Part 2

Say a Prayer For Me: One Woman's Life of Faith and Triumph
by Stanice Anderson

(Page 2 of 2)

One thing about addiction though - it progresses! It's a downward spiral that leads to jail, and sometimes death.

I would always try to be around people who I thought were worse off than me. When I snorted, I befriended people that were injecting drugs. Then I could say, "I'm not that bad." However, at the age of thirty - ten years after my first snort of heroin, I injected it for the first time.

It's said that addiction is a "feeling disease." Being a lover of words, I broke the word "dis-ease" down. To me, it has come to mean that I am not at ease in whatever my reality is - I have a problem with my feelings and understanding that feelings are not facts. I was not at ease with the feelings associated with my rape, abortions, my squandered life, being a mother, a wife abandoned by her husband, a daughter abandoned by her father, and even being in my own skin - I never felt comfortable with being who I was and all that it meant or didn't mean. I used drugs to forget - to stay numb - to not have to deal with reality!

The night before I shot heroin for the first time, I was arrested for assault with a dangerous weapon, unauthorized use of a vehicle, and breaking and entering. With drugs comes an unspoken responsibility to maintain the lifestyle. I had become a dealer of the pettiest sort. "Hustling backward" it's called. I made money and spent it faster than I made it. I had recruited young boys to help me in my life of crime since I was a woman alone. As a result of trying to get some money owed to me, I accumulated these charges. I spent the night in jail, which had never happened before. The next day when I got out, a girlfriend of mine came over with some heroin.

While she was known to use drugs intravenously, I was known as a snorter. However, the possibility of facing twenty years to life in jail was very disturbing. I recall thinking about how useless my life had become - me - having had so much potential (as I was always told - until it became a curse rather than a blessing, because I knew that I was not living up to that potential). Now I faced the possibility of prison.

My friend passed me my half of the heroin so that I could snort it. I watched her as she prepared the heroin mixture for the syringe. I just wanted to turn my life off - if only for a few minutes.

"What's wrong, Stacey? Why you savin' yours?" She had taken her eyes off her mixture as she prepared to tie her arm up to locate a vein.

"No. Put it all in the cooker!" I pushed my portion toward her.

"All of it?"

For a few brief seconds, with pleading eyes she said, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! Come on, hurry up before I change my mind!"

She did as she was instructed. "Well let me go first, and then I'll do you."

I watched as she plunged the mixture into her arm. I could see only the whites of her eyes, as they rolled back into her head. Her neck pivoted back and bobbed back and forth as she fought for control. She was in a place that I wanted to go - that I felt like I needed to go.

I went to that peaceful, quiet, and carefree place; but another thing I found out about drugs: They turn on you - you always have to come back to reality. When the high wore off, I was still facing prison time and my life was still out of control.

You see, I only meant to wet my feet - but it pulled me in - the waters of addiction run deep!

Within three years, I overdosed and had to be revived three times, spent three months in the hospital as a direct result of the overdose, got in and out of a physically abusive relationship, lost my job, slept on a mattress on the floor of an apartment that I eventually got thrown out of for nonpayment of rent, did things with men that I never dreamed I was even capable of doing, stole food to eat, was blessed to get charges reduced to attempted unauthorized use of a vehicle and thirty days' probation with a year's suspended sentence, and, thank God, ended up in a treatment center with the help of a pastor of the church across the street from the methadone clinic that I went to.

Oh, but I only meant to wet my feet.

After I came out of treatment, I desperately wanted to get on with my life. No, I couldn't change the past; but I found out with the help of people in the twelve-step programs that I had to deal with my past - if I wanted to stay drug-free. I had to deal with the roots of what caused me to use in the first place.

And so began my journey - as painful as it has been sometimes - to deal with scars and open wounds left by rape, abortions, a failed marriage, an abandoned son, and the lifestyle. I had to go to God because it was too much for me to handle on my own. The wounds were too deep and the inner pain was too great. The twelve-step meetings I attended were only an hour a day. Even if I went to two meetings a day that was only two hours; but I had to learn how to live with myself for the remaining twenty-two hours, what I had done in my past, and my hopes of the woman that I had wanted to become.

I started praying constantly, reading all I could about God, asking questions, watching other people who walked in faith, and trying to emulate them. Even in my new faith-walk, I only meant to wet my feet - but it pulled me in - the waters of God's love for me ran deep - even deeper than drugs. I began to feel comfort when I prayed. I began to see God answering my prayers, making a way for me, leading me to jobs, people, apartments, and a healthier lifestyle. I saw God bring my son and other family members back into my life. The cravings for drugs started to leave. The desire to use drugs left me. As I witnessed my life change and the lives of my new drug-free friends, my relationship with God became even more personal. It was no longer a God out there in the sky anymore who had little time for the likes of me. He became my God and I was His daughter and even though my own earthly father rejected me, I began to trust and know that God never would.

Yes, I only meant to wet my feet!

* * *

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." We can hear the train coming and still insist that we can get over the track before the train arrives. Our first thoughts warn us of the danger ahead on the road but we head down the road anyway. Whether it be credit cards, drugs, alcohol, chocolate, working, playing numbers, trying to keep up an image that is killing us from the inside out, we have a tendency to think that becoming out of control can't happen to us. We also have the tendency to think that the past is the past - let it be - out of sight, out of mind. However, what happens to the old baggage that follows us to the present and attaches itself to the journey to the future - if we don't do anything about it? We wonder why our relationships sour so quickly, why we can't let go enough to love and be loved, why we can't let anyone close to us, why we worry so much about everything, why we feel so useless, unloved, and unwanted. Why we feel that we are better than, or less than, other people. Why we procrastinate, or get so angry, or so depressed. We need to address that old baggage by offering it to God through prayer, asking for healing and guidance on the steps we can take to do our part in becoming all that God birthed us to be. It can begin when we invite God into our lives.

* * *

Dear Heavenly Father: When we veer off the righteous path that you prepared for us even before we were born, steer us back - love us back onto your way. We know we have free will and sometimes that seems to be a curse more than a blessing because we sure know how to mess up these precious lives that you gave us. Help us to say "No" to anything that is not of You. Help us believe that as long as there is breath there is hope and that you can change a life as sure as the sun will set and the moon will rise. Nothing is impossible for You. Hear our prayers for our loved ones and acquaintances who are saying "Yes" to the wrong things. Show us your reality and help us to stay focused on your love that can heal any wound, bind up any broken heart, pull up and destroy the roots of any pain left from our pasts so that we can live up to our potential in You. Amen. So be it!

* * *

My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the
Lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance,
Being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all
Were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none
of them.

Psalm 139:15-16 (New King James Version)

Copyright © 2002 by Stanice Anderson

About the Author

Stanice Anderson is a journalist, public speaker, businesswoman, and recovery counselor trainer. The author of 12-Step Programs: A Resource Guide for Women, as well as the e-mail series Food for the Spirit and Power Moments with God, she has appeared on The 700 Club. She lives in Maryland.