Hi everyone. I am Brittani Anne Cicirelli, and this is my story.

I grew up with two addicted parents. My father was a narcotic addict. One of his favorite pastimes was driving around the state and using false names at doctor’s offices to get drugs. He was charged with 8  felonies when I was two and spent about a year in rehab. He was still on and off drugs until I was about 14. He has been a detatched member of my life.

My mother was an alcoholic, pill popping, crack user. I lived with her and her alcoholic, crack addict boyfriend. For as long as I can remember, I feared home. My mom and her boyfriend got into physical and verbal fights so often they all morph into this series of pictures or video clips in my mind. From a young age I was not shown love. I was told I was worthless, it was my fault, and I didn’t belong or need to be there. My mom’s boyfriend physically abused me while I was younger, but it was thankfully not near as bad as it could of been. I was molested by a young girl from around the time I was 5 until 7. I wasn’t taken care of properly. I didn’t know I was supposed to shower until I was nearly 9. My mom and her boyfriend were drunk so much I didn’t know until I was 11 because I never knew any different. I did my best to hide so I wouldn’t get yelled at or talked down to. The verbal abuse killed me the most.

We moved out of my mom’s boyfriend’s when I was just going into sixth grade. We lived in a few various places for a few months before settling into an apartment. I moved out of my mom’s for a little while. I went to live with my dad in Crawfordsville. I only stayed for a few months because the school corp found out, and I couldn’t bear changing schools-it was my only stability. Plus, my dad’s wasn’t exactly heaven, although it was better.

I moved back with my mom, and by this time she had a new boyfriend-my brother’s best friend, a 19 year old kid with a 39 year old woman. We would stay up all night, and I would go to school the next morning. We had people over all the time. We eventually moved into a house at the beginning of my seventh grade year, and things became like an extreme college party except it was an every day occurance. Some potheads moved into our basement. There were drugs, sex, alcohol and multiple people over at pretty much any given time. There was lots of drama. Sometimes my mom would leave for multiple days, and I would be there with my friends and four or five guys that lived/crashed there on a regular basis. I had a mental breakdown close to Christmas, and then just after the new year there was a crazy fight there bigger than any of the other fights had ever been (there were regular fights and broken objects all the time). There was blood everwhere, all things in sight were broken, and my mom needed medical care but was too drunk to care. So, I called my grandparents and told them I wanted to come  and live with them. They came and got me and my stuff that morning.

It was better than before, but at this point in my life I was a bitter girl angry with the world and my parents. I had an outer layer thicker than the Berlin wall’s length. My grandparents are very nonchalant if we don’t talk about it it’s not there types. So, we never talked about anything, we barely talked at all. The rest of that year was horrid for me. I was in a deep depression and had nothing to live for. I was so lonely I ached, and my heart was hardening.

A few years down the road, I’m in 9th grade and am in love with my best friend. He randomly stops talking to me and breaks my heart. He was the only thing constant in my life, and he never even knew it. I hit rock bottom. After a few months I began picking up the pieces myself, but that never really worked. I just walked around wondering what more there was to life.  Flash forward to October of my sophomore year. Things were finally getting a little better, and by better I mean I could hide my problems and pretend I was peachy and even get myself to believe it for a while. This girl in my math class who I had spend a week working in Louisiana with the previous spring break asked me to go to church with her. So I did. I thought it was kind of wierd, but I thought it was interesting as well. A few weeks later I went to an Aquire the Fire event and met God head on in a hotel room the first night of the event. It was like suddenly it all made sense. Everything just clicked. I got back and started going to that church every Sunday. I was determined to change my life, get out of my rut, and really live for Jesus. Two amazing people especially stepped up and helped me along the way. They showed me an incredible amount of love and patience. They helped teach me my self worth, and they guided me towards a more intimate relationship with Jesus.

Ever since that amazing night nearly two short years ago, my life has changed so dramatically I can’t even begin describing it to you. I’m no longer that bitter, insecure girl. I am a woman of God who may not be perfect but who lives her life one day at a time for her beautiful life saving Lord, and I thank Him everyday for loving such an unlovable me.

That, in brief, is my story. Jesus is real, and He’s waiting to love you. You just have to let Him in, and I promise, if you let yourself fall into His arms He will NEVER let you fall.