Redemption Story

My story is anything but your average fairytale. In fact, I view most of my past as a never-ending nightmare. As much as I’d love to keep my pain in the rearview mirror, it has become a platform for glory and redemption.

My earliest memories consist of never feeling a part of, isolation, heartache, and angst. I was 5 years old when trauma became a part of my story. I was ill-equipped and became enslaved to my newfound victimization. My lack of coping skills and support cultivated my, less than favorable, identity. Trauma defined me and I began seeking relief.

I remember seeking validation from anyone who was emotionally unavailable. In a sense, it became a challenge and nothing short of what I believed I deserved. I wanted to be cool enough for the mean girls, strong enough for my family, spiritual enough for my church friends, smart enough for the nerdy kids, and pretty enough for the popular jocks. I was a chameleon by definition. Oftentimes, I positioned myself as less than and the chaos of trying to fit in propelled my misery.

I wish I could say I grew out of this phase – but this was only the beginning. I finally entered high school and I vividly remember walking into open house with my dad’s arm around my shoulder, when my fear of judgment crept in and I quickly took his arm off of me and walked on the other end of the hallway. As silly as it sounds, this is a perfect depiction of what my life became. I became everything everyone else said that I was. After taking the lead in multiple school plays and following my passion – I dropped out of drama club because it was no longer cool.

I jumped from relationship to relationship and friendship to friendship, trying to fill my emptiness with elusive validation. Needless to say, I came up empty – time and time again. Then, I found alcohol. It was the night of my junior prom. We all decided to grab the cheapest handle of vodka and cranberry juice. Unlike everyone else, I couldn’t drink enough of the disgusting vodka until I blacked out. Everyone else was asleep and I kept drinking. I was seeking oblivion from the very first sip.

I was off to the races. Finally, I felt a part of. Alcohol validated me. Alcohol was loyal and always present…at least for a while. Over time, our co-dependent love affair landed me seeking other substances until I was eventually detoxing from opiates in a cold jail cell. I was facing time in prison and at risk for losing all rights to my son.

Grace met me in the face of complete desperation. I decided to leave for rehab and it was the best decision I’ve ever made. I had no idea of what I was up against until I entered treatment. I was educated on the disease of addiction and my co-occurring PTSD. I no longer felt like a morally inept reject, but rather a sick and suffering alcoholic. My life was a direct result of every decision I made and I, alone, was solely responsible.

Once I was hit with undeniable truth, my life began to change. Uncovering my part, in every event in my life, rescued me. You see, I have zero control over any person, place, or thing – outside of myself. Uncovering the truth, that I could control my response and my actions absolutely freed me from the bondage of victimization. I no longer had to be a prisoner of my own making. I began learning to accept things exactly as they are. I was no longer enslaved to my emotions but rather liberated by way of walking through my fears. My story was no longer a story of defeat but rather a total redemption story. Beauty for ashes, I was revived from the dead. Today, I live a life beyond my wildest dreams.