Let Me Be Honest

When darkness hits, I am rendered emotionally paralyzed. Motionless. I am consumed by shadows of regret. They dance around my living room and crawl underneath my sheets. I don’t know why I get like this, a walking zombie, a useless corpse.

My unintentional thoughts like to tell me I’m not worth the fight, that I’m not worth standing up for. That it’s not worth trying to get better. So I sneak off into my own world, shrink into the depressive state, and not let anyone in. It’s what I’m best at; hiding, running away. I am just a mixture of negative thinking and blurred lines.

What I am trying to tell you is that, if you ever feel this way, you are not alone. You are the farthest thing from alone. Be honest with yourself, be open to the ways that you are feeling. Don’t let the unintentional thoughts that ravage your mind and terrorize your soul  become the very thing that you are. 
Don’t be ashamed that sometimes you  are weak. Our weaknesses are the very things that make us strong. 

God Saved Me

God saved me.

I know that, to some people, that statement sounds incredibly stupid. There are people out there who think that He doesn’t exist, that He could never exist. Then there are the people who believe in Him but hate Him because of the tragedies that they’ve been through in their life, because of the people they’ve lost or the things that they’ve seen. I used to be both of those people. That probably doesn’t make sense because how could I be both people? Well, I was both people, regardless of the logic.

There are two things I used to believe. One was that God didn’t exist & that He was this imaginary friend that desperate people made up because they were searching for something to believe in. He wasn’t there, there was no God, & there couldn’t ever possibly be. I believed that the Bible was created by flawed men, and that it was all lies to control stupid people with. There was no God, there were just people that hoped there was.

My other belief was that God was there, He existed, but that He must absolutely hate humanity. I used to turn on the news and see all of the people dying from natural disasters, diseases, serial killers, mass shootings, etc. I thought of the people (some of which were children) that were laying in hospital beds all over the world riddled with cancer, begging for the pain to stop, begging for it all to end, questioning why they weren’t good enough to be healthy. I saw hurricanes and tornadoes on television that destroyed peoples’ homes, killed animals and children and everything that this God said He loved.

And then I looked in the mirror at myself, track marks on my arms, bags under my eyes. I thought about my life, about how my daughter was going to be taken away from me, that I didn’t have a bed to sleep in, that I had to steal from everyone and anyone. I was infected by a disease, a disease that has no sympathy; addiction. I was full of mental illness. And I knew that I did this to myself, but I wondered why this God wouldn’t help me. I didn’t know that it was going to get that bad in the beginning. I remember thinking that He was sitting up there in Heaven or whatever, staring down at me from His big comfortable throne, and He was laughing at me.

I hated Him. With everything inside of me, I hated Him. 

When I went through my recovery for the third time, though, I was surrounded by people who loved this God. I questioned their beliefs in the beginning. “How could a loving God kill children? How could a loving God allow diseases and terrorism and every horrible thing that has happened to happen?!” I asked people this question, I screamed & shouted it inside of my head. I didn’t get an answer. I went to church with these people, these people who loved God and had a faith that could move mountains. I went to church week after week after week, confusion & doubt nearly drowning me.

And then I felt Him. 

It was an experience like no other, a feeling that is extremely hard to explain. It was as if I could feel God pulling my spirit out from my body & filling it with something I hadn’t felt in so long; hope. For months after this happened, I started getting deeper into the bible and memorizing scripture and studying the passages. I did it partly because it was part of the program & I had to, but also because I craved more of Him. I desperately wanted to be closer to God. 

Experiences similar to the first one started happening more frequently. I constantly heard His voice, I felt Him on a daily basis. He pushed me to stay strong, He comforted me, He told me how much He loved me, how much I was worth. He told me that I was His daughter & I was unique and beautiful and everything was going to be okay. He was by my side throughout my entire recovery. Things started to happen in my life. The relationships with the people that I love were being reconciled, I wasn’t craving heroin anymore, I was becoming…different. When I graduated from the program, I realized that He had been here for me the entire time, I just wasn’t listening. I was doing my own thing, and my own thing led me nearly to death.

I still have questions, I still wonder why the world is in the state that it is in. But I know that He has a reason and that He loves us. I don’t know why I was saved from addiction while thousands of people out there (some of them people that I love) died from it. I also don’t think that I will ever get the answers to any of it, that I will never know any of the reasons, but I think that I have to have faith regardless.

So, yeah. God saved me. And He can save you, too. You just have to listen.

 

 

Dear, Drugs.

Dear drugs,

You never loved me. You constantly left me on the verge of collapse, ripping at my soul, tearing out my heart. You were terror in a syringe, masked by the feeling of “escape” that you gave me. You lied to me, that’s all you ever did.

You never cared about me. You made me sick, riddled by cold sweats and constant nausea, paranoia and disgust. In the dead of the night, I clawed at my skin. I wanted to get away from you so badly. There were times when I thought that I had finally gotten rid of you, but the bruises that marked my arms reminded me that you weren’t gone. You were never gone. You were always there.

You took my daughter from me. You took my family away. You made me lie to the people that I loved, you made me steal things from people who trusted me. I looked in the mirror and there was nothing left of me but you; you & your empty promises, your sick game that you make millions of people play.

You stole my happiness, you ripped it away from me. I was nothing anymore, void of compassion, unable to feel guilt or empathy. You consumed me until I was nothing but bones peeking out from underneath cold, pale skin & all I craved was you. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I couldn’t live.

But the best part about all of this, my old friend, is that I won. Now it’s you that is nothing. I am three years free of you & I have never felt better. I am strong. I am alive.

I am more than you will ever be.