Evil Exists

I had a gun to her head. She had turned me over to the police, made a deal with them so that she could get out of trouble. A week previous, I had come home after doing a burn (making a batch of methamphetamine) with several ounces of meth and took a shower. When I got out of the shower, there were people in my house tearing it apart that identified themselves as police. She had let them in to search. They found the meth I had brought home and arrested me.

When you get arrested, you eventually get out. I got out sooner than she thought I would. They held me for 24 hours and then let me go. She was still there when I showed up at home. I went straight to a stash spot they had not uncovered, grabbed my gun, chambered a round and grabbed her by the hair. I pushed her to the ground while putting my gun to the back of her head.

Time stopped. It was like a slow motion scene in a movie. She started crying, telling me she was sorry.  “I didn’t want to tell on you. They pulled me over with drugs and were going to put me in jail. I didn’t have a choice.” My companion was screaming at me as well, “Pull the trigger, coward. Don’t get scared now. You HAVE to do this.”

At that moment, I only knew a few things. One, I was about to make a choice I could never take back. I prided myself on never hitting a girl, and I was preparing to take one’s life. Second, although I was not sure I wanted to kill her, I knew my companion wanted me to pull the trigger and put her out of her misery. Finally, I knew that my companion was evil beyond anyone or thing I had ever met.

My companion always wanted me to hurt either myself or other people. He was there a lot in the shadows, but he only came around when things were getting ready to turn bad. He would encourage me to do the absolute worst thing. If I was going to collect money, he would remind me to take my gun. If I was in a fight, his would be the voice telling me not to quit punching and kicking long after the fight was over. If I was in a house of people I didn’t know, he would whisper in my ear, “They want to kill you. They are going to kill you. You should get them first.”

If I was thinking about quitting drugs, he would show up and remind me of all the times I had tried to quit and failed. “You have been using for over half your life. You’re never going to be able to quit. This is the only thing you are good at. You are not a quitter. DO IT! You know you want to get high. You can’t live without it.”

This time, my companion was not giving up. He was screaming at me, “Pull the trigger, coward. She tried to take your freedom away.” I turned to look at where the voice was coming from and saw my companion. He was a figure blacker than black. He was standing right behind me, darker than any shadow could possibly be. He was not all smooth lines, but his outline was jagged and rough.

I could never make out any features of his face, as his face was always dark and cloaked in shadow. The most remarkable thing about him was his eyes. They were pulsating, red eyes that burned into me every time he looked at me. The scariest thing was not the eyes, or even him being beside me in my ear but his voice. He never spoke, he shrieked and screamed and yelled. Even his whispers oozed with rage and hate.

People have asked me if he was just a shadow person. He had started out that way. Shadow people are there when you have been up too long. They come out of trees, around corners, run by you so fast you can only catch a glimpse. When you look, the figure fades away, blends in or is gone. You’re mind is unable to explain what you see, so it explains them away to something you can understand.

I was an atheist when my companion was still a shadow person, and did not believe in spirits. I rationalized what I was seeing. I would tell myself it was the wind blowing a branch, or the fact I had been up for a week and had psychosis. Sometimes I thought maybe it was the police watching me, waiting to arrest me. That is the reason so many people think they are being watched when they are not. The shadow people become COMET or DEA to them. That is what they were to me. The problem was, they seemed real and I shared the visions with other people who were with me.

If I was alone I only saw him. When I was by myself, it was just the solitary shadow man. I have talked to some people who saw groups when they are alone. Not me, I generally saw just one. When around other needle freaks, I would see more than just one. They would stand around in a group, almost like they were talking. Maybe our demons were comparing notes or sharing new ways to get us to do things we didn’t want to.

I would explain it away as a group hallucination, telling myself it was sleep deprivation or my mind playing tricks on me. Over time I started seeing him constantly in the shadows, or out of the corner of my eye. The bad part was that I was starting to see him when I was not high. He was always there lurking.

