Story of my relapse

Since, I didn’t write much during my relapse, I want to share something that has been on my mind a lot, especially since I was reminded of it yesterday at church.

Let me explain.

When Andres moved out, I was torn and I wanted alone time with God.  I wanted to get closer to Him and learn to rely on Him more.  My sponsor always reminds me that though my husband lacks in the listening skills that I feel that I so require, God doesn’t, so  I was hoping on getting closer to Him through my depression.   In the beginning I KNEW that I would become stronger after my depression, I knew He had a purpose for it, I sought Him, but somewhere along the line, I slowly allowed the enemy to seep into my heart and soul and even home.  It happened so quick that I didn’t even realize it.  Before I knew it, I let the bastard into my mind, eating away at my thoughts, whispering his sweet bullshit in my ears.  I didn’t even know I was losing my connection to God until it was lost and I couldn’t find it.

I dug and dug into my soul, not hearing anything, I would pray (rarely) and feel nothing.  Where was He? What happened? Literally weeks before I was so high on God, even though I was more depressed and suicidal than I believe I had ever been in my life.  I had faith.  I had hope within my hopelessness because of Him.

Perhaps the cocaine or heroin cuts off the blood going to the Holy Spirit within you.  Perhaps it blocks out His words and blinds one to open His loving arms. Perhaps He was just angry with me for what I had done and He wasn’t answering me.  Or perhaps He stayed silent because He wanted to give me what I wanted, a horrible taste my own medicine for disobeying Him, and seeking to find answers on my own.

I knew that drugs wouldn’t make me happy.  It wasn’t that long ago that I was lying and stealing to get those same exact drugs.  But I did it anyway.

I was too caught up in these horrible emotions that I was feeling and hadn’t felt in sooooooooo many years and all at once! It was horrible to have changed everything about yourself and became the woman your husband was telling you to be for many years, but still unable to please him, only to have him tell you that he hadn’t loved you or wanted you the past two years.  The past two years! The two sober years! The two good, Christian, stay at home wife that cooks and cleans and cares for the kids and doesn’t do anything out of place. (He’s not a dominating man- just an example.)  After the many, MANY, times I expressed my concern for our relationship and really wanting to leave to end it, and him telling me to stay, that I needed to have faith in him.  Then learning the same girl who fought me over him (supposedly her drunk mistake that I was blamed for- though I never swung a punch), the same girl who caused his eyes to light up when he talks about her,   the same girl I expressed much concern for, when repeatedly told there was nothing to worry about, yes this same girl, he was texting her, telling her the sweetest, most romantic things to, telling her how much he wanted to be with her, only an hour before coming to my house to stay with me (during our separation) and then proceeded to tell me, that yes, in fact, he did want her (after of course first denying it all once again and professing his undying love to me) but it was her who didn’t want him, because of me. His crazy wife. Haha. I laugh now, because I  truly do think if he really did leave me for her, I would have made both their lives hell.

What would you do? What would you say? What would you feel?

It was horrible. My self esteem was to the point of where I was less than nothing. I felt like less than nothing.  He confused me so much.  My heart and mind were so confused that some days, I really wasn’t sure if it was a Monday or a Friday, even if I was looking at a calendar.  if I was really even alive or real or awake.  It’s hard to explain. Nothing felt real for many months. And in that final moment, when your friend sees how hysterical you are and doesn’t know what to do, so she mentions in panic, that her boyfriend had cocaine, it was over.

It was already done.

Yes, my friend shouldn’t have offered her two and a half year sober friend cocaine, but that’s not the point.  I made my own choices in the huge moment of weakness. A choice to give in to the devil and ignore MY Loving Fathers protests as I snorted the first line.

I hated myself as I was doing it. I hated right away how I felt, yet I couldn’t stop.  I felt worse, but yet of course the cocaine grabbed ahold of my mind, making me think if I only had a little more, I would feel better, so I believe I did two grams that night, and of course when I ran out of money, I started drinking a bottle of Buchanan’s that we have had for over six months.  I don’t remember going to sleep, I don’t remember even seeing my kids that day.  Luckily, the same roommate/friend who suggested the cocaine to begin with cared for my children and put me to bed.

