I’ve been almost forced in to thinking about addiction again lately.  It hasn’t been pretty, but I think I’ve realized a lot.  Andrea asked me a few weeks ago if I missed the old days.  I told her no.  I said there were still times when I think about them, and… Not crave anything, but I think about it.  I do miss smoking.  It’s a thorn in my side.  It bothers me.  Andrea said that God could remove that from me, and I believe he can. But.

I don’t think he will.  I found recently that I’ve lost patience for addicts.  I have the, “I did it, (quit) why can’t they?” mentality.  I get annoyed, and almost don’t even want to be there for people.  I believe that God gives me this thorn, to remind me.  To keep me on my toes.  Not to weaken me, but to make me stronger.

All of my friends are addicts, and I’d say most of them still use to this day.  When I see them, it breaks my heart.  But, my mind is saying, “Screw them, they’re idiots.  blah blah blah.”  That’s just how I am.  I think I disassociate, so when the inevitable happens, I won’t be too disappointed.  But, the truth is, I will.   I don’t want it to happen.

I don’t even know what to pray anymore for myself, or my friends.  I think I’ll always miss smoking, for reasons mentioned above.  I don’t know what to pray for my friends.  I pray they don’t die.  But I have a feeling some of them are going to have to (again) to get the point.

It’s depressing.  What do you pray when you don’t know what to pray?

The emptiness. The lost feeling. That void that just needs to be filled. That’s all it will take, Just fill this void, and everything will be OK. Right? How do I fill this void? What do I do to hide from the emptiness? How do I find myself?

These are the things that kept me hiding behind a bottle, or worse, for so many years. The temporary good feeling. The feeling that I’m not alone. If I get high, people can relate to me. If I get high, I can tolerate life. When I’m drunk, I’m a better person. These are all thoughts that I had, and I was serious about. People like me when I am drunk or speeding. I like me when I am drunk or speeding.

Slowly, my perspective changed. If I don’t get high, my life is miserable. I don’t drink that beer, my problems will find me. Sure, I drink a good amount, or, I do dope, but, no one can tell. I cover it up well. It makes me act like a normal person. It makes me want to live. I can kick this whenever I want. I just don’t feel up to it today. If I quit today, I’ll never be able to talk to all those people tonight. I quit today, I’ll sleep in and miss work. If I quit today, I’d have to get rid of my stash. Just too many reasons not to quit. Not my inability. Just too inconvenient for me. If people don’t realize that then who needs them? They don’t love me anyway. They are jealous that I have life under control. They are jealous that I found the secret. I’ve mastered the art of living with problems.

Ahhh the thoughts of an addict!

I’ve been off of drugs for ten months now. I honestly believe if I had used for another day, I would be dead. I think most people who knew me then would agree. I was in bad shape. I started going to church, and in May I got saved and quit drinking. When I got saved, I realized something. “ That emptiness. he lost feeling. That void that just needs to be filled. That’s all it will take, Just fill this void, and everything will be OK. Right? How do I fill this void? What do I do to hide from the emptiness? How do I find myself?” I found the answer. Christ. One word.

It’s amazing that it took me 23 years of self torture and mutilation to realize that that emptiness can’t be filled with ounces. That lost feeling can’t be filled with grams. My problems can’t be solved with a razor blade and a straw. My salvation isn’t measured by blood alcohol level. There is only one answer, only one word, only one person, only one. Christ.

I’m fortunate to find this out at the ripe age of 23. I still have a life to live, and believe me when I say, I am going to live this life. Not for me but for Him. Through Christ anything is possible.

23 years. **sigh** I contemplate this a lot. What I have to show for my life. What I have learned in my life span? Nothing extraordinary (I don’t think) I am nothing but a worker for Christ and I am 100% happy with that. There is nothing more important I could have learned. A 23 year lesson.

23 years. ** sigh of relief** Thank God it only took me 23 years

Ten days before Andrea and I started speaking to one another, rather than just knowing one another was probably one of the toughest times of my life.  A little before the first of the year, I had decided that doping was not the way I wanted to spend my life.  So, I proceeded to lock myself in my room and sweat, shake, cry, vomit, scream, vomit some more, and just want to die in general.  On the 12th, I decided to go out to get a beer, to take the edge off.  (Ha)  I ended up running into some “friends” of mine.  One being my dealer, who was obviously really missing my daily financial contribution of about 150 bucks.  So, she decided that she would give me some “free dope”.  One rule.  There really is no such thing as free dope.  It’s just a ploy to get you hooked, either again, or for the first time.  But, I took it.

That night, a friend who had no where to live asked if she could crash at my house.  I didn’t mind, I had an extra room, so what the heck?  Right?  When we got to my house, she started wigging out.  I was saying goodbye to another friend, and as I spun around to see what her problem was, I see a 4 foot long Red Bull mirror being swung at my face.  I didn’t even have time to react.  It just hit me.  I stumbled backwords, feeling the blood running down my face.  I didn’t know if glass had caught my eye or what, so I just stumbled around.

