- Alcohol
- Drugs
- Faith
I truly believe that all things happen for a reason. There are no mistakes in life. So when I woke up in a detox center August 6, 2012, finding my purpose in this life was necessary.
I grew up in a home with two parents that are still to this day madly in love with each other. There was no fighting, animosity between my siblings and I, violence, or abuse. We were very involved in our church community and I can honestly say I had never seen my parents drink, let alone have alcohol in the house.
When I was 18 years old, I met who I thought was the man of my dreams. He was going to school to be a pastor, and was truly the love of my life. I could go into detail about saving myself for marriage, getting engaged and that night losing everything I had kept sacred, which led me down a road to a pregnancy termination that has left me scarred and hurt beyond words for 16 years, but I think we know where this is going.
After the abortion, I looked for every avenue to numb that pain I still to this day carry. To no avail, I turned to alcohol, then to men, and became pregnant with my son at the age of 26. Shortly before having my son, I had dabbled in the drug community a little bit, but it was when he turned 1 year old that I tried crack cocaine for the first time. It was love at first hit. After that first experience, I chased that high for years. I tried everything under the sun to get that feeling back. For the most part I kept my life intact.
I got married in 2008 and looked for that “normal life” I had once dreamed of as a little girl. Needless to say, emotional abuse won in that relationship and my drugs were the only things that were truly there for me at the end of the day.
I had become highly addicted to pain pills on top of the harder drugs I had kept up with. My addiction cost me hundreds of dollars every day. I couldn’t function without a handful every 20-30 minutes. I was a gambler on top of all of this and was digging a hole that had no end in sight.
On August 3, 2012, I put my son to bed and began to dye my hair. For me it was a “normal” night. I took my nightly handful of downers, and threw on my favorite cd, and proceeded to fix my hair. I awoke to the look of fear in my son’s eyes, as he shut off the water in the shower, where I had overdosed.
Somehow during the midst of my drug induced stupor I had commanded him NOT to call the police, so he, at the age of seven, speed dialed my in laws, thinking it was my husband at work. They threatened CPS and emailed my parents, who then came and took him from my home that next day. I was fine with this fact. The last thought I can remember having while taking that handful of pills was that “Mason will be fine. My parents could love him better than I ever could and have”.
On August 5th, my dad called and had my husband bring me out to their house and had informed us that he was taking me to the hospital 45 minutes away, where an old friend of the family was waiting. This man is a recovering heroin addict. When we got to the hospital, my dad had pulled out a brown paper bag that my husband had given to him, containing all of my pills and whatever he thought was pertinent to getting me better. The nurse took us inside a waiting room and began to set the pill bottles up on the counter, one by one. I remember saying “those aren’t mine”. It wasn’t until I looked at my dad and saw him sobbing and the look of sheer pain and fear in his eyes, that I finally admitted “I have a problem”. The nurse looked at me and told me I had just taken the first step in recovery– admitting I had a problem.
From the hospital, he directed us to a detox center, where I spent six agonizing, God awful days. I have never been so sick in my life. If death had a name at that moment, I’m pretty sure “Mandy” would’ve fit the bill to a tee. I remember one whole day, spent in the bathroom, where I went from throwing up my internal organs, to the shower because my skin crawled, to out of the shower because the water hurt to touch my skin. There was a staff member there who spent the majority of the day checking on me, and while I was sick over the toilet, she was yelling “that’s right honey, you get those toxins out of your body… you’re on your way to becoming a productive member of society”…. at the time, I wasn’t ready to hear that nonsense. I was too busy trying to stay alive and sane with a fractured femur from hitting the bathtub from my overdose. I was hurting inside and out.
After detox, I entered voluntarily into a rehab center for 14 days. It was at this center, that I began to surrender my life as an addict, an alcoholic, and a gambler. I entered recovery full force from that point on.
I’ve been clean since August 6, 2012 and I can honestly say that my life was changed for the better because I was a drug addict. After rehab, I got divorced, went to jail for my actions when I was under the influence, got placed on probation for 2 years, and have taken responsibility for all of my actions. I was hands down, the most grateful person in that jail cell. I was the only sober one there. I have been humiliated and humbled because of my past, but I’ve come out on top every time. Recovery saved my life. I attend meetings, have a sponsor, and run a recovery page on Facebook targeting thousands of other addicts and alcoholics.
Almost 20 months later, I can honestly say that I’m happy. God didn’t give up on me when I had given up on myself. For that, I’m eternally grateful. Blessed beyond words. I may not have ended up where I thought I was supposed to be, but God has a plan for me and my life. Who am I to question His will? There is always a rainbow at the end of the storm…. sometimes you just have to look really close. -Mandy