That was how it began for me, with my shadow man. Then I started to hear whispers that I could not quite make out. That advanced to the voice actually speaking to me, telling me what to do. At first the voice was harmless, encouraging my drug use and validating what I was thinking on occasion when I would think out loud. Then it began to tell me to do horrible things, to myself and to others. It was no longer a whisper, it was a scream.  Yelling and nagging at me to do things.

Then one day it appeared before me. I saw something out of the corner of my eye and when I turned to look, it was still there in the shadows watching me. From that day on he would randomly appear next to me, often at the times I was at my weakest, angriest or highest. Always egging me on, encouraging me to do the worst possible thing to either myself or other people.

There were times, like when I was contemplating not using after waking up Sunday, he would show up and remind me that I had never been able to quit and would never be able to. Today I was angry, and it was telling me to do what a part of me wanted and another part of me did not. It was telling me to pull the trigger. I was seriously thinking about it.

I started trying to reason with my companion, “I can’t pull the trigger. I really don’t want to do this.” My girlfriend started talking back to me, thinking that I was talking to her, “Then put the gun down, David. I know you don’t want to shoot me.”  I pulled her head back and started laughing in her face as I told her I wasn’t talking to her. “Who are you talking to then,” she asked? “The demon standing behind me, can’t you see him? He wants me to kill you and part of me wants to kill you as well.”

I am not sure if he showed himself to her or if the craziness of what I said scared her but as she looked behind me her face turned to sheer terror and she started screaming. Not yelling at me like she had been, trying to plead with me. There were no words, just a shrill keening. Her face froze as her eyes went wide.

I had never seen such an intense look of terror before.  The gun to her head had not caused that look of fear, but either her seeing my companion or the insanity she saw in me scared her to death. I took the gun away from her head and pulled her off her knees. “You have one hour to get your stuff and go. You have until tomorrow to be gone. You are going to leave state and go back home. I never want to see you again, or it will be a bad deal,” I told her.

She did not speak. All she did was nod and run out the door. I never saw or heard from her again. She lived with me and she left all of her stuff with me. She left her clothes, make up, purse, everything. She left it all and disappeared.

Looking back now, I hope she made it home and out of her addiction. I pray she is somewhere clean and sober, living a better life in recovery. If you are reading this, and you know who you are, I hope that you can forgive me. You are just one of the people I met in my addiction whose life I wrecked. 

When my shadow person stopped being a shadow person lurking about and started talking to me and had taken form, I stopped being an atheist. I knew that my companion was evil and that he was a spirit. He made me an agnostic, because if he existed than surely other spirits did as well. Or was it all from my imagination and random misfiring neurons in my brain? Was it the drugs working on my brain? Even when I was not high, I still had drugs in my system so it could have been that as well.

I have thought about it for years. I have talked to many other addicts who have shared the same experience that I have with my companion. Due to so many others having very similar if not the same stories, I have come to believe that my companion was a demon, and that when I was using drugs I opened myself up to forces that were evil beyond comprehension.

What is even scarier is the period of my life from 1994 – 2001 and how little memory I have of that 7 years. I almost wonder if I wasn’t possessed for large parts of that time, or if the memories just didn’t form because of all the drugs I was using and the lack of sleep I experienced. I have come to a place where I hold on to a few things about this time in my life so that I can function today:

1.      I know that evil exists and at one period in my life I made very evil choices

2.      I know that nothing good lived in me during my addiction and that all people are capable of doing things they never would believe they would do

3.      I know I am no longer the person I was in my addiction, for I have found a better life in recovery

4.      I know that I have made my life a living amends so that I can help rebuild other people’s lives today instead of destroying them like I once did

5.      I know I believe in a Higher Power I call Jesus that has freed me from my addiction and supports, encourages and guides me in all that I do today

This is actually the rough draft of the first chapter of the book I am writing. I am open to feedback. It is a little rough, but I feel that it gives people an idea of how far down I had gotten in my addiction. I also would ask that if you have had similar experiences or thoughts on what I experiences that you leave comments as I would be very interested in hearing what you have to say.

