Writing Darkness Vs Writing Hope

I want my blog to be a place of hope. A place where someone that was in my spot, may see that hope.

I go back and forth because addiction is so dark. I have many bad memories from my childhood and fast forward to my own parenting, bad was there too.

Do I dump all the darkness here? Or only show  the hope and good?  This is what I’m struggling with.

Being realistic, I’m a tiny one in this blog game. I don’t have thousands of followers and I’m still learning so much. I don’t have goals to make any money with my writing, I only have a drive to share what I’ve found to be good. 

My Bible reading showed me a few things today

1 Peter 3:15

Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear 

Psalm 119:46

I will speak of the testimonies also before kings and will not be ashamed 

Titus 

3:4 & 7

But after that (sin) the kindness and love of God our Savior toward man appeared that being justified by HIS grace we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life

I’ve read somewhere that the word hope is the Bible 129 times. True hope in a hopeless world. That is where it is.  

I’m honest and I let my words just go everywhere when I’m writing. I want to keep it real, but show the light that has been shown to me as well.

Hopefully I’ll be able to walk that fine line of truth and hope in times of complete darkness and depression.

Tiny

Light and Shadows……My Take on The Shine Photo Challenge

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I was in my car saying a prayer. I haven’t been feeling as up lately. So much on my mind. I was asking please show me something. Show me You are still with me. Show me You will help me keep my hope. Then I caught this out of the corner of my eye.

Sometimes God uses ugly curtains and dirty windows to show us He hears us. We just need to be observant and looking for Him.

Thankfully God allowed the sun to shine in the exact spot needed, to make the shadows that showed me the cross. I thank God for sending Jesus to that cross. Because of that cross, I can live with hope in my life.

Shine

Artificial Christian 

Please Lord don’t let this be me. Keep me from judging people, remind me that is your job. 

Don’t let me be a prayer girl in public but not get on my knees in my home.

If I’m ever able to do good for your name, please let that be only for you to shine, and not me.

When I read Your Word, let me learn and stay humble. Never cocky to those who won’t pick it up.

Help me to love all people. Even those I don’t like. Especially those that hurt me, or are mean to my children.

Help me to stay hopeful about my life. And to know that hope and peace (that passes all understanding) can ONLY come from  you.

I pray all the bad I have experienced is for a reason. I pray that struggle was for something. I pray I don’t go backwards.

I’ve always been real, I’ve always been honest. To the point I destroyed my husband’s pride by telling many of  my secrets. Please God I hope you help me find a good balance. Don’t let me lose my passion about being real, but let me not bring embarrassment to my family.

There are a million artificial Christian running around this planet. Please don’t ever let me be one of them. Keep me humble and let me always know you’ve done the good in my life, not me.

Artificial

To The Moma That Met Jesus Today 

I wrote about you earlier on this little blog I have. I wrote about how I understood you better than you thought. But maybe you knew and you felt the same way. 

I’ve reached out to your son today. He’s got a huge heart. I don’t know your daughter as well, but she is beautiful. 

I’m sorry we weren’t closer, or never pushed past the aquaintance level. But I thought about you often. Did you still drink? Did you wish you could stop? Did you hate yourself everyday? Or maybe you were happy. For some reason, I don’t think that was the case. Not with that look in your eyes. 

Maybe it was just the resignation of who you were. Maybe it was easier to just turn off all emotions from day to day.

I heard after you got sick, you quit drinking. Maybe you had hope that it wasn’t too late. I heard your family took out the boat a few times  and you joined them. I hope you had a blast.

I know you probably thought time was on your side. One day you would quit drinking, one day this hell on earth would end. But I’m sure it was a punch in the gut when you received your diagnosis.

I’m so sorry this has happened today. I’ve grieved for you and for your kids. Your passing will stick with me and I’ll never forget you. I sincerely mean that. 

