Family disease

 
 For years, I thought that my actions were only hurting me. Silly thinking because I was wrong. They affect everyone in whose lives that I contact. Most of all, they affected those that were the closest. They didn’t understand as if we were all looking thru a glass: darkly, dazed and confused. I breathed just to make sure I was still alive, checked my pulse, and thought, “you’re not going to wake up tomorrow.” The sad part was I really didn’t care.  The emotional appeals never worked, neither did interventions. Not until I got ready. The surrender had to emerge from my soul. I know they got tired of lending money, the bail outs, the excuses, the lies. Showing up to family functions under the influence wasn’t good either. I remember my sister grabbing her oldest from my arms when he was a baby. She told me never to hold her child when I’ve been drinking. I was 16 then. I never forgot that.  If I could have stopped the mental blank spots, I would have long ago.  I had to be crushed enough to take a few simple suggestions, ask God for willingness, and look back to see my own life turn. Today, I believe in miracles. It takes time to repair the damage, but the results are tangible.  My kids hug me again. They tell me they are proud of me, and that they love me. What once was an icy cauldron has melted away into trust. They believe that I’ll come home sober. My nephew that I was once held has grown into a fine young man. He shakes my hand and hugs me, too. He will hopefully never go down that lonely ‘ole road. They’ve never given up on me.  I open up my life to them and share my stories all because God never gave up on me, either……good day!….b

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