- Alcohol
- Drugs
- Faith
This is my story. I did not grow up not in an underprivileged situation. In fact, I was not what society would have expected in an addict, yet I still became one. I had a two-parent home and my parents never divorced. I have an older brother, and on the surface we appeared the all American family.
We were far from it. Mom was an alcoholic and dad was busy outside of the home and very co-dependent. He enabled all of us in one form or another. For me, this enabling was being “daddy’s little girl.” I could, in his eyes, do no wrong. He was my protector and my champion; I never wanted to disappoint him. He was the law of the family so I also didn’t want to anger him and so at an early age I learned to avoid him and to hide from him. This hiding took its shape in seeking out love and attention from older men. The older men introduced me to a world of drugs, sex, and yes, rock and roll.
I was not good in school and by the time the summer after I graduated high school was coming to an end I was given three choices: go to college (not happening), get a job and pay rent at home, or leave and pay rent to a landlord.
I got married to my first husband. He was controlling and abusive I did what he allowed me to do. After our second daughter was born, we began using drugs again and his jealous nature took over. He threatened my life and the lives of our daughters. I had to leave; I had to protect my children.
I went home to my parents’ house. I stopped using again. I was frightened of the future and soon picked up with an old flame from high school. One night at a party for a mutual friend I was introduced to the drug that would bring me to my knees: crack. I took on two lovers that night and again went through the stopping and being miserable to using daily and taking my precious babies with me to go cop more.
Not long after, the state I lived in stepped in and scooped up my children and held them in custody for nearly three years. I was blessed with a social worker that saw through my thin veil of deceit and fought to put me in an outpatient program– a yearlong outpatient program.
Boy was I angry. This meant I’d have to not use for an entire year. I’d have to play their game and play it better than they did. Guess what? I couldn’t do it. About six months into the program I used and failed a urine test. Even that wasn’t enough to stop me. It wasn’t until the man in my life had blackened my eye in an argument that I finally got it.
God had put someone in that group that saw me for whom and what I was. This person took me to my first meeting. In this first meeting in the upper room of a local church with the lights dim and sitting in the furthest corner I uttered, for the first time, “My name is Renee, and I’m an addict”. The sense of relief that swept over me in that moment is beyond words.
Finally, I had admitted I needed help, even from that darkened corner and in the smallest voice I could, God heard my cry and set me on this path of recovery. The next two years were a roller coaster of emotions and backsliding into old behaviors of deceit. See, I still was with that man that blackened my eye– he was the last of my addiction to go. But go he must if I was to be reunited with my girls.
On the day of my two year anniversary the judge in my case allowed my daughters to come home to me for a weekend visit and we were to return to the court the following Monday, my birthday, for him to meet with the girls and determine if they should return to me permanently.
They came home for good. Of course certain restrictions were put in place, including allowing visits with their father and a worker in my home to monitor our living situation and offer parenting advice. After one of these visits with their father, my oldest announced she never wanted to see him again. My heart sank. She had once loved and idolized her father; I knew something bad must have happened. She was all of nine years old and had been molested by her father, just how many times this had happened, I don’t know.
Now I had to invite this agency and police back into our lives. My daughter was questioned and I had to hide the girls from their father until the state built the case against him and arrested him. My daughter had to testify against him in court and I was not allowed to be present for the testimony. His attorney made the case all about me and my addiction and he was found not guilty. The prosecutor told me to leave the state with my girls and never let the sun set on us again in that state. We did just that.
Again we had to start over in a new place. I remember sobbing to a good program friend that this is what is called justice. The reply I was given was one I’ll never forget, “and now all you have is JUST US”. My family in recovery helped us to get established. My sponsor insisted I go on public assistance, humble myself and ask for the help I needed to get on my feet and get into a home. She helped me with my resume and to find work.
Since I was not to go back to the state I lived in before, all I had left was program people that went and got our belongings, stored them, and helped move them into our new home. The people of the program were my village and helped me raise my daughters. They loved me despite the fact that I still was looking for my knight in shining armor and I foolishly thought to find him, I had to sleep with nearly every man that smiled or offered a kind word.
In recovery, I became an unwed mother at the age of 35 and with a number of years clean. Still I was not shunned or rejected. These people loved me. These people helped me to love me.
Fast forward to the present; Through the Grace of God and His amazing Mercy I have over 24 years clean. Some of those years were white knuckle by the seat of my pants, and just plan arrogance that I would not let addiction take me out. I would survive my addiction!
I am by no means a perfect human being but I am so much more than an addict today. My disease no longer rules my life. I have principles and tools. I still only have one day at a time but I am blessed that no matter what life throws at me: job loss, rebellious children, death of loved ones, or just plain apathy, the desire to use has been lifted. I AM A MIRACLE!