About the Book:

“The Art of Determination”

I initially started the book in 2017. Firstly, I wanted this book to assist other people who had similar experiences and may be in similar situations. I also wanted to use the proceeds of the book to get my mom and brother out of the abusive situation that they both were in with my Step-father.

I have always wanted to write a book. This was one of my dreams. I enjoyed writing it, as I have always had a profound captivation with books. I developed a fascination with paper marbling in the process, as these decorative pieces were used in the older books, and not one design is ever the same due to it being made by hand. During the end of 2018 and 2019 I spent time with a Copyeditor (Elna Harmse), who was absolutely amazing and assisted me with so many aspects to the book. A woman with great talent, wisdom and knowledge. I was so blessed to have her assist me with my project. My mother passed away in the beginning of 2018, and it took me some time to recover and get back on track with the project.

I was motivated to finish the book as it had become my child, a piece of me. During the massive transitions within my life experiences this book was with me and I was forming and moulding it into something.

I grew up with this story.

Blurb

The story unfolds about the young woman’s life. Her insecurities and fears are painfully palpable as she begins to open up in her diary and explains her journey navigating her inner stormy seas. Isla’s journey starts when she finally decides that she can no longer continue in her drug and alcohol induced state. She has run away for long enough. The pain of staying the same became far too painful, but she was also not certain that the beginning of this new recovering journey, facing that which she ran away from was going to be any easier. This story unfolds and becomes a beautiful dance of emotion, healing and thought. Realisations are delivered in moments with increasing clarity and she takes you on a healing journey with all the bumps and joyful emotion with her.

Isla Stone published her first book, “The Art of Determination.” On the 17th March 2020. Her book is based on diary entries that she wrote from the years between 2012 to 2018.

She decided to change her life. One morning she woke up, bruised and battered caused by the anger that she had towards herself and the world yet again. She had another rough night of drinking uncontrollably and blacked out, forgetting everything that transpired the night before. The decision was based on the fear that she was going to die, she realised that she was committing a slow and painful suicide. Yet there was something inside her that wanted to live. She wasn’t sure what this was, or why, but she realised that she did have a little light of hope burning in the centre of hear her that could not be put out.

Isla had a difficult childhood, she faced many challenges as she grew up. No one gave her helpful tools to use as she grew up. All she wanted to do was dull and mute the pain that pulsed in every bone of her emotional body. Her biggest challenge was to be intrinsically and fearlessly being honest with herself. This meant that nothing in her world would ever be the same again. Taking that step was the best thing she could ever have done for herself. She is constantly growing and evolving into a more spectacular version of herself daily. The growing never stops, and this is what the adventure of life, she realises, is truly about.

She currently runs her own holistic healing practice focussed on Energy Healing.

Text 1 Preview

I decided to go to rehab. The day I decided, I woke up confused, hung over and with bloody knees. My high heels were still on my feet and I wasn’t sure what happened the night before. Just like every other night for the eight months before that. I woke up with a daily nightmare to face. The difference this time was that I intentionally set a goal for myself. I went out with two friends the night before and told them I would have one drink only. Just one. I don’t know where this moment of clarity began. But I’m grateful
it hit me that day.

I stepped into the bar, leaving the warmth of the summer behind me on the pavement. The barman handed me my regular drink before I even requested it. They knew me well. As soon as the cider touched my lips, it went down as quickly as a glass of water would after a long walk in the Sahara. Almost immediately, I started making excuses to order another drink before finishing the one I still had in my hand. I got another one. I couldn’t stop myself. I sat on the bar chair looking at my empty glass with surprise. As I turned to my left, my two friends were still nursing their drinks. I realised they hadn’t even begun. They knew what I said; only one drink, and they could have only one. I couldn’t … I had to have more. I had to keep drinking and I had to drink fast. Before I knew it, and despite their despair, I ordered again. I had lost my ability to choose.

I was afraid.

I was in a relationship with an alcoholic I met in a bar. He was a big, emotional Croatian, twelve years older than I. He had no job and a midlife crisis. Victor and I fell in love in an instant. We were two sad, dysfunctional, co-dependent people looking for affirmation. It was a batter for disaster. We moved in together after just a few months. I felt out of place in his house. He had been married for a long time and his divorce was finalised just after we met. I ended my previous relationship – with an abusive drug addict – shortly before I met Victor.

I was a functional alcoholic and drug addict. I call it functional because I worked as a financial administrator at my parents’ company. Between my previous abusive relationship and moving in with Victor, I lived on my own for a while, trying my best not to use cocaine. I succeeded a little, but I smoked weed every day. I agonised my days away, yearning for the flood of peace my many joints would wash over me in the evenings.

Victor was in rehab for alcoholism (his third try) on the day I decided to have one drink only. I woke up with fragile and broken
memories the next morning; images of the night before flashing in and out. I wasn’t quite sure what I did, who I was with, how I got home. My ruined cell phone flashed on the pillow next to me. There were throbbing gashes in my knees. I was still in my work clothes from the night before. Hung over, sore and scared, I made the decision. I was
done. No more terrified staring into the mirror, looking at my lost soul. No more glaring into my eyes and looking, searching for life, when the only thing I saw was death.