Addiction is a conniving brat.
Keep in mind I'm keeping this PG for the kids; the words I would love to use to talk about addiction are much filthier, and angrier. Addiction is mean, demanding, manipulative, judgmental and malicious. It is quick to anger and slow to forgive. Addiction steals, condemns, shames, and then quickly forgets all of its wrongs. It is selfish. It is greedy.
Until recently addiction had convinced me that I was one in a million; that I just had to figure out how to moderate like everyone else.
Look at your friends, your family-they can all take it or leave it and so can you! You just have to learn how to cut back, DON'T LEAVE ME!
Until recently addiction had convinced me that I should keep this a secret because people will judge me, think less of me (gasp), or paint pictures in their imaginations of a once-upon-a-time-me passed out in a gutter with my pants around my ankles and surrounded in my own vomit. Ok, you didn't have that picture in your mind but now you do...yikes.
Don't say anything to anybody! They'll completely lose confidence in you. No one needs to know, it's too weird. No one will understand.
Maybe I should back up.
I had a good childhood, better than most actually. I grew up on a farm in rural Minnesota with two awesome, Jesus-loving parents. We were involved in church, music, sports, theater. Sure I attended the young person's social event here and there and experimented like most other kids in my town. I got married, went to college and rarely partied--focused on school and church and dance and work.
It wasn't really until after college that I leaned in to alcohol for help. And that, "help," is the reference point in terms of before and after. It was my first year teaching, I had no idea what I was doing both in the classroom and as a new mom (not that I know now, but back then I was uncomfortable with it). I was away from my family and my friends and my church. At the end of a long day at school an ice-cold rum and coke relaxed my shoulders and gave me a soothing energy to play on the floor with squeaky toys or read I Love Tanker Trucks for the 57th time.
I was actually uncomfortable with this right away; alcohol is expensive and we were struggling to begin with. I knew in my gut it wasn't super healthy to use booze to deal with life. But I didn't want to spend my nights alone and depressed either. I could feel the Holy Spirit gently whispering, Be careful. Lean into me instead. Briana, I can help you with this. But that wasn't as sure of a deal, and seemed more painful than the instant numb. Besides, I received a lot of encouragement from those around me to chillax, pour a glass of wine, you deserve it. I mean, isn't that what Paul told Timothy to do, you know, in the Bible??? And over the course of the next decade or so I vacillated between two options on how to deal with life. Option One--Face life head on with the Lord as my guide. Option Two--Drink to relax, celebrate, commiserate, motivate, and numb.
Back and forth between those two, over and over.
Sometimes Option One was what I went with for months at a time. Sometimes Option Two was the lifestyle of the season. I would rationalize the latter; I'm responsible, I have a hard job, I'm involved in church, I'm a good mom......but the truth was that all of those aspects of life bowed down when alcohol was on the throne.
Fast Forward. I didn't have one of those tabloid rock bottom moments where I lost everything and everyone or woke up in jail. I'm very thankful for that because, given long enough, that's where the road would have led. For people with my alcohol-no-off-switch-deal (whatever the genetic/nature/nurture/brain/chemistry thing is) that is always the case. The ride could be quicker or longer but it ends at the bottom of something gross.
No, I just was really sick of Option Two for a really long time. The truth is there are great things about alcohol, and it is hard to walk away from those things. It.is.hard. There is this constant voice of the little addict asshole. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalways talking. Persistent. Relentless.
I tried and failed, tried again and failed, probably dozens of times, to quit. And you know what? The Lord never got sick of me. He never sent me away or said he'd had enough or that I was hopeless. After every failure when the shame and regret left me feeling like I was wading through concrete, the Holy Spirit would cut through; I love you, let's try again, you're mine, I'm not going anywhere.
Persistent. Relentless.
It has taken a lot of prayer, fasting, support from my husband, reading, writing and doctoring to get to where I am now. Which is to say, to get to a point where I can feel the bigger chunks of addiction break off the longer I stay out-of-reach.
Not healed. Not "recovered." But definitely failing forward. And so many things are truly better, brighter, clearer, with everyday that I fail forward. So many times people have pre-conceived ideas of what it means to be healed or recovered, or to move forward in their relationship with the Lord. What I have found as a constant is how the way forward always looks different than what I had pictured in my mind. God is God, and He does what He wants. He heals, he recovers, and He does it His own way.
It looks different for each person. But one thing is FOR SURE. God answers prayer. Lift up your wounds to the Lord and watch carefully, listen intently. He is making a way where there was no way, and the path is just for you.
