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I grew up living as though I had ‘victim’ written on my forehead. "Shut up!” he shouted in a Brummie accent. “Turn around!” He grabbed my throat with one hand and pushed the edge of a blade to my neck with the other. “One wrong move and I’ll cut your throat!” I felt like I was a fly caught in a spider’s web, trapped and powerless. I was stuck, with nowhere to go and no one to rescue me.


Smoking crack caused me to lose everything and with it, myself. I went from being obsessed to being possessed. I had sold everything in the house that I could, even the clothes on my back. Gaunt and skinny. My face was sunken, my eyes wide; I was white as a ghost feeling completely hopeless. I kept masking it with drugs, but I was dying on the inside.


My interpretation of freedom led me to be a prisoner: a prisoner to rebellion, addiction, prostitution, crime, greed and selfishness. After 33 failed attempts to get clean, I finally found freedom. Freedom from drugs, shame, hopelessness and the effects of trauma.  Now I am free to live, free to love, free to be… 

I experienced mercy: my guilt and the shame were removed, my dignity restored instantly. It almost seemed unfair, that I should walk free…

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