Paths written?

I do wonder wether before you were born, our fates were decided, a path created for us. That the strongest of people are put to their limits, and come out stronger. Survivors.

Was I destined to be abused? Neglected? Was it my fate to be touched by a dirty pervert? Had it been written in the stars that I would go on to live with mental health disorders? Only god knows the answers to my questions and I’m never going to get those.

But all those problems had a silver lining, that there would be light at the end of the very long tunnel. Was it fate that I would end up under the care of social services placed into a foster care home and meet Shaun at 17 years old. At that age I already had the weight of the world on my shoulders.

When I went into foster care at 15 I was fresh out of the hospital at yet another suicide attempt, obviously failed as I’m sat here writing my stories. I felt incredibly vulnerable and scared too. I didn’t know these people from Adam and I you wonder what they are going to be like. Believe me I had been placed in several foster homes and each one never got easier. A social worker was a routine person in my life as child and a teenager, I was use to the service and how it worked.

I had been in foster care for about a year n half when I met Shaun at 17. The dog I had been walking jumped into his 4×4 and we’ve been joined at the hip ever since. told him my troubles a few months ago into the relationship, I guess I wanted to give him the option to run for the hills instead of being stuck with a broken girl like me. He stayed and promised me from that day he would stick by me and he has been very true to his word. Through thick and thin he has been there. I am very lucky to have a wonderful, caring, compassionate husband.

So despite my troubles there was a silver lining to my clouds, a Knight in shining armour. The sun was shining, for a short period anyways.

Karina ❤️

Author: karinao86

Mother of 3 boys, wife to one man and lover of horses. Mental health sufferer in recovery.

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