A Life Changed by the Power of God

I met Joshua a few months ago. He has an undeniable desire to serve God and not his old life. When he shared his story with me, I was moved by where he had been and where is now. I believe God is going to use his life to help others who struggle with alcohol and drugs. 

I’ve accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I’m 26 years old, and I grew up in the Town of Greece. I graduated from Greece Athena in 2010, and up until this year, I’ve been my own worst enemy. I used drugs to self-medicate due to personal issues and hanging out with the wrong crowd per se. As I turned 18 and went to college at MCC, all I really learned was how to drink and socialize with people. I never did give time to the King of Kings, Jesus Christ. As I became older, I got into legal trouble due to marijuana and served time in our local jail for six months; I got out the Sunday before Easter and returned to my old habits after Easter Sunday last year. Thank God, for this New Year and all of the people that showed their love to me.  My best friend invited me to Covenant Life Church. Everything has been uphill since then. I’m now joyful, confident, and I know that Jesus Christ has risen in me. Hallelujah. Amen. Thank you all for listening to a short version of my life. God bless you all.

No Matter What

 Every time I hear Ryan Stevenson’s Song “No Matter What,” I think of the addict who questions whether they are too far gone and incapable of making a change. My heart wants to scream, “No! There is hope.” It isn’t a pat answer to the questions, and it isn’t an easy choice or process. I am currently reading The Refinery: Overcoming Drug Addictions through the Supernatural Power Available to You by Ronald Gibson. Gibson considers his supernatural methodology as “purging and purifying.” It isn’t easy going through the purifying process, but it is life changing. It holds true for anything that holds us captive. I know this personally. I am not an addict, but for many years, I walked a dark path of destruction. What makes it hard to fathom is I was actually a Christian. Let me tell you the purging and purifying process nearly destroyed me, but I came out of the refining fire stronger than ever. Before I made the decision to change, I thought God would never accept me or forgive me. Not true! Ryan Stevenson says it well in the lyrics of his chorus:

                    “No matter what you’ve done

                     You can’t erase His love

                     Nothing can change it

                     You’re not separated

                     No matter what

          If you are an addict or you have a loved one who is one let them know no matter what they’ve done, they are loved and accepted by God. I know some addicts who have done desperate things to get their drugs, things they deem unforgivable, but it will NEVER be true with God. Everyone may desert them or abandon them because of their actions, but God will not. He takes the worst of the worst and loves them right where they are. Because of His great love, Stevenson’s lyrics ring true:

          “There’s never been a better time to get honest

            There’s never been a better time to get clean

            So come as you are

            Run to the cross and be free

            Oh, be free.”

          It is time to get clean. It is time to help your loved one get clean. I believe once you become an addict, is no longer a choice. It becomes a brain disease. However, I firmly believe an addict can make a choice to take just one step toward the cross. God will meet them where they are at. I saw it with my son. Once he made the decision to run toward God instead of away from Him, everything began to change. I can see the beautiful picture of it in my mind. God’s arms of love wrapped around the addict in a loving embrace. From then on, the journey toward wholeness is not taken alone. I can hear God saying what Stevenson says in his lyrics, “You’re still a daughter. You’re still a son. No matter what.” So make a choice to get clean today. 

If you would like to hear Ryan Stevenson's song, click the link below. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fSy9yIcoew

Tess' Journey from Addiction to Being A Part of Her Higher Power

Tess is an incredible young woman who sat down with me recently and shared her journey through the hell of addiction and recovery. Her story is incredible. Please share it with others who may be struggling with drug addiction. It is part of spreading awareness. 

Tess started the descent into her personal hell of addiction at the age of fourteen. Smoking weed with her cousins made her feel cool, a “bad ass.” The underlying reason for her addiction may have been genetics since her biological father was an alcoholic, but something lurked beneath the surface of a young woman who wanted to be a part of something.  Instead of experiencing bullying at school, which frequently happened, she needed to be a part of a circle of friends. She wanted desperately to be a part of her family by carrying her stepdad’s last name. Tess’s need drove her to a community of people she could be a part of, but it put her on the road to heroin, a broad path to destruction. 