Your son told my daughter you knew Jesus, so I’m positive you are at peace at this moment. But I wonder if you were angry. Angry to leave your husband. Angry you wouldn’t see your children get married. Or possibly just sad. Sad that you couldn’t change any of  it. 

I know alcoholism. I know that darkness and the loneliness. I know the shame…. it’s such a huge burden to bear. 

But I also know you are home now. I know you are at peace and no longer fighting that battle, or fighting for your life. 

I just wished you’d known there wws a family that thought about you. A family that never judged. A family that was pulling for you. And a girl that always thought she’d have time to connect and reach out. 

Rest in peace JS. I’ll see you when I come home. 

My Hope Is His Promises

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Everyone has that one thing that tempts them like no other. Whether it be greed, drugs, drink, another person….it can be anything. Only you know what tempts you.

 

God allows temptations to come. But He also has an escape plan for you.

Alcohol is Taking Another Mother

​I’ve talked before about the survivor’s guilt I battle daily. The guilt of looking back from the other side of addiction. Why am I here? Why are the others stuck or even worse, dead?
I don’t know how long this guilt will stay with me.

I have a neighbor that lives 3 doors down from me. I’m not sure how old she is…mid forties maybe? I’m not close friends with her, but we’ve bumped in to each other over the years. We have kids the same age. Our daughters aren’t tight but they run in the same circle, I know her son from the days I worked at the middle school. One time him and a friend snuck to my home in the middle of the night and left notes to me everywhere. Your the best they all said.

The very first time I met this neighbor I was picking my daughter up. She had went to a party at her house for her son. I remember the lady invited me in. You want to watch The Girls Next Door and drink a beer? I said no, at the time I wasn’t a heavy drinker. I kept my drinking at home. She seemed nice enough. I did learn she managed a restaurant that had been in her family for years. She told me how hard it was, but that she loved it.

As I went up and down in my life, I now know she did as well. She had to sell the restaurant. The new owners kept her as an employee but according to her they weren’t nice and ran her out. My daughter says she believes that is when my neighbor first started loosing control.

My daughter has a boyfriend of 5 years. This boyfriend is best friends with my neighbor’s son. Because of this my daughter has been in and out of that house for years.

I’ve always seen the house was known for parties. Drive by and there would be 15 cars there. Teenagers to adults. Complete opposite from my home, where I locked people out.

Multiple times I’d run into my neighbor. I watched her turn from a very pretty lady, to a person that was completely miserable. I worked at a gas station for a short time. She’d come in and say oh good grief my husband ran out of beer. I knew this lie because at the time, I said it too. I’d talk to my daughter….no he didn’t even drink tonight, she did.

The last time I saw her I was no longer a drinker. She was buying the same brand 30 pack I’d bought for years. She was drunk. I heard the same line….my husband needed beer. My husband was in our car waiting for me. My neighbor and I talked for awhile. She wanted a job so bad. Asked me to go looking with her. We could talk and hang out. This was what she was saying….we’ll be friends. I felt so bad for her. Trapped in my pill addiction, I could see me in her. I wasn’t drinking but I was no different than her. We were both sad miserable moms and wives. Trapped in our own skin. I got back in my car, who the heck was that? Our neighbor, you didn’t recognize her? No….I don’t want you hanging out with her. That worries me. I understand honey, don’t worry. I was just being nice to her, I won’t volunteer my friendship right now. 

My husband isn’t rude or judgmental. He’s quite the opposite. He has a huge heart and was fighting to protect me from myself. It wouldn’t be good for me to become best friends with a known drinker at that time. Maybe never.

 I never heard from her again. Didn’t run into her at the gas station anymore. Any news I heard was through my daughter.

About 2 months ago my daughter told me she has cirrhosis of the liver. 

My neighbor never picked up another drink. I don’t know if this is true or not, but it’s what her kids believe.

Her kids were angry, upset. This upset my daughter. I tried to explain. Remember how angry you were with me? Think about my own moma. How angry am I with her. How would I be if she was sick. I believe you can turn fear to anger because that’s way easier to deal with….I won’t judge her kids. They are kids….late teens.

