I was born with a gift of magic that has allowed me to be loved, admired, and cherished.
It is a gift that has enabled me to grow up, travel the world, meet the people and experiences that I’ve experienced.
But that gift has also meant that I have to accept that there are some things I don’t get to experience.
My childhood was filled with wonder and wonderment, but it was also filled with moments of fear, sadness and doubt.
My father died when I was six, and I spent many of my first years in the hospital.
As I was still very young, I was living in a foster home.
My mom was an alcoholic, and it was during this time that she struggled to deal with a very heavy loss.
My life was in crisis.
I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in the early 1990s and had lost all of my friends.
When I was 21, I moved in with a friend, who was struggling to cope with the same things that I had.
We had to share a home, and when my friend moved out in the summer of 2001, I had to move in with my aunt.
I stayed with her for about a year, and after that, I drifted away from her and moved in as my own.
I began to find a new, happier way of living.
At the time, I believed that the only way I would be happy was to get rid of the addiction.
The drugs that I was taking at the time were very addictive, and even though they made me feel safe, they also made me anxious.
As time passed, I lost my sense of self and my sense that I could live a normal life.
The only way that I would get my life back was to be clean and to get treatment.
After two years of abstinence, I got clean and was finally able to live my life without drugs.
That was my fairy tale ending.
At this point, I decided to try the substance that was most popular at the moment: crystal meth.
I felt like I was finally at peace, but I was also a bit anxious about how I would look in the mirror.
I would never wear a mask again.
I spent the next few years in a mental institution, where I was constantly on the lookout for anything to remind me of my drug addiction.
After my first month in the institution, I went back to a mental facility for a month or two, and that was that.
I came out of that hospital in 2004, and from that point on, I’ve lived the life of a recovering meth addict.
My father died in 2005, and the trauma of his passing affected my life.
I had lost everything, and there was nothing I could do to rebuild my life in his memory.
But I could still make a difference.
As a result, I started a drug treatment program and moved out of my foster home to be near a friend.
The first time I met a person who truly wanted to help me, I saw that they had a family.
My parents’ divorce meant that they could no longer take care of me.
My mother was the only one left with my father’s legacy.
My dad was a loving father and a good husband to his children.
I grew up in the same neighbourhood where my father lived, and my relationship with my mother was one of the closest friendships I have ever had.
I remember being told that my parents were going to have a ceremony that day, and we were all invited to it.
It was my dad’s birthday, and he wanted me to come with him.
My first memory of him was walking me to the door and telling me that he had to leave to be with his family.
I said, “Thank you so much, Dad.”
And he said, “(You know, it’s) not what I wanted to do.”
When I first started talking to other people who were in recovery, I began hearing stories from other women who were also in recovery.
One woman was so overwhelmed by the amount of work she had to do, that she couldn’t sleep.
She was so tired that she was only able to hold a phone conversation with someone.
Another woman came to me and said that she had been in a relationship with her husband for five years and that he would never forgive her for leaving him.
When people ask me about my addiction, I tell them that I am the one that I know, and they often ask, “But why do you keep doing it?”
I answer, “I’m addicted.”
It’s because I know that I will never stop.
There is no way that my addiction will go away.
It won’t be the same after I get clean.
I don’t know what I would have done differently if I hadn’t had an addiction.
But there are things I do know: The more I’m around