The shampoo bottle was my microphone. The mirror was my audience. As a little girl all I ever wanted was to have an audience to hear what was inside my head. Afterall, I have always been an active thinker & dreamer. I had so many ideas to share. So many questions to ask. An old soul for a young girl. These dreams kept me busy. My mind was distracted instead of focusing on my reality. Abuse. Every damn day, screaming & yelling. Name calling. Negativity. Even the belt. I began writing. I wrote stories and I even kept a diary from the time I was only 8 years old. For some they read to escape reality. I wrote.
Eventually my dream of becoming a motivational speaker or published author was a thing of the past. The drink won. The more I drank, the longer I went without writing. “Writers block” I called it. HA! Right. How could I write when i was numbing all my feelings and allowing my thoughts to go fuzzy? Piece by piece the papers were crumbled and the wine was poured.
When I was a little girl I didnt know why I had a passion for writing and speaking my mind. All i knew is that i had something to say and I had no idea what that was. Perhaps I was meant to become an alcoholic so that I could share my story and help others through what has been my passion from the beginning. The bottle was not in my original story. And it definitely is not the end.