Tess snorted heroin for the first time at age 16. She also found herself expelled from high school for not only possession of weed, but smoking it as well. Tess spent two weeks in jail for her offense. Since she was a minor, they placed her in solitary confinement. Imagine the fear of four walls closing in without anyone to be a part of. Her greatest fear when she went to jail was becoming “dope sick.”Her only recourse? Do something unthinkable, something she won’t even mention. 

Tess distinctly remembers the first time she mainlined heroin. It is the main reason why addicts are always searching for their first high.  Her new pack of friends, the people she felt a part of made her lie on the bed with her arms extended. When they injected the heroin into her veins, she felt a rush of warmth that completely enveloped her. She honestly believes she experienced heaven, something she refers to as “an exotic, gorgeous feeling.” She fell in love with heroin that day, and it was the beginning of a downward spiral into addiction and all that goes along with it to keep her one goal in mind, the bliss of her first love, her first encounter with heroin. 

In some ways, especially after her experience in jail, Tess wanted to make a change. She moved to Illinois to live with her grandfather and his wife. She worked in a flower shop and was doing well. Eventually, she gravitated toward the wrong crowd again, the constant gravitational pull toward the center of Heroin’s universe. At this point, she had a profound revelation, and it changed her view of her addiction. She wasn’t just a heroin addict; she was a drug addict. The reason her new friends set her on a different path? She did a line with them, and it burned because it wasn’t cocaine, another drug she grew to love; it was methamphetamine (Meth).  Her addiction to Meth, dramatically altered her appearance. Tess went down to a mere 85 pounds. She had brittle nails. Dehydration and malnutrition took over her body and sought to destroy it. She didn’t sleep and couldn’t get out of bed without smoking Meth. In other words, she was a messed up Meth head. 

Tess learned about divine protection after her experience in Illinois. She eventually moved out of her grandparents home and moved in with a man twice her age. Klonopin became her secondary drug after doing a line of Meth. Big chunks of memory are lost from this time, but what she does remember is disheartening to her. Tess used her body to manipulate men into giving her money for drugs. Realizing she would do anything for her high, she once again made a choice to get out of the situation she found herself in. She called her mom and begged her to pick her up. She did. Tess slept for two weeks. She stopped using Meth but also had to withdraw from Klonopin. Once again, she went back to her drug of choice.  Heroin helped her withdraw from the Klonopin. The vicious cycle never stopped. It whirled around in her body and brain. Tess was under siege, and the battle to take her down took a violent turn toward further destruction. 

When she looks back on it now, she knows God was watching over her. Police arrested the man she lived with for conspiracy to manufacture and distribute methamphetamine. Investigators had pictures of her picking up Sudafed, a key ingredient in making Crystal Meth. If she had stayed in Illinois, she would be in prison right now. Her live-in boyfriend received a 12-year sentence. Fate saved her. It saved her not once, but twice.  One night she shot up two bundles of heroin. She did it all at once because she couldn’t see herself every changing or getting better. The only thing she saw was garbage. Tess had a seizure and woke up on the floor 48 hours later to a feeling of isolation; no one knew what happened. No one was there to get her help. No one to be a part of if she died, alone.  Tess did feel a sense of relief when she realized she didn’t die; in fact, she thought it was a sign: Divine protection. 

After her near-death experience, Tess, yet again, went to detox. She met a guy who brought her into his home as a homeless junkie, something she referred to herself as at the time. She stayed sober for nine months, but she eventually relapsed, and the new guy in her life followed suit. Unfortunately, she taught him to shoot up, and his life spiraled out of control as well. Drug court caught up with him for using, and he went to jail for a few months. 

Although someone introduced Tess to a twelve-step program several years ago; she thought it was a cult, a joke. She just didn’t understand or respect the organization. She feels differently now. Her obsession changed because of God, and she now believes in AA and considers it a design for living. Working the twelve-steps to recovery has been hard, especially since she had to do a moral inventory of her life. She now recognizes how manipulative she can be, and she isn’t a decent friend. Tess also sponsors people within AA, and she lives in a supportive living program where five other recovering addicts live as well. Simple things like doing laundry and hiking mean she is beginning to live a healthy life, a normal life. 

