I came to London 25 years ago when I was a naive 20 years old. I was on my own but that was what I choose. I thought that it would be better that way. I was trying to build a new life after having to give up my baby for adoption, I wasn’t married you see.
I had called her Mary after my mother who had passed away when I was 5. At first I tried not to think about Mary but that didn’t work so instead I imagined that she was with me all the time, invisible to the world but not to me.
I worked and lived in a large hotel. It suited me, having people all around helped to ease the loneliness and numbed the reality out of me. Most of us were taking some drug or another. The hours were long and I suppose we all had something that we were running away from or wanted to forget.
I’m ashamed to say that I cannot remember my first encounter with Blenheim. I was pretty messed up then. This past year has been the hardest and most incredible of my life. I am working part-time now, I have friends and my own place. It’s small but there’s only me and for once that feels ok.
Blenheim's Recovery Stories 