The choice

In April 2015, I was in a really dark place. Getting out of bed took hours. Looking in the mirror was traumatic. When the phone rang I wouldn't even look at it, I would just turn the ringer off. My physical and mental health was suffering. My friendships and relationships with my family were becoming more distant. I was irritable and angry. I was also overworked. I was running my nonprofit organization 60-70 hours per week on top of a part-time graduate school program with a 12 hour/week internship. It didn't happen overnight. Depression never does. I plowed through my days and weeks so that I wouldn't have to think or feel. My escape was busyness and food. I needed help, and I didn't know where to turn or how to ask for it. 

One month prior, I ended an extremely unhealthy relationship with someone who suffered from mental illness and substance use disorder. He constantly tried to manipulate me and when he wasn't lying to me he was lying to himself and everyone else in his life. When we woke up in the morning he would go right into the bathroom and smoke a bowl. Every 30 minutes until roughly 3:00 PM he would stop whatever he was doing and return to the bathroom. It never made him feel better even though he called it his "medicine." Once the late afternoon hit he started drinking. At 5'8 and 130 pounds, he would drink an entire handle of tequila or an entire 12-pack of beer by the time dinner hit. When the weed and alcohol ran out he would sit and stare at the wall then break out into tears and lament about how much emotional pain he is in. It was so difficult to watch and even more horrific to be around. After those episodes he would abruptly leave the house and return an hour later completely wasted. But, this intoxication was different. It wasn't as trackable. When I figured out he was addicted to pills in addition to the weed and alcohol I was training a police department in how to use naloxone, the medication used to reverse an opioid overdose. He had seen me provide this training many times and could have probably lead a training himself. The irony is all too real. At this point in the presentation I was teaching the officers about signs of being high and withdrawal symptoms. As I was describing these symptoms somehow my boyfriend appeared in my mind. I recalled an episode that had occurred the week prior where he was lying in bed shaking, crying, scratching and sweating profusely. I literally couldn't speak. I stopped in the middle of the training to throw up from shock. It was that moment and only that moment that I realized he was addicted to pills. 

Looking back now I realize that he was doing whatever he could do to pull his brain away from the destructive and confusing thoughts that plagued him. I knew this all too well as an addictions counselor. I'd go to work and help people, and then come home to someone who didn't see the relevancy of my expertise as a source of compassion, support or comfort. Instead I was blamed. My kind heart and knowledge were used against me daily. I know what you're thinking..."how could you not have known?" I face that question a lot. I wish there was an easy answer. 

What I do know is that I stayed in that relationship for far too long and used the "disease" as the excuse for why I should stay with someone who suffered from an illness. The truth is that I was afraid to be alone. I had such low self-esteem that I was willing to stay with someone who could not even identify my value in his life let alone his own. They say love is blind. I think loneliness is, too. 

It was midnight when I decided to leave with my dog, Sam. I packed up my things and headed home without even thinking twice. What lead me to make the decision? Not only had I hit my breaking point but the night before I felt a strange urging or whisper. I didn't know at the time that it was a whisper. All I heard in my head was the word, "GO." Driving away, it literally felt like an entire person had been removed from inside of my body. For the first time in months I felt a release. I knew in that moment that I was never going back. A few weeks later I was lying in bed crying, miserable, and alone. When that got old (or exhausting) I paced around my room trying to figure out how to "make myself feel better." Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the book, "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldredge, which my friend Michelle gave to me months before. Dust was starting to accumulate around the edges. It was the only book on my dresser. I picked it up and read the back cover. It said:

"Your heart matters more than anything in all creation. The desires you had as a little girl and the longings you still feel as a woman are telling you of the life God created you to live. He offers to come now as the Hero of your story, to rescue your heart and release you to live as a fully alive and feminine woman. A woman who is truly captivating." 

That night was the first night I talked to God. I've been talking to Him ever since...and He answers back. Oh, does He ever. It has not been an easy road. I have had to dig deep and heal wounds that I have tried to bury since childhood. But that night, alone in my house with my little fluff ball Sam, I started my relationship with God. Little did I know, it would become the most important decision I have ever made and ever will make.