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As a young child, I always felt a little different. I would worry about things that kids just shouldn't think about. Like the kids who didn't have parents. The kids that lost their parents. Little did I know, I would soon bare that pain. When I turned 14 I was in 9th grade. My parents were having marriage problems so it was always a fight. One night, my Mother decided she didn't want to live anymore. I remember seeing her lifeless in the recliner. Luckiky, she survived her attempt. However, January 1, 2009 my father was pronounced dead in Chattanooga, TN from a self inflicted gun shot wound to the head. My Dad was my hero. My main squeeze. It was rough without him. I withdrew myself from the life I knew and spiraled into the life of drugs and addiction. By 18, I had went to rehab for pills and cocaine. Once out and 18, I started my life. I got an apartment with my boyfriend at the time, worked two jobs. I still used occasionally but it wasn't heavy. That's when I noticed my boyfriend, Michael, had a problem. Michael was diagnosed with bipolar depression type 2. He was on loads of medication daily including Xanax. But Michael was also an addict. His doctors weren't aware of that. After months of stopping him attempt to kill himself, he finally overdosed on his Xanax's one night. He woke up after a lethal dose that should have killed him. His parents and I sent him to rehab and a year after, everything seemed great. We were both clean and sober, going to college, engaged. I had everything I ever wanted. But Michael was still sad, he was still in pain and he wouldn't talk to me about it. I had no idea until May 15th, 2014 when Michael's mother found him in his truck, dead. From a self inflicted gun shot wound to the head. After that, my life was completely shattered. I fell hard. Soon I was homeless, jobless, lifeless. So I turned to Methamphetamines. For a year, wallowed in my own sorrow, I screamed, cried, pleaded. Begged, to die. I did everything I could to make the drugs kill me but some how, I always survived. January 2015 I woke up one day and something just clicked. I wanted to live. I wanted to live for me, I wanted to live for my Dad and Michael. I wanted the world to know them and know that they aren't alone. That we all struggle. But we make it! I'm living with PTSD, medication free and addiction. I'm one year clean and I did it all on my own. No rehab. My goal in life is to end the stigma followed with suicide and mental illness. Thank you for letting me share my story!