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