Hell Betty
My Depraved Life, Past and Present.
About...Me.
I've never really kept a diary. I would start one, write a day or two in it, and that would be it. Usually, I would forget to keep up with it. Or feared either my parents or my sister would find it and read it. I just gave up all attempts.
Things are different for me now, though. I'm, unfortunately and involuntarily, a grown up now. And I don't have to worry about keeping up with my hiding places to place said diary in since all I have to do here is log on. Let's see how my first attempt at a diary unfolds.
I figured since I'm also making it a public diary, some information about myself may be helpful. So, here's some things about me. I apologize for the randomness ahead of time. :)
I'm a single, Caucasian, 33 year old female. I am born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, USA. I live about 20 minutes from downtown Louisville, and I've lived here my entire life. I don't see me ever leaving. I have light brown, shoulder-length hair and bluish-green eyes. I'm 5'8" tall (for anyone outside of America, that's either 172.72cm), and I weight about 130lbs. (Just under 59kg.)
I'm a single mother. I have one child, a son, that is essentially the only reason I'm alive today, (I'll explain why I say that shortly). Currently, he's 12 and a half years old and will be in the 7th grade when school starts in the fall. He loves basketball and video games. He is incredibly handsome, and I'm not just saying that because he's my boy. He's absolutely amazing, and I question everyday how a life long fuck-up such as myself could be given such an unbelievably talented child like him. Proud is an understatement in reference to him.
For the vast majority of my 33 years, I was a drug addict. As far as that goes, I'm sure my experiences in narcotics began the way most people that are opiate addicts start, with pain killers. Lortabs, Percocets, Vicodin, etc. My father was addicted to them, as well. I began taking them normally at first, as they were prescribed to me by my family doctor for severe cramps associated with going through puberty, as well as migraines that I used to get when I was younger. I was aware that my father had to have them, but didn't know why. At 12 years old, I didn't understand addiction nor what withdrawal even was. I would find out soon enough, but not before my life would be changed forever.
In May of 2000, I was a 19 year old when I met J* at the bowling alley I worked at. I had just broken up with my high school boyfriend after four years, and I was a broken human being. No self esteem after I'd been cheated on, and although I wasn't, I felt like the fattest and ugliest girl in the world. He was 28, a great bowler, (which, as lame as that sounds, mattered to me at the time because when I wasn't working, I bowled five nights a week.), attractive, and showed me the attention that I desperately needed at that point in my life. Things were great at first, despite the 8 years difference in our ages, and the fact that he was an alcoholic. We were inseparable from that moment on.
And then February of 2001 came. J had qualified for a huge bowling tournament in Las Vegas, and a guy he bowled with offered to fly us there on his plane. Even though I wasn't 21 yet, it was a wonderful, week long vacation with periods of bowling here and there. When it was time to get back on the plane, I began feeling sick to my stomach. I chalked it up to just being nervous about the flight home. Once we landed, I was feeling better and was so happy to see my family since it was the first time I'd ever been away from them.
But the nausea returned, along with a migraine, and three days after getting back, I went to the doctor. My dad took me, and at first they just called it a migraine and were getting things ready to send me home, when my doctor asked me for a urine sample for them to run before they gave me narcotic pain meds. He also included a routine pregnancy test, as well. Then, he came back in the room to tell me, with my dad sitting there, that I was pregnant. Literally, days pregnant. That was not something I was expecting. I began to cry from sadness, and my dad cried out of happiness. And I knew going back home to tell J and worse, my mom that I was going to be a mom.
To be continued...
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