The Stretching of Secret Sins

stretched 
1. Be made or be capable of being made longer or wider without tearing or breaking
2.Pull (something) tightly from one point to another or across a space
3.Last or cause to last longer than expected
4.Make great demands on the capacity or resources of
5.Cause (someone) to make maximum use of their talents or abilities
6.Adapt or extend the scope of (something) in a way that exceeds a reasonable or acceptable limit


         I sat there in the closet of my small apartment on the campus of Oklahoma Baptist University. My Senior year. Staring at a pile of socks...

        This part of my story is complicated to tell because some of it involves someone else' life. Their story. I will only share a part of it on here as I do not want to cause them any more pain or shame. I have been forgiven. Set free. But, it is part of me. A big part.

         In February of 1988, I found out that I was pregnant. My boyfriend and I were lost and confused. We sought the help of one person. On their advice, the pregnancy was terminated in March. Upon arriving back at my apartment, I went into my closet...sat down...and stared. I was numb. Somewhat dead. Having no idea what to do next. Waiting for feelings to flood in. My roomates knew something was wrong. But, I had no idea how to speak to what I had done. I eventually got up. And, much later, I did confess to my friend, Becky, as to what had happened. We sat in my car and the tears finally flowed.

          As I stated earlier, this part of my story is big. But, the bigger part is how my secret sins were already stretching. You see, I had been doing a very good job at covering up the ugly parts of my life. The consummate actress.

           Just four years earlier, on a drunken binge, I was raped by someone I knew. Because I was intoxicated, I felt that I somehow deserved this wretched thing that had happened. It was not a date. I did not like this person. It was in a park. Late at night. I had been drinking and passed out. Only to awaken to this. It was despicable. Disgusting. Something in me died that night. A switch flipped. And for a long time, I told no one.

          That Summer of 1984 I moved to the Winter Park, Colorado area and worked. In that time I began to be two people.
                                               "Christian Kari" and "Wild/Secretive Kari"
              
           During that time, almost immediately, I met a man who was in real estate. He wined and dined me . After work, I was with him...a lot ..I basically lived with him. I partied that Summer like never before. I was drinking away my disgust with myself. He even asked me to marry him. I did not accept.

           That Fall, I began my Freshman year at Oklahoma Baptist University. Ohhh, the irony! I twisted back into a different role, "Christian Kari", with uncanny ease. No one would truly know for years...

            My first few boyfriends were ministerial students. Ha! CrAzY! But, all the while, I felt dirty. Unworthy. There was no way that I could be a minister's wife! I began to cover lie upon lie. Never being true to anyone. Then, I fell in love hard. (Or, so I thought.) But, our choice to end the life of our baby reeked havoc on both of our souls. I fled to Colorado again that Summer of 1988. He followed. We changed nothing and resumed our unhealthy relationship. We eventually broke up. And,  within just a few months, I met and married Mark.

My new "part" began...

            As you have read about Mark, in his post last November, he is a good Christian man. He had saved himself for me. Never touched alcohol. A deacon. Honest. Humble. Hard-working. Kind. And, I did a pretty good job at looking the part of a good wife. While my "scripts" changed. And, the "character" was different. I still had the same sick, secretive heart.

           But, as they say in the, "Meeting Halls", "You are only as sick as your secrets". And, boy, did I have a lot of secrets! If you look again at the definition of "stretching", I had "stretched" them out too far. It would take years for me to "snap". But, it came. The flood gates of my sin rolled out. No more hiding. Face to face with the hurts of what was done to me. And, those things that I had done to myself.

            I did seek help with the depression, that did consume me, after the abortion. I am eternally grateful to Roxanna Grimes and Mary Beth Kissee. Without their help, I do not know what I would have done.

            I was encouraged to name my child. So I named her, Molly Sue. It has given me great comfort in naming her. Knowing that I will see her one day. She is with her brother, Benjamin James, whom we lost in 2003. I have helped a few women choose not to abort by sharing my story. There is comfort in that.

I would have a 23 year old this Fall.

           It does sadden me. I look at my beautiful children. I wonder what she would look like.  I was given, what I believe was a vision from God~One night, in deep anguish over my sin, I saw her. She was a toddler. In a ruffly dress. Being held by a beautiful, strong, yet gentle, Angel. The picture of this is etched in my mind.

I will never forget.
            
