I was lost and undone until I met His Son, when he reached down His hand for me. I will be a Christian in Recovery for 19 years. I don’t tell you this to boast in any way, because I certainly didn’t accomplish this miracle, God did. I’d tired every thing anyone could do and I couldn’t stop drinking. I drank a 40 oz. bottle every day of my life just to survive.
The sky was clear, such a beautiful day, a good day for a bike ride with Joshua. We will ride and be happy, we will ride and be happy, we will ride and be happy! I remember those days, how good I felt just to see the happy face of my boy. Those days I could find contentment in so many simple things of life. There is an emptiness somewhere. If I can’t fill the void with the joys of living, I once felt, I think I will die in my addiction. I struggle for the joy of living. The great simple joys of life have been torn from me by the thief of addiction. I will not ride and be happy; not for a long time.
I began smoking pot eight years ago when I was fourteen years old. Prior to my smoking pot, I was considered a very bright and “gifted” child. Even in elementary school I was placed in advanced classes. I started to smoke pot for several reasons. Although my parents seemed to be very functional people, I found out my mother is schizophrenic. She had been diagnosed schizophrenic many years before I was even born, but she had been stable and very functional all my life, until this point. I also happened to be very involved in the heavy metal music of the day.
My name is Michael, and I am an alcoholic. I have been sober for over 15 years now. I once said this: “Almost from day one I was scared and I have been scared ever since.” That is not true anymore. Yes, I do have fear, but I know, in Jesus name, where that fear comes from and how to handle it. Knowing this is a miracle. I once hid behind alcohol and other things in order to avoid the fear.
At the age of 26 I became independent for the first time. That is when I started to abuse alcohol and drugs. Then in July my mother passed away. This was devastating for me and I was unable to cope with her death. I started go to the bars and hanging around with the wrong crowd. I did everything I could to make these people like me in order to try and fill the void that I was feeling. I even gave them money and so that they could use it to support there addiction while I was still supporting my own addiction. I let them use me so they would be my friends.
My name is Kelly. Here is something that happened to me that I hope blesses you….
In 1984 after struggling for years with pornography and masturbation, I was a youth pastor in the Midwest. Working for my brother the pastor. I fought and fought with my thoughts and finally went out in my car and purchased porn. Felt horrible and tired. I was so frustrated. I tried and tried to live a clean life and just failed over and over again.
“Damn, what is the point?” I asked myself. I then sat there alone in my room and calmly prayed a new prayer to God. This was a prayer that I’ve never prayed. I prayed that He would get out of my life. I prayed that I would not be a Christian any more. I prayed and boldly asked the Holy Spirit to leave.
Then I sat there alone in my room feeling even more alone. The desire for porn was gone and it felt that God was gone too. I didn’t feel guilty but I did feel very alone.
Day after day I walked in an Oak grove talking with God. I didn’t feel like a Christian anymore and it was a weird experience talking to him outside of the “family”.
I came to God a broken person. I was terribly addicted to crack cocaine. I had lived ten years with the guilt and pain I was causing my family and myself.
I was raised to believe in God, but I didn’t know how He could help me, or that He would want to. I had never learned that Jesus died so I wouldn’t have to live in the misery of my past. The more I learned about Jesus the more I realized how much He loves us and wants to help us.
My name is Jeff and I am a recovering sex addict. It all started when I lived at home with my parents. My father was and still is a sex addict and alcoholic to this day. I can remember when my mother would go to bed, my father would turn on the cable adult channels and allow me to watch them with him. He also had pin up posters and other adult stuff in the household. My father was verbally abusive to us and my mother. After 23 years, my father walked out on all of us. I moved out shortly after, when I turned 18. I lived from place to place and I would hang out with my friends during the week and watch porno movies and drink beer. On the weekends we would go to clubs and try to pick up on girls to have sex with. All I wanted was sex. Little did I know that the craving and the snares of Satan began there.
I slept with a lot of women and could never get enough. I was married at 26, only to last 9 months. I could not be loyal to one woman. A year later I married again but the problems did not stop. I became addicted to pornography on the internet. I was spending at least 18-24 hours a week on the net. I met women, had sex with them and I got deeper and deeper into it. My wife became saved, and I did shortly after but it did not even stop there. I was so bound to my addiction. I had an affair on my wife again and this time I confessed to her. Things were better for a while but I found myself back on the net again.
My “ISM” existed before I took my first drink of alcohol.
My “ISM” is a complex web of core issues, repressed emotions and ineffective behavior. My “ISM” exists because of the “Fall of man;” the iniquities and transgressions of generations had come upon this flesh body.
After taking my first drink of alcohol my “ISM” became “Alcoholism” and the consequences of my “Alcoholism” affected every area of my life negatively – mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, financially, inter-personally and in the community/the law.
I searched hurriedly to find just the right hiding place. Breathless I hid silently behind the shower curtain in my parents shower. A giggle slipped from my mouth and I quickly cupped my hand to keep it quiet. I could barely hear my friend counting… 6… 7…8 …9… 10! Ready or not, here I come! My heart raced for fear I would be found.
I’m sure you remember the exhilaration and suspense of playing hide and seek with your friends. Now that I am older, I no longer play this childhood game with my friends or anyone else—or do I?