“January 6, 2000 looked much like this…cold, snow-covered, sunny. Little did I know how the day would end.”

When I woke up the morning of January 6, 2000…I had no idea I had spent the last night of my life in Hubby #2’s bed. Because, it very nearly became the ACTUAL last night of my life. In about 12 hours, I was going to be in the ER fighting for my life after an overdose. 

This is the day that I refer to as my re-birthday. It was the day I hit rock bottom and had to start navigating my way back up. It wasn’t like I really wanted to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. Everything had become so painful.

I used to tell the details of this day over and over and over to anyone who would sit still. I told about my relationship to a man who wasn’t taking care of me the way I needed. He’s not a bad man at all. Years of illness and my altered personality from all those drugs had taken their toll on both of us. I told about the psychiatrist who misdiagnosed me as having a chemical imbalance in my brain. I told about how my life experiences, including episodes of childhood sexual abuse, had created the perfect storm that produced that fateful day. 

It’s nineteen years now. So close to two decades. Not quite one third of my life has passed. SO much has happened in those nineteen years, including burying my next husband. I am a sum of my experiences, as we all are. But, I am not DEFINED by those experiences anymore.

The person I am today doesn’t resemble who I was back then. The only cells that are the same ones now that were present on that night at the turn of the millennium are neurons…the very cells I was trying to shut off. Everything else has been made new…both physically with the passage of time, and spiritually with my salvation. 

The value of the story has changed. I no longer want you to take sides with me and hate my ex-husband. I no longer want to make excuses for my behaviors. I no longer want you to feel sorry for me. These things were all present for some time in the retelling. Now, the value of the story isn’t so much the yardstick that measures how far I’ve come, but more a testimony that…no matter how far you’ve gone down the wrong path…you can turn around and have a better life.

While my abuse came from prescriptions, and Danielle’s (see my post about her earlier this week) came from street drugs and a needle, we are no different. We were both addicted and we were both saved by the same Grace. We were both snatched from the jaws of death by a loving and forgiving God. He didn’t cause our problems, but he did allow us to walk through them so we could learn and grow into the purpose He designed for our lives.

It’s hard for me to believe that was me…that I was that far gone. I will tell you this, though…I will forever tell how Jesus picked me up and carried me when I stumbled and fell on January 6, 2000. ❤️

“so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

Isaiah 55:11 NIV