            Why I am sharing these things? Because my secret sins stretched me into someone that I did not know. In that moment on the dirt, I had been made to feel like a whore. And, in some ways...I became one. Living lie after lie after lie after lie... Even believing some of it. Living out loud like it was true......Yet, no!!! That is NOT who I am!  I have spent the last three years finding myself. And, with the grace of a Great God, the love of a wonderful man, the forgiveness of my precious kids, the comfort of godly parents, and the most incredible hearts of beautiful friends....I am finally being stretched into the woman that God created me to be.

 

                                      Mark, Kari, Jake, Zach, Luke and Lexi. Summer 2011


With tears in my eyes, I write...What a day to celebrate when all 8 of us will be together!
Until then, we are living for our Lord. Our Saviour. The Creator. And, our King. Hoping that this blog will be part of my fruit. If only one can be changed, helped, saved from the messes that I made....then, it was worth it.

Listen to this song. It is the song in my soul. It is why I always say, "It's not about me....It's ALL about Him!"
"Jesus, Lover of My Soul, It's Not about Me."/ Passion:

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dD-ZdMOx_HY

Who needed this? I do not know. The letters, calls, and emails that I receive indicate that there is a need to get real. Get down to business. What is keeping you from being who you were created to be?....

God loves you no matter what! So.  Do.  I.
INAM!
Kari

Rehab

"They tried to make me go to rehab, I say a no, no, no..."
                          Amy Winehouse


