Kristin

My name is Kristin and this is my story in a nutshell.

I don’t really recall my first drink, but I can tell you that it was not too long after my parents divorce at age 13. By the time I was in the 8^thgrade (14), I began experimenting with heavier drinking and drugs and I started smoking cigarettes. I was pretty good at “holding my liquor” but had no stop button. I drank until it was gone, period.  That’s how I am with everything it seems; all or nothing. Same with marijuana, pills, and anything else I could get my hands on.  By 16, I had done everything there was to do…with the exception of needles and cocaine…I wasn’t going there I told myself….never…that’s where I drew the line! To say that I had a tough time in my young adult life is an understatement and my feelings of abandonment, fear, and anger overtook me.  I was a mess.  Constantly in this state of depression and rage, starting fights at school constantly and not caring whether I got hurt in the process.  

At 16, I got into a relationship with a man 10 years older than me and so because he was out of the “school scene” I did slow down on the drug use and cigarettes because he didn’t approve, although he was all about drinking…and bonus – now I had someone to supply me with alcohol anytime I wanted it, which was often.  I managed to get through school by the skin of my teeth, but I won the Student of the Year award at the Skill Center, where I studied Business Information Processing.  I was a natural at that.  High school ended and so did that relationship.  I was heartbroken!  He had gotten me a ring and I thought we were going to be married, but he had been seeing other women all along and I was just too in love and naive to see it.  

I got a great job at a financial advisory firm the day after high school and I poured myself into that work to get over those old feelings resurfacing and these new ones of betrayal, hurt, and loss.  I looked good on the outside but inside I was a complete mess again.  I started drinking heavy again and it didn’t help that the whole business I was working for seemed to center around drinking. Wining and dining the wealthy was a daily ritual.  

At 18, I decided to move into my own apartment right by my work and also got a second job at a bar down the street to fill up my lonely, empty nights…and so the drug use began again. It was a rock and roll bar with live music and I was a bartender. 

It wasn’t long before I met and fell in love with this longhaired rocker (Jeff) who I had been drooling over for years after seeing him in a picture at a friend’s house.  I never dreamt he would even give me the time of day.  True to myself, I fell fast and hard for him but he didn’t quite feel the same way…he was a little less inclined to settle down with just one girl at that time.  I tried to keep my insides calm and keep my feelings together, but it was difficult. Seeing all these other girls around him all the time made me feel jealous, inferior, and very self-conscious. 

I started to get depressed again, with all these negative emotions as well as the workload I was putting on myself by having a very stressful job where I worked 60+ hours a week, and then working the bar job until 3am every Wednesday-Saturday.  I started using marijuana and drinking again to cope with the feelings. I was so tired in the mornings and just so tired period.  Like I said, on the outside I was looking great….apartment, 2 cars (I bought myself a white mustang convertible), a month long trip to Los Angeles (where I thought I wanted to live and be an actress), leather coats & matching boots in every style and color, closets full of clothes, presents for my friends, nails done, hair done, etc. etc. etc.  But inside I was a mess.  I knew my long time friend/co-worker at the bar was into cocaine, so one day I asked her to try it.  She gave me some and that was that.  I found my newest and greatest outlet.  It was the answer I was looking for.  More energy to get the work done, more good feelings to keep the bad ones at bay, and a new ability to drink more than I ever had.  Until it wore off…and I had to get up for work and do it all over again. After a season, I started to see my life spinning out of control and so I decided to move back home – that always helps, right?  

Well I quickly found out that the real reasons I wanted my own place in the first place still existed…those old feelings came flooding back because now my mom, who had suffered with depression and eating disorders my whole life to this point, was now in the process of getting another divorce and she was not in a good mental place. I tried to be there for her, but I wasn’t even capable of being there for myself. And so the shame and guilt started. My mom attempted suicide several times and I, or sometimes my grandma, would be there to get her into the mental hospital.  It was a very hard time for us both.  At this same time, I reconnected with that longhaired rocker and we officially started dating; I still remember the first call and date was August 15, 1990.  

A week or so later I came home from work to hear my mom say, “I’m selling the house and moving in with Patrick.  We are getting married in September and you can’t come with me so you will need to find someplace to go.”  I panicked because I knew that with my current lifestyle I could no longer afford to live on my own, so I went to my dads to see if he would let me live there with him and my older brother and sister who had never left home yet.  He told me no, there was not enough room for me. What?  How was that possible?  When we were a “real family” there were 7 people living in that house!  Here come more of those old feelings….and with it, more drug and alcohol use.  Since I felt no other option was available and since Jeff was also in the exact same situation as I was and living temporarily with his sister who did not want him there, we moved in together.  And so…it really began.