Tess believes everything she has been through is for a purpose, a divine design. She doesn’t need to know God’s will; she just needs to know everything happens for a reason. She may not always see it, but eventually, she does. Tess is attending MCC and is interested in becoming a parole officer. It is part of her giving back after everything she has been through. Although she has learned some difficult things, there are positives as well. “You have to step over bodies to be successful in AA,” Tess said, “but there is also the power of choice. It really is power.” Stepping over bodies is because of the many people who die from overdoses, sometimes even good friends.

Although addiction is not a choice and more of a disease, the decision to get clean is not always easy. However, there is power in making a choice. You may not ever feel free, but please know where to turn when the road home gets rocky and full of twists and turns. Look upward, for your redemption is close at hand.  As far as feeling a part of,  Tess now knows God is the answer. He is your answer as well. 

What to Do When You Encounter an Overdose

As I sat on the front steps of my son’s house holding my six-month-old granddaughter, I watched a car pass and then pull into a driveway two doors down. I laughed to myself when I saw the guy’s head go down as if he was looking at something in his lap. Apparently, he couldn’t wait to start texting. I brought Giada in the house, gave her bottle, and settled her down for a nap. When she woke up, we followed our usual routine of walking through the kitchen into the dining area and eventually looking out the windows at the trees and sky.  I felt drawn to the front steps again, so I brought Giada outside so she could gaze up into the heavens. We sat on the steps again, and as I looked down the street, I observed the young man still sitting in his car, but he looked more hunched over than an hour before. He didn’t move. A sense of panic pushed me into motion. I knew in my heart something was horribly wrong. I put Giada in her stroller and ran down the street. He never turned off his engine. With every ounce of courage I had, I shook him. Nothing. I shook him again while repeatedly saying, “Are you okay?” Nothing. It took five times before he looked up at me and passed right out again. I knew he overdosed.

      I ran down the street to get my son’s mother-in-law, Kimmie. They lived next door to him.  Kimmie said his mother and sister’s car were both in the driveway, so she called them. They didn’t answer. We both ran down to the house again, and I pounded on the door. I felt a sense of urgency with every fist punch against the door. She finally answered. “Something is wrong with your son.”

She ran out of the house yelling, “Do I need to give you Narcan? Turn off that car.” 

He barely responded, only grunts. 

“Are you high? Do I need to call 911.” She turned to her daughter and told her to call 911.

“What am I supposed to say, “ she yelled back at her mother.

I offered to call, but she refused. Kimmie and I left and went back to her house. A few minutes later, two police cars arrived. When the ambulance came they removed the handcuffs and transported him. I thought they gave him Narcan, but they did not. There is a chance he was using and drinking. Earlier in the day, he crashed his car. 

The incident shook me to the core. I kept thinking of my own son. The what-ifs. I also wondered what would have happened if I didn’t see him. What if I didn’t check to see if he was okay or they never called 911? 

I realize now since heroin addiction is at our churches, on the street, in our schools, and even in our homes, it is time to learn how to recognize a heroin overdose and what steps an individual should take when encountering one. 

1) Make sure you know the signs. The following is not an exhaustive list, but it should help:
- Pale skin
- Blue tint to lips
- Shallow breaths or gasping for breath
- Extreme drowsiness
- Disoriented
- Seizures
- Weak pulse
- Vomiting while not quite conscious

2) If you see any of these signs, call 911. I shouldn’t have waited. Fear took over, and I ran for help instead. 

3) According to Desert Hope Treatment Center, after calling 911, do the following:

- Check to make sure the person is breathing.
- If the person is not breathing, CPR can be administered by someone trained in CPR.
- Turn the person on his/her side into the rescue position. In vomiting occurs, this ensures the person will not choke.
- Loosen articles of clothing that may be binding while trying to keep the person warm.
- Stay calm and try to keep the individual calm.
- Do not try to make the person vomit or eat without professional advice to do so.