It’s been up and down. She’s better, she’s not, she needs a transplant, she’s in the hospital, she’s back out.

My daughter, who has a heart as big as her daddys told her boyfriend’s moma about the neighbor. Her response was goog god! She drank that much?? This was said as she was guzzling her wine. I can’t stand a judgemental person.

Can’t stand them! Why judge? Just keep your mouth shut…

My daughter’s boyfriend got the latest news last night. She’s on a breathing and feeding tube. The chaplain came. The doctors said it wouldn’t be long, possibly in the night.

I told my daughter you guys need to go. Go see her kids. Just let them know you are there. They went.

I don’t know how to process this. I don’t know her very well. But I do know her very well. We’ve walked down a similar path.

I’m praying for her and I have been since I heard. Even before I knew she was sick, I would think of her. Does she know how much alike we really are? Does she know there are people near her that felt bad for her? There were people that never judged and understood? I secretly rooted for her in my heart.

She’s still alive as of this writing. God could pull a miracle and she could be fine. Or the news could come at any time. According to her son, she is saved.

I’m praying for God’s will. I’m praying for her husband and her kids.

Addiction and alcoholism is so real. It kills people every day. It shouldn’t be this way. It’s an epidemic that isn’t discussed enough in my opinion.

I’m still rooting for her and all the addicts and alcoholics stuck in themselves

.Volunteer

Beach Living? Who Knows

​One of my flaws, and I still have many, is that I obsess over things or ideas. Then I get bored and move on to a new one. My poor husband. He has to hear all these brilliant things I want to do, or will do. He just smiles and says yes that’s great….because he knows it won’t last.
Somehow I’ve managed to not get bored with him. We’ve been together 23 years.

My latest goal has been to move to the beach. The way I look at it is this, God made so many beach towns. Surely there is a spot in one for me. Why do I have to be stuck in the state I was born? How do thousands of people just pick up and start over, but for us it’s impossible…
My husband has tried to explain the reasons over and over, but I have a comeback for each no we can’t.

I’ve said before how I’ve turned to prayer for every need. But I still don’t have my beach home.

Something I’ve learned in my prayer journey is your heart can change.my desire is to get to the beach. My dream is to live near water. But if it’s not God’s desire, I don’t want it anymore.

Who knows what God is protecting me from, by keeping me in my town? My husband has said IF we ever move, we’d stay in an apartment first. What if I move next door to a neighbor that has access to medicine? What if I was surrounded by alcohol on all sides? Would I fail? Could I stay sober in a beach town. Especially since some of my best partying memories happened right on the sand!

I’m learning some prayers go unanswered for a reason. Did I really beg God for a beach house? No…
But I did slide it in here and there, just as a suggestion.

I found the weekly photo challenge on Wednesday of this week. And I made myself walk out of my house and drive around my town. And I actually looked around. I’m lucky to be here. I live in a cute town that is full of history. Within my city are little unincorporated spots. I’m in on of those. We moved multiple times when we got married, my husband bought our first house when we were 20. He knew when that town was about to go downhill. His goal was to get our kids in the best school possible. So that’s what we moved here for, my oldest was in Kindergarten when we moved where we are now. And he was so right. Not long after we moved we drove through our old town. It was a depressing site.

We are probably the poorest people in our current town. But we get by. Our needs are met (I’d like to go back to work….but waiting on God – still.)

God is answering this prayer by changing my heart. Letting me see and actually be grateful for my spot. Right slap dab in the middle of the state. Hundreds of miles from any coast. (I am 20 minutes from my uncles lake house….actually it’s a lake shack, but it’s near water and I love it everytime I get to go. I would live in a box on the dock.) He is showing me that He hears me but He wants me right here. I don’t know why, but He does. I’d rather Him answer my prayers by giving me my needs than solely what I want. My feelings and my wants may lead me to trouble.

