Getting Sober at Seminary

 

I’m a sober, Christian woman. If you want to push away from labels, I’m a woman who embraced Jesus and drinking—at the same time.

I don’t care much about labels—use them, don’t use them—but I care about who I’m speaking to and I’m speaking to men & women in recovery, or thinking about recovery, or desiring recovery that have a faith, or are thinking about what having faith means, or desire to have faith. Faith in what? A Higher Power—something bigger than you. My higher power is God and his son, Jesus—yours might be different. And, I’m okay with that. This is where we wrestle with it.

You see, my path to God was rife with doubt & anger, but so masterfully crafted I couldn’t deny God’s existence. It’s what I now know within. But, I can also understand that many are still grappling (or not) with this concept. I can appreciate the struggle, because part of the struggle is deeply steeped in our shame-based addiction. What I’ve learned is that there is a complexity to being a person of faith when one is actively shaming themselves into the darkness.

Yes, we do it to ourselves. But, the density to this statement is that genetics, environment, and the teaching of our elders muddies murky water.

This blog is about my journey as a faith-based woman in recovery and the daily pressures of living out loud as a creative human being. That, and—I have worked with so many amazing & strong, yet hurting men and women as a Substance Use Disorder counselor and Director of Rehabilitation Programs that I wanted to provide continued guidance, share what I’ve learned, as well as speak to those with or without an anchor.

Just before the New Year, after a dreadful but vision-clarifying bout of COVID, I came clean with friends on Facebook about my sobriety. I was done dueling with the shame hellion because of my desire to write to all of you. I’ve been where some of you are at, especially as you wrestle with your commitment to God and addiction. So, in order to share my experience, strength and hope, I pulled my own covers. It was both freeing and anxiety-producing.

But, I’m willing to endure anxiety for the opportunity to speak to you. 

To begin, my story:

I was raised in a manner in which it had to look good—all of it—all the time. In my head, my worth was built on how good I could make it look. It was how acting came so naturally to me back then. I knew how to put on a show. There was little truth about who I was built into that script, however. I was a manufactured illusion, a trick of the lights, an imperfect stitch on a hasty costume and a face painted with sticky makeup.

Somewhere around 12-13 years old, I started drinking. Kids in my Quaker school didn’t do that, but I did with a friend across the street. We’d steal alcohol, I’d sneak out and we’d drink in the middle of the night. Most kids I knew were just getting into smoking…it was the cool thing to do! I remember my “good-bye” party included me sneaking off with girls to puff on cigarettes far from the watchful eye of parents. But, on my block—I partied with the proverbial kid next door.

Then, I went to a public high school and I found both alcohol and drugs—that’s when I got lost in it all. I barely made it out of high school alive—literally and figuratively. I was not a well young woman. I drank whenever I could and I did any drugs I could get my hands on. I was a full-blown alcoholic by the time I graduated. How do I know? Because I’d hide whatever I could from my friends so that at the end of the party I still had something to drink even if on my own.

Now, to hip-hop back for a moment, around the same age I started drinking, I found God. I have the awesome, yet slightly cringe-worthy memory of going to a Young Life camp in winter. I gave my life to Jesus during the open call, even though I had absolutely no idea what that entailed. What I did know, however, was that I was a bad kid and I needed God. Thankfully, over time, I’ve been able to view myself less black & white, and God as loving father versus silver bullet.

Consequently, my drinking career became deeply entwined with my love for and service to God, though I tried to part them out. This led to showing everyone what I wanted them to see when inside—I was a mess. Soon after my father died in my mid-20s as a direct result of alcoholism, I came into a small inheritance. I took that cash, desperate and tired of isolated binging, spent half of it well—car, education, therapy—and half of it poorly—rent, groceries, bling.

I openly acknowledge that my father dying was one of the best things that could have happened to me at that point in my life. I miss my father, but I could not carry his shame and mine at the same time. I simply wasn’t capable. I did not understand boundaries; I did not understand identity; and so, I took on everything I could in order to keep drinking—this is the lovely excuse us addicts like to provide ourselves about why our addiction makes sense…to cope.

Soon, I became intimately aware that I was behind in my emotional maturity as I watched friends get married, buy houses, have kids while I wasted away trying to make my “dreams” happen. I was definitely somebody who believed in more. I have no interest, whatsoever, in statistics—who says I can’t be the one? But, wanting more is also about addiction. It’s a form of obsession hyper-focused on what will fill the heart-shaped hole, empty inside.

That’s when counseling became important. As I mentioned earlier, I spent half of my inheritance well by seeking therapy when I realized my binging-sprees were abnormal. And, what I later learned was that for all the years I was dragged in front of or placed myself with therapists in an effort to be “fixed”, I was actually able to show up for myself when I needed it most. I was sick, desolate and aware versus my early 20’s when I was sick, disguised and unaware.