Out of the Ashes

Today, I woke up and played with my daughter. I chased her around the house, listening to her peals of laughter ringing out as she shrieked with joy. As I walked out of the house I heard the body of 10 year old Hailey Owens had been found and there was a man being charged with first degree murder.  I was instantly overwhelmed with anger and rage. I felt the person I used to be rising up inside of me. I was lost, hurt, enraged and confused all at once.

I was lost because I cannot comprehend how someone could take the life of an innocent 10 year old. The evilness of this act is beyond my scope of understanding. What could possess a 45 year old to take the life of a child? It is an unfathomable act, and one that I can honestly say I am glad I cannot understand for if I could what would that say about me? I cannot fathom the act.

I was hurt because I knew there were parents who loved Hailey that will never get to hear her laughter again. My heart aches because I can not even begin to imagine the depths of the parent’s sorrow. I am emotionally broken because I know the impact a loss like this can have on Hailey’s friends and family and would never wish that upon anyone. No one should have to lose a loved one who is so young in such a malicious way.

I was enraged because I am a father, and as a father I know that there is no justice that will suffice. Nothing that happens to Hailey’s murderer will bring her back. Even the justice that is done will be long and drawn out. Someone will represent this man and try to defend what he did. The parent’s will have to hear testimony and see pictures that no parent should ever have to endure.

I am confused because I believe in a God who loves us all and wants what is best for us. Because of that such a heinous act being allowable bewilders me. At first I could not for the life of me make any sense of how God could allow such a tragedy to play out. Then I remembered a few things. For starters, we have freewill. Do we have a God that loves us all? He loved us enough to give us freedom to make our own choices. Freewill is both our greatest gift and greatest curse. Do we have a God that loves us so much He gave us the ability to control our actions? Yes, he did but not all of us chose to use that control.

Today and everyday we have the power to make choices. We can follow the Golden Rule laid forth by Jesus in the New Testament, or we can act on our own selfish interests. We can listen to what the Holy Spirit whispers in our ear, or we can listen to Satan. The choice is ultimately ours to make. I used to listen to the voice that encouraged me to do wrong. Today, I choose to try to live my life by loving my neighbor. That said, the old me resurfaced today after a long hiatus. I did not feel very friendly and loving. I wanted to come out of retirement.

I stopped because I realized that would solve nothing. It would not be good for me, my family or the family who has lost their daughter. I have done psychological first aid after disasters and I am trained in grief and loss counseling. You give support. You let people know that it is okay to feel how they feel. Their feelings are valid and understandable. You make sure that their basic needs are being met and allow them to grieve. You do not get caught up in the emotions of the event because of the negative impact that can have on those who are mourning and grieving.  

I did give into those emotions for a minute. I allowed myself the luxury of grieving for Hailey, her family and her friends. I cried for a little girl I had never met while I sat in my car. Then I prayed for Hailey’s family and friends to find comfort and strength. Next I went to work and helped other people deal with their own stress, depression and tragedy while my head still swam with unanswered questions.

Will our questions about why this was done ever be answered satisfactorily? I hope not, because there is no excuse or reason that can explain what happened. Will justice be done? No, unless the act itself can be undone. There is no amount of pain this murderer experiences that can quench the pain her parents are experiencing. I have my trust in a much Higher Power that has seen me through so much. I have seen a lot of positives come out of tragedies, but it is far too early for that now.

Instead, I ask that we keep hate and anger to a minimum. It may make you feel better but it does nothing to change what happened or help anyone. It increases the negative impact of an already terrible event. We need to come together and support those who are hurting today in our community. Shower them with prayers, positive thoughts, love and compassion. Today you need to hug and squeeze on your loved ones today. Cherish the people you have in your life today, and action can come tomorrow.

Next we need to identify how to make the system more efficient so time between 911 calls and Amber alerts becomes minimal. Search for ways our community can learn from this tragedy so it is safer for our children and the chance of this happening in the future is reduced. Together we can make our community stronger and safer for those who are most vulnerable and honor the memory of Hailey Owens.

