The psychiatrist enters the room. “They tell me you want to end your life, can you tell me why?”
I lower my head murmur, “I’m already dead inside, I just want to finish the job.”
The
morning of November 8, 1997, I was
holding a bottle of prescription painkillers in my hand with a six-pack of beer
in front of me to wash them down. My world
had collapsed. I was in my second
loveless marriage; one more failed attempt to fight my alcohol-fueled life of promiscuity, as well as other self-destructive
behavior. I was empty inside and hopeless.
The emotional pain was excruciating and I wanted it gone.
Before
I could twist off the child-resistant cap, "something" compelled me
to pick up the phone. Little did I know I was in the midst of Divine Intervention. The
call I made was to the AA hotline and resulted in my being taken to a
psychiatric hospital.
During the admissions process, they went through my stuff, searching for items I could use to harm myself. They confiscated my toothbrush, comb, cigarettes, and lighter but what made the most impact was the removal of shoelaces from my sneakers. For some reason, having to walk around in loose shoes made me realize how sick I really was. While being escorted to my room, we passed the recreation room. I observed a man putting a puzzle together and I hoped that maybe, just maybe, this commitment would do the same for me.
I was transferred to the rehab ward several days after
surviving the painful process of detox. I emerged from the fog and the journey to recovery began.
After my first year of sobriety, I divorced my second
husband. He had continued to drink and I knew if I stayed, I would eventually
surrender to temptation and end up right back where I was before hitting bottom
and I didn’t want to die.
AA not only showed me a new way of living, it
reintroduced me to God. It was at an AA meeting I met my current
husband. After we had married, we continued to be active in AA but it
didn’t seem to be enough. It took a while, but we finally realized we needed AA but also a strong faith community. Since my
husband was Catholic, we started attending Mass and both felt like we were
finally home. I was baptized on April 15, 2006… But
the blessings didn’t stop there.
A year later, Divine Intervention struck again. I felt
compelled to attend a Faith in the Spirit Seminar, even though I had no idea
what it was. A woman gave testimony on
her abortion experience and how it affected her life. As she spoke, my tears flowed. It was as if she was speaking directly to
me. That was the first time I heard
about Rachel’s Hope After-Abortion Healing Retreats,
but I knew by the aching in my heart I needed to sign up.
Although sober and on the right
spiritual path, there had always been something hovering over me like a dark
cloud. That dark cloud was the pain,
regret and self-loathing I had kept buried in the deep recesses of my soul for
over thirty years. I had never mourned my children,
even the one I miscarried. I never
acknowledged their existence at all. My abortions propelled me into the
darkness of alcoholism and the reprehensible behavior that resulted. I drank to
be free of the emotional pain and slept around for what I thought was love and
acceptance. Rachel’s Hope gave me the emotional and spiritual tools to forgive
myself and ask forgiveness from God and my children. I had never connected my abortions to any psychological or behavioral
issues. The puzzle was finally solved.
I am blessed and privileged to now be part of the Rachel’s
Hope family by leading retreats. As women enter the retreat house, I see in their eyes the same unrelenting shame,
remorse and self-hatred that I carried for so many years. I also witness a miraculous transformation
and watch them leave with a renewed spirit and something they haven't had in a
very long time: HOPE.