So, I got honest with myself and—I allowed counseling to work.

To my amusement, a strange thing happened during all this—God called me to seminary. I was attending church, often hungover, and heard about this place called Fuller Theological Seminary. One day, I accidently wound up on the campus, lost. Something encouraged me to visit the school as a prospective student so I attended an open house. And, what happened next is seared into memory—during prayerful worship, I burst out crying. I nearly ran out of there.

Be a missionary???

No way, Jesus! That’s not cool!!!

Guess what—a few years later, I was not only a student, but I was employed by Fuller.

Despite my leap of faith, I drank through the first few years of seminary holding the titles of Director of Development and part-time Masters of Intercultural Studies student. I was pulling off imposter quite well until the cracks started to show and I got scared. That’s when God got me sober. He put all the people I was supposed to meet in my path. Furthermore, I realized that if I was to be God’s servant, I had to honor my body which I was destroying.

Somewhere, between routine therapy and time with God, I uncovered enough belief in myself to re-balance the scale in favor of life. More significantly, a productive life—a life meant to be lived well for God. For someone who questioned the rationale for living up until the age of 30, this was a big deal! Today, I have a life well-lived for God and anyone else I can help. I’m not a saint, but I try very, very hard to be all I can be with my personal challenges in tow.

This blog is a portal through which to share what I’ve learned as someone who has been so far off center as to be lurking in the fringes, homeless on the street, to obtaining the hard-earned titles of Counselor and Director. This is my experience, strength and hope, as we say in 12 Step, as A Sober Christian Woman with 11 years. I’ll start by imparting three things that have made a difference in my faith & recovery walk:

GRATITUDE

I have been a person who has not liked much of what has happened in my life, what I have received, or how things played out. As a Christian, I prayed and offered thanks, but I wasn’t really happy with anything. I would expect depression has something to do with this, too. Then, I began to practice humility & gratitude in the 12 Step rooms. This is where things changed. Humility garnered through the act of gratitude became a life ring in the middle of dark water.

So, I practiced it…and practiced it some more…and I started to truly get it as I had not before. Having gratitude changed my life from the inside out. It changed my perception of life going on around me. I was no longer a victim; I was a victor. My poisoned mind went from sick to well. I can’t imagine not expressing gratitude for everything I have—including sobriety—today. It is now an integral part of my life experience and routine offerings of appreciation to God.

If you are wrestling with this, read p.150 from the Daily Reflections, particularly the last line.

HUMANNESS

There was genuinely something in me—for years—that did not understand the concept of being “human”. I just didn’t get it. Not on any meaningful level. I thought I had to be striving for and achieving perfection (or at least make it look that way) always. The idea that I was actually allowed to get it wrong, and pivot, was a foreign idea to me. In recovery, I learned I was allowed to make mistakes, to be human, and embrace my failures.

The book Failing Forward by John Maxwell helped internalize this concept for me. I knew something was wrong; I knew I had failed. But, instead of beating myself up with the bat of shame, I could put it down and see the failures as opportunities. Maxwell suggests we have to fail in order to grow. It’s a rite of passage as a flawed human being. I was invited to knock the walls down, show people the real me, grow from the exposure, and journey forward.

COMMUNITY

I have spent a good portion of my life alone. I didn’t do friendships well for many years and I still have to work hard at them today. Challenges with mental health can affect me more than I’d like to admit and for as much as I might come across extroverted, I am an introvert. These things kept me drinking in a silo. However, when I got sober and as I developed my adult faith, I realized that God and 12 Step programs call us into community for a reason.

We are hardwired to be in community, and without it we can die both spiritually and physically. Watch the short film Addiction and Connection about Johann Hari’s work. Hari’s research centers on the idea that relationships & community are necessary for not only recovery, but every day thriving. Harlow’s monkeys support his thesis. It’s why God created the church. Today, I encourage myself to connect as an integral part of my healing & service work.

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When I look back at my time enmeshed with alcohol & drugs, I realize God was with me, but I needed skills to subdue the enemy—me. These “coping practices”, supported by my foundation built in partnership with God, changed my direction and fostered self-love. I still wrestle with doing them well, but at least I am consciously, thoughtfully, doing them. I am inspired by Deuteronomy 31:6—Be strong and courageous…for the Lord your God goes with you.

To welcome and maintain a life at the intersection of faith & recovery, there is no other way.

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Stay tuned for new blogs on other topics at the intersection of faith & recovery, such as: Honesty, Shame, Anger, Identity, Competition, Self-harm, Eating Disorders, Dark Thoughts, Trauma, Experiencing & Exiting Incarceration, 12 Step Meetings, Getting a Sponsor, Working the Steps, Being of Service, Finding Mentors, Community & Connectedness, Self-forgiveness, Self-love, Trusting God & Others, Prayer & Meditation and so much more!