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The Intervention. Part Ten.

Updated: Mar 27, 2023

After my intrusive thoughts calmed down, I fell asleep. My mama woke me up the following morning with homemade biscuits and tomato gravy. It is my favorite meal she cooks. I ate and drank a cup of orange juice then went back to sleep. The binder I had been on caught up with me and I was bone-tired. The kind of exhaustion where my whole being was bankrupted. A couple of hours later, the door to the bedroom opened with my mama telling me someone wanted to talk to me. I was not enthusiastic. There stood a woman, man, and my mama. An intervention. I got up from the bed and met them in the living room. The woman explained about a treatment center called the Love Lady. I looked at them and said, "I am not interested. I am sorry, I am not trying to be rude, but I do not care what you have to say. I have been to treatment centers. I already know what I need to do. I was on a binge and will get back on track. I am not staying in Alabama. My home is in Georgia, and no one can make me check-in to rehab. I am not going back to rehab."


I was very defiant as I sat there on the couch angrily at my mama. I was mad because she had told someone my personal business. I had been completely private about my personal life and as you can imagine, I was extremely embarrassed. I was in my hometown, and I knew my mama had told people "My business." I had been battling with my addiction privately and by that, I mean, my family and close friends were only aware. To everyone else and outsiders looking in from social media and such, I had a beautiful family and life. My Facebook portrayed me as a vibrant, young lady with a beautiful family, while successfully living out my happy life. It was lie. I was living a lie. I wore the mask around people, and while I had had many happy moments, and laughter; I had been trapped in my own hell. My secret hell. My secret addictions. I wanted no one to know. I wanted to appear perfect. Although, I was desperately seeking to shed that persona. When I shaved my head a year earlier, it was my way of shedding the old persona. I wanted to break free from what I had felt my whole life, just a pretty face. I had more to offer the world than a flashy smile and pretty legs. (I have many insecurities and flaws) But-I had been told how pretty I was my whole life. I wanted to be seen as more than that because I have a lot to offer the world and I hated how society honed on outward beauty. The current materialistic world, and hyped beauty standards repulse me. I have never been one to judge others on a beauty scale; with myself I was my own worst critic. I never felt good enough for others (particularly my family and men.)


They left. My mama was extremely frustrated with my attitude. "Hope, we are trying to help you. You do not love your children. If you loved your children, you would get help. I am not taking you back to Atlanta. And your daddy is not either." In that moment, I was too tired to argue. My younger brother and his girlfriend were coming over to watch the Alabama football game. I laid on the couch; dead to the world and slept the rest of the day away. The next morning, I felt rejuvenated, as I craved alcohol. When my mama left the room, I went to her wine cooler and took out two bottles of wine. I drank them quickly. I felt nothing. I wanted something stronger than wine. I searched for more alcohol and found a few beers tucked away in the back of the cooler. I grabbed them and hid them in the bedroom I slept in and in the half bath that my mama never used. I began to feel better. Now, I was hell bent on finding a ride back to Atlanta. My mama, "Hope, there is the door. If you want to leave, go. I am not keeping you here, but good luck without a dime to your name." I told her I needed her phone to get on Facebook to message my friends. She handed me her phone. Everyone I messaged; she went behind my back to let them know not to come get me. I needed treatment. I made a couple of phone calls and she had already spoken to my "friends" about my current situation and state-of-mind. I was very annoyed. Then, she asked me to ride with her to Dollar General and if I wanted to go walk at Goose Pond Park. God bless my mama. She was ignorant to how I felt and the fact that I thought she was crazy to ask me to go walk when I had been on five -day binge. I told her, "No. I do not feel like going to walk, but I will go with you to the store." I did not have choice in the matter. She did not trust me alone at her house. Now, I was feeling the effects of the alcohol I had drunk. We walked around the Dollar General as she picked up snacks. We were getting along fine as I had relaxed, and we made jokes and laughed. It would not last long.


We got back home as our conversation suddenly went south. I was like a two-year-old begging for a ride back to Atlanta. "I need to go back mama." My mama, "Why, Hope? There is nothing there for you. You lost your job, your kids, Eric- which ya'll need to stay a part. You have nothing. Your dad is not giving you your car back- not that you could drive it anyways. Hell, you wrecked it while on drugs! Why cannot you see you need help? And he is going to pack all your things up and come off the lease. You will no longer have a home. What do you not understand?"


I was fuming. "ya'll cannot make me stay here and go to treatment. I am a grown woman and can do what I want. Treatment does not work for me. And I am definitely not going to a long-term program. If anything, I will go back to Blueridge. I stayed sober for nine months and I can do it again. "


My mama," Hope, your daddy is done! He said he will not pay another dime for you to go back to Atlanta. You do not have insurance anymore and he will not pay thousands of dollars for you to shit away again. Call him if you do not believe me. And you know I am not helping you. You need to be in Alabama close to me. You are not getting your kids back. Becky has made it known she will do whatever she has to, to keep you away. I do not blame her. You do not need your kids. You need long-term treatment. I want my sweet daughter back. You are hateful and need Jesus! Hell, you cannot love your children. I would never let anything like this happen to me. I do not know what is wrong with you. You did not get this from me. You got it from the Mims' crazy side of the family. "


I responded with hatred. I could not believe my mama would stoup to that level to tell me I did not love my kids. In my mind, my kids were the only thing keeping me from slicing my own throat.


She was right about three things: I desperately needed Jesus, treatment, and did not need my kids during this time. I was blinded by the devil's lies and my addiction. I wanted so bad to stay clean and be a good mother. At this time, I cared nothing about being a wife. I wished I never married. I felt it was a hoax. I wanted nothing more than to be set free from my attachment to Eric. All I could see, feel, and think about was the bad. All the good memories were gone along with my love for him. I learned much later...about Love. True Love. Pure Love. God's Love. Not the jittery, butterfly feeling of love that, yes, will fade away! I learned of Agape love. The kind of love that does not leave. I learned I could not love my husband, children, and family without loving myself. And you know how you love yourself through all the dirt? God.


My mama and I continued to argue as I walked out of her house telling her I would find my own way to Atlanta. I started walking and found myself exhausted. I walked down the road (not very far) as I stopped to look at a field and smoke a cigarette. My cousin, Jodie, who is my forever best friend, rode by and saw me as I laid back on the hill trying to "hide!" Now, it is quite funny as I think about it. There I was trying to "hide" as cars drove past. I did not won't anyone I knew to see me. I looked insane! It is a small town where everybody knows everybody. She stopped and turned her vehicle around as I sat gazing at the field contemplating how far away the interstate was. She walked up to me, and said, "Mary, what are you doing? Are you out here looking for your donkey?" We laughed. I was happy to hear her voice and see her face. She had always been there for me and told me several times while I was struggling, she would come get me. Seeing her was calming to me. Although, I hated she had to see me in such a distraught state. She offered to help me. I jumped in her car and voiced my concerns...to get back to Atlanta and to obtain my babies.


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