The next day, my husband came over because he was concerned for me.  I guess I sent him messages that I was going to kill myself and to take care of the kids for me that morning during my cocaine come down/drunk stupor.  I was still a little drunk.  I was angry, I was disgusted.  I never wanted to see this man again in my life.  I just have never felt this kind of betrayal before and on top of it,, it had led me to relapse, so there was the anger, shame, and guilt too that I was inflicting on myself.  I told him what I did, he told me to stop and not do it.  I said why do you care?  Remember you don’t love me.

During our talk on the porch, because I refused to let him in my house.  During this time, he saw a man come by and bring me flowers and balloons, because he was trying to win me over.  I wasn’t interested, but it still threatened my husband, because the next day he came over, saying he loved me. He thought about me all night and didn’t want to lose me or our family.  I couldn’t ignore or forget or forgive the things he told me, while drunk, in the most vulnerable moment of my life.  He, of course, proceeded to harass me with questions of whether I was sexually active with the man who came over because he said he never saw me smile like I did.  I smiled because I had never received balloons or flowers from anyone, let alone a man who was interested in me.  It was something I had asked Andres to do many years ago and many times since.

Regardless, the battle continued on and I didn’t use for a couple days, but it was on my mind.  Then I used a tactic that helps me get through the trigger wave.  I say my thoughts about using out loud to whoever is around me (family and friends wise) I said out loud that I wish I had some more to my friend (roommate) and she’s like why didn’t you say anything? I have some, I didn’t know she was dealing and had had some on her for days now.  At first I was a little upset I didn’t say it sooner.

That day ^ I went to her father in law’s funeral, high on cocaine and drunk (trying to calm myself down enough to be in public).  Though I didn’t know the man, I felt shame for myself to disrespect him in that way.  I felt shame from God about what I was doing.  I was just ashamed.

A day or so later, my roommate’s boyfriend (my dealer for many years) was arrested for assault, which would have been a great thing for me, if he didn’t give my roommate his drugs to sale.  We did the rest of what he had that night he was arrested.   After that, I finally had to ask my friend to move out, because I couldn’t be around her anymore if I wanted to be sober (this was the same week).

Unfortunately, the enemy wasn’t done with me.  A friend of my “dealer’s” showed up at my house, looking for his girlfriend.  I became friends with her and she told me when my “dude” had heroin.  And I had thought over the past two and half years of sobriety what it would feel like to use just one more time.  I was in so much pain emotionally that my mind wasn’t thinking right.  I guess you could say heroin was my drug of choice, and there it was, a phone call away.

I did it that day.

And for the next several weeks, every day (for the most part). Until ending with cocaine use again, because heroin wasn’t to be found.  Within two months, I had not paid my car, I was getting disconnect notices, and I was broke.  While I hadn’t turned back to the life of stealing, I did lie to my father a couple times to get money from him.  Andres knew pretty much from the start that I was using.  He knew it wasn’t a fight worth fighting to tell me to stop.  My addict anger comes lashing out and then I usually will go do more just to spite him (in the past).  But I wonder, if he sat me down and told me how much he loves me and wanted the best for me, perhaps it would have changed.  I doubt it.  My mind was in that place, where I knew I couldn’t believe a thing he said, and if he said that, I probably would have gotten into deeper hurt and confusion.

Though there were times I wanted to use and he told me “no, I won’t let you leave.  I’ll stay with you all night, right here on the kitchen floor” ( I had laid down crying by that point); and he did. And it helped me to realize that the cravings DO only last minutes.  I hadn’t ever experienced one in that way, letting myself get through it, feeling it, hating it, with the help of my husband, but I learned something.  I can get through the triggers and cravings.  I hadn’t had any since getting sober, not really until I relapsed and I felt like I allowed myself to be inside of a comforting blanket of bs.  I thought I was unique.  I thought I was going to make it without being tempting again.  Ha.

I starting slowing down to once or twice a week for the last couple weeks.  I was begging God since before I even got the coke in my hands, to help me to stay strong.  At times, yes, my connection was lost, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

Just as looking back on how the devil had used things and people and events over and over to get me to that point, God used things and people and events to help get me strong and sober again.  This entry was supposed to be about how I got sober, but I started writing and this is what came out.  I guess to fully understand the intensity of the tools God used to reach me, I had to tell you how I relapsed, how I felt, etc.

However, this is a super long entry as it is. So this will be the story of my relapse, and hopefully tomorrow I can get started on the story to recovering.