I heard a scream, I opened my eyes, she had grabbed a broken piece of glass and had her sights set on me.  Next thing I knew, I had been stabbed in the stomach, and was being cut all over with this piece of glass.  The only thing going through my mind was my mom’s voice.  “I don’t care what happens. Never.  Ever.  EVER hit a woman.” I was trying to figure out what I could do without hitting this girl.

Finally, I was able to grab her arms. (by now, both hands had pieces of glass, covered in my blood.)  I spun her around, and she stumbled to the ground.  I immediately sat on her.  Holding her arms with my knees.  I sat there for about 20 minutes while she kicked and screamed.  Finally she fell asleep.

Looking back, I assume she was wigging out on dope.  At the time, I just thought someone wanted me dead. After she fell asleep, I got up, stumbled to my bed, still bleeding and laid down.   (It was about 3:00 am on January 13th. A friday)

That morning, I was being poked.  I woke up to see a sherrif hovering over my bed.  I immediatly realized that my room probably looked like a murder scene.  But that is not why he was there.  His mission for the day was to evict my family.  yay.  I helped move some of the breakables out. (The guys that move you out don’t pay much attention to fragile stickers.  I had learned this two evictions ago.) After an hour of helping, I had to get to work.  I got a ride in, and when I got there, my boss handed me my last check, and told me I couldn’t work there anymore, and I that I needed to get help.  wow.  I knew today was not going to be a good day.  I got a ride back to my [former] house.  I got my dad.  I loaded him, and his wheelchair and my brother up, took them to a pay by the night, extended stay hotel.  I paid for two weeks, and I left.

With the rest of my money I went out, bought a mass quantity of dope, and alcohol.  Thinking back, I don’t believe I had intended to live past that night.  I went into the bathroom at the bar and did the entire bag of dope.  I paid the bartender, and stumbled out the door.  I walked up highway 78 a couple of miles and stumbled into the woods.  Laid down, and went to sleep.  I don’t know how long I was “asleep” but something woke me up, and I had an urge to live.  I walked to a gas station, stole a beanie hat, walked around back, to an outdoor bathroom, locked the door, and curled up.  That is where I spend the rest of my night.  That is also where I spent the next few nights, without drugs.  Without anything but time to think.  That, to me, was rock bottom.

I went back to my dad’s hotel room.  He let me crash on the floor.  The day before my birthday I went out, just for beer.  Still sobering up.  And got arrested for driving under the influence. When I got out of jail, I got on my dad’s laptop, got online, and sure enough, the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth was online.  I chatted her.  She informed me that she was supposed to be at my surprise party, that was called off, because I was in jail.  We haven’t gone but a few days without talking since that day.  A few months after starting to talk to her, I accepted Jesus Christ into my heart.  My life has NEVER been the same.

I count my sober day as January 13th.  That was the last day I ever did drugs.  Ever.  It took me a while to realize alcohol was also a problem, but I realized it.  Thank God!

I look back at these days, and just can’t believe it.  Two days ago, Andrea and I were kind of freaking out about having to take money out of our savings.  OUR SAVINGS!  Praise God that we have a SAVINGS!  Two or three years ago that was non existent!  I am a completely different person and there is no one to thank for that but Jesus Christ!   Really, it’s….. it’s…… beyond words.

Thank You God!

I believe God pulled me

I think we all have them.  I think everyone has that dark part of their mind, where they bury their deepest most painful memories, thoughts, and places.  As I write this, my heart is pounding.  The memories are running through my head, my veins, and I am almost nervous to dig these up.  I have told my Fiance stories of this house.  We have even driven by there.  Every time I see it, my eyes water up.  It’s the house I lived in on and off from the age of 9 or 10, all the way to 22.

The fights, the screaming, the drinking, everything rushes through me like a flooding river of emotions.  Don’t get me wrong, I do have some great memories there.  Playing in the woods with Matthew and Omar.  Parusing the neighborhood like we owned it.  But the pain greatly outweighs the good.

You see, this was the house where everything went wrong.  If you look on the top of the garage, that is our patio.  That is where my Mom told me she had Hepatitis C, and she wasn’t expected to live long. The patio is where my mom would sit before she got sick, drinking and smoking dope.    To the right of the front door, That was the master bedroom, that is where my father tackled me to the ground, and then had a heart attack directly on top of me.  That is where I was when I realized I could get punched by my mother and not flinch.