My Life as a Bad Guy Part 3: Meth in Missouri

I decided that I was headed towards jail or expulsion so I moved to Missouri from Illinois. Once there, I tried methamphetamine. I liked it, a lot. Soon school was no longer important to me. It got in the way of my partying and I dropped out  the last semester of my senior year. I headed towards rock bottom. I went to jail multiple times. My probation officer sent me to Scared Straight at the prison in Jefferson City. I spent 120 days on house arrest and several years on probation, stacking up violations.

I had some things happen that should have changed me. I had a couple friends die in drinking and driving accidents. I was the first one on the scene and found one of my friends dead. I saw a friend get beat to death and another beat into a coma. I had alcohol poisoning and stopped breathing. They pumped my stomach and I was drinking again the next night. I saw someone I knew get shot during a drug deal.

I went on the run for a while. I was gone for almost a year. It is exhausting, being on the run. You always look over your shoulder in the party world, and it is three times as bad when you have warrants out for your arrest and all of the city and county police know what you look like. Finally, I needed some rest. I showed up at the probation office, and when my probation officer walked out I told him I was ready to go to prison. He said okay. I turned 21 in Booneville Correctional Center. I was drunk an hour after I was released and used intravenously later that night for the very first time.

I had found methamphetamine and learned that it could help with my pain. I was able to numb myself for periods of time with meth. When I started using intravenously, that was the end of me as a person. It gave me a feeling I had never experienced before. I became dead inside and only felt alive when I was high. After years of being an Agnostic, I had found my Higher Power. Meth became my God. Then it turned into Satan.

I hoped for death. I had alcohol poisoning and lived. Drunk, I flew a car 97 feet down a hill, clipping trees 32 feet in the air and lived. I attempted suicide and my sister found me unconscious in a pool of blood. The ambulance got there in time to save me. I lived. Are you noticing a pattern? That was the 5th time I had flatlined, and I kept coming back. I promised my sister I would never try to kill myself again after the attempted suicide. The truth is, I wanted to die. I no longer wanted to live and I was tired of feeling.

Meth gave me all I thought I needed. I had money, power, friends, women, excitement and so much more. I was the life of the party. But I was still dead inside. I could be at a party with 100 people and feel completely alone. I did not feel alive unless I was high. Meth was all I cared about. I would sit at home in a funk if I wasn't high, so I discovered a new lifestyle. I would stay up from Sunday when I woke up until Sunday morning when I would go to bed. I joked that if God got a Sabbath day, so should I.

I would wake up to a shot of dope on Sunday evening, then stay high through the week until early Sunday morning when I would take a handful of benzodiazepines to help me sleep. I found that I never hurt if I stayed high. No one ever got close enough to me to really hurt me as long as I was high. It got to the point that if I was awake, I was high.

I became heartless and used everyone I came in contact with. I knew if I didn't use them they would use me. Why not be first. Everyone in my life was there to serve me. I let people be my friend because they would allow me to be around a better class of people, they had money, they had dope, they cooked dope, they had friends who bought my dope, they were pretty and would sleep with me or I was trying to sleep with them, they would get high with me, they had things to loan me that I needed, they had a car I could use when I thought mine was hot or they had a house for me to party at so I didn't have to use mine.

Everyone and everything had a purpose. Some times I did nice things, but I even had ulterior motives for that. I remember one of my friends having a baby and being broke. I helped his family pay the bills for several months so that they could not work and  bond. I helped pay rent, utilities and even bought them food. I then would frequently bring up doing that any time people would talk trash about  me being a dope dealer. "Well, look at the good things I do with my money."

I would give people $100's just to remind them about it when I  needed to borrow their car or have a party at their house. I would justify my selling meth with this logic, "I use Super B to cut it. Other people use stuff that is really bad to cut theirs. My people get vitamins so I am doing them a favor by dealing." Life was a hustle, and I was good at being a hustler.

Somewhere along the way I became more suicidal. Some might call it an addiction to the rush of adrenaline. I would show up to a meth cooks house not knowing them to buy methamphetamine. I would hang out with the most sketched out people I knew. I would buy  meth at the  hottest houses I knew just to see if when I got pulled over they would find the dope. I was insane and no longer cared. I always had my sister to fall back on, and for the most part I could always argue that I was only hurting myself.

