Carrying the Message

Three years ago, my ten-year-old son was taken from me. The court gave his father custody after it was proved that I had a mental problem, a drinking problem, and a domestic problem (having just divorced husband number three). I thought they were the crazy ones and the witnesses had been paid to lie. What a cruel thing, to take a son away from such a loving, devoted mother! In all fairness, I know I tried to be a good mother. I just couldn't find out what was wrong with me.

Why did I constantly run from life, from people, from situations? Why did I want to die? I had just slashed my wrists and was locked in a mental ward when my ex filed for custody--this following years of his picking up my doctor (mostly psychiatrists) and hospital bills, trying. I'm sure, to provide a mother for our son. I realize now that he saved my life by taking from me the one person I still cared for. I was so far gone on pills and booze that it took something drastic.

I honestly thought that pills and booze helped my problems, not caused them. Then I started making AA meetings, still full of barbiturates, but not drinking alcohol--I thought that was the name of the game. I began to hear bits and pieces of my own story. Gradually (just in time), it became clear to me that the name of the game was sobriety. Armed with a conviction that I could be like the AAs around me and that God was indeed watching over me, I checked into a sanitarium (with the help of other AAs) to kick the drug habit.

That was over two years ago. Through God's grace, I found, not only sobriety and a beautiful way of life, but a way to handle the problems of everyday living.