Still I Rise

My name is Jim Moon. I live in Cartersville Ga. I simply ask if you are interested in sharing a “feel good” story. The story is mine and the title is STILL I RISE.

I want to share a bit of my past. It will explain why my story can be a positive influence to so many who are hurting. I was adopted by relatives when I was 17 months old. My aunt and uncle became my parents and my parents became my aunt and uncle. A typical Jerry Springer episode. Prior to my adoption, I was beaten with belt buckles and the butt end of a knife, given whiskey in my bottle and even left in a ditch for dead. At age 4 my biological dad stole my dad’s truck and kidnapped me. In modern times that would have signaled an amber alert broadcast, but there was no such thing back then. He wrecked the truck and left me in it. My adopted father was wonderful but he had cancer and was constantly in and out of the hospital. So between the ages of 4 and 9 I was left here and there with different relatives. He died when I was 9. I found all his medication and started taking things like Percodan, valium and phenobarbital.It didn’t take long to find out I could trade the pills to older boys in the neighborhood for pot and alcohol. Only 9 years old and already flirting with disaster. Apparently, not having a father made me an easy mark for older boys and I was molested on different occasions. My adopted mother was mentally and physically abusive. She was an alcoholic and addicted to prescription medication. She also had to have had an undiagnosed mental illness. She would tell me I hate your biological father and your just like him. What I heard was she hated me. She also told me I killed my adopted father. He died of cancer, but that’s a heavy rap for a 9 year old.

When I was in high school, my girlfriend and I got pregnant. I met with her family, decided to finish that quarter of school and then get a job, get married and do the family thing. I came home from school one day and was sitting at the kitchen table doing my homework. I heard a click behind my head., when I turned around, my adopted mother had a pistol pointed at my head with the hammer cocked. She said “if you marry her, I will kill you”. I died right then. She had abused me my entire life, I had no reason to doubt her words. I played the role of a coward, and as a result I did not meet my son until 3 days before He turned 20. It is the regret, guilt and shame from this that has ruled my poor choices throughout my adult life. Irregardless every choice I made in adulthood was mine, there were no more guns pointed to my head.

I meet the United States definition for chronically homeless. I have 13 episodes of homelessness. I am the poster child that proves homelessness, alcoholism, addiction and mental illness is no respecter of person. I was raised in a middle class family. I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology and was only a thesis short of obtaining my master’s degree. Homelessness and drug addiction wasn’t an American problem when I was growing up. Now it is an American epidemic. It’s not just a big city problem anymore. Urban and rural areas are seeing more and more men, women and children fall victim to these problems.

I have had many mental health labels in my adult life, including depression, bi-polar with psychotic episodes. i suffer with anxiety paranoia and have poanic attacks post traumatic stress disorder, schizoaffective disorder personality disorder psychosocial disorder and the latest and most debilitating Schizophrenia. I have had multiple suicide attempts. Some were a mere cry for help, others I only survived by the grace of God. The really sad part to me about the things I went through is that I thought it was all normal. I didn’t realize that “normal” people weren’t experiencing the same things I was. My recovery really started in May 2010 when I entered the homeless shelter of Providence Rescue mission in Dalton Ga. I spent 5 months in the shelter working various jobs through temporary services. In September 2010 I was able to land a full time job with a local company making just over minimum wage. In October 2010, I moved into Providence Ministries Alcohol and drug recovery transitional living program. It was the first time in over a decade that I had been employed with the same company for over a year. In December 2011 I worked out my 2 week notice on that job, as I was hired by the ministry where I resided. I relapsed, but unlike times in the past where a weekend drunk led to being drunk and high for years on end, I got up, dusted myself off and started again. My cliché is I’m not too old to start over, it’s just that I‘m too old to keep starting over. I have burnt many bridges, not just with employers, but with friends and family as well. My rap sheet does indeed read like a book. It is 18 pages. I have approximately 30 arrest as well as approximately 30 hospitalizations. Never-the-less, I am beginning my journey again. It is my hearts desire to influence young men to become the husband to their wives, and the father to their children that I never was to mine.

I had left Brunswick Ga. In November 2009. I had a suitcase in each hand. This is all I had to show for 45 years of existence. Forget the fact that I had previously owned 4 homes. One of which appraised for 225 thousand dollars. I had clothes in one suitcase. In the other I had a mounted Large Mouth Bass, my bible, a scrap book that my son’s mother had made for me of the 20 years of his life I had missed and 29 of the 30 poems that appear in my book, The Scattered Collection. The only new poem included in the book is S.I.R. The message behind it is the story I want people to hear. No matter how far down you have gone, through a mess you have created or one created by others, there is still hope. For the family that has lost hope that their son or daughter will make a positive change, we give them hope. We have an opportunity to encourage people who have laid down and given up to get up and go again. We can persuade those who thought their work or charity was in vain to re-energize their efforts and to know that they are making a difference. I have done so much and went through so much in my life that some part of my story is bound to touch and inspire many who are hurting. God knows we have seen lifetime movies with less merit. It is my hope that you view this as a share-worthy story.

I know homelessness, addiction and mental illness are not the most popular topics of conversation, but what people don’t understand is that when they provide support for a person to get back on their feet, they more often than not help an entire family to become grounded and stable. I have 9 grandkids and 5 great grandkids, so my umbrella of influence is far more reaching than just myself. In my recovery I have reached many milestones. I have a published poetry book, The Scattered Collection, that is available from on-line book retailers in paperback and e-book. I have obtained my disability and have been in my own apartment since May of 2014. I am working on a daily devotional and I own the trademark for S.I.R. which is an acronym for STILL I RISE. In closing, I would like to share with you my poem S.I.R.

S.I.R

Lil Story

I got to tell

Bout living victorious

When your life has been hell

Deceased parents

Divorced parents

Unloving parents

Single parents

STILL I RISE

Lonely, abandoned

Suffering through sickness

Depressed, abused

Debilitating illness

STILL I RISE

All my faults and failures

All my cares and pride

All regrets and resentment

All I tried to hide

Dropped out

Lost out

Missed out

Sold out

STILL I RISE

Wasted my money

Spent my youth

Lost my way

I’m looking for truth

STILL I RISE

Every poor choice

Every hurtful word

everything I’ve said

Everything I’ve heard

STILL I RISE

Ripped off

Pissed off

Paid off

Laid off

STILL I RISE

Hung on the block

Toted a glock

I sold rock

I smoked rock

STILL I RISE

When I seek the face of Jesus

I look into His eyes

With my heart I seek forgiveness

Through His love I rise

Feel down

Talked down

Broke down

Beat down

STILL I RISE

Lost my home

Lost my virtue for dope

Lost my kids

Lost my hope

STILL I RISE

Jesus resurrected my future

Now I have marvelous highs

Despite my past sin

STILL I RISE

Bad time

No time

Dead time

Hard timeSTILL I RISE

Life’s a farce

Wrecked some cars

Got battle scars

Seen prison bars

STILL I RISE

You back devil

Wanna hear my battle cry

All hell may come against me

STILL I RISE

YES

S.I.R.

Thank you for your conseideration of this story. Please share.

Jim Moon