That is another thing I always did in my addiction. I downplayed the impact of everything that I did. I would justify my dealing with the law of supply and demand and my dope was better for them. I would never look at the money that I took from people. Maybe when they came down they beat their wife or kids. Not my problem. Maybe they gave me their families grocery money.  Not my fault. I would have tons of food stamps, at 30 cents on the dollar if I didn't like you and 50 cents if I did. Maybe they were robbing people for money to buy it. If it wasn't me getting robbed, I was fine with it. Maybe they would get high and rape people. As long as it wasn't my sister getting hurt, who cares? I know that I didn't!

The truth is that I saw and did things that give me nightmares 15 years later. I was insane, doing insane things and I associated with insane people. I have held people at gun point and made them strip because I thought they were wearing a wire. I have beat someone unconscious, waited for him to regain consciousness so that I could beat them some more. That was over $25, to set an example. I have done and seen much worse, sometimes for money, sometimes because they crossed lines and sometimes just because I was bored and angry.

I have ravaged people emotionally and psychologically, leaving them a shell of their former selves. I have built a shot for someone that they overdosed on. Quite a few people have overdosed on my drugs, I am quite sure. I have given many people their first shot of dope, because I knew that if I did that I would have control over them for life. I was evil, and I was okay with that. It was what I was good at, so I did it.

On the flip side of that, I have been robbed several times. I have been held at gun point. I have often been in situations I didn't know if I would live through. I have been beaten unconscious. I have been jumped by multiple people on several occasions. I have overdosed and been left for dead where I was. I have holes in me I was not born with put there by other people. I have been face down on the floor during a raid with a gun to the back of my head. I am certain that I deserved all of that and a whole lot more.

I was a bad guy. I look back on my life and I don't know how I am still alive. Scratch that, after dying more times than I can count on one hand and overamping multiple times, I am alive because there was some good EMTs and paramedics. I would tell you because of luck, as there were probably a dozen times I played Russian Roulette with a 38 revolver and a lone bullet. At the time I thought that nothing could kill me, and nothing or no one would ever get me to stop using drugs. I would have told you that only the good die young, and I was anything but good so I would probably live forever.

Not Afraid to Die

I was never afraid of death. In my addiction I died multiple times and was brought back to life. I had my stomach pumped, slashed my wrists, flew a car 97 feet clipping trees 32 feet in the air and had a couple of overdoses. I continued to use drugs and drive under the influence, so needless to say I wasn't afraid of death. I kept doing the things that had caused me to die previously. I was not afraid and took pride in it.

I was hopeless. The best I could hope for in a day was to get high multiple times, make money and that was about it. In my addiction I would sleep once a week, and I did this for years. I always made sure I had drugs to take as soon as I woke up, because that was where I  placed my hope. My higher power was drugs and money and everything that came with that. When I was an alcoholic I  knew that if I slept through the night without having the shakes wake me up, not urinating in the bed overnight and didn't have a hangover  that was the best I could hope for. That was the best my life was going to get. Not much hope there.

I was ashamed. I had already lost most of my values and morals. I put up so many walls that I was like the heart of the onion; completely covered so no one could know who I really was. I lied to everyone about my past so much that I began to believe the lies myself. It became my persona, the gang banger who moved to southwest Missouri. I was so ashamed of who I was I would lie to people when telling them the truth would not even matter.

I felt all alone. I could be in a house with 10 other people or a bar with 100's and would feel alone. I would spend hours shuffling cards or playing video games, making no contact with the outside world. I would have sex with people for the conquest. I would not know their name and  half the time they did not know mine because I wanted no one to truly get close to me. That way I could stay alone.

I hated myself. I would let no one get too close to me. I dated a lot of people. We used each other. I used them for the conquest, arm candy or to try to fix them up as a project. They used me for money, protection or drugs. If a girl I was dating told me she loved me I would break up with her if I thought she was telling the truth. "If you are sick enough to love someone like me, I can't be with you," I would say.