       On February 11, 2008, I boarded a plane with my brother, Matt. We flew to Knoxville, Tennessee. My family and I had chosen Brookhaven Retreat for Women, where I was committed to stay for three months. As I have shared, it was not easy to find a dual-treatment center, for women only. We had spoken numerous times, over the phone, to Jacqueline Dawes. She is the owner and founder of Brookhaven. Her British accent was soothing, reassuring, and strangely delightful to my ears. Her voice cinched the deal for me. After, getting off of the plane, I said goodbye to Matt. It did not phase me that he was leaving me there. I was so "numb". I knew that I had to go...My family had made that clear. I was not "sober" that day. A lil' secret, that I have held onto, was that I had about eight Xanax tucked away. I used them all day. It was not until that night, as I crawled into bed, that I realized where I was...
        Brookhaven is nestled in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. Located on a beautiful acreage in Seveirville, Tennessee. The lodge-like setting is very appealing, upon your first view. But, due to any one's need for a treatment center, it is not easily appreciated at first. I remember feeling detached as I entered the main building. Jacqueline was warm and generous in spirit.  I also met my therapist, Annabel. I was drawn to her, right away. I was then taken into a room, where someone explained all of the pertinent information to the "program". I retained little, as I was in shock.... However, I was not easily shaken by the fact that my belongings were searched. Or, that things were immediately considered contraband. And, taken. In those first few hours, I met several women. They were a mixture of sweet and distant. Searching me up and down, just as I did them. I was given a room, in the main building. Luckily, alone.        
         The first week, I slept. A lot. Coming off of the drugs, mixed with the hurt of it all, was exhausting. The entire staff were very helpful. They did their best to make me feel at "home". But, it would be weeks before I really put myself into the program. I eventually went to the groups, classes, and meetings. I slowly allowed myself to open up to Annabel. But, again, it took a long time for the spark of healing to begin. Or, the desire to try, to come forth...
          The days at BH are regimented. The CCP's (Constant Pare Providers) wake you up very early. You get dressed. Have breakfast. (When you are severely depressed, this is not easy...) "Community" meetings were next. At this time, a client, who is voted by her peers, leads these meetings for one week. You "check in" your current "feelings". At any given time, while I was there, there were anywhere from 20-40 women. We went around the room and used one word to describe how we felt. (We would do this 3x a day!). Just remember, I was not a happy person. Let's just suffice to say, that the first two months, I was not myself. At all! Remember, the real me, gregarious and fun, had been dormant for years. I was so stinkin' mad at the world! So, can you imagine me doing this? Trying to come up with different words to describe my feelings? For four  months!! (I ended up staying longer. I got sick, half wat through my treatment..) I am now infamous for my ability to come up with new ways to describe "anger". "Pi$&edoffedness" was my most popular one. While, I'm not so proud of that now, it described my feelings perfectly! After we did the circle, announcements and schedule changes were discussed. Then, the day started.
         Basically, you had 2-4 choices of groups to attend, every hour or so. You were expected to attend. These groups covered a wide variety of topics. Things such as, domestic violence, grief, healthy relationships, boundaries, sexual abuse, addiction, family dynamics, and so on.. As well as, art and equine therapy. We also had "core" group, which was right after lunch. This group consisted of all of your Primary Therapist' clients. You "checked in" your feelings again. Discussed progress and presented projects. Projects were determined largely by your therapist. But, these were also outlined in the program, that was in place for all clientele. You were expected to complete these assignments. By finishing them, you could gain privileges. Things that you would normally take for granted, like walking the grounds, moving up to the "big lodge", going to the store, having more phone time, etc...But, these projects were mostly in place to benefit your overall therapeutic progress. In doing these things, you would "level up".
         Upon entrance to Brookhaven, you are called a "Heron". As mentioned above, you are given several things to do, to move up to each new level (turtle, bear, wolf....). Each "animal' had a meaning behind it. Initially, I balked at this whole concept. Bad attitude. Rebellious heart...I still wanted to "check out", not "check in". But, eventually, I succumbed to the process. I remember thinking that some of the projects were silly. But, in doing them, I learned so much about myself. Collages, time lines, family trees, treasure boxes, masks, stones...LOTS of books! I did move all the way through. And, I entered into a program called, "Poncho", which was led by Jacqueline. These models were all in place to help you see yourself with different eyes. To help you see who you were, what got you to where you are, who you are now, and where you want to be.
         I met with Annabel, almost daily. We had an instant connection. You can't help but love her. Earthy. Hip. A beautiful soul. Whether, in a room, walking, rocking on the smoking porch....., working with the horses, or just sitting...I looked forward to my time with her. She put up with a lot from me. This is what Annabel wrote in my departure journal, "...Your first week here, was a dramatic contrast to your final week. You have grown in so many ways, in this time. It was as if you were "walking in sleep"-feeling nothing, thinking nothing, and hoping nothing. And, now you are stretching in the morning sun...".  I did start to feel again. About half way through my time there, I finally cried. You see, I had not shed tears for many, many months. Not even as Mark brought the kids to say goodbye to me...Most of you might find that hard to believe. After all, I am a highly emotional person. But, I had been dead for so long. After the tears came, Annabel put it like this:  That I had found, "courage and value in my tears". My dark soul was beginning to seek the light. While, I was getting out in the sun, I knew deep down, that I really needed the Son....
          I had a lot of struggles while at Brookhaven. It was not prison. But, it was...We would have our rooms searched, almost daily. Things taken away. I'm not going to lie. I hid my razors and Excedrin.(Things that I bought on off grounds trips.) I just wanted to rebel. But, when a cutter found a way to slice herself up, I promptly turned mine in. (No. She did not find mine!) What grown up wants to be treated like a child?  We did feel that way, at times. "Revolts" would try to  surge on occasion. Think about a group of ever-changing, "hurting" women, having their curling irons or deodorant sticks confiscated. Or, told that no one could eat breakfast until everyone was in the dining room. Or, look forward to a day/night out, only to have it cancelled. No television. Books or DVD's taken away, if content might "trigger" something..... Plus, the drama of women, in general............Eee gads! The memories...
           I came to realize, while at BH, that I was, in fact, an addict. I began attending NA (Narcotics Anonymous) and AA meetings, both on and off the grounds. We would pile in the "druggy buggy" and go to Rockville, Maryville, Knoxville...for meetings at night. The Amy Winehouse song was popular at that time...I looked forward to sitting next to Kesha (one of my favorite CCP's), and listening to the radio. I learned so much about myself through these programs. The nature of addiction and the personality types that suffer the most. I even began leading theses groups towards the end of my stay. We were allowed to attend CR (Celebrate Recovery) in Knoxville, too. I did not participate, in that, until close to the end....The first night that I relented and went to CR, the praise band played, "Better is One Day". My heart burst...The missing component, to my treatment, was my faith.....
          The truth is, that I could write a small book about my stay in treatment. If I had written this two years ago, it would not have been so favorable. Even though, I had gotten better, I was still sick. Soul sick. My attitude about Brookhaven was somewhat harsh, upon returning home. I needed something to blame for not feeling fixed. After nearly four months, I knew that I had to come home. There was nothing else that Brookhaven could have done for me. The truth is, that my heart and soul needed to be healed on an even deeper level. It would be months before that became clear to me.
      
