St. Patrick's Day

Two years ago on St.Patty's Day, I had my last drink.

I wasn't intending on it being my last one. I had no plan in mind, no length of time I wanted to go, and honestly didn't even know as I was finishing my drink that I wouldn't order another one again.

All I knew was that I was tired of the way it made me feel - not physically, but emotionally. 

I could never stop with just one. It left me wanting more - and it left me feeling a sense of 'freedom' with each sip that I took. I felt like I fit in better. I felt like my insecurities vanished. I felt like I could laugh louder, make better jokes, get away with being goofy, dance however I wanted - and do whatever felt good in the moment. 

My senses were dulled. The thoughts in my brain were finally quieted. There wasn't anyone, including myself, that I needed to care for or think about (although I somehow always ended up being the one to care for other girls in the bathroom stall and get my bouncer friends to kick out their rude boyfriends). 

Two years ago, I was about a week into a program in Michigan that was all focused on resting from serving, processing things that happened on and off the field, and healing from wounds in our past and present. 

I had never been so challenged before in my life. Daily counseling sessions led me to have to face emotions that I had buried so deep. It was in this time that I realized how my normal coping mechanism of having a drink had taken over my ability to process and move forward.  If I wasn't in this program, I would have gone out every night once we were through to have a drink, and find a guy I could make out with - all to 'decompress' as culture likes to call it. 

On St.Patty's Day, as I finished my drink, I felt the urge to have another. I felt the urge to meet the many strangers in the bar and turn my brain off from processing hurt and pain and all the thoughts in my head. 

And that's when it started to click. The thing that I thought was giving me freedom from pain, was actually keeping me in a cycle of pain. 

The thing I thought I had control over, actually controlled me - my thoughts, my actions, my decisions.

So I chose to not order another. Fighting that pull, fighting the words from coming out of my mouth - it felt like the hardest thing I'd ever done.

The next week was even harder. At the end of the day, I'd physically taste my drink of choice, whiskey, in my mouth - I'd start salivating over the thought of just running to the bar for one drink. 

I told myself I wanted to go six months - just six months without a drink as a sort of challenge to myself. It was harder around certain people than others, certain environments and situations were triggers, but I kept myself focused on what God was speaking and teaching me. 

During this time of not drinking, I heard from Him so much clearer. I saved A LOT of money, I cried a lot, felt awkward at parties for a bit - but also learned to feel comfortable in my own skin. 

I started dancing and laughing and telling jokes all without a touch of alcohol on my lips. I talked to guys as friends, and had the confidence to start setting boundaries in my personal life.

Two weeks before my six month mark, I ran into Mark at the park. Little did I know that he had been praying for his future wife to not drink (Mark celebrated his SIXTH year clean this past New Years!!), and God was preparing me to be just that.
 

Neither of us have had any experience with raising kids in general, but definitely not in a sober home. We don't allow alcohol in our house, and will continue that with our children. We plan on being honest with our kids about our own substance abuse, all while letting them know that it's their choice to drink or not when they're of age.

If you look up the real story of St. Patrick, you'll learn that this day is actually to remember a man who chose forgiveness over bitterness, and chose to share the love of Jesus with people who literally enslaved him. I find it kind of fitting that on the day dedicated to honoring St.Patrick, God helped me to begin a new kind of love and forgiveness of my own.