- Alcohol
- Faith
I’m a believer who’s in recovery and struggles with an addictive personality. My addictions come out in anything that becomes excessive or that I can escape into to avoid facing what’s going on in my life. I may turn to alcohol, shopping, gambling, playing games, Sudoku puzzles, reading books or most anything.
My definition of addiction is, “anything that you do in excess that keeps you from doing what you need to do.” Dictionary.com’s definition of addiction is, “the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit forming to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.” It’s from a Latin word that means, “a giving over, surrender,” but from here on out all I want to be giving over to or surrendered to is Jesus Christ!
I grew up in a home where we attended church regularly. My Father was physically abusive to my mother, and, when I was 14, she finally got the courage to leave. Mom worked nights, and it was up to me and my sister, who was two years younger than me, to take care of our two younger brothers. A couple of years later Mom met a wonderful man, remarried and moved away, while I stayed in Dallas bouncing from my grandmother’s to my Dad’s to my aunt’s.
It was at my aunt’s place that I was saved on December 12, 1972. In 1979 I married my best friend, and he was called to the ministry. I accepted that this was where God wanted me to be, and I was happy to think I was going to be a pastor’s wife. In 1980 we moved to Denver, where he became a pastoral intern. I became involved with ladies’ ministries there and helped plan and teach events, and we had a fellowship group that met in our home. My younger brother came to live with us for a while, and he too gave his life to Jesus. In 1982 one of the pastors was going to Houston to start a church and asked my husband and me to come along and be the worship leaders. God blessed us, and we went. In 1984 his mother became ill, and we moved back to Dallas to be close to her.
Over the next several years our marriage had some serious problems, and we took our eyes off of God and His plan. We started looking at what we wanted instead of what God wanted for us, and in 1990 we separated and later divorced. In 1991 I remarried a Navy guy, and we moved to New Orleans, his final duty station. Things didn’t work out quite like we planned, and I ended up leaving a couple years after he retired from the Navy.
I ended up in Florida to be close to my mom after the death of her husband. We hadn’t stayed too close, after she remarried, and here was my chance to become close to her again. Mom and I took tax classes with the intention of us going into business together. I ended up working for a company and working my way up to being district manager in just 5 years. I felt like I had finally accomplished something and was no longer a loser.
I became a workaholic. I was working 60-70 hours a week and drinking every night, so I could “relax and sleep.” I never realized how much this affected my daughter, until she told me recently that she couldn’t stand the smell of bourbon, because it reminded her of the times I would get so drunk I didn’t remember anything. When my work contract wasn’t renewed, I moved back to Texas to be with my mom. I also had a grandson in Dallas I had only seen once, and I wanted to be closer. I became a store manager and bought a house there. I thought this would be the last place I ever lived. I still continued my daily routine of working hard all day, going home and drinking to relax and sleep. My day started at 3am, I had to be at the store at 5am and I tried to be asleep by 7pm. You don’t have much of a social life, when you have hours like that.
I started buying scratch tickets at work and hit $2000 once. My plan was to pay off some bills, but that didn’t happen. Before I knew it, I was spending my whole paycheck on scratch tickets. I kept thinking I would hit a big one that would cover what I owed the store, before I got caught. I was shuffling money from one shift to the next, so the bank deposit was always correct, until it finally hit a point that there wasn’t enough income on one shift to cover it. I started selling stuff to try to get the money back to the store, before I got caught. I would pray, “God, just let me win enough to pay this back, and I will never buy another scratch ticket.” I would win, but I would always go back and buy another. I had to hit total rock bottom, before He finally got my attention.
On September 18th I told my assistant manager what was going on, went home after my shift and planned to put the money back in the store. My mom called me to tell me that the bank was repossessing my Jeep. My boss knocked on the door to let me know he knew the store was short 1787 dollars, fired me and told me that charges would be filed.
I packed a bag and went to my mom’s house. A couple days later a police officer called to tell me there was a warrant out for my arrest. I told him I would meet him at the jail. I made my mom promise not to bail me out, because nobody had the money for that. They needed every penny for food. I had done the crime, and I was going to do my time. I spent 10 days in jail. Mom didn’t keep her word and bailed me out, because she couldn’t stand not being able to talk to me. I wouldn’t call, because I knew it would cost her to accept a call from me.
I stayed with Mom after jail, and, one day as we drove by the church, I asked about a recovery program with a big banner on the outside of the building. I started going to meetings on October 9, 2009. My daughter offered to come with me, and we stayed for a newcomers introduction. After I went through the program, I wanted to get involved and give back. During my first month or so I barely spoke in open share meetings. I just sat there and cried. I went to group meetings every Thursday night, because I knew if I didn’t go, I would fall right back into my old habits. I started going to church and got involved in a Bible study class. I began to develop relationships there. I also got involved in the church choir, because I feel like worship is so important to Bible study. It’s like the appetizer before the steak. It gets our minds focused on Jesus, so, when the word of God is taught, our hearts are ready to hear what God is saying to us.
I had some very desperate times, but a friend handed me a card with this verse on it: “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and I will bring you back from captivity’” (Jeremiah 29:11-14). For a while meeting days were the worst days of the week emotionally. There was always some reason that I didn’t want to go. One evening I shared that with the group, and it was like someone just took a huge bolt cutter and cut the chains free. I no longer had the struggles. It’s amazing what freedom comes from sharing with another person.
Being in recovery has helped me learn to forgive myself, helped me to learn to forgive others and helped me to rely on the one true God and savior Jesus Christ for everything. I have learned not to stress over things I cannot change and to be open to whatever He is leading me to. I know He has a plan for me, and I just want to go wherever He leads.
As one of my favorite leaders says, “Recovery is not just a one-time deal. It should be a way of life for every Christian.” I have participated and led support group meetings, and I hope to do many more, because I am going through it just like everyone else. Being a leader doesn’t mean I have arrived, it simply means I have gone through it, and I am willing to give back by going through it as a facilitator. I am not perfect and never will be. He is still changing me, “from glory to glory.”