My Journey to the Bottom

My Journey to the Bottom and Back

The following is my story—my journey from hell to everlasting life through a relationship with Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. I write not only to heal, but maybe to reach someone whose story may be similar to mine.

My parents divorced when I was seven due to my father’s alcoholism and inability to take care of himself.

Absence of Love

I never remember hearing my father say “I love you.” That would have been fine if I had been able to feel his love, but it was absent. He was very hurt by my mother’s decision to leave him.

After the divorce, he spiraled into an alcoholic’s oblivion. In his depression and anger, he spent his time drinking and trying to find ways to hurt my mother.

The Hand of God

I remember spending the day with him once, and it never really occurred to me until I was much older what his intentions had been. He had been drinking. He loaded me and my two sisters into his car for a ride on an old farm road. He placed my youngest sister, then about five years old, onto his lap and gave her the steering wheel. He stepped down on the gas so the car sped up. While my sisters and I were terrified, he laughed. I believe in order to hurt my mother, he had planned to kill us all that day.

God had his hand on us, though, and he changed my father’s mind and carried us safely home.

From that point on, my relationships with men were forever a challenge. At nine, I was molested by a stranger who was a guest at a small motel that my mother and stepfather managed. This further damaged my perspectives on men and my image of myself.

Devastating Losses

I felt unloved by my father, and when I needed him the most, he chose not to be there. When I was 15, his choice to “be there or not” was taken away. He died after a barroom fight in which he staggered home and into bed. While he slept, he bled to death internally. His death was devastating to me, even though I didn't know him that well. My plans to confront him someday and to reach out to him were gone. I would never know him.

In high school, I began to drink every weekend, and I looked for love from a boy. In order to be loved, I felt I had to give myself to him. That led me into a situation that ended in abortion.

My stepfather, also an alcoholic, was against the abortion and he became verbally abusive. I was called a “murderer” and a “whore.” I heard it so much that I came to believe it.

I continued to drink and started smoking pot. One night in particular, I passed out and was left by friends in a college dormitory. I awoke to being gang-raped. I never reported what happened because I actually believed that somehow I caused it.

Undeserving of Love

I felt that I didn't deserve to be loved. My father didn't love me, so how could anyone else? I became so depressed that I tried to end my life. I missed a huge portion of my senior year in high school and only graduated through a correspondence course.

I grew older and stopped drinking, but continued to smoke pot daily. I met a man and fell in love. We were married, and I began to think that my past was behind me.

I gave my life to God. I was saved and baptized, and I took it all very seriously. Soon, I began teaching Sunday School and getting involved in my church. You would think that this was the end of the story, but what comes next took me to hell.

My Journey to the Bottom

My husband wasn't going to church with me. He wanted no part of my new found faith. I soon discovered that while I was at church, he was having an affair with one of my friends. We already had one daughter, and I was pregnant with the second when he began cheating on me. I was devastated! Our marriage of 11 years was over, and once again, I felt like I deserved it.

Depression kept me from my Lord, and soon I quit teaching Sunday school and stopped going to church. I was lost and searching for something that would make me feel better—make me forget.

I thought I found it in Meth.

I began using for recreational purposes, on the weekends. Eventually, weekends weren't enough, and I began using every day—every hour if possible. Soon, I couldn't live without it.

At first I was snorting it, then I began smoking it, and eventually I started using needles. I went from being secure in my Christianity to becoming a meth junkie.

At my lowest point, I called my mother and told her to come and get my girls. I couldn't take care of them. I had hit my bottom.

I loaded a syringe with as much meth as I had, and I put it in my arm. I wanted to die. For all intents and purposes, I should have been dead.

My Journey Back

What felt like a brick slammed against the back of my head, and I fell to the floor. I don’t know how long I lay there, but God spared me. I knew that he had a plan for me, and his plan was for me to prosper and not to die. I got on my knees, and in tears I begged God to let me back in. I asked for deliverance from my addiction. I pleaded for forgiveness.

I now have 2.5 years of sobriety. My girls are back with their mother. I am back with my Savior. I've learned to forgive people who hurt me, and I've asked for their forgiveness.

I spend my time now talking to people in recovery centers, and I give my testimony over and over in hopes of helping someone like I once was.

God waits for them, just like he waited for me. He gave us free will, and I used mine in the wrong way. He has turned my mistakes into good, just as the Bible promises. I now hold onto these promises like I once held onto meth.

God delivered me. He loves me just the way I am. Before I came into existence, Jesus knew the sins I would commit and he still crawled onto that cross and died for me. After searching for true love my whole life, I have finally found it in Jesus Christ—my best friend, my Lord and my Savior.

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