From Rock Bottom to Rising Up

Starting over after a divorce and facing life on your own is never easy. Because of my illness, I wasn’t able to work and had to rely on PWD, which didn’t provide much financially. I was fortunate to have a roommate who helped by covering half the rent. Although he’s not related by blood, he’s been like family to us — an uncle to the boys and a brother to me. Interestingly, he even shares a birthday with my oldest son.

After losing our home, we were able to find a rental, thanks to the support of many wonderful friends who helped us move and settle into our first new place. The neighbors were great, but the apartment was very small and the landlord was terrible. To make things worse, the place had shrews, which was definitely not pleasant.

My ex was allowed to see the boys every other weekend, but always under his parents’ supervision. He had several seizures related to drug use and was banned from a couple of medical clinics for prescription shopping — what I see as abusing the system just to get his next fix.

I carry so much guilt that my three boys had to witness their father’s struggle with addiction. There were moments when he could barely speak or would fall asleep standing up or with food in his hands. Although he was later diagnosed with sleep apnea, being strung out on so many pills certainly contributed to it.

Should I be feeling this much guilt? That’s a question I still wrestle with today.

My story isn’t over yet — there’s more to come.