4) If you are using and someone has overdosed, don’t wait to call 911 to get rid of paraphernalia. You don’t want an addict to die as a result of your fear. Justin Forrester died because someone called a local drug store inquiring about Narcan and then proceeded to clean up before calling 911. There are Good Samaritan Laws to protect individuals who call for help. 

5) Become CPR certified. Many ambulance services in your local community offer CPR training. 

6) Become Naloxone (Narcan) certified.
- Strong Recovery is offering the Opioid Overdose Prevention Program every first Tuesday of the month from 5:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m.  The program is held at Strong Recovery, 300 Crittenden Boulevard, on the University of Rochester campus. Free or low-cost parking is available nearby.  Each session is limited to 30 participants, and prior registration is required. To sign up, contact Michele Herrmann at (585) 275-1829 or Michele_Herrmann@urmc.rochester.edu
- If you don’t live in the Rochester area, you can check online for Naloxone certification in your community. 

Please BE AWARE and as Stephanie Lynntalya Forrester always reminds us: BE THE CHANGE! You may just save a life. 

Please Stop the Blame Game

“We’re not trash. We’re not poor. We didn’t spoil our children. We didn’t give them everything they wanted or give them all the money they needed for everything. It happened.” Joe Mullin’s statement in Patti Singer’s article “Obituaries Reflect Devastating Toll,” hit home for me. Parents are often blamed for their son or daughter’s addiction, and the blame game is a serious matter. It hurts families. It divides friends. Ultimately, it doesn’t help the addict.

I don’t need the whispers or the accusatory glances I often encounter. I already blame myself enough for my son’s addiction, but I would also like to believe we did our best while raising our children. They faced obstacles seldom encountered by other kids their age.  I went through the perils of ovarian cancer, and my recovering addict was seven at the time.  His struggles with my cancer diagnosis changed him. Fear anchored him in perilous waters.

When I was seven, my mom got cancer. I thought it was going to be that way forever. My grandmother came to stay with us. All I can remember is what the adults around me said while I listened in on their conversations. The doctor said he doesn’t know if she will live or die. I can remember the smell of the hospital and the tubes coming out her everywhere. She looked lifeless, and I thought it was the end. I felt anxiety for the first time. I loved my mother. If she died, who would take care of me when I was sick? Or bring me to school? All the things a mother does.

Not only did he struggle with my illness but his brother’s as well. He watched Brandon nearly die from a burst appendix and perforated bowel. The resident doctor at Rochester General Hospital told us if he went to bed that fateful night, he would have died in his sleep. My son saw death closing in on his family, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. When his brother contracted meningitis shortly after his first illness, my son’s anxiety became his arch nemesis.

My brother was already quite the athlete and destined for greatness. Once again, I saw one of my family members staring death in the face. I hated it all. I was confused, anxious, and scared. I asked the God I did not know to save him. I felt alone again, not in a selfish way but rather asking why does this keep happening to everyone I love in my life. Loneliness was my biggest fear.

I wondered if our brush with death changed the chemical makeup of my son’s brain? Did it open the door to a world where seeking relief from his anxieties made it possible to fall into the trap of addiction? Dr. Gabor Mate claimed, “A great deal of research supports the link between childhood trauma and substance abuse.” He suggests the impact of fearful childhood experiences can cause a person to seek an escape route from the psychological trauma. In this case, escaping from a parent’s or sibling’s illness. Does that mean we should take the blame for something beyond our control? Of course not. My son’s addiction is a disease just as much as my cancer or Brandon’s appendicitis and meningitis, and unfortunately beyond our control.

  But the blame game goes much further.  Oh, the mother worked outside the home, or the father traveled out of town too often. I chose a career that would afford me the opportunity to be home when my children came home from school. I was present. We went to our children’s dance recitals, plays, wrestling matches, and football games. My husband walked up and down the field encouraging my boys to do their best during their football games. I sat in the stands shaking my milk jug with pennies. We ate our meals around the kitchen table sharing stories about our day. We took our children to church. We did the best that we could do, but it still happened. IT STILL HAPPENED!

