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Back To Square One. Part Eleven.

My mama was on a mission. A mission that consisted of treatment immediately with no more stops. She had orchestrated with the Foundry for my intake after hours. They knew me so agreed to open the doors. There was one problem: 24-hour proof of a negative covid test. I had taken a covid test prior to leaving the jail for this specific purpose. Around 1 am in the morning I was greeted by the dorm supervisor, Norma. My mama could not find the email that my lawyer had sent with my results. After her frustration, and demanding attitude, I remained unable to settle inside the dorm without the test. The Foundry had very strict covid regulations, as you can imagine; to keep the ladies safe. It was communal living.

We left for my mama's home. My nasty attitude revisited me, and I did not care much about anything. I did not know what to do with myself. I did not want to check-in to treatment. I did not want to stay with my mama. I wanted to wake up from the nightmare I was living. The ache I had from my guilt and shame and the fact that I did this to myself, and I was the reason I was not with my children, made me want to die. I was overwhelmed with emotions. I felt like no one wanted me. My mama did not want me at her house because she had no clue if I would try to run away, get high, or harm myself. I had absolutely nothing except for the clothes and the random accessories' Eric had bagged up for me. There was one thing that kept me from going over-the-edge and it was the fact that I was now court mandated to a rehab facility and if I did not check-in, I would be arrested. The mere thought of having to revisit Gwinnett County Detention Center kept me on the right track.

I was scheduled for another covid test and my check-in back to the Foundry on Monday morning. I essentially had two days to enjoy the outside world before I was back in The Foundry's safe bubble. I honestly do not remember much about Saturday. My anxiety felt crippling. So, what did I do? I searched my mama's purse for her benzodiazepine. She kept her anxiety/'nerve' medication for times of stress. I knew this and she did not abuse pills; she always had a bottle probably for times such as this...dealing with me! Ha. When she was not around, I found the bottle in her purse and took a few. A chewed a couple hoping for instant relief. I kept a few more for later. The later came sooner than expected. For an addict, "one is too many and a thousand is not enough." I remember watching television and laying on the couch drifting off to my neverland. Sunday came, and it was my granny's birthday. As we posed for pictures before the drive-thru church sermon, I had never felt uglier in my life. My roots were grown out while I had bleach blonde tips. I smiled my fake smile like I had always done-pretended my world was peachy. I felt like a hypocrite. I wanted to scream to the top of my lungs, "It is all fake!" The Xanax masked my emotions, and I was able to go with the flow. My reality was not happy, it was disturbing. The life that I had displayed for years on social media was a lie. Never trust everything you see or read on social media! As a society we display our best moments while hiding behind our secrets, addictions, dysfunctional households and unmet needs. Not all my moments had been awful that I had shared...I had many joyful moments, but my reality within myself was much darker than I displayed. We all do it! If you say you have not, you are a lie! Ha. Look, I get it. No one wants to hear about the argument you had with your spouse or how your child is being a hellion! The truth is, we all have ups and downs in our lives, we all go through the ebb and flow of life, trials, tribulations, but also; celebrations of accomplishments, and what makes us fulfilled in this life. It is a beautiful journey of faith of what is to come seen and unseen in our lives.

In the bible, Jesus tells stories, parables, sermons and lived out the struggles of the human experience. Although he was sinless, he endured suffering, and felt immense joy and happiness. We are not alone in our journey, and we are not immune to difficult times. No one is. It is freeing to tell MY STORY. To share all of the not-so-pretty and beautiful expressions of my own walk to freedom and to let all the "real" people know that you are not alone. God is good and I am incredibly grateful for my relationship with Jesus. Had I not gone through what I did- I do not think I would have the spiritual eyes and faith I do now. God works all things out for those who follow him. I no longer worry about tomorrow or the petty daily nuances. When I need a moment, or uncomfortable feelings or an event occurs: I know this too shall pass. And let it be exactly what it is. Some things are easier than others to let go or not fall into the self-pity entrapment. And that is exactly what it is...entrapment. Get out of your own way. There will always be another opportunity, relationship, career, or hobby. The best advice I can give anyone is...take time to grieve, get angry, cry, shout, and then proceed because God is a miracle worker, and he will always make a way when you do not see one. His ways are higher, and his thoughts are higher.

Monday, June 15, 2020, is when I made the choice: change or die. It is one of the most important dates of my life. It is my spiritual birth-day. The day I cried my way through the Foundry intake and told my Mama, "I do not need a faith-based rehab. It does not work. Please take me somewhere else." She did not and the rest is history!

What was different about this time? I did whatever I had to do. It was not easy. Stay tuned- I will walk you through my deliverance, and when the light, so to speak, came back in my eyes.

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