A traumatic childhood forced me out of the nest at age 14. Being sheltered and the only girl in the family, I was told that anything I wanted, I could have my brothers once they were finished with it. My brother brought me a beaten-up boom box with duct tape around it. It was my salvation since I was always in my room on restriction. It got taken away, with the reasoning that while I was living under their roof, everything I thought was mine was in fact theirs. Once I understood that I wanted for nothing. I became content with whatever was tossed my way. I didn’t dare ask for anything.

I took risks in order to survive. I would hitchhike, dive into a stranger’s car to avoid being run over by a rabid spouse. Leave for a new town at the drop of a hat to escape this or that, or go into hiding until the dust settled. It was a swirling mind-shattering time, and I was young, naive, and fresh off the turnip truck. In other words, I was a target.

When I married my 3rd husband, a very kind, intelligent, and beautiful soul, he would tell me that I could do whatever I set my mind to. Oh, how I wished I could see myself through his eyes. I had zero self-esteem, and my view on humanity had been forever tainted from all the abuse.

He is and was brilliant, and I knew I would have to step up my game if I wanted to attempt to make it work. But, how could I be sure that this person wouldn’t abuse me too? How could I tell if I could trust him? I didn’t know, nor would I ever know unless I took the risk.

I knew if I stopped trying that I would die alone, so I took the leap of faith and we just celebrated 25 years together and we are best friends. I continue to have faith and go after opportunities knowing that they may fail, but the rewards just might be great. No risk, no reward. To try and fail is better than to have never tried at all. CoDA is affecting my life in ways I never thought possible.

In Love and Peace,

Pamela W. – Sept. 30th, 2020