The first window from the left.  That was our kitchen.  That is where everything crazy happened.  I was actually thrown through that window by my mom’s friend. (On accident)  The kitchen, with the little 12 inch TV, is where the late night drinkings happened.  Where my older sister passed out of near alcohol poisoning on New Years, 1999.  It’s where my dad has had one heart attack, and where my mom held a knife to her wrist, threatening to kill herself.

The next window over, that was our dining room.  That is where my mom and my sister had a good amount of their fights.  Where I would have to get in between them.  taking punches, crying for them to stop.    That is where my dad had a fit of dementia and tried to comb his hair with a switchblade, and I had to wrestle him to the ground and pull the knife out of his hand. (My dad is a large large man) That is where we only had dinners on Thanksgiving, and that turned into a fight every year.  That is the room the first (and only) time I punched my dad.  That room is a room filled with emotion, tears, and brotherly love.  A lot of my anger was unleashed in that room, a lot of my (what I thought was) growing up took place.

Downstairs, is where everything else took place.  More fighting, more mistakes.  Downstairs is where I saw my best friend laying dead on our couch in our living room.  Downstairs is where I drank myself to a near coma when I found out my sister had died.  Downstairs is where I was drinking when I found out my mother was in the ICU from her car accident.  Downstairs.  Downstairs.

I can’t even begin to get into the drug use that took place.  I can’t even begin to say how ashamed I am for my actions just as much as my families actions.

I am almost embarrassed to say how much I am shaking from piling this all together.  How much it all still hurts.  How much I hate that house.  The stories don’t end there, but my nerves do.  I can’t begin to talk about everything else that happened in that house.

I truly believe God reached down and pulled me out of that mess.  Being evicted from that house, (Not the first time we were evicted, and not the last) was a great thing that happened to me.  Getting out of that house was God’s Saving, amazing beautiful love.  Even before I loved Him.  Right now, I am sad.  Right now, I am overwhelmed with emotion from just looking at that picture.  Right now, I know God has me, and that is what makes this OK.  That is what gives me the strength to publish this post.  Jesus Christ is lifting my heart, and allowing me to love.  Allowing me to let go.  Finally.

I pray that God can reach down and take this anxiety away.  I pray that God can touch someone else with this post.  I hope you know that God can remove you from the most sticky situations and make them great.  I pray you know that God doesn’t want you to hurt.  He’s waiting, arms open for you.  He loves you already, regardless of where you are in your life!

When I sat down to write about different kinds of addictions, I thought that I would be able to.  I honestly thought I would have enough to say, and know enough about it.  Now, it’s time for me to get real.  There are a million and one reasons someone will use drugs.  My mother got addicted, because while she was asleep, her boyfriend, (My “Bio-Dad”) shot crank into her arm.  That is how she got addicted.  That sucks.  I got addicted, just by using it.  I have friends that used recreationally for years before it got the best of them.

I think the amount of people I know who used or use drugs is what is making this so difficult to write.  So, one blog into this “series”, I’m stopping.  Why?  I don’t have all of the answers.  Here’s the real.  If you are addicted to anything,  Sex, drugs, alcohol, the internet, porn, chocolate, coffee, affection, attention, twitter, shopping, or microwavable dinners, you have a problem.  I was going to try and analyze it, and pull each one apart, but the truth is, there is a separation.  You want to be separated from the world, because it, or something in it, has hurt you so badly.  I know that hurt.  I have experienced that hurt.  I have (pretty much) overcome that hurt.

How?

There is a beautiful grace in the love and heart of Jesus Christ.  Sound corny?  I used to think so too.  I was also addicted to refusing to believe there was a higher power.  Until I finally hit rock bottom.  I woke up, a sheriff hovering over my bed, I still had stab wounds that had not yet stopped bleeding, and I was being evicted.  I got to work that day, and I lost my job.  That night, (January 14^th 2006), I slept in the woods for most of the night and then a gas station bathroom with a beanie hat I had just stolen from the gas station to get warm.  That is when I decided to turn around, and look at my life.  It wasn’t long after that when I finally allowed Jesus into my heart.  That is when my life, though still sometimes difficult to deal with, became whole.  That is when I was finally not alone anymore.

If you have an addiction, no matter how small you think it is, I urge you to get help.  If you don’t know where to go, E-mail me, comment here, find someone else to talk to.  I don’t want you to hit rock bottom.  Because for some people, rock bottom is dead.  I don’t want you to hit rock bottom, because that is the darkest, coldest, loneliest place in this world. I don’t want you to go through anything I went through.  or worse.  I might not know you, but I can promise I do not wish those lonely days on anyone.  Please consider looking into help.  Google it, Yellow Page it, talk to anyone who might have some answers.

I care about this world.  I care about the people of this world.  That includes you.  No one is any better than anyone else, and YOU deserve a second chance at life.  But, to get it, you have to go get it.

That’s all I have for ramblings today.  If you want to add to this, please let me know.  Also, definitely comment!!