         
          One of the best things that has come out of my stay at Brookhaven, are the relationships. I met some amazing women. Through listening to their stories... And, watching them grow. I grew. Lori Robertson is a sister in every sense of the word. Our stories and lives are so  similar (w/out addiction). We know that it is a God-thing that we met! I love you, Lori!  My sweet friend, Lauren and I, were there the longest on my "stay". We saw a lot of gals come and go. At first, we did not like each other that much. But, after we found ourselves stuck with each other.....Well,  I now love her like crazy. The nursing staff were fabulous! CoCo, April, Lori, Mary? were my favs! Last year I had the opportunity to go back for a "reunion". Brookhaven had been open for three years. There were women from all over the country. Most, that I did not know. But, instant connections were made. I hope to do it again. Lori, Lauren, Lisa, Tabitha, Kerry, Maureen, Lelia, Barbara, Joani, Alissa, Courteney, Whitney, Ashley, Waverly, Sarah, Sara, Lori, Trish, Raycene, Amy, Cathey, April, Julie, Brenda, Terry, Margie, Sue, Erica, Melissa, Megan, Nikki, .......and many more! I love you all! One day at a time, sweet sisters!
           I am grateful that my family saw fit, to get me help. I thank Brookhaven Retreat for Women for their part in my recovery.

"My fam'ly made me go to rehab, I said a yeah, yeah, yeah..."
                        Kari Romoser
(Insert winks and giggles...)
        
         Who am I today? I'm the girl that will look anyone in the eye and let you know that you are loved. I will tell you what I went through. And, more importantly.....I will tell you Who saved me.
       
         Google this song, Nicole C. Mullen's, "My Redeemer Lives":

Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning
Who told the ocean you can only come this far?
Who showed the moon where to hide 'til evening
Whose words alone can catch a falling star?

Well I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
All of creation testify
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives

The very same God that spins things in orbit
He runs to the weary, the worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken
They conquered death to bring me victory

Now I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
Let this life within me cry
I know my Redeemer, He lives

To take away my shame
And He lives forever I'll proclaim
That the payment for my sin
Was the precious life He gave
But now He's alive
And there's an empty grave.

And I know my Redeemer, He lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives.

It is really hard to write something so short about something so big..............you cannot truly know...Please let me know if any of what I am sharing is helping you. Or, that you know someone that you can share it with. It helps me to know. You are loved.
Kari


Added Wednesday, March, 23, 2011- Leaving for the reunion tomorrow! Pray for me to shine His light!

Dying to Live

                             

  "My Redeemer Is Faithful And True"
(Steven Curtis Chapman and James Isaac Elliott) 
                       [Psalm 103:17]

"As I look back on the road I've travelled,
I see so many times He carried me through;
And if there's one thing that I've learned in my life,
My Redeemer is faithful and true.
My Redeemer is faithful and true.

My Redeemer is faithful and true.
Everything He has said He will do,
And every morning His mercies are new.
My Redeemer is faithful and true.

My heart rejoices when I read the promise,
'There is a place I am preparing for you.'
I know someday I'll see my Lord face to face,
Cause my Redeemer is faithful and true.
My Redeemer is faithful and true.

And in every situation He has proved His love to me;
When I lack the understanding, He gives more grace to me."

         I have loved this song for so many years. I loved to sing it. But I "lacked the understanding" to fully embrace this truth, until two years ago.....

       Three years ago, on January 30, 2008, I took over one hundred and eighty pills. Mostly, narcotics. I had been stock piling them with a purpose. It was my third attempt, to end my life. I actually remember how calm I was, as I emptied each bottle. The "calm" came from years of resigning to a lie. A lie that my my life was no longer worth living. That I was too wretched to be saved. You see, I had begun a perverse "love affair" with bitterness. And, I had actually continually entertained thoughts of suicide. Even as young as fourth grade. I had somehow even romanticized this notion of taking my own life. Some, may reduce suicidal talk, or even acts, as attention seeking. Well, let me assure you. I meant business. There was no playing around. In spite of my natural theatrical side, I was way beyond needing, wanting, or even getting attention. I intentionally took every single pill, with the desire to go to sleep and to never wake up.

I desperately craved for my hurt to end...

       How does anyone come to the conclusion that that they should take their own life? For me, I was severely depressed, chemically suppressed and spiritually oppressed. A triple threat. We had lost a baby. I had lost my health (Fifths Disease, EBV, GAD, PTSD...) And, Mark had lost his job. We were treated horribly by the family that caused his firing. It left us in a tail spin of shock, hurt and confusion. But, as I have eluded too, Mark did not stay stuck in that place.