I felt numb. I think that is why I took the drugs to begin with. Maybe not in the very beginning, but in the end. The first time I smoked marijuana I did it to fit in, and I did. I soon learned that drugs numbed my pain, helped me forget about the abuse I  had suffered through as a kid. The hurt I felt from not fitting in disappeared. I learned that no one could hurt me if I was high, so I stayed that way all the time.

I felt dead. I no longer felt alive without putting chemicals in my body. In fact, the only time I felt alive was when I was sticking a needle into my arm or putting myself in a situation where I might die. I would feel alive when my car got searched and they didn't find the drugs. I would feel alive when I got into a fight or was running from the police. I felt dead and empty unless I was doing things that released massive amounts of adrenaline and/or dopamine.

I was evil. I consider meth a drug straight from the Devil. In my addiction, I was a soldier for Satan. I did his bidding and I brought more people into  his fold. I helped manufacture a drug that enabled society to continue its rapid decay. I dealt a drug that is associated with murder, rape, burglary and assault. I would take food stamps for 40 cents on the dollar from friends and 25 cents on the dollar from everybody else then throw the food stamps away because I felt they were beneath me and its not like I ate anyway. I took money out of kids mouths that needed it. I hurt friends physically over $25 to make an example of  them.

I wanted to die. I had no hope of getting of drugs, changing my lifestyle or not going back to prison other than death. Death would have been a reprieve at the time. Supporting an addiction to drugs, power and money is a very stressful job. Once a month, I would put one round in a .38, spin the cylinder and pull the trigger. I did that for the last year of my addiction.

But here is the truth...................................

I was scared to death. I was afraid that if I let someone in my life they would  hurt me. I had been hurt by people that were supposed to nurture and love me because they were related to me. I had been devastated by people claiming to be my friends and if I kept my walls up they could never hurt me again. Would I have really been so paranoid I played curtain patrol and had motion detectors and recording devices set everywhere if I wasn't scared?

I was afraid to live. I was afraid of truly trying because if I didn't try I couldn't fail. No one would expect much from me. I had tried and failed enough times in the beginning of my drug use that I was afraid to try again. I dropped out of high school and had never had a long term relationship. I broke off any relationships I had with people who truly cared about me so that I could simply exist. If I never tried anything, I could never fail again. If I kept people in my life who expected nothing of me I could do nothing.

I wanted to not hurt anymore. To accomplish that I tried drugs, alcohol, sex and power. I was still scared, angry and hurt. I tried suicide. I wasn't very good at it. I tried jail, house arrest and prison without any success. I was using half an hour after I got out of prison. I tried rehab, counseling and prescribed medication. The result was temporary at best and I would relapse within weeks at most. I could not escape who I was and what I had done.

What was the reason..............................

All of the trauma I had been through (whether it had been done to me or I had done it myself) had created a hole in me that I kept trying to fill with sex, money, power and drugs. Unfortunately, there was only one thing that could fill it. It was a hope sized hole that nothing man made could touch. There was not enough money, sex, drugs or counseling to fill it. And trust me, I tried. I still felt empty and broken, unworthy and worthless.

What is the answer.........................

Spiritual Spackle is based solely on one concept. Life creates holes in our souls, and the things we have available to us in this physical world only cover the holes. Notice I didn't say they fill the holes. They only cover them. The holes are still there. The Holy Spirit is like spackle for our soul. It is what is meant to fill the holes in and restore our hope. You can read more about the Spiritual Spackle Theory here http://spiritualspackle.blogspot.com/2011/08/spackle-theory.html

God is the bringer of true hope and purpose. In order to accept Him into our lives and live differently we have to:

1. Accept -  Admit that you have sinned.
2. Repent - Not just feel sorry for what you have done, but be ready to live your life differently.
3. Belief - Believe that Jesus is the son of God and that He died to forgive your sins
4. Action - Live your life differently. My life revolved around drugs from waking to sleep. Now it revolves around God and living a life I hope He finds pleasing
5. Prepare - (for Success) Use the 5 Pillars http://spiritualspackle.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-5-pillars.html or try the Locker Room approach http://spiritualspackle.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-locker-room.html

If anyone has any questions or requests, please let me know. Remember, the journey has just begun!

