By the time I had turned fifteen I had been expelled from one school and had already been suspended from my current school twice (all within the same school year). I skipped numerous classes and sometimes was absent for entire days. When I did attend class, I may have been there physically but mentally I was checked out. I didn’t care about education or the punishments that I would receive from not handing in assignments on time. To me, the entire schooling system was a waste of time and effort and as an egotistical, arrogant teenage punk, I ofcourse thought that I had much more important things to do with my ever so precious time.

Believe it or not I actually spent a good portion of this time working. I had always had odd jobs from a young age but at fifteen I was working full time. I worked in restaurants as a busboy during the day and as a bar-back in a few night clubs during the evenings (this was back when bars and clubs would hire you on your word that you were 18). I was making good money for my age so when I turned 16 I decided that it was time for me to move out of my mom’s house. My mother ofcourse was not thrilled with this idea but there was not much she could do to stop me. My parents had recently separted so I had the option of living with either one of them. I decided the best option for me though was to move out with a few friends and try to make it on my own without my parents assistance.

Despite my horrendous attendance record in highschool and less then ideal personal record I was not a completely bad kid. Yes, I did have my faults, however I was a hard worker and not a single person could argue and say that I wasn’t. I didn’t use recreational drugs nor did I abuse alcohol. I liked to have my fun however I always tried my best to remain somewhat grounded. While I was more immature then a child at times, I was more mature then an adult at other times.

Life was good. Most people my age were still living at home and had curfews. Not me. I did as I pleased and answered to no one. I had broken off contact with my parents and started to attend school less and less often. Most of my friends were older then me and had either been expelled from their highschools or had dropped out all together.

So there I was at sixteen years old, a soon to be highschool dropout with no plan for the future and no idea as to where I was going in life. I had no contact with my family and the only friends I did have were substance abusers and/or drug dependent. After almost a year of busting my butt working twelve hour shifts for minimum wage, living in a vermin invested apartment and just feeling tired and drained every single day, I decided I had had enough. But what could I do? I was so behind in school and I had too much pride to ask my parents for help. I felt trapped. The life that I had thought was so “cool” and “fun” became a fast harsh reality of how tough things had really become and were going to continue to be if I continued down this path.

I needed advice. I needed guidance. I needed help.

And luckily I was able to find it. However that help that I needed came from a fortuitous encounter with a most unlikely source…..

Stay tuned for next week for my third installment of my 4-Part Series Blog – “My Confession….Part 3″.

Yours in Good Health,

Nick Cosgrove