I want to start this post off by saying that this week has been incredibly hard! I moved home- well to my parents- and plan to be here until I begin school again. Since then, I have faced some difficult battles- in some cases I won, and in others.. well, I'm sad to report that I lost.
When I talk about battles, I'm talking about battles in several different wars. I believe that in life we will all have various wars we wage. Currently, I'm waging wars against addiction, myself (good v. bad), stigmas, and other things.
Home can be very hard for me, not because it is a bad or unsafe place, but because it is a familiar place in which my old-self grew. My old self also left many traces of triggers for addiction, PTSD, and unwelcome thoughts. Coming home is hard because its like coming home to a mine field. You know there's going to be bombs, only you don't always know where. Therefore, you have to be careful.
As I came home I knew that the bombs were going to exist and I did everything that I could think of to avoid them. I'm really proud of this last week even though it was probably one of the hardest. I faced the temptation to use the first few days that I was home, but I won those battles and used the tools that I've learned in recovery to cope with the triggers. I also won many battles against who I used to be and let who I want to be grow a little more.
A few days ago I lost a battle in recovery. It didn't take long for despair and feelings of worthlessness to settle in. I started to wonder if I really wanted to change. I began to question where I really was in my recovery, and if I was being honest with myself. I began to get very frustrated. I didn't understand how this could happen when I thought I was doing everything that I was supposed to. Unknown at the time to me, this was also a win. Allow me to explain before you go jumping to conclusions.
The last time this happened, I went into a deep and dark depression for nearly a month. It was what made me decide to start the program all over again. It was huge and it tore at me and what I thought of myself. I found myself breaking and knew that the only way to put myself back together again was to come to the Lord, but I was too afraid to admit to Him that I'd messed up big time. When I finally did, only then, did the relief and peace come. That took 3.5 weeks.
This time it only took me 2 days. I began doing something more than my everyday stuff- I picked up a book about addiction and began to read again and to remind myself what using does to my body and what the long term effects will be. I'm so grateful that I did- I forgot how much I didn't know about the consequences of my actions. Not only did I begin reading again, but I began working on my self esteem; I began focusing on fixing me again.
Last night, I found an ID picture from fall 2011 and looked at how rough I looked, I compared it to an ID picture that I had taken this last fall (2013). I appeared much softer, happier, and peaceful in the latter picture. In this comparison, I realized that I really had changed a LOT and that I didn't want to go back to who I was in 2011. And as much as I like who I'm now, I don't want to be that either- I want to be someone so much greater. The only pathway to that person is over the bridge of recovery. I realized that I do want to change, and that I do want to recover.
That being said, I want to share an experience that I read about tonight. I read about an addict who had gotten clean, and even served an LDS mission earlier in his/her life, but had later found themselves once again in the depths of the pit of addiction. He/she had robbed a bank and were sitting only a few blocks away in the bushes waiting for the police to clear the area. At which moment this person realized that their actions were affecting REAL people, REAL lives and not just the "faceless, unfeeling being protected by insurance." He (we're going to assume it's a guy because it's easier to type that way) then, feeling hopeless, and overwhelmed with the magnitude of his choices took his gun off safety, filled the chamber with a bullet, put it in his mouth and began to pull the trigger. At which point he says,
"I actually felt the trigger begin to yield, when suddenly something happened. The street in front of me and the world around me went quiet, and I heard and felt a very soft yet clear voice say these words: "I'm still here." I knew that it was the voice of God. I was stunned, and started to say, "How could You be? After all that I've done?" But before I could even get those words out, I was wrapped for a moment in His unconditional love. My heart softened and after a few moments I asked humbly, "So what do I do now" the answer came clearly, "Start by being honest. Take my hand, and I'll show you the rest of the way."Many times I've felt of God's love for me, maybe perhaps not in this magnitude, but at the times when it seemed hardest to keep going or when I was devastated because of the choices that I made, He ALWAYS found a way to manifest His love for me. Love changes people.
He has manifested His love for me in so many ways this week. Something I read last night talked to my soul, and calmed my troubled heart. "You are not alone; unseen helping hands and loving hearts are eager to assist and love.. you" (Hilton). Sometimes as I wage my war against addiction I forget that I am not the only one fighting this war. At times I feel so alone, but I wonder, if at those times, if I could see past the veil and see those people who are fighting the war with me, I would still feel alone and discouraged? I would like to think that I wouldn't. I'm sure that if I could only see them, that I would be overwhelmed by the vast amount of angels fighting for my cause. This knowledge gives me hope and strength.
".. a battle lost, but not the war..." I refuse to lose this war. It is far too important. Each victory is helping me to become the person that I someday wish to be.
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