We never turned our back on our son; in fact, both times he went through recovery, we were his rehab. We loved him unconditionally without enabling him. I have heard of parents who slam the door on their children. I understand it gets tiring, but the greatest gift you can give is your love and your patience. Giving up forces them to abandon their hopes of getting sober. Loving them gives them the solid ground they need to stand on as they fight the battle of addiction.

Parents do not listen to the lies said about you or your children. Believe the truth. I have heard terrible things said about my son, even by parents who are going through the very same problem with their own heroin addicted child. I want to yell, “Look at the trash in your own backyard before you look in mine.” The fact of the matter is, it isn’t their fault either. They did not cause their child’s addiction. It is so easy to get caught up in the blame game, but it also very dangerous. It destroys friendships. It destroys peace of mind. IT HURTS!

So when you hear of someone who has a son or daughter who is fighting the battle of addiction, and it is a fight, support them. Don’t judge! Stand alongside them. Offer them helpful advice, and don’t be critical. Take them to a support meeting. The former head of my department took me to an Al-anon meeting when I shared my story with her. It had a powerful impact on my outlook.

We are all in this together. Addiction is killing an entire generation. Be a listening ear and supporter rather than throwing stones of blame on the families who are suffering. They need your support. I know I did.

A former student of mine from a private Christian school, Reilly, Anne, wrote the following poem about her sister. Once again, it proves Heroin addiction does not care where you come from. I pray we can save our kids before more families suffer from the loss of a loved one. Sometimes the loss isn't death. Sometimes the loss happens while they are still alive. 

Dear Heroin,

You have come into my life so unexpectedly
Forcibly, carving a destructive path to my inner being 
Each and every step taking someone from me.
You have changed my whole family’s life, forever
My love for your Captivator is gone 
The person I called my best friend, my very own sister is gone
You own her now
She's different now
I look into her eyes and see nothing
Just a lifeless body of a girl
The joy and delight she once had has vanished
She happily gave that to you the first time she paid you attention, gave you her life and all
The sick part is you were always there when she would fall
You give her a high she describes as "out of this world"
She would do all for you, steal, kill, throw everything away
She puts you before friends, family and herself
She loves you more than anything else
You always know how to make her feel numb
Now I don't know her 
I can't recognize the girl with the tracks 
Bobbing in and out of consciousness, scratching until she has a bloody back
She will try to leave your grip, but you will punish her, vomiting, chills, labeling her dope sick.
After a while she fights and leaves you, really believing she's done
She'll tell everyone the fight against you is won
Until you pull her back and she starts again
Except this time you take her further to the end

-A sisterhood less sister

Aaron Hakizimana wrote the following “hate poem.” We talked about the seeming paradox of individuals both loving and hating their addiction. On the one hand, they love the feeling the drug gives them, but they loathe everything it takes away from them. While they are chasing the high, they can feel both the love and the hate to an extreme. It controls them and strips everything away from them. It is a vicious cycle. Enjoy his powerful poem and let his words sink deep into your resolve to stay clean. 


I hate you.
I hate your alluring and seductive nature.
I hate your subtle whispers, both distracting and misleading.
Your voice, offensive to the ears, yet very tempting.
A mirage is all you are, we have given you meaning; 
where in reality you have none.
Never getting enough of you, we beg and beg for more.
Chasing your promises, convinced you will deliver.
So we idolized you.
Desperately seeking comfort in your soothing melody
Saying: “Surely it is you who satisfies my grief’’
And ‘’How could I ever abandon you.”
But oh! If only we knew.
Rather we are not certain.
But certainly, you do control us. Both enticing and manipulating us as you wish.
Hindering us from our very purpose, stripping us of our ambitions;
Flicking and swaying us left and right as you please
We have willingly become your flimsy instrument of choice.
Blindly submitting to your subtle objectives, an evil objective indeed.
Self-deprived and naive, what can one do but yield.
But not me.
No! Not anymore.