my journey to Awakening and self-empowerment

My story began when I was 16 years of age and was foe=red to leave my home, because my life was both literally and metaphorically, on the line.

My name is Amanda, and I am a twenty-one-year-old published author and a spiritualist. With disability and a whole host of medical complexities

And this is my journey to awakening and discovering my true self.

For my entire life, I had known I was different from my friends and family but never truly understood why until now.

I have only had two friends throughout my life, I am not going to share their names because I know they won’t like it, but they were super close to me and have gotten e through some of the hardest shit I have dealt with. But I would rather not talk about their place in my chaotic life, as I don’t talk to them all that much anymore.

My life has always been annoying, from my first suicide attempt at the age of 13, because shit was too heavy, to the worthless fights with my family about the smallest thing, to almost being held against my own will in my own house.

I had known something was off about my father within the first few years of living with him, but my empathetic side wanted to stick around for as long as I possibly could, or at least that was what the fear wanted me to believe.

It wasn’t until the fifth year of living in that hell that I began to grow tired of having to call my mother up at 2 in the morning and get her to come to pick me up, because my father was, once again, saying he was going to kill me.

My mother tried telling me to come back home, but I refused to leave because I thought I could help him. Or once again, that was what my brain wanted me to think. I was quite stubborn, and still am.

My memory is still a tag foggy. Sometimes I like to think that the memory just isn’t there, but the truth is, is that it is so deep in my mind that it is likely painful for me to remember.

Anyways, I had begun to grow tired f the content loup f running, coming back, running, coming back, running. That one day, after my father had started his shit and all because I said something that I can’t remember. I was in the food court at a shopping complex in a location my mind refuses to remember, having a complete meltdown and crying, telling the family friend, that I couldn’t continue living the way I was. I decided to end this cycle and get out as soon as I could.

Lucky for me I had already started discussing my plans to move elsewhere with a carer who was helping me move out eventually. So by the time my father had run me out of the house with an actual knife because he was having yet another breakdown, - his girlfriend at the time was willing to take me for the night until my mother picks me up and I had finally got it in my head that I had to leave - I had a gameplan for what to do next.

I spent a few mths going back and forth from my mother’s to my aunt’s to a respite home, until eventually, I stayed at the respite home, for good, until I moved into my first group home by the time I was 18.

Keeping in mind that I struggle to remember my own life story exactly the way it played out.

Fastrack a few months and I was in the current home for around two and a half years at this point.

A few months after I had moved into the new place, my own body became heavy and I was almost constantly tired, depressed and in overall pain. That was when I began self-harming because that was the only way the heaviness would go away, it took a few hospital visits to realise that cutting myself wasn’t going to make the pain go away.

So I eventually stopped, but then the unknown sickness got worse, and I found myself unable to do the smallest of things without everything hurting so bad that I would need to ie down. Even that didn’t help.

After doing a shit tone of research, because doctors and all the painkillers weren’t doing a whole lot to help.

I came across an illness by the name of Chronic Fatigue Syndrom or Myalgicensefllo Myelitis. Or just ME/CFS for short. Even though I have not been officially diagnosed with the illness, I strongly believed that this was what was wrong and that was why I was so sick.

It had been at least a few months of living in the trap of false belief that I had once again had enough of hard living, and so I made the choice to stop listening and reading shit about this sickness I didn’t know I had, and take my health into my own hands. And healed me over a single week. Just by looking in and getting to the bottom o where this sickness was truly coming from.

I began my journey to self-discovering and spiritual awakening because my life just was not worth living and I HAD to change something, anything, if I were to continue living. It may sound dramatic, but this life was too wrong to not change everything with a thought. And that thought was, this illness is not you!

I am now twenty-one and have reclaimed my power and in doing so, found myself.