However, I did.

       The "deck of cards", in this whole story, was definitely not stacked in my favor. Due to the pain, incurred by the Epstein Barr Virus, I was put on Oxycontin. This was the beginning of a disastrous and lethal "marriage" between "benzos" and Opiates. You see, I had already been courting Xanax off and on since 1988. But, began abusing them at that time. They are both "downers". Mixed together? Toxic. And, throw in alcohol. Deadly. My family knew that I was over-medicating. But, I am strong willed. Bull-headed. And! A great actress. I got away with a lot. It was easy to dismiss some of my behaviors. After all, I  had lost a baby. There was the stress of the move.  Why we had to move... And, I was very sick.

       Another "nail in my coffin", was my house in McAlester. I loved our home! Loved it! So, leaving it was very difficult. We moved in with my parents for six months. We had 3400 sq. feet of our stuff, boxed up, stored, or sold. We were thinking that we would get some new things after we found a new home, but to our dismay, our home sat on the market for two years. Let's see- Two mortgages, for two years=no new furniture. Every little nail, like that, closed me up more and more.

       I hated everything about our new house. In looking back, I just hated everything about everything. A miserable soul. "Baking" at room temperature. And, that is where I basically stayed from 2003-to early 2008. I did get out some. But, it was rare. I missed many of my children's events. And, the ones that I did attend... Well, I was a mess. A presentable mess. But, a mess, nonetheless.

       In the Summer of 2007, I got really bad. Do you ever watch shows like, "Intervention" where the addict is scrambling for their fix? Searching through drawers, cabinets, shoe boxes.... for even just a remnant of their "DOC" (drug(s) of choice)? That was me. I remember one time that I literally turned our room upside down. I was looking for a bottle of Oxycontin (aka, "hillbilly heroine"). It looked like a bomb had gone off! Ask, Mark! I was crazed. Once I found it, I counted every single pill. I laid them out, one by one, on our bed. I was checking, like a mad woman, to see to see if they were all there. I knew what I had in "stock". Always! I had my days calculated on what chemicals to take. And, when. I knew what I needed to keep the "high" or the "low". The "getting off" or the "coming down". I was obsessed with it. If I ran low, on any of my thirteen prescriptions, I drank. I drank anything. Mostly, vodka. I also started "abusing" cold meds. Even drinking Benadryl! My thoughts were that I could at least sleep until I got more "drugs". I did this when I was broke and desperate. I just wanted out. To be numb.  I did everything. Let's just leave it at that. (Well, I never did meth, heroine or injected myself with anything. I steered clear of what I considered "dirty drugs". I was not that desperate. Yet! But, close.) I may be in South Tulsa, but you can find anything that you want right here. I was on a collision course with death. My mind and soul were gravely wounded. But, the drugs exacerbated everything. I thought they were helping. (Crazy!) They were not.

       I would like to say one small thing about my "pushers". They came straight out of the Yellow Pages. And, no lie! They were the first two doctors, that I called, when I got to Tulsa. It was like a "cattle call".  And, that "kid-in-candy-shop" feeling, each time that I went to their offices. Neither, doctor is now practicing.

                     Wednesday, January 30, 2008-
        All that I remember about that day was waiting until the kids got home from school as I had purposed to be with each of them. To see them and have quality time with each them individually. I wanted them to have a happy memory of me. At least the last one would be of me out of my bed! And to have a home cooked meal. I was actually up and doing things as I took small handfuls of pills with gulps of vodka. Moving around my home while watching them. Silently screaming inside as I believed that I would never see them again. Yet, strangely committed to end it all.

        I made a lasagna that night. It's weird that I remember that. I would take some pills and drink. I did this periodically until they were all gone. My kids have now told me that I spoke with slurred speech and that I was incoherent at times. Why did they not catch on? Sadly, I believe it was their norm. I was also told that I fell asleep at the dinner table. Mark assumed that I had taken my sleeping pills too early, so he put me to bed.

He had no idea what I had done.

       It's not the easiest thing to admit to, but my family had adjusted to my "absences". Staying in my bed for days and days... (Again, never judge what you have not walked through.) Mark had taken care of most everything for such a long time. So, as usual, the next morning he got all four kids off to school and went on to work. I have written about most of this day in each of my children's posts. If you are just now reading, refer to "10 Days of Thanks". Especially in Zach's post.

