Memorial Day is the most challenging day of the year for me. This whole weekend holds bitter and sweet memories that I have not been able to escape in sobriety. So, here I sit to write it all out. Perhaps healing will unfold for me as I do.

On a cool spring evening in the holler of Madison County, Virginia, on May 22, 2015, Jeff* got down on one knee as I sat on the swing suspended from my favorite tree in what would soon become OUR front yard. He looked me in the eye and asked me to be his wife. Before I ever saw the ring, I leaped up, threw my arms around him, and with tears in my eyes, I breathed ‘Yes!’ into his neck as I hugged him. I felt like the luckiest girl on the face of the earth.

Fast forward three years later to a hot and humid summer-like day on May 28, 2018. At exactly 1:00 pm, I called Jeff from my aunt’s house in North Carolina, where I visited my family for the holiday weekend. The conversation that followed is burned into my memory, but in short, he didn’t want me to come home, and he no longer wanted me to be his wife.

What happened in those three years is no mystery to me.

Addiction.

Addiction happened. Or, if I’m honest, it continued from before I met Jeff and progressively got worse as I fought tirelessly to keep my vices secret from the man to whom I was married. I was a high-functioning addict and expert manipulator when he proposed, and he was none the wiser. By the time he threw in the towel, all of my dirty secrets had somehow been laid bare for him. And as would be expected, he didn’t want any part of it. I lied to him. I hurt him, AND I hurt his family. I am sure in his mind there was no coming back from that. I don’t blame him.

On May 28, 2018, the thinly veiled facade of ‘okay’ I had portrayed for so long was blown away like the little white tufts of dandelion after encountering the breath of a child. Everything disappeared as if carried off by the wind of my bad choices, sins, and the strong gust that was my addiction. And there was absolutely no way for me to grasp each piece and put it all back in place again.

I would venture to guess that I was already pretty close to being spiritually dead at the demise of my marriage because I knew who God was, but I had no relationship with Him. However, this event ultimately massacred the thin thread holding any of my feeble spiritual life intact.

I can remember screaming at God not long after that phone call. I remember running outside one day and shaking my fist at the sky, tears rolling down my face, and spitting these words to Him, “If you even exist, I know you don’t give a DAMN about me! So f*$% you!” with a middle finger as a sign that our conversation (if you could call it that) was over. That day I resolved never to speak to God or acknowledge His existence ever again, and I was successful for 15 months. I did EVERYTHING that I KNEW He would despise from that moment. When I tell you I did not care about my own life or the lives of those around me, I mean it. I. Did. Not. CARE. I wanted to die, and while I was too chicken to take my own life myself, I threw caution to the wind in every single choice in hopes that the NEXT time would be the last.

But God…But…God.

There’s a song I love with one line that gets to me every time I hear it. ‘I’m prone to wander, but You’re prone to chase.’ But I didn’t just wander. I ran. I ran so hard that my emotional, mental, and spiritual muscles still ache from it today. Yet, God would not let me go. He chased me down dark alleys, into trap-houses, while on interstates with a car full of drugs, into sleepless nights of withdrawal, through drunken stupors, and into drug-induced comas. He protected me from the inevitable consequences of my bad choices so many times, and He wasn’t obligated to do so. I should be dead, or at the very least, in jail. And I’m not.

‘I’m alive to tell the story, how I’ve overcome. It’s His goodness and mercy and the power of His blood. I’m so glad that my freedom wasn’t based on what I’ve done. But the goodness and mercy and the power of the blood.’

Memorial Day is a day we remember those who died fighting for our freedom, and I am grateful for their sacrifice that allows me to sit here and write as freely as I do. But today, I also want to remember the ultimate death, burial, and resurrection that took place over 2000 years ago that resulted in freedom the world cannot give. Because of this sacrificial act by the God who chased me, I am free from the power of addiction. Because of Jesus, I am an heir to His riches in glory and look forward to the day that I will see Him in heaven.

Hm…look at that, y’all. I see a little bit of healing for me. <3

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to Him, the power of the life-giving spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death. Romans 8:1-2 NLT

*Name has been changed