Traveling a long dark road is how I found myself standing on the edge of a bridge that goes over I-40.  

I was tired.  I was sick. I had no idea how to claw my way out of the hole I had dug for myself.  In my gut, I felt there was no turning back.

How I had chosen to live my life had led me to this bridge, prepared to jump and take my own life. The memory is vivid.  I climbed up on the edge of the bridge looking down into the stream of oncoming traffic below me.  

I began to make my plan.  I would jump onto the next transfer truck that passed.  As frightened as I was, my mind made up – I was going to kill myself. It was the only way out of what I had done to my life.

I looked ahead and saw a truck off in the distance, and knew it was the one.  There was some time before it approached, so I closed my eyes.  I wanted my last memories to be the best they possibly could be.

I thought of my family, of dinners, holidays, graduations, but each memory would be abruptly interrupted by some awareness of the pain I had caused.  I tried to push bad thoughts out and replace them with the good.  I thought of all the good people in my life, but, then again, how I caused them turmoil in so many ways. 

I thought of the one I loved the most, and all over again I felt the huge amount of pain I had caused her.  It made me so ashamed that I had failed her miserably, and that I had not been the person I had vowed to be.

Then, the best thought was that  my of daughter, Harlan.  As soon as her face was summoned to my mind’s eye, it stuck.  Nothing could take her place.  My eyes held tight as tears streamed down my face.  She was so beautiful, her smile so vibrant, and her laugh uncontrollable.  I didn’t want to leave her.  I kept my eyes closed – just a little longer, just to hold tight those last thoughts of her.  Then I heard the truck that I had identified as my death vehicle rush under the overpass. And just after that, a great wind hit me right in the chest.  It knocked me off the side of the bridge, onto my back on the sidewalk behind me.

I don’t know how it happened.  I really don’t.  Yet, I do know that I took it as a sign.  That day was not my day to go.  I thought for a little bit, and decided that I wanted to try to get better. I had to get better for myself, for Harlan and for all those others I loved so dearly.  But, I needed help, and the only way for me to get that help was to ask for it.

So, I jumped up.  I walked, I ran, I did whatever I had to in order to make it to that living room on West Bell Street where I grew up.  I practically fell into that room, and broke all the way down.  I begged my mom and dad for help.  I knew things could not go on as they had been any longer, and I knew I could not stop without some sort of outside help.  As always, my parents helped me.  They got me into treatment for the first time, but unfortunately, not the last time.  

But, the thing is, I had come to a place of complete brokenness, utter shame that has no sort of comparison.

Later on, I read a book at a treatment center by Anne Lamott called “Help, Thanks, Wow: the Three Essential Prayers.”  The author was absolutely right.  Help was the prayer that I had never sincerely used.  Thanks and wow had been used on many occasions, but even when I had uttered a prayer of help, I still tried to control the outcomes, and failed, every time.  When doors would open, I always had a better plan, but in all honesty, I was not ready to really look at myself, and I certainly was not ready to give up the drugs that my body craved.

I now know that because of God’s grace and incomparable love, that God is willing to help me…regardless. But I had to get to my rock bottom…before I could genuinely ask for help and open myself up.  There were times before that I believed I was at that rock bottom, but I still fell harder. I had to give myself up totally, and realize that I was powerless over my addiction.

I know today that I cannot be a non-active addict without the help from a higher power.  Every morning, and many times during the day, I have to put it in the hands of my higher power, and ask that prayer of “help” to be able to move beyond those things that have brought me to the ground in the past.

If you struggle with addiction or know someone who does, there is help available.  I have been to the brink of desperation and know there is a way out of the darkness if you are willing to put forth the effort it takes to successfully walk through those doors.

To those who are addicted, let me assure you, there are people who have lived the life you are living, and have been through the things you have.  Coming out of that experience, they are caring and compassionate, willing to help you walk, even when it seems hard to stand.  

If you are sick and tired of being sick and tired, there is a way out.  But, you have to be willing to put in the footwork and find what options are available.  It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. 

Walk…run…to someone you trust, someone who you know you can count on.  If you don’t have anyone, find an AA, NA or some other program that is made up of recovering addicts and ask for help.  These programs are not for everyone, but there are people there who can direct you to the help you need.  Ask.  Ask for help.  You can’t do it alone. 

And, remember - if no one tells you every day that you are loved, know that I do.    

But more than than, I have learned through my recovery that no matter what, God always will.

You matter - and things can get better. 

#letgracesetthepace