As I cope with the lingering physical (hello, exhaustion!) and mental (hello, irritability!) effects of withdrawal from suboxone, my thoughts have turned to this process of recovery.
Specifically, the spiritual implications of recovery.
The Bible often presents us with two divergent paths. We are given a choice. Do we want the world, or do we seek His Heavenly Kingdom?
Do we give into the flesh and it’s desires, or do we allow the Spirit to guide our steps?
Jesus (Yahushua) asked of us all, Who do you say I am?
And the Father asks us, who will you serve?
The question comes down to this; do we choose life or death?
As an addict, I was choosing death. Physical death, and spiritual death. I was trapped in my addiction, and killing myself.
Finally, I sat at a little table in a motel room looking at my needles, drugs and other paraphernalia. I was getting high over and over, but I was not getting any relief.
The pain was still there no matter how much I did. I was tired of the person I had become. I was sick of the life style I had to live in order to support my habit. I was tired of this cycle of drugs, streets, and hospitals.
I felt an overwhelming sense of pain. It was so dark, and so deep that I wasn’t sure I could stand another second of it.
I decided right then and there, at that little table alone in a motel room, that I would either end my life that night or get clean. There was no possibility of continuing on like I was. I had reached a breaking point of suffering, even the drugs couldn’t numb it away anymore.
Shortly before this relapse, I had spent a little while clean. I went to church, and experienced the love of God. I got a taste of what life could be like. I was enjoying my relationship with my (future) husband. But when the cravings came back, I gave in.
I had choose death, again.
I suffered a heart attack at 21 years old. And as soon as I was released from the hospital, I used again.
So there I was; life or death?
I had seen that life was a possibility. I glimpsed the beauty of freedom. But I knew my addiction was fierce. I knew my trauma would be extremely difficult to heal from. It was a difficult choice.
I decided to hold onto that little flame of hope! That tiny, persistent voice that carried me through the deepest waters. It said “life is worth fighting for!”
So, I choose life.
But I didn’t choose life one time. I have chosen life over and over again since.
I have choose life after failures and slip ups and painful circumstances.
I have been given a life I never dreamed of. I didn’t think I would survive into adulthood, and now I am raising my own children.
They have the gift of a mother who is clean and sober. They will never meet the person I was.
The choice is before each of us;
life or death,
the world or faith,
flesh or spirit,
blessing or curses.