This I believe– I believe in heroes.
I recently found myself looking back on the milestones of my life. Remembering the events and the people that are responsible for who I am today. However, many of these memories were painful ones, memories that I have tried to forget for years. Looking back now, I realize how dark of a place I was in, and just how close I was to being permanently corrupted, if it weren’t for the intervention of some heroic people.
I can never remember a time in my childhood when there wasn’t some sort of turmoil in my family. As a young girl though, I was always very disconnected from any problems because my Grandpa would shelter me from them. But when I turned seven, everything changed. My Grandpa died, and soon after it was discovered my dad was a meth addict. He was fired from his job, we became broke, and my parents began constantly fighting. In the span of six months, my entire world fell apart. I was lost in a labyrinth of confusion and trapped in an abyss of loneliness. I was on the edge of reason and on the brink of complete helplessness. And just when things started looking better; my dad was off meth and my mom had a stable job, my world was rocked yet again. My father began abusing prescription drugs and alcohol to compensate for his meth addiction. Once again I found myself lost in the labyrinth, trapped in the abyss, back on the edge of reason, and on the brink of complete helplessness. This time I knew there was no way out. I knew that my father would never be the man who married my mom. That sweet, fun-loving, handsome man was gone. My mother would never be the same woman who married my father. That innocent, talented, hopeful, young woman was no more. And I would never be the child whose handsome father used to brag about, and whose talented mother used to adore. There was no going back.
But there was still some hope left. Not in me, but for me. There were still some who believed in the child that was bragged about and adored. These people surrounded me. They encouraged me and they loved me, when I felt unworthy of any affections. They reminded me that I was not alone. I had forgotten who I was, but they knew that deep down inside I was still the girl that played baseball with all of the boys and wanted to be the first woman President of the US. They pushed me to overcome my problems at home, to leave the tortured person I had become behind, and to become the girl whose family had such high hopes for.
I shutter to think of what I would have become without them. They are my heroes because they saved me from a future of torment and anguish. They are my heroes because they saved my life.