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My Choice. Part Ten.

The next day I felt acute guilt. My head pounded and my palms were sweaty. As my thoughts were, "what have I done? I want more." I cooked spaghetti for lunch because I craved an enormous amount of carbs, and I wanted comfort food. I stood in the kitchen blaring my worship music fighting the demons in my head. I prayed for God to help as I apologized for what I did. The warfare began. A part of me felt ashamed and the other part of me felt relief. Nothing bad happened. I thought, "Maybe I can drink. This time will be different." Oh, the infamous words for addicts.


The following weeks our drinking increased. I finally voiced it to my best friend Sonya. I called her drunk. A couple of days later, I had a counseling session over the phone with Ms. Donna. I deflected the conversation a lot talking about the 'little annoyances' at home. She was concerned with my choice returning to Eric. We did not have the best track record keeping things Cordial between us. But she knew I was different from when I walked into treatment. I never voiced it to her on the phone, but she knew. She knew something was wrong with me as I tried my best to act like life was good. She could hear it in my voice.


One night Eric and I had an argument. I do not remember the argument. I am sure it was something from the past that had resurfaced; we loved to blame one another for each other's choices and the pain we caused the other. He left and checked into a hotel room. I was terrified he would call the police to have me arrested from the current warrant I had. When Eric drank, he was different. It was not only me. A lot of the drama occurred when we both made wrong choices under the influence. Most of his vengeance when having me arrested-he was intoxicated. This time he did not. After a few minutes, I laid down with the kids in bed. They were already asleep when all this was going on. One thing we promised before drinking is no fighting in front of the kids and no bringing up the past. We obtained one out of the two.

We loved each other and we were turning a new leaf for our family, we thought. The following morning Eric returned with breakfast like nothing happened. It was swept under the rug. We did not talk about it. We hugged and agreed we needed to stop drinking. We did not want it to come to repeated cycles. Sadly, we were living the past over and over again. We did not drink for a few days until the stress and anxiety emerged far greater than before.


Another night: the shame, guilt, and feeling of unworthiness overwhelmed me. We had been drinking- it was a calm evening. Eric, the kids, and I had been watching movies and relaxing. It was like something had possessed my thoughts. Now, I am aware it was demonic. The enemy was trying his best to take me out of this world. What better way to do it than convince me I am not worthy of life and commit it myself. I was not functioning as 'Hope'. A different spirit oppressed my entire being. I remember standing up from the couch and loving on the kids. It was my goodbye in my mind. Eric looked at me funny because, obviously, I was acting very strange. I have always been very affectionate with my babies, but this particular night I was repeatedly telling them how much I loved them and so on. I told Eric I loved him. I gave them hugs and kisses and went to take a bath. I closed the door and grabbed a bottle of sleep pills. I had never done anything like that before. I could not control the thoughts in my head. It was daunting. I had opened the door for the enemy to come back into my life by the one thing I loved and had extremely difficult time laying down: alcohol. Alcohol gave me a false sense of security. It calmed me down at first, but after I drank enough to become heavily intoxicated, the devil had a foothold. I soaked in the hot bubble bath and took handfuls of the sleep pills. Eric walked in to check on me. He knew something was not right with me. I became agitated and told him, "I am fine, Eric. Leave me alone." I dozed off in the bathtub. I woke up incoherently, muddled. I dressed myself in a comfy shirt and shorts. I walked to the couch and laid down with my babies. All of them touching me as I hugged Bentley laying in front of me. I was out. cold. I peed on myself. I abruptly woke and it was like a lightning bolt struck. I woke with a deep breath and realized what I had done. I unsteadily hopped up from the couch and bolted to the bathroom. I locked the door. I made myself throw-up. I sat on the floor while leaning against the commode throwing-up green and yellow gunk. I thought, "what in the world just happened? Why would I take pills like that. God please do not let me die." Eric banged on the door in agitation. I opened it and said, 'what?' He responded, "you pissed on yourself. You are nasty. I am done with you. Now I have to clean the couch." I shut the door angrily. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried my eyes out. I felt defeated, yet again. I did not know what was going on with me that would possess me to want to take my own life like that. Bentley walked to the door and ask, "mommy, are you okay?" I tried not to cry as I responded, "yes, baby. I will be out in a minute." I went to bed holding all three of my babies and thanking God for waking me up from my delirium.


I vowed no more alcohol. Eric and I both did...again. We did not speak of what happened. Eric had no clue about the pills. He thought I was in a drunkard stupor and could not make it to the bathroom...I guess. Like every other day, when we were not drinking, we did not fight much. The next couple of days we went on a beautiful hike as a family and painted. We were 'happy', again, until the next drink.


We are free to choose and make our own choices. We are not free from the consequences of the choices we make. I had chosen to open myself back up to the agonizing mental, physical, and spiritual suffering when I took that first shot of vodka. I knew better. And the warfare I experienced was far more intense because I had my spiritual encounter with God and I willing chose to open myself up to the devil's playbook.


God was not going to let me, his daughter, fight alone. With all my heart, I know, I needed the warfare, interventions, and sacrifices to grow and become the woman I am today. I do not question God anymore about my past and why it happened with the "why, me?" dialogue I used to play in my head over and over. It is what it is. Life happens. Life is hard. Life is good. There will be highs and lows. Everyone has them. We are not immune to pain and suffering. It is our choice to rise from the valley(s). To trust God when things are not in our favor and stay grateful when they are. When I made the choice to make me less and make God more- blessings upon blessings occurred. And I still have to consciously redirect myself. Our human nature is to make everything about us. The reality is...so little things are. I truly speak from my own struggles and experiences. When you are in the middle of the fork in the road, and you do not know where to go...there is Jesus. Yahweh.


I can only hope my story touches those who need it. The ones that may have struggled or currently struggle with addiction, mental health, dysfunctional relationships, and hopelessness. There is a way out. There is a choice. There is Jesus.


Sidenote: I was not a girl who grew up with suicidal thoughts or delirium. I was not a defiant teen and young adult. It can happen to anyone. Love the ones that are hurting and lend out a helping hand. You never know when you may have to make difficult choices that leave you desperate and running for savior. Stay kind my friends.




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