That’s the funny thing about prayer. Your allowed to pray for things you want, God likes that! But your answer might be that God just needs to change your mind and heart.

I heard yesterday people focus so much on feelings. God is true and THE answer whether you feel like it or not. God doesn’t say don’t sin, unless you feel like it. No way. If you feel like sinning, pray about it. God may change that feeling.

So thanks to that little photo challenge on WordPress for showing me my town. And thanks to God for not answering that prayer, for whatever His reason is.

As just a teeny sidenote….my husband has been called to work out of town. The last time he was gone was when he left me. We were in a totally different place than we are today. I’m surrounded by 5 other states. In each state there are thousands of cities. My husband was called to work in the state I had picked out. He is in the city beside my chosen beach city. He has seen the school. He has seen apartments. He keeps sending me pictures. Is he there for a reason? I don’t know….I can’t predict the future.

I do know I’m at peace in my home. I know I have the ability to make my house a home again. I let it go downhill in my addiction. I know that I’m okay here around my family. I’ll also be okay if God allows the change near the beach.

If God doesn’t answer every prayer don’t get discouraged. You can ask for peace and contentment for the place you are right now. And you may find that you are right where you are supposed to be.

(How I’m Learning To Not) Hate My Moma Part 1

I could write a million blog posts about our relationship, and it not fully be explained. As a kid I loved her, and I know she loved me. 

My preacher used to preach about intenders. People who will change tomorrow, or next week. Eventually next week is 30 years and you’ve intended your life away. I still beg God, don’t let me be an intender. 

My mom grew up the youngest girl out of 6 kids. 4 brothers and 1 sister. They all have a drug and alcohol past, and 4 of them are either in or have battled full blown addiction. Their parents, my Nana and Papa weren’t drinkers. They were good people who fully served the Lord. My Nana was definitely a one of a kind. If I’m able to have a tenth of the faith she held, I’ll be just fine. We only need a mustard seed anyway.

So my mom didn’t grow up in an addict’s house. She had awesome parents. She was a daddy’s girl and to this day everything she says goes back to her childhood. Same as her sister. They are both stuck in that house in their minds.

My mom had me when she was 19. My parents married but divorced by the time I was 3. My dad tells me it was because of drugs. They had a stash that was to be sold to make some money. Mom took the stash, daddy left moma. I don’t know if that’s the truth, but it’s his truth. Mom says daddy left all the time, which others confirm. That’s her truth.

Moma remarried when I was 5. I was the whiny brat that obsessed over my moma. She was everything to me. We would color, she loved to sing, she loved her own moma and we spent so much time there. She was a good fun person.

But sometimes she drank. One of my first memories was being at the movies with her and some friends. They were all drinking in the parking lot. Hey – I don’t think we are supposed to be doing this. I don’t think you guys are supposed to drive with me in the car after drinking. Shut up, don’t tell your moma what to do. She’s allowed to have fun. She’s the grownup, not you.

I shouldn’t have been there. 

That particular night led to one the biggest fights. My mom would go crazy and my dad would have to try and stop the madness. Moma would throw things, punch, kick and claw. Daddy would try and hold her down. During this fight I called my Nana. You’ve got to get me out of here. She did, at least for that night. 

I’ve learned more about moma’s battle by looking back and realizing, oh she was on drugs then. She was a drinker at this time. So many things fell in place, and made sense. 

There was a time period my moma worked for a year. My step dad, stayed home with me. He always cooked and cleaned and the house ran smooth. Mom reminded us about this period for years. I’ve worked, don’t you remember?? I worked while he stayed home!! I’ve done things!!  My parents have been married 34 years. He did not work for 2 years combined over the years. She only worked one. He always provided. I always had what I needed when it was him doing the caring. 

Mom had some surgeries, and I grew up in a specific doctor’s office. I knew all the ladies by name, and spent so much time sitting on the footstool of the big table as she would sit above me with her latest complaint. 