That afternoon, he found me unresponsive.

       I do not remember anything after Wednesday afternoon. Not one bit. I started to wake up sometime on Friday, February 1. I remember seeing my brother, Dr. Matt Kimberling and Dr. Mark Galles (My Internist, at the time. Never went to him for "drugs". a great doctor!). They were standing over me. I remember tears streaming down my face. But, I did not completely wake up until Saturday. At least that is my recollection. I had pneumonia and was put in ICU with a "babysitter". In other words, I was on "suicide watch". I had to be intubated, put on a ventilator, and have my stomach pumped. Let me just say, charcoal is not pretty. The Psychiatrists were belligerent with me. (Well, that was my perception.) I am certain that I was hostile. They kept asking me why I did it. And I kept insisting that I didn't try to kill myself. Why? Because my attempt failed. And, I knew the next step was Laureate. Which was not on my destination travel plans! But, my stories and my lies began to catch up with me. Mark found the bullet hole and casing from my attempt in October. (I had covered the hole in my wall. And I never could find that darn casing!) He told the doctors. Then my parents found out that I had stolen their gun and that I had been stealing my dads prescriptions. And then years of pent up feelings began to flow out of Mark's. Tears, confusion, and anger. his own unraveling and undoing began.

       On Monday night, February 4, I was checked into Laureate Psychiatric Hospital. I was most definitely not a happy camper. It was abysmal. While, I do not know how it is there every week, this particular week was "crazy week". I was depressed, not crazy. I spent two nights and one full day there. I begged my mom to get me out. When she came and saw the soiled britches of one of my "roomies", she felt that there had to be a better place. My family agreed to my parents house as not to confuse our four children any further. Calls and searches were made. It is not as easy as you might think to find a treatment center for women only. And, one that could support "dual-treatment". Depression, anxiety, suicidal fixation, and substance abuse.) My family was insistent on all of that.) We did find one in Tennessee. More about Brookhaven Retreat for Women in my February 11th blog. (Don't miss it!)

       Today, I find my self still "dying". Not, slowly and methodically. Not with drugs or sickness. But, "dying" to my "self". Daily. Sometimes, hourly.

1 Corinthians 15:31 says, "I affirm, brethren, by the boasting in you which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die daily." And, Galations 2:20 says, "I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me."

       I am a new person. My sins have been forgiven. My heart is being healed. My mind renewed. (Well,.... that is where I "die" daily. I think way too much.....amongst other things. I constantly think that people do not really like me. c-r-a-z-y!) But, the beauty really is in the Cross. God is challenging me to stay "right" with Him. And when I detour, I have a quick realization of my waywardness. Where I might have basked for days, months, and even years in self-pity, shame, guilt, bitterness and anger; I now bask in His perfect grace. I never want to stop speaking to what He has done! What He is doing!

       I am now "dying to live". I desire life. I want to take big, huge bites out of it. But, I also want to sit still in the peace of it. I am getting there. One day at a time.

       In closing, I read this the other day and I would like to share it with you- "We read to know that we are not alone" - C.S. Lewis

We are never alone!
Kari

See-Through Secrets and the "Rewards" of Transparency

"I just wanted you to know that I have been keeping up with your blog. I really appreciate it and how open you are with everyone. I found it interesting that you keep the bullet hole where you can see it. I have scars from cutting and I was so ashamed. I beat myself up for it. But, at the same time, I still wanted to cut because it was my way of punishing myself for my failures. I honestly did not want to stop cutting, but through reading your blogs, I realized that God helped me out of that. So, now those scars are a reminder of the miracles that God has planned for my life. I am so grateful. He can fix anything."
                                        Anonymous

                 I have been pretty honest about my struggles with addiction, depression and suicide. Telling my truth has been a huge part of my continued progress. Obviously, the truth is always best. And, just as God's word promises, it has "set me free"! Yet, there are some things that are best shared with only a few. In other words, I do have some secrets. Some may eventually find their way to print. But, there are some things that are better left alone. I know the difference. And, trust me, the whole truth is pretty ugly. I will share as I deem essential and beneficial. For you and me!

