Archive for Addiction

Survival Of The Not-so Fittest

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on March 27, 2012 by Her Broken Wing

So… the Earth didn’t open up and swallow me during my 5th step, like I imagined it would for so long. I put this step off for two years. I procrastinated to the point it was beyond ridiculous. I mean who wants to air their dirty laundry to God (as if He didn’t already know) and another person –not me.

I kept thinking I was “terminally unique”. I thought that no one had experienced the life I had. I had to be the worst person in the world. How special of me. Really, how self-righteous I had become. Self-centered. Self.

Two years (really longer) clean and in my program and I was still two-steppin it.. Which means I was hanging out on the concept my life was unmanageable but didn’t want to move forward into the other 10 steps…I was in my comfort zone and no one expected anything of me here.  I think there was a reason they called it a 12 step program.

I even thought if I stay in the first few steps, no one would expect me to sponsor them. No expectations. When the program clearly states, to help me stay sober I must help another addict / alcoholic. Hmm!

But it was like a cocoon in her shell too long, she would wither and die or must break out and fly. And the time came, I had to do something. There was a tremendous unrest within my soul. Thus, my 4th step was born. After the 5th step of sharing, came her afterbirth.

It wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact, it was cathartic. I felt like I had been cleansed in the fountain of youth. Freed from bondage.

I had endured once again.

I am a survivor.

Love,

Connie

Advertisements

A Better Version Of Me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on February 26, 2012 by Her Broken Wing

I believe in the small talk, in 2nd, 3rd and 4th chances, forgiving those in my past and missing the cracks in the pavement (or “you break your mother’s back,” I sang as a kid). I strive for obedience when it does not make sense — denoting a sense of submission.

And when the world of good and evil collide, I might smile that crooked smile revealing my fragile life. I realize how easily my broken and shattered place of being has come to. I sense the vulnerably delicate existence of my heart.

I daydream of a better time, where my soul whispers truth and dedication of Someone’s love. Be still my beating heart and listen. (Psalm 46:10) Once again, conformity and submission take their place in my life calling out my name. I hear her. But I don’t always answer. Shame. Guilt. Even so, my mind takes a stand. But God…you gave me this desire, did you not? And the raging internal war goes on. Why can’t I be more like Jesus? Why can’t I overcome each time? Satan makes out a new buffet of sin every day.

I can choose to order off the menu or the buffet. Some days the buffet looks inviting. Satan is smart and cunning. He is powerful. (Sounds like the disease of addiction)

I bite.

Then there is the long conviction of worthlessness that builds her walls around my heart.  The very thing I desire, I fight back against. Does my world of panic-stricken emotions and uncertainty mask this lonely spirit? Or tear down the very walls built to coddle my wounds.

Easy to forgive others. Not so easy to forgive myself.

But…

For God went right for the jugular when He sent His own Son.” (Romans 8:3, the message) so the least I can do is work on the whole forgiveness thing…

And I pray for a better version of me.

Love,

Connie

The Angel Tears

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on February 14, 2012 by Her Broken Wing

We are all recovering from something whether it is abuse of food, booze or just being a jerk. The difference in all of us is we are either “recovering” or active in our addiction? One thing for sure, we are all the same and all in this together.

So Dear Hope,

I have been in your shoes not too long ago. I woke up swearing I would never do this again and meant it. I have cried, screamed and begged to die with the realization that my life as I once knew it, was over. I have slid out of bed and ran to the bathroom to throw up one more time, crawled into the shower and hung my head low as shame wreaked through my mind, body and soul.

Sick from withdrawing, panicked from wondering where my next fix would come and confused about how I came to this place, I knew I was at my rock bottom. Praise God, there was nowhere to go but up. The Angel tears were dipped in happiness as they danced and as I was offered the gift of my addiction. Yes, as sick as it sounded, my addiction was a gift. And I have found myself dissecting my soul trying to figure this one out. What the heck?

 

When I first got sober, it was like my arm waking up from being asleep. It was painful and strange. The pins and needles are like sadness over things lost, fear of the unknown and anger over the disease. After being numb for so long, I started to feel all my emotions at one time and it exploded like a nuclear plant. There is really nothing I could do but go through the pain until the feeling came back.

 

What matters most of all though… is that I got sober. I owe no explanation to the world. For being sober is enough, I am enough. God says so.

So today, I get up, put on make up, go to work, go to a meeting with other addicts and share our experience, strength and hope and I pray. I pray. I pray.

I am a recovering addict and I am proud of this badge I wear.

Beautifully Awkward

The Disease of Addiction

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on February 13, 2012 by Her Broken Wing

The news of Whitney Houston’s death comes on the shirttail of another death in our town of a young mother fighting the disease of addiction. It is sad and it is a reminder of how powerful this illness is.

Facebook, Twitter and the news have filled the pages with all sorts of comments from the public. Many are not so nice. Whether you believe addiction is a disease or a self-inflicted overindulgence, the outcome is the same. Life is not sustainable without help.

My question is if the Diabetic as such is told they can come off medicines if they lose weight but chose not to, consequently they suffer a debilitating illness, and does this make them less of a person? Heart disease is mostly preventable in a society where obesity and / or high cholesterol is an epidemic yet heart disease continues to be the number one killer.

We take the disease of addiction, choice or not and society looks at it as a moral defect. Tell me the difference between this and the diabetic secondary to obesity?

Whitney Houston hung onto a man that continued to use and abuse drugs which enabled her to as well. Do we not do that in households that continue to keep junk food in their pantries after grandpa suffers a heart attack?

I will need treatment the remainder of my days. My disease is in remission just for today. But I must feed on God’s word and exercise my faith.

It does anger me that people judge without knowing all the facts. I am a good person. I am a professional. I am a Christian wife, mom and child. I live with this disease that I did not choose. I pray daily for freedom from its stronghold.  So no, I don’t wish to be intoxicated no more than the obese person wishes to be a diabetic.

Maybe we should extend a hand instead of an opinion.

And Judge not. (Matt 7:1-2)

Beautifully Awkward

The Weathered Life

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on November 21, 2010 by Her Broken Wing
She came into the house from the cold. She dropped her old worn-out coat over the heater to dry it out from the dreary rain that continued to darkened the skies. She thought to herself, the weather was much like that of her moods these days. She looked around. The house was empty and smelled stale from its lack of attention  just like her own life.

 

When had it come to this? Why had it come to this?
 
She sat down in the old battered sofa that she had acquired from the side of a road. She figured she could fix it up some day with some nice fabric but for now it served its purpose. A place to sit and a place to sleep.
 
For a moment she would allow herself to go back in time. It started innocently enough. She had been sick. The doctor gave her some medicine for the pain. And for the first time in her pathetic little life, she felt good. The world went away, the pains and all its worries followed.
 
Where did she cross the line?
 
Who defines pain anyway? Physical, emotional, even spiritual?
 
When did she cross the line of her physical sickness into emotional and then into spiritual?
 
When did she become an “Addict”?

 With each pill, she gave up a little piece of her soul. With each high, she lost one more endearing part of her life. Eventually she was left barren. She had sold her soul to the Devil.
 
But that was not enough, she would begin to take parts of their life, too. And she did. Their lives were shattered in the path of her destruction.
 
 Now in a barren home–she would start over after many years living like a caged animal.
 
 
And…
 
Only through Mercy would she come to Him.
 
 Beautifully Awkward