- Drugs
- Faith
- Mental Health
Submitted by: Susanne Johnson
In the depth of my coma, all I could hear was the weeping prayers of my daughter. As I awoke, I found myself in the hospital, unaware of where I was or how long I had been asleep. As days passed, little by little I began to prepare myself to reenter the world I had left for three months while I was on life support. As stories from loved ones that stayed beside me throughout my near death experience began to pour out, I was overcome with despair. I learned that just two days earlier my daughter had pleaded for the doctors to just give me a couple more days before they pulled the plug.
My trials began in my youth when I battled with the monsters under my bed. As an adult, I knew in my heart that these monsters I remembered being so frightened of were, in actuality, my uncles and many other men who sexually abused me throughout my adolescence. In my hope for acceptance and my longing to be numb from this pain, I turned to the only thing I knew; and that was drugs.
Many years passed and seasons changed, yet the root of distrust, lack of self-esteem, unworthiness, and the feelings of never being pretty enough still lingered within my heart. I began a family with my husband, Floyd, who taught me for the first time how to love and how to be loved. We were later blessed with our first and only child; our beautiful daughter.
Yet no matter how deep that love was for my family, I still lived that double life. I struggled to balance motherhood and the role of wife by day and by night. I would be found in the hollow places of my closet struggling with my cocaine IV use. For many years I was enabled by my multi-millionaire sugar daddy who gave me the money to feed the demons that tormented me throughout jail terms, hospital death beds, divorce, and the later loss of use in my right arm.
In 2007, I found myself in the hospital due to an infection in the bones of my arm. At first glance, doctors and specialists determined that because of how long I waited before seeking medical attention that they would most likely have to amputate. I began to weep and pray with all the strength in my soul. Along with the prayers from my daughter and church family, God answered my prayer. After four hours of deliberation the doctors decided that they would have to remove two bones leaving me fully disabled in my right arm and hand. When I was released from the hospital I began my journey on the road to recovery and with the strength God bestowed I taught myself how to achieve daily goals.
I had faced so many trials within the past few years I finally felt that I had the will to be done with drugs once and for all. But a month later, I relapsed and a deep depression like a dark cloud fell over my life. The only thing that kept me from giving up was the love of my daughter and knowing I had to be alive to take care of my nephew, who I had custody of since he was a child. Yet my nephew watched in sadness as I killed myself slowly due to my addiction.
This went on until one day my body had enough and I collapsed upon the couch, unable to regain strength. As my nephew witnessed all of this, in horror, he called my daughter for help. I was rushed to the hospital and all I remember was being carried into the emergency room by my son-in-law and waking three months later to the weeping prayers of my daughter.
As I watched the tears of loved ones and felt the mighty hands of God wrapping me in His loving embrace throughout those weeks upon my death bed, I realized I had to change. Yet, again, I relapsed due to the inability to grasp the sober lifestyle because I had been addicted for so long.
As time passed and seasons changed, once again I was faced with another fork in the road along my journey when detectives came knocking upon my door for a felony shoplifting charge from my past. At 53 years of age to my dismay I was being sent to jail.
Due to a deep wound from IV-use causing another infection on my leg they sent me to solitary confinement within the medical ward. Sick and all alone, I spent the full 90 days upon my knees praying, weeping, and begging for God’s mercy. I pleaded and bargained with God that if He would just heal my leg before I was released from jail, so that I wouldn’t have to admit to my daughter that I had relapsed, I would never stick another needle in my body again.
On October 14th 2011 at 5 a.m., I was released. I was ashamed and disappointed because the wound on my leg still remained. When my daughter dropped me off at my car I felt if I was going to have to admit to her that I relapsed. I was going to have to face her numb. So, I picked up a hundred dollars and I was back on the road to destruction until I received a call from my concerned daughter wondering what was taking so long for me to return home. It was then and there I made the best decision of my life and that was to allow God to take the wheel of my car and turn my car around.
Upon arrival back home I went to my bedroom and pulled the bandage from my leg, still praying God would place His healing hands upon it and remove any sign that I had been using. As I gazed at the torn flesh and the exposed bone, all of a sudden I heard a sound and right before my eyes the meat sucked back into my leg. With tears of joy I praised God that He answered my prayer! It left no scab, no infection, no cuts nor bruises, just a mere scar to tell the story of the power of God’s healing.
Still to this day I have been clean because of the commitment I made to God for answering my beckoning call. I bear many scars and each one holds a story of where I was once lost and through God’s guidance I was found. My disabled arm is my testimony of where I was blinded by addiction but through God’s grace I now can see. Forty years I was heavily burdened by the ball and chain of addiction, but in God’s perfect timing, I was released from the chains of unworthiness, distrust, lack of self-esteem, and most of all God gave me the key to unlock all these shackles. I rejoice in the day that God set me free.