Although Jeff drank some, he did not do marijuana, but he was much more advanced in cocaine use than I was and I quickly picked up the pace and kept up with him in that department. When that drug started having little affect on us, we ramped it up and started using the drug in other ways, which ultimately led to the use of another similar drug called crack.  It wasn’t long before I was starting to lose control of my life in ALL ways.  I was laid off from my job and although I had another one to go to, it was a big blow to me financially.  I got rear ended while at a complete stop, and Jeff was in front of me with my other car, so both of my cars were smashed at the same time.  I got in trouble with the police due to some less than honest answers I gave them.  And then, I found out I was pregnant.  As sick as this sounds, I remember feeling very angry with Jeff when he continued to do drugs without me and had replaced our drug experiences with other people, bringing them to our apartment to do them in front of me. I was so mad at him because he would not let me do the drugs because I was pregnant, but now I say thank you Jesus that he had at least that much common sense and respect for unborn life because apparently, I did not.

We were guilty of so many things, but we also were not guilty of many things that we were accused of by my own family members.  They did everything in their power to split us up, including call the police on him in hopes of having him put in jail, but it backfired and they took me instead. They accused him of stealing something from my cousin, accused him of stealing from his work, etc. etc. etc. Someone even accused me of getting pregnant to try to steal the spotlight because she was also pregnant and had been trying for a long time.  She wanted me to get an abortion because “there’s no way Jeff is going to stay with you” and when I refused, she stopped talking to me too.  The only communication I had with my family at this point was my mom, who was still battling her own demons, and onto divorce number three.  We made the decision to leave it all behind, packed our car and moved to Florida.  Six months later, we were moving back.  No food to eat (I was 8 ½ months pregnant), no money for rent (we were homeless), no family or friends (we burned many bridges)…we were at rock bottom…or so we thought.  

Thankfully, because of my current condition and because my sister moved out with her boyfriend, my dad let me stay at his house (on the floor) but only until I had the baby.  A few days later, I went into labor and had a beautiful baby girl.  I got to hold her for a total of three minutes before she was whisked away and taken to another hospital for a total of 25 days, but that is another story for another day.  I got out of the hospital and was distraught at the fact that my baby was not able to come home with me.  Although they reassured me that it was nothing to do with me (it was an accident caused by one of the delivery nurses), I still could not get it out of my head and heart that this was happening because of my bad behavior.  So, yep – you guessed it – I got high.  

The next several years were the same old story. Jeff was playing in bands in those days and so every chance I got, I found a babysitter for my daughter and went out to party and watch him play.  I can’t really say that I was the type of addict that couldn’t live without the drugs, but I was never without them long enough to find out.

Jeff’s mom was a “Christian.”  I cringed every time I had to go to her house because I just knew a lecture (or more of her “weirdo” talk) was coming.  Of every time I saw or talked to her, I do not remember a single time that she didn’t invite me to her church.  “Just come check it out,” she would say.  So finally, in October 1993, I caved in and said I would go.  I planned it perfectly.  I will go, sit through it and act like I cared, then I would tell her that it really wasn’t my thing and that I would look for my own place to go and then I would be off the hook.  Jeff thought it sounded like a perfect plan because then it would get him off the hook for a while too, while we were “looking”.  She told me what time to be there and that she would save me a spot.  

Well…wouldn’t you know it, I overslept and would NEVER be ready in time now, so I called her to break the news.  She snickered, with that little laugh that I grew to just love, and said, “Oh, well, can you be ready in an hour?”  “Yes,” I say, “but I am NOT going to walk into a church late – especially my first time!” “Well,” she says, “today is your lucky day!  You forgot to set your clock back last night and you have an extra hour to get ready, so I’ll see you there!” and she hung up the phone.  UGH!!!!  I was back on the hook and there was no way out.  Better just get ready and get this over with.  But there was no way I was handing my kid over to some “nursery worker” like she said – that is where I draw the line.

An hour later, I pulled into that parking lot and sat in the car for a minute asking myself what in the heck I was doing here?  Why did I think this was a good idea in the first place?  Why couldn’t I just tell her to leave me alone about it and mind her own business?  

So with fear and trembling I got out of the car.   I got my daughter out of her car seat, threw the diaper bag over my shoulder, and started walking into the building when suddenly, my legs froze and instantly something came over me.  A feeling I’ve had only three other times since.  It was more of a knowing than a feeling and it is extremely hard to put into words other than to say a blanket of peace just poured over me like a bucket of water.  I began sobbing…right there in the parking lot – nobody else around.  

I don’t know how long I stood there before I finally knew that it was time to go in and meet the Savior of my Soul.  I wiped my face off, walked into the building, and found the first nursery room I could.  I trustingly handed them my daughter before walking into that sanctuary and, as God would have it, was the exact time they were having an alter call for salvation.  I walked up to the alter, not even knowing what that was, and gave my life to Jesus Christ.   I made it through that first service and gathered up my daughter to go home knowing that something just happened to me.  I was NOT the same person I was when I left my house that day.  I didn’t know what to expect from here on out, but I knew things were about to change!

I walked into our apartment, and just like every other day, there was a visitor over who was supplying our drugs for the day.  I took my daughter to her bedroom for a nap and walked back into the living room to find that they had waited for me before partaking of the drugs.  They were handing me the paraphernalia when I just looked back at them and said, “No.  I don’t do that anymore.  I met Jesus today and I don’t do that anymore.”  I remember the look on their faces.  They were confused and thought I was crazy, but the look in Jeff’s eyes was fear….his life was about to change too and he knew it, but he wasn’t ready for the change. (His story of freedom is a story for another day too.)

That was the last day I ever used drugs.  I was 100% delivered from the addiction and the desire, the instant I met Jesus in that parking lot and I knew it because I felt it leave me.  Unfortunately, that was not the case with my drinking problem. That continued on for years until finally after almost dying one night from alcohol poisoning after a night out drinking in Grand Rapids, I made a deal with God that if He would get me through this night alive, I promised that I would never drink again.  I woke up the next morning without so much as a headache. I have not touched a drop of liquor/alcohol/wine since that day and that was more than 18 years ago! It would be a long hard battle of a different kind before I finally gave up smoking for good, but that day came too, about 12 years ago. Thank you Jesus!!!  You are so faithful to me.  

I understand that people who have never been through something like I’ve been through have a hard time understanding, and that’s ok.  People are different and although I believe in absolute abstinence, I hear that some people can drink and stop when they want.  I also hear that some people can use drugs “recreationally” and not become addicted.  My question is always, why do you want to?  What are you trying to escape from?  Why does the feeling of being out of control and not being yourself entice you? Because looking back now I can assure you that nothing about that lifestyle was fun!!!

But you cannot let what others say in ignorance get you off track!  Although I do NOT struggle at all with a desire to do drugs or drink alcohol – actually I feel physically sick when I even think of it or see/think of others doing it (even on TV) – I still have had to deal with friends and family member’s comments, jokes, talking behind my back, calling names, and flat out tempting me all these years.  One relative even said, “I’m sure God wouldn’t be mad if you have a glass of wine Kristin!” They just don’t understand.  They haven’t been there.  They didn’t walk through that hell and come out the other side knowing that it was only by the Grace of God that I am even here today to talk about it because believe me there were MANY times that I should have been dead from my drug and alcohol abuse, as well as the many failed suicide attempts that I tried before Jesus stepped in and saved me.  

Yes, Jesus set me free, but I also had to do my part.  I had to keep myself!  Keep myself away from those places I used to go.  Keep myself away from certain people.  Keep myself chasing after Him so that He could keep working on healing my heart from all those things that drove me to that behavior in the first place. It’s been a process, so in that it is always “one day at a time”, but I know one thing for sure – He is Faithful and He does NOT show favoritism….if He did this for me, He CAN AND WILL do it for you too!  I promise you, He is good for His Word.  Read His Words in the Bible and find out what He has to say about you, how He wants to help you and wants you to be free!  

I wish I could say that these were the last encounters I ever had with drug addiction, but unfortunately they are not.  As I said before, there is another whole story of deliverance for my husband many years later….but our story doesn’t end there either.  September 2018 our oldest son, Jeffrey Jr. (my step-son since he was 3 yrs. old) died of a heroin overdose, leaving behind three children.   At his funeral we also came face to face with the fact that our middle son was also in a severe battle with heroin addiction as well.

Out of these two devastating realizations, I find myself again in another battle….dealing with a loved one who has an addiction and being powerless over his life and the outcome of his addiction.  It is truly a parent’s worst nightmare, and I now know I am not the only parent going through it! This process that I have been walking through not only forced me to seek help for myself from a mentor and support group, but also is what birthed the idea to create this outlet/resource center that I call the “Battle is Real”.  I pray that it helps everyone that visits the page in one way or another, but even if it only helps one person, it was worth the work and the vulnerability I feel in sharing my battle with you. 

Thank you for reading my story.  If you were encouraged by it, please leave a comment below.

God Bless You! And remember – NEVER GIVE UP!!!!