Why I Hate Addiction or These are a Few of my Least Favorite Things

I can honestly say that there are very few things that I hate. I will give you a list and you tell me what is the #1 thing that you cannot stand:

1. Murder
2. Child Abuse
3. Child Molestation
4. Animal Cruelty
5. Drugs/Alcohol
6. Rape
7. Domestic Violence

The top of my extremely short list would sit drugs/alcohol as the reigning king. "Why not child abuse or child molestation at the top of your list, David?" The same reason that animal cruelty, murder, rape and domestic abuse are not at the top. Drugs and alcohol are the top correlations in all of the above instances. If you look at the majority of child abuse/molestation cases, rapes, murders, domestic violence and animal cruelty you are more than likely going to see drugs and alcohol are in the mix!

That said, they do not cause the situations to happen. They are more like throwing gasoline on a fire. The gasoline is not the cause of the fire, but it causes it to get much worse. When you add alcohol and drugs to an already volatile situation or unstable person, you are just making a bad situation 100 times more dangerous. You are just asking for trouble. All you have to do is look at the news. You will see the problems.

The reason why I am at this point today is I have had a rough past couple of months. I have had a friend that was on the Dr Phil show yesterday that is really struggling and on the verge of death. I had a friend overdose and die, an accountability partner who has decided that he can start drinking again, a friend I grew up with that is in intensive care and has been for several weeks after she relapsed and the guy she was with wrecked a car then left her for dead in a field. To add insult to injury, he left the accident and went back to her house where he cooked a batch of dope then robbed her.

In the news we have a man on mushrooms ripping out his friends heart and tongue. Locally we have a 47 year old male recently released from prison on drug charges linked to a 15 year old female who was found in a lake. We have a 17 year old found with his throat slashed by another teenage male because he believed he was a snitch and he wanted his little brother to see someone die. This is crazy stuff happening. Addiction is EVIL!!!!

Yet, it is so alluring. I have hurts and things that have been done to me that are horrific. I have done things myself that I can't forgive myself for. Because of this I have no self-esteem, self-confidence or hope. I feel that I am all alone, and the only thing that I can depend on is my new God, fill in your addiction here. It numbs me, gives me confidence, helps me forget and is always there for me. But then I come down or sober up, and the pain is still there so I have to use again.

In order to stop the cycle, we have to do something. We have to find something that works, to replace our addiction. We cannot overcome anything by admitting it is not there. In order to effect change, there are 5 things we must add and 2 things we must remove from our lives:

1. Higher Power - I need to find a power greater than myself to help me overcome what I cannot overcome on my own
2. Recovery Meetings - I need to know that I am not alone and hear others stories of recovery to help me realize that we do get better. Great place to find hope!
3. Step Work (Book of James) - We must have some kind of game plan to overcome our addictive behaviors and old lifestyle
4. Sponsor (Mentor) - We need someone who is living their life the way we want to live ours that can help us begin putting step 3 into action
5. Accountability Partners - Birds of a feather flock together. If I want to live my life better, I need to surround myself with people who are living their lives well.
6. Old Playgrounds - You can't stay clean if your standing in the mud. If you hang out in bars or where drugs are readily available, the question stops being "Will you relapse" and becomes "When will you relapse."
7. Old Playmates - If I continue to hang out with people who are living in addictions and engaging in criminal behaviors, I too will eventually go back to my old behaviors too.

Remember, your addiction is in the back of your head. It is lifting weights, running on a treadmill and on the computer doing research. It is getting stronger and smarter every day, looking for a way to take back over your life. YOUR ADDICTION NEVER TAKES A DAY OFF!! In order to remain in recovery, you need to do recovery oriented things every day. Go to a meeting, associate with positive people, talk to your sponsor, work the steps, read a daily devotional (the Bible, Just for Today). 

I HAVE YET TO MEET A PERSON THAT WAS DOING ALL 7 OF THE ABOVE THINGS THAT RELAPSED! AS NIKE SAYS, "JUST DO IT!" REMEMBER, YOU'RE WORTH IT!!!