I was a kid. This was my normal. Knock down fights, lunches on the footstool and hanging out with nurses.

But still she was a great mom. She loved me and I knew it. For my 5th birthday she made me a huge Mickey Mouse cake for my birthday. She decorated it for what seemed like days. Until her carpal tunnel flared up. Just kidding. No I’m not, it flared. I heard about it for years. Remember when I made that cake?? Oh yes, I remember how you took an awesome memory and turned it into a “see what all I’ve done for you!”

My parents tried to have another baby and I became a big sister. I was 8 years old. I loved that girl. It was my job to protect that girl. And oh how I tried. The fighting would start, I’d run to her room and close my door in that tiny house. I’d play with her and try to sing real loud. It gave me something to do, instead of just listening to the choas right outside my room.

 I was a happy kid. Like I said, it was my normal. 

There is so much more to tell. The affair, the murder and the scary friends mom picked over us. 

Hopefully it will seep through my words thatI really don’t hate her. Some parts of her I know with a fierceness because I’ve been there too. But other parts of her I’m still processing. My hope is that pouring it all out will allow the remaining pieces to fall into place. 

I’m not just a whiny girl that had an awful childhood. My childhood wasn’t awful and I truly truly loved my moma. She wanted so bad to be a different version of herself and she was for a long time. She was a functioning addict, until she just couldn’t function. It can happen to the best of us.

Millions

Downsizing

Two days ago I drove a 2013 red Ford truck. It was beautiful. But we hated it. We bought it at the beginning of my latest demise.

It held so many bad memories. Between the gas, payment and insurance, it was another house payment. For something we didn’t love.

Thankfully my dad is a used car salesman. He has sold our truck and we are paying it off.

I call that progress.

As the daughter of a used car salesman, I’ve seen some hideous rides. He used to take me to high school in an old Volkswagen bus, complete with burlap curtains. I would hide in the back until the coast was clear. 

In 1993 I got my first car. I loved that car. It was a 1971 dark green (my favorite color) Volkswagen Bug. My real dad bought that for me, thank God. I taught myself how to drive the stick the day I turned 16. And it only took me 3 months to get up the biggest hill in my town.

When I took my dad the truck, I knew my dad was loaning me a car to drive while we make some plans. So I couldn’t be picky. I am now the proud driver of a 1993 Volvo. 

My dad’s quote- this is an oddball car for an oddball driver. (No offense to me, he’s not actually selling it to me. He knows he can make money off this beauty to the right person.)

My husband was worried about our kids. We live around uppity rich folks. No other 1990’s Volvos in our little town.

Quit worrying. The goal was to stop having car payments. And we are there! The kids will be fine. 

My 7 year old is still crying over the truck, but he’s a little dramatic dude. But my oldest son is the oddball. He wants us to buy this car so bad. He wants to call my dad and beg him to let us keep it. My oddball 15 year old skater guy looks at this car like I did my Bug.

I’ve had to explain how to open the door, that you have to manually push down every lock. But it’s also allowed me to explain hey- be grateful the radio is updated and we have power windows. It’s the little things.

I don’t know if we will be able to keep this car that my kids see as ancient.  

But for my oddball’s sake, I’m crossing my fingers.

Oh…and if you choose to make fun of those whose car is a little older or louder than yours, it may be by choice. They may have lived long enough to see that the nicest rides don’t mean anything, if you’re killing yourself trying to pay it off. 

Ancient

The Death That Is Killing My Family 

​I’ve talked about family members that I’ve lost. They couldn’t get out from under feeling hopeless. 
My husband left me, I withdrew from subs. On a Friday he sent me a picture of his work truck filled with clothes. He was coming back home.

This all happened in this August.

I was so relieved to have him home. I had a job doing customer service from home. I worked 10 hours a day. He would poke his head in or we’d talk between my calls.