I love you--message me-we are all in this together,
Briana
Keep in mind I'm keeping this PG for the kids; the words I would love to use to talk about addiction are much filthier, and angrier. Addiction is mean, demanding, manipulative, judgmental and malicious. It is quick to anger and slow to forgive. Addiction steals, condemns, shames, and then quickly forgets all of its wrongs. It is selfish. It is greedy.
Until recently addiction had convinced me that I was one in a million; that I just had to figure out how to moderate like everyone else.
Look at your friends, your family-they can all take it or leave it and so can you! You just have to learn how to cut back, DON'T LEAVE ME!
Until recently addiction had convinced me that I should keep this a secret because people will judge me, think less of me (gasp), or paint pictures in their imaginations of a once-upon-a-time-me passed out in a gutter with my pants around my ankles and surrounded in my own vomit. Ok, you didn't have that picture in your mind but now you do...yikes.
Don't say anything to anybody! They'll completely lose confidence in you. No one needs to know, it's too weird. No one will understand.
Maybe I should back up.
I had a good childhood, better than most actually. I grew up on a farm in rural Minnesota with two awesome, Jesus-loving parents. We were involved in church, music, sports, theater. Sure I attended the young person's social event here and there and experimented like most other kids in my town. I got married, went to college and rarely partied--focused on school and church and dance and work.
It wasn't really until after college that I leaned in to alcohol for help. And that, "help," is the reference point in terms of before and after. It was my first year teaching, I had no idea what I was doing both in the classroom and as a new mom (not that I know now, but back then I was uncomfortable with it). I was away from my family and my friends and my church. At the end of a long day at school an ice-cold rum and coke relaxed my shoulders and gave me a soothing energy to play on the floor with squeaky toys or read I Love Tanker Trucks for the 57th time.
I was actually uncomfortable with this right away; alcohol is expensive and we were struggling to begin with. I knew in my gut it wasn't super healthy to use booze to deal with life. But I didn't want to spend my nights alone and depressed either. I could feel the Holy Spirit gently whispering, Be careful. Lean into me instead. Briana, I can help you with this. But that wasn't as sure of a deal, and seemed more painful than the instant numb. Besides, I received a lot of encouragement from those around me to chillax, pour a glass of wine, you deserve it. I mean, isn't that what Paul told Timothy to do, you know, in the Bible??? And over the course of the next decade or so I vacillated between two options on how to deal with life. Option One--Face life head on with the Lord as my guide. Option Two--Drink to relax, celebrate, commiserate, motivate, and numb.
Back and forth between those two, over and over.
Sometimes Option One was what I went with for months at a time. Sometimes Option Two was the lifestyle of the season. I would rationalize the latter; I'm responsible, I have a hard job, I'm involved in church, I'm a good mom......but the truth was that all of those aspects of life bowed down when alcohol was on the throne.
Fast Forward. I didn't have one of those tabloid rock bottom moments where I lost everything and everyone or woke up in jail. I'm very thankful for that because, given long enough, that's where the road would have led. For people with my alcohol-no-off-switch-deal (whatever the genetic/nature/nurture/brain/chemistry thing is) that is always the case. The ride could be quicker or longer but it ends at the bottom of something gross.
No, I just was really sick of Option Two for a really long time. The truth is there are great things about alcohol, and it is hard to walk away from those things. It.is.hard. There is this constant voice of the little addict asshole. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalways talking. Persistent. Relentless.
I tried and failed, tried again and failed, probably dozens of times, to quit. And you know what? The Lord never got sick of me. He never sent me away or said he'd had enough or that I was hopeless. After every failure when the shame and regret left me feeling like I was wading through concrete, the Holy Spirit would cut through; I love you, let's try again, you're mine, I'm not going anywhere.
Persistent. Relentless.
It has taken a lot of prayer, fasting, support from my husband, reading, writing and doctoring to get to where I am now. Which is to say, to get to a point where I can feel the bigger chunks of addiction break off the longer I stay out-of-reach.
Not healed. Not "recovered." But definitely failing forward. And so many things are truly better, brighter, clearer, with everyday that I fail forward. So many times people have pre-conceived ideas of what it means to be healed or recovered, or to move forward in their relationship with the Lord. What I have found as a constant is how the way forward always looks different than what I had pictured in my mind. God is God, and He does what He wants. He heals, he recovers, and He does it His own way.
It looks different for each person. But one thing is FOR SURE. God answers prayer. Lift up your wounds to the Lord and watch carefully, listen intently. He is making a way where there was no way, and the path is just for you.
I love you--message me-we are all in this together,
Briana
Comments
Post a Comment