I learned that when we confess, we are opening up the wound so that He can heal us, truly heal us. No more 12 steps to 'self care', no more band-aid solutions that eventually lead to infection and spread into other areas of life. God wants the matter settled, once and for all so that we can move on to the next course in our spiritual growth.
Still, as difficult as this road has been, the rewards have been twice as powerful. The reward of knowing that my children will have their mother, not an absent parent. The reward of knowing others have found comfort in the testimonies shared here, if only for a moment. Just long enough to spark the fire of recovery within them as well. These alone have been an honor I had underestimated and at times over looked.
I tell myself I am speaking up for those who can't. I tell myself that God gave me this gift not for my own purpose but for His works to be done. I tell myself of course there will be haters.
But none of that makes it any easier. Especially not when that hate and judgement is the same voice I have fought against my entire life.
You have to look at the people who have overcome these lifestyles.
Those same people understand the harshness and hardships that only the victims and abusers who struggle with such vileness can.
They can tell you how an addict thinks, how they map their thoughts all out in their heads, connecting lies to truth and covering tracks.
Until I could admit that I had been wrong, living a lie and allowing it to affect my own daughter, I couldn't get anywhere in life. Not spiritually, anyway.
Apparently, somewhere in my mind I decided it was a good idea to write about how I have used my past experiences (as a young adult and child with multiple addictions) to work to my benefit now as a parent.
I figure the best thing to do is to jump right into it. Ditching a screen for my pen. In this case, more accurately, my security. I learned one thing very clearly from addiction; Never underestimate your old comforts.