He was home about an hour and I got one of those life changing calls. The ones that punch you in the gut. My husband said you have to take this, it’s your dad. I immediately knew….this is it. Your mom has been found dead. She’s overdosed and it’s over. No no no, please don’t give it to me, just find out what’s wrong. You HAVE to take this, your dad needs to talk to YOU.

Hello…..

My dad (well stepdad, but he’s a good one, we don’t say step unless I’m talking to my real dad)
There’s been an accident. Your uncle is dead. I started screaming. I backed up to my wall.
I looked at my husband….he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead.
Wait that’s not all.
We are at the police station.
Your brother was driving the truck.
Your brother is in jail.

As quickly as I could, I let my job know I was leaving. The girl that had hid in her room for over a year, couldn’t get to her family fast enough. The girl that had been avoiding that brother’s call had to get to him.

I could not imagine how he felt. I could not believe my uncle was gone.

This is my baby brother, he’s actually a grown man…but always a baby brother to me. This is the same brother I helped raise, the one that prayed for his family to speak again, the one that loved all of us, the one that isn’t perfect, but the one that was in church every service. The one that stilled wished moma would do better, the one that had been helping my uncle off and on for a year. The one that gave him a place to stay, and fed him and helped him with his needs. The only rule was don’t drink.

My uncle….oh goodness, he was in such a dark place. My uncle was addicted to medicine. But that’s such an expensive habit. He couldn’t afford it. So instead he tried to drown those cravings with alcohol. This is an awful feeling. You can’t get what you feel like you need, so here let me drink till I pass out.

He was gone.

My moma’s baby brother was gone. This was the same uncle I grew up with. The creative sweet guy that always included me. The one that poked toothpicks in eggs and helped me make a town with our egg people. Our egg people created an old western complete with a huge train track. The same uncle that could pull edible leaves out of the ground and feed me. The uncle that made a small bomb, just for fun. The same uncle that helped me get my mom’s credit card information so we could sponsor a hungry child. The one that watched The Twilight Zone and Inspector Gadget with me. The one that I looked up to for years, and this fascination followed me through adulthood. My husband and him weren’t the best of friends, 2 cocky men normally battled. But secretly they liked each other, I fully believe this.
This was also the same uncle that beat cancer. But cancer started pushing him down mentally. My uncle’s stance turned to why are we here. Why is life so painful.

This uncle changed with his addictions. I took my children to his house one Christmas. He steadily drank. Eventually he stood up and put his eyes on my oldest daughter. Every word was a put down about my husband. I could see the shock in my daughters face, and I could feel it in my own body. I immediately grabbed our belongings and tried to leave. Then my drunk uncle decided to grab my babies car seat, with him buckled in. He was 2 months old and I kept grabbing and grabbing. Please put him down!! No, your not leaving, your ruining my Christmas!
After what seemed like so long, my dad was able to get the seat and head to my truck. Once there the craziness continued…uncle hanging on the truck, me shaking, kids screaming, family trying to pull him off.I was finally able to pull off. I watched in the rear view mirror as my brother tried to calm my uncle down. I watched my uncle spiral around, arms going crazy. I saw those arms make contact with my moma. I saw my moma fall to the ground which resulted in a broken arm.

I hated my uncle. Hated him.

For years he tried to apologize, go away I’d say.

I saw him in May of this year. I walked right up and hugged him and said oh I love you. I hope you are well and you look so good. He just cried. It’s ok, it’s ok!! By this time, I had my own regrets which made it easier to see his side. Not agree, but see….

This death is ripping my family apart. The family my brother prayed would come together. It’s like they feel we have to pick sides. This was an awful accident. My brother meant no harm, he was trying to fix people.

I don’t know what will happen with my brother, but I know I’m praying. I know 2 days before this happened, I begged him to leave everyone alone. Focus on your own family or others will drag you down. It’s not your job to save everyone.

I’ll end this by saying all this happened 5 days after I came off subs. I have no doubt had I been on the medicine, I would have continued to hide in my room. I would have missed supporting my brother and grieving for my uncle. God knew what He was doing every step of my path.