                  Early on, I asked myself what my purpose was for sharing and blogging. Why do it? Why is it necessary to be so open, transparent and real? To be writing about my life "out loud"? And, for so many? It was simple. I still struggle. Although, not nearly as much. And, I continue to learn more about myself, and the nature of addiction, anxiety and depression through my writings. As I have shared in earlier posts, I want to use anything that happened to me if even to help, just one.....You see, It helps me to help you.  I want to show what God has done to me and for me! I pray that I will always be growing and maturing. If you are like me, you can acknowledge that we are all "works in progress". I really have no need for those that think they have it all figured out. Those, "Perfect People"! (I LOVE that song! Natalie Grant! Got the track! Gonna sing it!) By the way, there are none!
                   It was not until this past Winter that my story really became public. I posted my first Facebook "note", outing myself. Then, Philip, our Minister of Music, asked me to be a part of the "cardboard testimonies" at church. And, our Pastor asked Mark to speak about how prayer helped him through our difficult times. Doors keep opening! And, I am constantly humbled.
                  So, as my truth is being told, I continue to learn what to share and what not to share. Right now, I'm hearing Jack Nicholson yelling in, "A Few Good Men"..."You can't handle the truth!!!!!". Oh boy! So, yes, there are morsels of my story that will stay in the vault! With that said, I would like to share something my therapist, Annabel, helped me with. She gave me many books to read during my stay at Brookhaven. One dealt specifically on the subject of secrets. In, "The Secret Life of Families", Evan Ember Black writes:

"Opening secrets to regain our integrity involves a recognition that opening the secret is just the beginning, and a commitment to deal honestly with all of the issues that arise once a secret opens.- DO I WANT TO OPEN THE SECRET BECAUSE I TRULY BELIEVE THE INFORMATION BELONGS TO ANOTHER PERSON OR WILL ENHANCE ANOTHER PERSON'S LIFE?". 

                   Yes!! That's it! That's me! By telling you my "dirty little secrets", I am being restored! Amends are being made! And, I pray that you too, might be set free! Get enhanced by what had me entranced! (clever, huh!) Ha! I am ready, willing, and more importantly, able to deal with the issues that may arise. I want my secrets to empower you to get real. Or help someone that you love, get real! Look at me and see the beauty of a life redeemed from the truest of hellish pits! By hearing my story, I hope you find yourself yearning to be more open. Transparent. It really is freeing! Now hear this! Stop! Look! And, listen! (No need to drop and roll...Ha!)  I am not saying that you need to broadcast your stuff like this! No! (It comes with a small price to put yourself out there! But, worth every bit, I say!) This is not for everyone. Some secrets should be kept. But, if you are holding on to your devastations. Overwhelmed with any desperation.... Seek out a trustworthy soul. They are out there. Find someone, and share.
                  After  publishing my blog, there has been a constant stream of well wishes, prayer requests and cries for help. I recently received the message at the top of this post. ( Don't worry! I asked for their permission!) My heart breaks as I read and hear these stories of pain and desperation. So many people are struggling. Most of them, silently. I am not a therapist. And, I will not counsel. But, I can listen. And, I will always pray. I am just a woman that has done some things that she is not particularly proud of... But, grateful to be alive. And, living that life with integrity...finally!
                   So, to my precious "friend" that wrote me. I do look at that physical reminder, almost daily. I remember that very moment that I turned the gun to my head. I remember feeling the weight of all my failures. The thoughts that I would be better off dead. I remember the feeling of complete shock as the gun went off...And, with that, I understand that desperation that (you) succumb to, that causes you to cut. Sometimes, I see it, like a dark cloud coming over my horizon. But, I never let it get too close. I am equipped with a fiery passion for my Heavenly Father, that beckons me to stay fixated on all things good. It is not always easy. Also, I've got an army on  my side! I am rejoicing that you have turned this over to God! One day you, too, will share...I know it!
                  I love what Paul writes:
"More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ."
Philippians 3:8
                  I am the better for having walked through this mess. It has made me a stronger, more focused and happier person. Yes! I have some shady stuff that I shall keep to myself. But, He has "created in me, a clean heart. And, renewed a right spirit within me" . Psalm 51:10. And, I am so thankful that His mercies are new every morning! Whew! Thank you, Lord!

                    Because I told my truth. Because I shared of some of my secrets...there are others out there who are letting go. And, they are letting God heal them. He will. He is. He does.
                  As I begin this new year, I find myself in a new place. Content. Amazed. Peaceful. And, I like it!

Get Real in 2011!! Let me know your stories!
Be Blessed!
GISG!
Kari