A Line Runs Through It

<p><em>I could feel myself slipping through the cracks of life. Thanks to periodic odd jobs I was swinging wildly from being able to afford drugs to missing payment dates to my dealer. I desperately fought to point my life in a positive direction but my grip on reality was loosening. I started doing shady deals to acquire drugs that I could distribute myself on the streets of Saskatoon. I just needed to make enough money so I could keep myself supplied with my drug of choice - cocaine. There were players bigger and in deeper than I was (like my friend Larry who was not only moving cocaine but was dealing in weapons as well). The more we hung out together the more I sensed I was in way over my head. Some days his brash talk would falter and paranoia would take over; he was becoming more and more distrustful. He always had his guns in his truck - locked and loaded in case a business deal went sideways.</em></p><p></p><p><em>I was getting deeper involved in things I should have been walking away from not walking towards. Desperate for help with my aggressive dealer my paranoid illogical brain told me to call Larry and ask for help. Shortly after I made that call Larry asked me to take a drive with him. We headed out of the city each snorting coke to feed our inner demons. Soon we were driving on a deserted gravel road. Suddenly Larry stopped the truck and asked me to get out. As I climbed out of the truck I found myself standing on the edge of a ditch. As I turned around to face Larry I found myself staring at the barrel of a gun pointed straight at me. Larry's composure was steady. I knew how this was going to play out. I was in big trouble. The gun was loaded and the hammer cocked.</em></p><p></p><p><em>I did not flinch. I did not beg. I did not speak. I just stood there in front of Larry and his loaded gun. His eyes were glassy from the cocaine surging through his body and I could see his left eye twitch nervously. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and dripping down his left cheek. I silently began bracing for the impact of the shotgun blast.</em></p><p></p><p><em>I froze as his finger moved off the trigger. I could see his chest expand as he inhaled. Suddenly a barrage of profanities colored the air and the barrel of the gun lowered. Get the fuck in the truck he said. As we drove back to the city he told me that he had been ordered to kill me. All the way back to the city he kept muttering You are so fucking lucky Niall. You are so fucking lucky. </em> <em>He would not say who had given him the order to kill me. To this day I do not know who it was. This near-death incident caused me to wake up and look hard at my sorry life through a whole new lens.</em></p><p></p><p><strong>A Line Runs Through It tells the story of how the author fought his way out of trauma-related addiction to regain control of his life and then chose to find a way to help others on the same path.</strong></p><p><strong> </strong></p><p><strong> Niall Schofield was born a member of Saddle Lake Cree Nation in Alberta Canada. He was adopted into a Caucasian family as part of the '60's scoop and raised in Saskatoon Saskatchewan. Niall battled through what seemed to be impossible circumstances until in 2015 he found himself at a crossroads-continue down the path he was on or choose a new one. After centering himself with what was inside his heart he chose a path of difficult terrain overcoming the trauma of childhood sexual assault drug addiction and the stigma of having FASD (Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder). The author overcame these intense obstacles with perseverance and emerged with a stronger sense of self. He hopes that the people who hear his story will be empowered and have the strength to overcome their worst fears and what holds them back - breaking the chains of trauma to live out their purpose</strong></p>