Unveiling Hope

HALT!

H.A.L.T. is an acronym I learned in rehab. It stands for “hungry, angry, lonely, tired.” People in recovery are often taught that these four roots are the major causes of relapse. It’s been my experience that these roots are not limited to causing problems for people in recovery.

My biggest cause for concern was always anger. Growing up we were permitted to display only one emotion: happiness. Our happiness was to be demonstrated and not heard. As a result of formidable instruction in this area, the recognition and identification of other emotions became quite difficult.

If I saw someone smile at me, I could relax. A loud voice, I’m not talking about yelling, could induce visceral feelings of fear in me – that’s about as far as I could discern. The fear was: what’s coming next?

My mission in life became pleasing people, “making” them happy – because happy was something I could identify and feel safe with. Not long after rehab, with no more chemicals to numb and subdue my emotions, I began to have these strange and perplexing emotions. One in particular can be described this way: increased respiratory function; increase in blood pressure, tightness across chest, nausea accompanied with bodily tremors – particularly in the gastro-intestinal area. My doctor diagnosed this as ‘anger’. Wow! That’s pretty powerful. How do you get rid of it? “Report, respond, release, reconcile where possible.” Hmm. Sounds complicated and difficult.

After rehab, it didn’t take me long to realize that there was a lot of ‘stuff’ that gave birth to anger inside me. I did not like the physical or emotional symptoms. Quite frankly, it took me almost ten years of sobriety before I got a handle on this beast – and honestly – it had nothing to do with sobriety. I was able to let go of anger, as it came up, when I surrendered my life to Jesus.

Ephesians 4: 26-27 says this: “Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.” That really struck me as odd that Paul would write, “be angry.” What he was conveying was God’s message: go ahead and feel, but feel without sinning. Deal with it immediately. Don’t go to bed stewing. Don’t lose sleep because of it. Don’t wake up with it. The enemy is waiting and watching to see whether if you’re going to walk in love, or if he can induce you to sin.

If anyone ever had a reason to be angry it was Jesus. From the cross He gazed upon all those whose ignorance put Him there. Yes, it was His choice to accept it but He did it out of love. Jesus asked His Father to forgive them. 

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another as God in Christ forgave you." Ephesians 4:32.

The Battle of Addiction - Part 2

The reality of a mental hospital is this: people learn to sleep with one eye open – I may have been admitted because I was suicidal, but somewhere between being locked up and meeting all the other “casualties” I suddenly realized that I still wanted to live; I just didn’t know how. All I knew how to do was survive.

Suddenly, being a one-woman battalion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I spent a long seven days in lock up and another 21 days in detox. Those television movies where they show people detoxing are pretty much accurate. Days of withdrawals, fever and shaking was another sign that I couldn’t ignore. I had a problem. When I had expected my ex-husband to launch a counter-attack he actually planned a reconnaissance mission. He scouted things out with me over the phone – extended reams of grace to me – and brought our children to visit me. Explaining to my children what mommy was doing in the hospital for so long was my rock bottom. I couldn’t lie anymore. “Mommy is very, very sick and she’s staying here until she’s well so that she can be the mommy you both deserve.” Open eye – remove plank.

“I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you,” (Eph. 1:18).

One month at the mental hospital resulted in 28 days of physical sobriety. The next 28 days would be spent at a live-in rehab centre. I thought life at the hospital was tough. I equate rehab to what I imagine Westpoint Military Academy to be - boot camp was 28 days long complete with urine and blood tests, mandatory exercising and GROUP therapy.

In group therapy there were two rules: 1) no cross talking and 2) you must share (not any of that superficial stuff). I had gone a month without consuming drugs or alcohol, or even an aspirin. There was nothing available to me to keep all that “stuff” down. It was all starting to surface again: flashbacks, night terrors, nausea and depression. I was starting to lose control again. My addiction needed to be fed. My anorexia decided to rear its ugly head. Notwithstanding the eating disorder, I was able to make it through my tour of duty at “the Creek.”

