I had, but it was exactly what we needed at the time. I needed my boys. I needed safety for them. Security. Love. Compassion. I wanted them to have everything I didn't. I wasnt able to give that to myself in active addiction.. I wouldn't be able to do it for them either. After digging myself deeper and deeper into depression and substance abuse I came to the conclusion that I'm not capable of giving my kids the care they fully needed. I was scared. I was hurting myself and I didn't want to hurt them too. (Emotionally, mentally) I wasn't strong enough. I wasnt willing to lose them to my addiction so I gave them up. I started to let my grandparents and my mother care for my kids while I was trying my damn best to get clean. Yo be happy and figure out how the hell to bury the whole without me in it. I quit my job that I absolutely loved in June in attempt to go to rehab and recover. I did. But I didn't follow through. Attempt after attempt after attempt. I feel defeated. I feel lost and bruised and broken. I attempted suicide and was put in the hospital under direct care and supervision. I don't think I took it as serious as I should. I know what I'm doing. I can handle it all. I have it all figured out. Isn't that what we all think when we're put in tough situations that are completely different from what we're used too. I adapted but I didn't change. I didn't gain any insight or wisdom. How could I when I was discharged and left after a week? I've left the state and traveled for 9 days in attempt to find myself.. love myself and get clean. I did get clean. But I came back home to the same people, the same bullshit, the same judgment, the same pain. And again, I relapsed. People, place and things. 

I'm making this because for months I convinced myself the issue was substance abuse. And it is. But I've come to terms that the underlying issue is my mental health. Somthing I've never cared, worried or really thought much about. I've always been anxious but depressed? Never. I'm too strong for that. I had to be. Truth is I am weak. I am defeated. I've been kicked and kicked time and time again while already being broken and down. I'm a fighter.. I haven't gave up but it's kinda like I mightve broke a rib. (Not actually) I need the help. I've pushed my family away due to my addiction but also because they are the cause of alot of this hurt as well. I begged for help and they wanted to help.. just in all the wrong ways. They never stopped and listened to what I was actually saying and trusted that I knew what I was talking about. I'm just an addict in their eyes. I've decided that my mental health is more important than anything at this point. Without getting it under control I'll never get my addiction completey “under control” or at least manageable.. tolerable. Due to not going back to work because of my mental health I'm drowning in medical bills. I'm drowning in regulare bills. I'm going to lose everything I've worked hard to keep. I'm willingly going to give the rest of it up. Or im going to completey lose me. Cause idk how much more I have left in me to keep pushing and acting like I know what I'm doing . I don't. But I never quit trying… no matter how much my family made me feel like I did. I'm at my wits ends. I have all my important belongings packed up and ready to move to storage. The problem is, I don't have the money to pay for another month. I don't want to lose everything. I'll leave the couch, the table the TV.. I just want my kids toys and the little things.. the little things are what matters most. They hold the most love. My storage unit and my phone bill combined is lil over $300. That would give me another month. It gives me time. Time to find someone to take my dogs and for me to get the help I desperately need. Phystriatic care and rehab. I have to be willing and accepting and I think I've finally hit that point. The rest of the money will be used for gas to get there, smokes to get me by and some minor things along the way that I've neglected to get done. Like changing my last name after my divorce. I've ran out of options and this is my last attempt before I quite literally lose it all. My ex husband is going after me for full custody of our son and the one thing I cant lose is my boys. If I lose them I lose my hope. I lose my purpose. I haven't been the best mom I can be these past few months . I own that. I know that. But kicking me while I'm down is starting to break bones and I don't have much fight left in me to get them fixed.  

Anything helps.  If all I could get was enough to pay for my storage, I'd say screw the phone. I'll figure out gas to get me where I need to be. (Rehab or hospitalization) I just desperately need some kind of help. Some kind of push to make it feel like I'm not alone. To remind me I am worth it and others see it too. I'm not just my addiction. I'm not just my disorders. I'm a mom, I'm a daughter, a sister, a friend. I was a damn good one too. I am a damn good one , still. I'm just a little lost and tired.. so tired. Fighting youre own self while fighting a disease feels like insanity. 

I haven't gave up hope. I haven't gave up on my boys. And I won't give up on myself. 

Thank you for even taking the time to make it this far, if you have made it this far. Maybe If nothing else I can at least be heard.