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How Addiction Stole Christmas

“Happy” feelings abounded the year addiction stole Christmas in the Joyous Family.  After attending an office Christmas party where the libations flowed freely and a van taxi sat waiting to take all the revelers home, our world screeched to a halt.

The taxi dropped me off at a good friend’s house to pick up the kids.  I walked into the house and began to cry.  The van taxi ride home with a bunch of very drunk people scared me.

My good friend’s offered me a bed for the night.

“No, I just need to get the kids home.  If I get them and myself to sleep before he (my husband) gets home, it will all be alright,” I said.

I packed up my 3 & 5-year old in the Honda Minivan and drove the 7 miles home to the big house on 20 acres.  On the way home, I spotted my husband’s car still parked at the restaurant where he worked.

Good I thought, I’ve got a little while, he will finish-up the party there with his work associates.  It may be hours before he gets home.

The past year my husband had taken a job at the local restaurant/bar.  That year his drinking increased dramatically in addition to other substance abuse.

His normally nightly routine involved coming home in the wee hours of the morning and sleeping in the downstairs bedroom.

It was only 10:15 PM when I pulled the minivan up to the house and unloaded the kids.  Tucking them in quickly, I ran to my room.  Bedtime meant the end of this nightmare.  I will wake up tomorrow and none of this will matter, everything will be OK.

I could not have been more wrong.  My life changed forever after that long night.

Drifting off to sleep I heard my husband arrive.  Good, I thought, at least I know he made it home.

Then the bedroom door flew open!  Angry and full of accusations my husband burst into the room.

Normally, I engaged in all our battles.  Yelling, screaming and accusing right back.

Being Still, Letting God Fight For Me

This time I lay in stillness.  I lay reciting the Lord’s Prayer.  As I look back, this simple act turned the tide in our marriage.

For over two years, I walked in the morning with the dog while my children and my husband slept.  I pleaded with God.  When Lord, when will you heal my husband?  My boy is 5 years old, when will his Daddy be available.

Frustrated, I often shouted at God. The shouting normally led to a stream of tears followed by my heartfelt fears, worries, self-recriminations, and just plain groaning out to God.

Cleansed for the moment each morning, I walked slowly back to the house to start the day.
As I lay there that night, I finally surrendered to God–all my fight left.  My morning prayers lately revolved around my weaknesses.  My heart verse during those walks was 2 Chronicles 20:17

 You do not have to fight this battle. Position yourselves, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord. He is with you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid or discouraged. Tomorrow, go out to face them, for Yahweh is with you.

A few months earlier I had called a Christian interventionist, Joe Herzanek. Himself a former addict, he advised me to “raise the bottom”.  Joe suggested that I set very serious boundaries.  The boundaries included my husband’s forced removal from our house, if he did not seek help immediately.

“God, I am to weak to move myself, you must move me;” I whispered in my morning prayers and at night.  A secret code between God and I.  I could not bring myself to end yet another marriage, this time with the blessed fruit of two beautiful boys.  I waited on my Chronicles 20:17 miracle.

If God wanted the boys and me out of this living situation, He needed to show up and move us.

That night God’s mighty hand crashed to earth in the middle of the big house.

A long, long night with lots of moving around the house trying to escape my husband’s accusations and requests.

Around midnight I found myself hiding in our master bedroom closet.   Bravely, I shot off a text to my best girlfriend, “I need help,” it simply said.  Another breakthrough for me, stopping all the lying and the secrets and accepting help.

Remember, these kind friends offered safe harbor earlier in the evening that night, but I confidently felt I could handle the situation.

God clearly purposefully put me in a place I could no longer handle.  No human help came that night.

My husband fell asleep around 3 am.  My youngest boy woke up around 6 am.  I slipped out of bed hoping my husband did not notice and went to get the baby.

My chirpy little boy kindled a hope in me.  The sun on the rise I started making breakfast.

Tanya Gioia, The Joyous Family