"TWENTY-ONE"

The pieces are beginning to come together. The pain, the tears, the cause and the beginning. Problems were self inflicted, so no this is no pity party or fingers pointing. I did this to myself, I let the pain and loss get the best of me. I have chosen to use an alias not because I am ashamed of my story but because I have a lot of people to think of while writing this, but I'm grateful for a platform as this that allows me pour it all out.

My name is Amanda Peters and this is my story... It all began at age 21 when the rage, bitterness and disappointments pushed me to my 8th victim, it felt like body counts just as a serial killer counts his victims. But as I said, this isn't a story about a victim but a survivor, it is about a fellow who has fallen, crawled, fallen again  and is gradually crawling back out of her demons. Twenty-one might become the number, a very special one, not because I take pride in my fall but because it takes a victor several falls to become a conqueror. Until you have felt the sand on your face, the bruise on your skin, the pain in your heart, only then can you truly understand. Denial was my other name, excuses my friend, but it took the twenty first victim to bring me back to reality. I was addicted to sex and I didnt even realize it because for every urge I got satisfied, regardless of the form it took. It took the first try, then the second and before my eyes, it became a habit, then an addiction. A slave to sex, the thrill my addiction, possessed by the danger, I drowned.

The realisation came in once in a while, but of course I buffed it away, swept the feeling under the rug, no big deal I told myself, oh sex is over rated I thought. The big question would be " what drove me to this madness?" it wasn't an abuse, or the drive for financial freedom, or was it juvinile deliquency, well maybe a bit of that at this point I'm not sure. But this I was sure of, it was the pain of a terrible lose, I handled mine the worst. I seeked the one thing I missed which was the feeling of love and belongingness, it wasn't that my friends and family could not make me feel loved, it was just the kind of void that could not be filled, but I didn't realize that, in fact I refused to realize this fact. So I seeked it in all the wrong places, where sexual relationships was mistaken for true intimacy, so for every failed one, there was another without realizing that I got drawn to the thrill which it gave and in turn became my addiction. But it took the bitter truth to realize that.

Oh I was lost in a world of my own. In truth, I was a victim the twenty-one time, but this story isn't about the victim, it is about the woman who fell twenty-one times and refused to remain down. This is my story, a tale of my addiction, my pain, and my victory. Denial was my first step, realization my second, acceptance my third and taking a bold step to change my story the fourth but most important. I am not dead or inflicted with the incurable virus only because God destined it so, because there were times I was careless, or was it the abortion that could have rendered me infertile? Sometimes I try to figure out why I am still alive and in the best health regardless of my carelessness, but I think and say it could only have been you Lord.

In the words of Mahatma Gandhi " Strength doesn't come from winning. Your struggles develop your strength, when you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength." Twenty-one is my number, my body count. The shame tried to cripple me but I'll be a coward to let it stop me from telling my story and for when the fear comes, I tell myself it is part of the tool I need for the journey ahead because it reminds me that I am but human... My struggle continues, but this time I make a concious effort to say no to the urge and today I count 4weeks of being clean. 

This is my UNDILUTED STORY. 
Thank you #thewordaddictt for letting me tell this to the world.
#TellYourStory
#InspireASoulToday