Broken Gymnast

11-10-14

 

Many people say they would never go back in time and change their mistakes. That may be true for some. As far as going back in Kindergarten, I was always trying to figure out at what I was good at. I never really had any real friends. I was always being picked on and not liked by very many. What was the purpose for? No purpose whatsoever. Kids are just cruel. Here I am seventeen years later living back at my grandparents that don’t take kindly of me. Not because I’m gay. That leads into other problems. I recently lost a job due to some bullshit injury I have. Not that I really liked the job because the manager was a complete lazy a*s inconsiderate prick. But it put money on the table and I got by. It bought my cigs and booze. At the time, I was what they called a “functioning alcoholic.” I either drank before, during or after work hours. But that has never stopped me from working my a*s off. I have always been a hard-worker and there was never enough for me. I wanted to be the best at everything. I use to do tumbling (floor gymnastics). For once in my life I had finally found myself and found what the word happy meant. My coach nicknamed me “Robot.” He told me I caught on quick. And I did. I was doing advanced skills. Skills that other kids were still learning to do. And they’ve been there longer than I have. Not to mention I was an All-star cheerleader. But, preferred tumbling. I knew I had it in me ever since I was a child. I remember a time when I was doing cartwheels and round-offs when I was a kid. I asked my dad if I could join gymnastics. But of course he said no. Next thing you know, I have baseball uniform on with a bat in my hand swinging at baseballs. Not my idea of gymnastics. I got a couple of side splits in running to base.

The life that I was once fond with had took a turn. I slowly stopped attending to my tumbling classes and started to binge drink heavily. I have an eating disorder and still fight it from time to time. It will always be something that’s going to be sheltered in my head. Nothing felt better to me knowing that something so awful made me feel superior. To have control over my bulimia. To decide where or when I was going to purge. Above my drinking and purging was my drug use. Just about anything I could get my hands on. It was easy to get because my dad’s side of the family all did drugs. From prescription pills to crystal meth. I love my downers as much as I love my uppers. I was more hooked on meth than pills. Like my bulimia, Substances will always be in the back of my head. I do still struggle with my drinking. Hell, I just tried to overdraw my account a few minutes ago for some liquor but I couldn’t. I would never think that the outcome of my life would end up like this. I have never felt so low and ugly about myself. I avoid looking at the mirrors. It seems that I do not measure up to anything. My lack of confidence does affect what I love doing. I pushed away the only friends I had left and isolated myself from just about anything and everything. I sure wouldn’t want to regret not doing what I always had a passion for. I don’t want anymore regrets.

I never was troubled nor did I ever cause trouble. I’ve just lived a troubled life.

Author's Note

If you have any drug or alcohol stories or any other struggles. Please contact me here or my E-mail at [email protected]