Finding Joy After Suffering (My Redemption Story)

“So, if you’re listening, the title of this episode really resonated with you: Finding Joy After Suffering. I wonder if you are where I was in 2016. Alone. Powerless. Ashamed. Afraid. Well, if you are, I am here to tell you, you are not alone.

That’s what alcohol can do to you. It can make you feel like the highest of highs, when in reality you are at your lowest of lows. This is my redemption story. A story of how I surrendered myself to Christ after battling years of alcoholism and disordered eating. I fully surrendered myself and have never looked back. 

If you find yourself in this space of unknown. This space of shame Maybe even this space of addiction. I am here. You have a community here. There is strength in lifting the shame. There is resiliency when surrendering. And friend, there is JOY, unspeakable JOY, after suffering. 

Transcript

“So, if you’re listening, the title of this episode really resonated with you: Finding Joy After Suffering. I wonder if you are where I was in 2016. Alone. Powerless. Ashamed. Afraid. Well, if you are, I am here to tell you, you are not alone and you will not feel like this forever. I know I felt like I couldn’t break the cycle. Actually, I didn’t realize I had an issue until my world literally crumbled to the ground around me. I was jobless. Spouseless. Friendless. In a new city. In a new apartment. With (you guessed it), no money. 

That’s what alcohol can do to you. It can make you feel like the highest of highs, when in reality you are at your lowest of lows. I started drinking at 14. A plastic cup of Absolute and Diet Coke. Growing up in a Midwestern farming community, alcohol was readily accessible and socially acceptable by any and all. If you were underage, you were drinking in corn fields with your friends or with your parents at social gatherings. Although, my family had its own share of the downs with alcohol, like many do, I grew up telling myself that I would never drink. But as I got older and more socially conscious, alcohol and Anorexia moved me through some of the toughest years. I’m not saying it was pretty by any means. But, here I am today. 

When people say your teen years are some of the toughest, they aren’t kidding. I was a straight A student who battled (and continues to battle) the expectation of perfectionism. I went boy crazy for a hot minute. I struggled to find my place. And well, I engaged in many things that I am not proud of today. (Thank goodness social media was only a theory back then). But when I look back at those formative years, my heart aches for that girl. That girl who just wanted to fit in. Who wanted to be accepted. Who wanted to be heard. The girl who was meant to be a leader, but didn’t have the courage or the strength to lead at the time. The girl who believed she wasn’t good enough no matter how hard she tried. That was me. 

College was much of the same. I maintained exceptional grades. Deans List. Highest honors. Scholarships. You name it. I did it. But I did that with a drink in hand downing empty calories to not have to nourish this body that I absolutely hated. I despised. I picked. I poked. I prodded. I checked my abs, my thighs, my wrists. I studied my face. My height. I mean c’mon, I’m 5’0”, I was angry with God for making me so short. Small fry. Pint sized. Not to mention, I was blessed in the chest area, so you can imagine the jokes that ensued from those less fortunate around me. 

Alcohol tamed those thoughts. When someone called me “Trashley,” I took it as a pet name. Hey, I have an identity. And while stumbling over drunk, I would embrace that this is who I wanted to be. The life of the party. The girl who doesn’t give a damn. When all I wanted was to have some control over the uncontrollable. 

Eventually, I entered a co-dependent marriage where alcohol became the common denominator and after years of putting it off, I made an appointment with a therapist. I’m not proud of the way I showed up: Hungover from Opening Day the day before, disheveled, breath wreaking of alcohol, sweating, exhausted, hungry, because well, the midnight nachos were no longer sustainable, broken. Feeling gross. Disgusting. Ugly. And unlovable. Asking if I should stay in my marriage, since of course, what could exactly happens after a night of binge-drinking? 

We filed jointly for divorce and I left for another job in another state. And while this was a fresh start for me, my demons, red wine, and self-deprecating behaviors also came along for the ride too. There is a moment where I remember lying face down in the middle of a busy street in downtown Milwaukee half lit and begging to let this be the end. Just let this be the end, God. But it wasn’t. on that night, what is usually a very busy street, a car wasn’t to be seen. I wasn’t hit. I wasn’t picked up. I was left to get up on my own and walk back to my apartment. Unscathed. When I think back to that time, I didn’t realize it, but God was telling me, you’re made for greater things child. This isn’t the end. I have greater plans for you. Get up and share the good news.

Now, I wish I could say that I stopped drinking that day, but that would be too much of a Cinderella story. I would end up losing that job because of lack of productivity (hello alcohol) and beginning a new journey of growth, resiliency, and advocacy in a new state with a renewed mindset. 

It wouldn’t be until 2 years later, after meeting my now husband, Seth, that I would find a Man of God to compassionately direct me to sobriety. He was gentle but direct. Listened and did not judge. And held me while I cried. Weeped. I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I felt exposed. I’m supposed to be perfect. I’m the perfect daughter. The straight A Student. I don’t lash out, no, I keep it all tucked in. I work an amazing job. I am a very intelligent woman with a Master’s Degree and here I am, an addict. My shame was at an all time high. 

And at the time, neither one of us could see it. You see, it’s not easy to say, yes, I am done! I am in recovery, I should be so happy! I am free! No, when you finally realize you have a problem, that’s when the shame hits. Really hits. It makes you weak in the knees. Your muscles hurt. Your bones hurt. It’s truly a vulnerability hangover. I felt that. For weeks. Months. Years. 

I hid my sobriety for 4 years before coming out over social media. At the encouragement of my husband, I made a post to help others and here I am today telling you, anonymous listener. I didn’t drink daily. I didn’t only drink alone. No, I drank in groups. Social gatherings. Football Sundays. Bachelor Mondays. Taco Tuesdays. I drank in excess. I drank to fulfill a need. A need to punish myself for things beyond my control. If I was just prettier, taller, smarter, richer, etc. 

But when I started to do the work on myself through weekly trauma reprocessing therapy, I found that the only way out was through. I found that I am a child of God. No one is like me and that’s my gift. I found the JOY deep in my soul. Not just happiness, because happy is a feeling and feelings are fleeting. Just ask my toddler. LOL No, I have JOY. The experience of an enduring gratitude in my soul after suffering. The ability to love, accept, nourish, and embrace my body, the thing I most despised, as the amazing machine it is, especially after birthing my greatest gift, my son. 

After going through painful experiences. After unveiling the shame of my past, I feel JOY. I feel gratitude. That teenage girl who I empathized, I would hug her. I would love her and I would tell her, this is not the end. You were made for so much more. And friend, I would do the same to you. 

You are made by a Creator who called you by name. Who is picking you up out of the grave and raising you back to life. You are made for more. So much more. 

If you find yourself in this space of unknown. This space of shame Maybe even this space of addiction. I am here. You have a community here. There is strength in lifting the shame. There is resiliency when surrendering. And friend, there is JOY, unspeakable JOY, after suffering."