Then came the after care – 90 meetings in 90 days. I despised those meetings. They liked to use the “G” word a lot. Oh, sometimes they’d try to disguise Him by using the term “higher power” but no one was fooling me. This was the period when every ounce of resentment, bitterness and anger (lots of anger) surfaced. I cannot even begin to explain the extent and depth of anger I had towards God. I blamed Him for everything, especially the fact that my children were motherless for two months. In my “rationalization” if I had not been emotionally, physically and sexually abused as a child and adolescent, I would not have needed to suppress all the memories with chemicals and therefore I wouldn’t have had to abandon my children. I saw God as my enemy and that lasted for the next 8 years.

I was physically healed from my addictions to chemicals, but I was always making a trade-off for some other habit, hurt or hang-up like smoking, exercising, bulimia, anorexia – you name it. My emotional growth was stunted and my spiritual growth was well – let’s just say there was no spiritual anything. I was dead inside.

“As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world,” (Eph. 2:1-2).

Then came that day – a sad and desperate afternoon in October 2003. Thoughts of sitting in my foxhole and pulling the pin on the grenade were taking me captive. I couldn’t bear the thought of hearing that iron gate slam behind me again. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing my children and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them. I was confused. I was alone and I was desperate seeking relief from living as a POW.

We met again – Him and me; me against Him. He didn’t look down on me and say, “Why didn’t you let me help you the first time? I could have spared you these last years.” I was shell shocked. My “adversary” was for me – not against me. He showed me mercy and compassion, grace and forgiveness. He reached down into the trench and picked up my bruised and bloodied body. “I know how to care for these wounds,” He said, “my Son went through much worse than this so you wouldn’t have to. Give me your heart and let me love you.”

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God,” (Eph. 2-8).

I was so tired and ashamed. “For he himself is our peace,” (Eph. 2-14).

This October I will celebrate more than recovery. I will celebrate that I have been rooted and established in His love. I will celebrate. I will testify. I will glorify. I will pray, “to know this love that surpasses all knowledge.” I will draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, cleansed from guilt. I will praise and acknowledge His ways. For when I put my foolish and prideful ways behind me, He was there. He is here always.

I don’t live in my past – I share that others might know the Hope I have. I pray that “you may grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,” for you.

The Battle of Addiction - Part 1

In recovery they say that an alcoholic or drug addict will hit rock bottom before admitting they have a problem. Rock bottom is what wakes us up when we hit the floor. I think the same holds true for any hurt, habit or hang up.

The sad part about hitting rock bottom is that in this particular battle, when we arrive at this point, the troops have usually bugged out and we’re sitting alone in the trenches facing the truth, the whole truth and nothing but.

I was a one-woman battalion for what seemed to be a life time. I hit rock bottom in March of 1996. I was what professionals call a “functioning addict.” I didn’t abuse drugs and alcohol to get high. I abused them to stay normal – subdued. There were years of chaos and trauma that required suppression. I switched between addictions – drugs to alcohol – and back. Inside my heart and mind, I was a landmine just waiting to detonate.

No one knew about the abuse, but they certainly knew that there was something amiss. My behaviour and my perpetual melancholic disposition were battle scars that were impossible to hide. Instead of a cluster of stars I wore a badge that read, “Handle with Care.”

I was completely self-absorbed and my night vision goggles didn’t function well in the light of day. I remember that day as if it was yesterday – March 17, 1996. I walked into the office of my company’s Employee’s Assistance Program manager. I don’t think she could have ever prepared herself for the words that came out of my mouth when I entered her office: “If you can’t help me right now, I’m going to go home and kill myself.”

