Читать книгу The Courage to Give - Jackie Waldman - Страница 20

AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I can't ever recall being happy until I finally asked God to take control of my life. Before that, I just barely struggled along. As a child and young adult, my life just went from one crisis to the next. Then one day, I told God that I just didn't see any point in living any more. I told Him that if He wanted me to live, He was going to have to help me figure out how to do it.

And God was right there for me. All I'd had to do was ask.

The suffering in my life started when I was little.

One night when I was ten years old, my brothers and I were home alone (we lived with our mother) when one of my uncles came over. My father never came to see me, but my uncles came around a lot. They would come over to my house to drink with my mother.

This particular night, my mother was at work, and my brothers and I were playing with a cigarette she had left in the ashtray. I was just starting to smoke it when my uncle walked in and caught me.

“Well, you know you're going to get a whipping,” my uncle said. I started crying. I had seen my mama whip my brothers and I knew I didn't want that. My uncle said he wouldn't tell Mama if I went home with him.

When we got to his house, he pulled out something that looked like a cigarette, but he rolled it up differently. I didn't know it was marijuana. He told me to smoke it. When I tried it, I decided it was better than a cigarette.

And then he began to fondle me. I knew it was wrong for my uncle to touch me that way. But I was more afraid of getting a whipping than I was of having him touch me. So I let him do it.

At the time, I was skinny and gawky and everyone teased me. But I found one group of kids that would accept me—if I brought them weed from my uncle. So this was the crowd I started to hang with.

It was also around that time that one of my uncles gave me my first beer. I drank the whole thing straight down. It gave me an absolutely sensational feeling. I felt braver. I felt stronger. I felt like no one could harm me—or if they did, I wouldn't care. By the time I was thirteen, I could drink eight cans of beer in one sitting.

My younger brother was drinking a lot, too. One night, he got so drunk and sick, I had to put him in the tub and wash him off. I guess we were up pretty late that night, because when Mama came home from work the next morning, we had overslept for school. So she whipped us.

The whipping mama gave us that morning crossed the line into abuse. I still have the scars from that day—scars from where Mama cut my arms with glass. I wore a long-sleeved shirt to school that day. And when I got there, I used a pay phone to call the courthouse. I told them I didn't want to live with my mother any more. They told me my only other choice was the juvenile hall. I chose that over staying at home.

The police came to school to pick me up and took me to a shelter. After they took pictures of my arms, they went back to school to get my brother. And then they sent me to a place called the Sunshine Home.

At the Sunshine Home, I immediately found the kids who were doing drugs and alcohol. I did anything to numb the constant pain and confusion, the loneliness. I had no one to turn to—no mama, no father, no brothers. I wondered why I had ever been put on this earth.

Before long, I got into trouble at the Sunshine Home. And when I did, I overheard the owner saying, “Well, that little nigger troublemaker is never going to succeed anyway.”

I figured he was right. So I ran away. I went to live with a friend and her grandmother in the West Dallas projects, and from there I enrolled myself in school. I remembered a teacher saying one time, “The only thing you can have that nobody can take away from you is an education.” So I tried to do well in school.

Then one day, I was late for class and got called to the principal's office. He said he was going to give me five licks for being late and that I had to stand perfectly still the whole time. He told me that if I moved at all, he would start all over again. I stayed perfectly still for the first four licks. But it hurt so bad, I moved before the fifth lick. So he started over.

That's when something just snapped inside me. I just couldn't take any more pain. I turned to the principal and went at him with a pen.

They kicked me out of school.

At eighteen, I joined the Navy, thinking that would help me put my life together. But because I was still drinking and doing drugs, I managed to get in trouble and stay in trouble. I left the Navy with a dishonorable discharge—and a baby on the way.

When my son Jonathan was born, I came back to Dallas, back to the projects. I loved my son and wanted to stay clean for him. I really did. But I was in pain when I was clean, and in pain when I used. So it just didn't seem to matter that I stop.

Then on one Thursday, after four straight days of doing drugs, I just couldn't see any reason to live any longer. I went to the bathroom and looked myself in the mirror.

I said, “God, whoever you are, God, wherever you are, I am miserable. And I never heard of God wanting one of His children to be miserable. Please could you just let me die?”

And I told God my plan about killing myself. “I'm going to drink and drink until Sunday,” I told Him. “If I'm dead on Sunday, that's good. If I'm not, I'll take that as a sign that You'll show me how to be happy.”

And I drank.

On Saturday night at midnight, when I realized I was still alive, I said to God, “OK, what are you telling me?”

Right that minute, I started to feel different. That minute was the turning point in my life. Right then, I got down on my knees and prayed.

I went to a treatment facility for two weeks, and something inside of me just kept telling me everything was going to be all right. But it was so hard. When I got out, I realized that everyone around me was doing drugs and drinking. I could just feel their misery.

And I knew I had to turn to God. I realized He was the only one who could help me.

“I don't know what to do,” I told Him. “If you don't do something right this minute, I'm going to walk out this door and start getting high all over again because I just don't know what else to do.”

And that's when the phone rang. It was another addict in my support group from the treatment center wanting to talk. But I knew it wasn't the person talking to me—I knew it was God. I knew I had finally made contact.

I've let go of so many things since then. I haven't used drugs since I left the treatment center. And I haven't even had the desire to use drugs since that phone call.

When I first became clean, I said, “God, you helped me get off drugs. Now let me run the rest of my life.” But every time I tried to run my life without God's guidance, I got into trouble. So I slowly gave God a little bit more and a little bit more of myself.

And what I know now is that God doesn't meet me halfway. God is there all the way, all the time. It's up to me to reach out and make that connection. And since I've asked for God's help, I've been able to make peace in so many aspects of my life. So much of my life has changed. I've finished school, and I've mended a lot of fences. And I met my husband.

Actually, he was someone I had met years earlier. I was a little girl then, and he was ten years older than me. Even so, I had a major crush on him. Then, when I entered a twelve-step program for support after my treatment, I walked into the first meeting and there he was. We both worked really hard in recovery, and we started seeing each other. We married in 1992.

Since my recovery, I've been able to reconnect with my mother. God has helped me realize that she was doing the best she knew how. We're not really close, and I don't rely on her for anything, but I do see her. We've talked about the time the police came and took me away, and to this day she says the whipping she gave me was not abuse. But I'm firm and calm in my understanding of what happened. I tell her she may have been tired from work all night, she may have had rent due and no money—but yes, it was abuse. And I forgive her. I often tell her I love her. I've even forgiven my uncle for taking such terrible advantage of me. I've learned that however I choose to be—whether it's vengeful or forgiving—that's the way I'm going to be feeling inside. Not how anyone else is going to be feeling.

I believe that God kept me alive for a reason. I tried to drink myself to death that weekend, but God had a different plan for me. And everything I went through before that, all the pain and suffering, is a learning experience that I am benefiting from. Because of my own suffering, I now have compassion and empathy for people. And a deep desire to help.

Not too long after God helped me turn my life around, a friend called to ask if I could work two hours a week at a treatment program called Our Brother's Keeper. And I said I would. As soon as I started working there, I knew this was the place I was meant to be. Now I work there full-time.