The first time I smoked weed, I was 14-15 and depressed. My parents were separated, I hated my body, boys paid me no mind, and I didn’t have a ton of friends to vent to. So I smoked weed with this thirteen year old foster kid who acted like she was a grown woman. My grandma found out the next morning because the girl had talked about it on the phone to her friend and my grandma was listening on the other end. She didn’t tell my parents, for which I was grateful…

Fast forward and it’s hours before I am forced to be put into a behavioral institute( I felt like it should have been called it a mental hospital). After three years of cutting my dad (newly divorced) and my adopted grandparents(long story) found out and were shocked and horrified. Next thing I know, we were all sitting in a doctor’s office. He asked me questions. I gave him answers. He asked me if ever did drugs; I said no. Which was kinda true. But kinda not. After a few minutes I told all of them that I had smoked weed before and had also taken Oxycontin. After further probing, the doctor insisted that I should be put in a hospital.

After being diagnosed with severe depression, dealing with suicidal idealization, an eating disorder, and grief from the mother and family I lost(because of the divorce; another long story), I’m a senior in high school.

Recently I got two C’s on a progress report and when asked about it, told my family that I didn’t think it was a problem.(because I knew I could get them up easily, which I did) That, along with me being tardy to a few classes, and missing my 1st period class completely (I woke up very late), and also my room being untidy. I’ve been on punishment. No phone, no driving, no taking the drivers’ test to get my license, no friends over, bed time at 10:00pm, and no journalism trip to Washington, D.C. the whole nine yards.

But I got my grades up, did my chores, and now my family is letting me go on the trip. I got my hair done which cost around $150-300 (sew-in weave). I got my nails done for the trip. I’m going to work the election polls on Tuesday Nov. 4 and make $120 ($80 is going to a college visit) and I won a essay contest at church that awarded me $50. My dad has taken me out to eat and bought me stuff. Small stuff nothing overly expensive but nice things. A purse and leggings from Wal-Mart, food, gum, Chipotle. Stuff that he couldn’t really afford to do before I was on punishment. (I suspect the money came from the lack of a phone bill for me).
I feel truly blessed, but I messed up.
When I first got my punishment I was mad at my family because they assumed I didn’t care, I felt like I had no voice, and I felt alone. Start of senior year and I am on punishment, where is my freedom? My independence? I’m 17 years old!! Not 10!

So I smoked weed for a second time.
And a third time.
This time it was different. The second time I loved it. I felt far away, and thought, “I could get used to this, I like it here.’
But the third I was high out of my mind and didn’t like not having control over I felt.
I realized after that, that weed and drugs were not for me. I’m Christian so I repented for my sins, and took the lesson.

At youth church, one night my choir director asked me if I was okay. (I wasn’t high or anything) She said I seemed different or something. I laughed because I was thinking, ‘what the heck God, you put me on her heart and now she’s asking me all these questions!) I didn’t feel any guilt or shame for what I did anymore because i repented and learned my lesson. She kept inquiring so I finally told her that I smoked weed.
She was surprised asked the normal Who What When Where and Why. At first, she said she might not tell.

Now maybe 1.5-2 weeks later she tells me that I have no choice but to tell my dad or she will. I leave for Washington d.c. this week. Along with all these nice things my dad has done for me lately, I just can’t tell him. I might be getting my phone back soon! I can probably drive again when I come back!! Ugh. So I have a week to tell him or she will. I wish we could have just kept it between us two, just like something I did, a mistake I made, but my choir director said it was too big of a deal, and that she didn’t want to be caught up in anything. So now of course I hate myself and am metaphorically looking for a rewind button.