One hour later: Imagine the sound of an iron gate dividing a long, marble floored corridor slamming behind you as you are being confined to the Crises Unit at the local mental hospital. It was still all about me. I remembered a promise I had made to God about a year earlier and wondered if this was my punishment for breaking it. I was laying on a gurney in the ER room watching the nurses slide a board under the mattress of my bed. I watched the doctor lift the paddles and prepare to shock me as I tilted my head in that surreal moment, I noticed that my heart rate was reading over 200 beats per minute. I prayed, “God, if you get me out of this, I’ll never do drugs again.” He got me out of it. I reneged on my promise. Now, here I was – a year later - this time sitting on the edge of a hospital bed wondering wasn’t that rock bottom enough? Did I really feel the need to outdo myself? I wanted to make another promise but I had broken so many – I had a lot of nerve, just not enough to make the commitment. I didn’t really think He was talking to me any more anyway.

What would my children think? What would my ex-husband think? What would my friends and my employer think? What would my enemies think? I felt as if my skin had been peeled off my body. I was completely exposed and there was no turning back now, even if I wanted to. The iron gate was locked.

Sometimes when you think you’re at your bottom, you’ve only begun to scratch the surface. The battle continues in tomorrow’s post.

“In Him, we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of Him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will,” (Eph 1:11).

What is This Thing Called Addiction?

If seduction is the deliberate act of enticing someone into a behaviour and addiction is the compulsion to repeat the behaviour, regardless of its consequences, then we are left to conclude that there is a precursor to both. We are left to presume that the addiction is the result of having been seduced repeatedly to the point where we serve the addiction as the tolerance increases.

Years and years ago, having been labelled an addict was somewhat of a relief. As far back as I can remember I had searched for an explanation for my irrational and unhealthy behaviours. I needed to blame something or someone for my dis-ease which resulted in one compulsion after another being played out in my life. So, when someone gave me the old, “You can’t help yourself you’re an addict,” it laid the foundation for future behaviour. They were right about something – ­I couldn’t help myself.

Having successfully completed my third rehab program, (the first two didn’t take), I then had to deal with my anger. I was angry at God. I blamed Him for the way I was and how my life had turned out. At the end of my anger came the revelation that all my behaviours were geared at seeking that which could fill the growing emptiness inside me. Contrary to popular belief, time doesn’t heal all wounds, but God does. By His grace, I was able to let go of my anger, (I had no energy left to sustain it). By letting go and letting God, He was able to show me the deepest longing that the enemy used to seduce me. That unmet need was a need for a perfect and unconditional love. Every addiction has been a new wine in an old wine skin - a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. The condition of my heart was critical and needed restoration – not patchwork. I couldn’t help myself. I had a God-shaped hole in my heart and without Him, the prognosis was surely death.

As God would have it, Jesus was sent to seek and save the lost. One day, the cliché “it’s not about you,” actually meant something. After years of having heard the first tenet of every good recovery program, “Admit we were powerless and that our lives had become unmanageable,” it finally germinated – into the second step: “came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

In the book of James, Chapter 1:14, it is written “but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed.” The key here is the order. Temptation comes only when our desire first separates us, (from God and/or others), and then entices or seduces us. Matthew writes, in Chapter 4, that the temptation of Christ occurred after having been led into the desert. Satan enticed Jesus with food, (lust of the flesh). Isn’t it wonderful how at the very moment of desperation, (our “bottom”), we cling to the only one we have complete trust in? Jesus trusted in the Word of God and fed on that.

The crucial thing to recognize is what entices us. We have spiritual, emotional and physical needs that must be met. In the first temptation Satan attacked Jesus’ physical needs. Jesus had been fasting. Identifying the enticement however is only half the battle, the other half we are powerless over. Only our Creator can identify the root of an addiction and it is only through intimacy with God that He will reveal the source of the root and restore our sanity.

We can try making deals with God. Satan tempted Jesus to do just that. The deals I tried making with God were countless ... and fruitless. The bottom line, with an addict, is this: we’ll always be brought to our knees; the choice is ours for the making. We will either serve our addiction, serve a false god or religion, or we can serve the Living Son of God who waits for us to ask, to seek, and to knock. We are free to choose death or life. Death is eternal separation from the One who completes us. Choosing Life offers mercy, grace, transformation, abundance, and the eternal peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding.