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For everyone out there suffering silently from alcoholism… or some addiction… here’s my testimony. Hang on, because it’s a lot.
I was always a believer in God. I never lost my faith. This is the part that saved me, I believe.
Now, I’m not placing blame here, just explaining how I got mixed up in allowing demons to take over me. Danny, my husband, as most of you know, was an alcoholic. He’s been sober now for four or five years… I’ve lost count. I started to drink with him as a way to cope. Can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Then I lost control.
He sobered up due to medical issues, and I continued.
I was a functioning alcoholic. I went to work. Got promotions. I was still showing up as a mom, but I was losing myself. My glow. My light. My soul. Who I really was was disappearing, and I felt like a demon was taking control.
I was beginning to say things I never would have said before. My kids were starting to notice that my eyes seemed to be turning black from the light hazel they are. My otherwise happy, joking, positive demeanor was fading, and in its place were dark, angry, negative ways.
I was dying.
I didn’t even recognize my face. I remember looking at the bottle and crying because I knew better, but I felt like the demons were in control at that point.
I was still going to church, making my kids go and all, lol, but going home and drinking that demon juice and not giving two shits. Total hypocrisy. I’m still so ashamed.
Then came that last Sunday…
I went to Mass with Danny and one of my girls. We sat all the way in the back. I was hungover, and to try to get through Mass, I took a few swigs before leaving the house. “Hair of the dog,” as they say.
I sat in the pew. My body had given up, and I couldn’t even lift my head. In my head, I cried to God, “Please save me. Please, God, save me.”
I looked at Danny and said, “Take me to the ER. I can’t anymore.”
We went, and they were so worried. The doctors said I was being admitted immediately. My levels were off the wall. I was killing myself, but I wasn’t afraid. I never am. I always know God protects me, but this time, I was really overdoing the confidence.
But I couldn’t win this war without God’s help, and the faith I’d always had now played a huge part.
Three nights into my hospital stay, the delirium tremens started. I had even lied to the doctors out of shame, and because of that, they couldn’t treat me the right way. Then the tremors began. As my body was suffering and the fight for my life began, a spiritual battle began, too.
It was amazing… Now, I’ve always had spiritual stuff happen to me, like when I was pregnant with the twins. A beautiful, glowing, angelic creature appeared to me, not saying one word. I couldn’t see her face. Shortly after, I started to dream I was losing one baby, and then I almost did. I had surgery, and that twin survived. After that, the angel appeared again, and I felt my baby was safe. And she was. The twins were born two weeks later, and 19 years later, they’re happy and healthy.
So when the spiritual war started, I knew in my heart God came to save my soul. I heard the war. The demon would laugh an evil laugh and say I was his, and I heard God yell, “NO! She belongs to Me.”
Then the Apostles’ Creed, which is MY favorite prayer, would be recited in my head. The demon would scream and hide. Then, when the prayer was done, the demon would laugh. GOD would yell again that I belonged to Him, that He was there to save me and bring me back.
This war went on all night. I felt comfort. I felt like someone was holding me. At one point, all I saw was white and what I could only describe as a peaceful field. I saw someone I can’t describe, and a voice I knew but can’t describe told me, in deafening silence, that I was saved again. I was His again, but I could never go back to drinking ever again because I would be damned, and I would lose my life along with it.
I was always a believer in God. I never lost my faith. This is the part that saved me, I believe.
Now, I’m not placing blame here, just explaining how I got mixed up in allowing demons to take over me. Danny, my husband, as most of you know, was an alcoholic. He’s been sober now for four or five years… I’ve lost count. I started to drink with him as a way to cope. Can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Then I lost control.
He sobered up due to medical issues, and I continued.
I was a functioning alcoholic. I went to work. Got promotions. I was still showing up as a mom, but I was losing myself. My glow. My light. My soul. Who I really was was disappearing, and I felt like a demon was taking control.
I was beginning to say things I never would have said before. My kids were starting to notice that my eyes seemed to be turning black from the light hazel they are. My otherwise happy, joking, positive demeanor was fading, and in its place were dark, angry, negative ways.
I was dying.
I didn’t even recognize my face. I remember looking at the bottle and crying because I knew better, but I felt like the demons were in control at that point.
I was still going to church, making my kids go and all, lol, but going home and drinking that demon juice and not giving two shits. Total hypocrisy. I’m still so ashamed.
Then came that last Sunday…
I went to Mass with Danny and one of my girls. We sat all the way in the back. I was hungover, and to try to get through Mass, I took a few swigs before leaving the house. “Hair of the dog,” as they say.
I sat in the pew. My body had given up, and I couldn’t even lift my head. In my head, I cried to God, “Please save me. Please, God, save me.”
I looked at Danny and said, “Take me to the ER. I can’t anymore.”
We went, and they were so worried. The doctors said I was being admitted immediately. My levels were off the wall. I was killing myself, but I wasn’t afraid. I never am. I always know God protects me, but this time, I was really overdoing the confidence.
But I couldn’t win this war without God’s help, and the faith I’d always had now played a huge part.
Three nights into my hospital stay, the delirium tremens started. I had even lied to the doctors out of shame, and because of that, they couldn’t treat me the right way. Then the tremors began. As my body was suffering and the fight for my life began, a spiritual battle began, too.
It was amazing… Now, I’ve always had spiritual stuff happen to me, like when I was pregnant with the twins. A beautiful, glowing, angelic creature appeared to me, not saying one word. I couldn’t see her face. Shortly after, I started to dream I was losing one baby, and then I almost did. I had surgery, and that twin survived. After that, the angel appeared again, and I felt my baby was safe. And she was. The twins were born two weeks later, and 19 years later, they’re happy and healthy.
So when the spiritual war started, I knew in my heart God came to save my soul. I heard the war. The demon would laugh an evil laugh and say I was his, and I heard God yell, “NO! She belongs to Me.”
Then the Apostles’ Creed, which is MY favorite prayer, would be recited in my head. The demon would scream and hide. Then, when the prayer was done, the demon would laugh. GOD would yell again that I belonged to Him, that He was there to save me and bring me back.
This war went on all night. I felt comfort. I felt like someone was holding me. At one point, all I saw was white and what I could only describe as a peaceful field. I saw someone I can’t describe, and a voice I knew but can’t describe told me, in deafening silence, that I was saved again. I was His again, but I could never go back to drinking ever again because I would be damned, and I would lose my life along with it.