But Your Mother Loves You by Honeycutt Kim B.;

Author:Honeycutt, Kim B.; [Kim B. Honeycutt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morgan James Publishing
Published: 2019-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Needless to say, my life continued to spiral further out of control and with it went any last feelings of self-worth and hope. On April 1, 1995, not quite two years after I harmed my friend, Jennie, I awoke again in a place different from where my last memory had placed me.

This time, it was at Mercy Horizons Detox Center in Charlotte, North Carolina. It turned out that on the previous evening, I had become heavily intoxicated and reached out to a few people in an AA group I had known. They cared enough to take me straight to a medical detox facility.

I knew I would not be able to drink there, so I made the impulsive and naïve decision to leave. I walked myself out the door, but it would not be for long. After appraising my life over the previous years, I was nearly ready to admit that I was not a controlled drinker. I was inches away from the proverbial first step towards healing—admitting I had a problem.

Waking up at Mercy Horizons on April Fools’ Day was certainly not the first time I had landed in the swampland of shame, remorse, and extreme consequences. But, this time I asked the God I didn’t even know (but hoped was there) to remove me from the marshy pit. I knew my own resources and thinking had been unsuccessful. I had always believed in God, and I began praying He would help me. I prayed, even though I did not feel worthy of His help or His love.

I was in incredible emotional pain. God had been patient with me, and over the years He had been planting seeds of wisdom that would grow and help me realize that alcohol could no longer be a solution to my pain. I was slowly realizing my “best friend” was now my abuser, and for the same reason victims of abuse struggle to leave their abusive relationships, I could not imagine life without alcohol. I was becoming increasingly overwhelmed and confused, so I decided to talk to the most influential and intelligent man in my life—my dad.

My father is a self-made man. He is the oldest of seven boys and local folklore says he hitchhiked to college. He still enjoys sharing many stories that seem to involve snow, hills, and mounds of resiliency. However, he does not share any authentic story with me that truly holds pain for him. His facial expressions and the tone of his voice almost always convey calmness and faith. There are people like me who scream about our faith—holy megaphones, if you will—and there are those who walk quietly and simply display faith in motion. My father is a man of movement, and ironically for a lawyer, he is not one of many words.

I went over to my parents’ house, and as we usually did, Daddy and I sat outside on the steps. It was our place. As I poured out my 24-year-old heart to him, it was obvious

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