Out of The Pain and The Shame

I didn’t have a very good childhood. My mom was an alcoholic; my biological parents got divorced when I was five. I was never one of those who wanted my parents to get back together because all they did was fight. My mom sobered up, got out of rehab, and then two years later married my stepfather.

After I turned 18, my biological father died. I was angry. He and I had just gotten back in touch. We were kind of getting to know each other again, and then he died. And I blamed God.

Only God Was Enough

I spent most of my twenties and thirties living a not very good life. I was into drugs, sex, and partying. Then, I dropped out of college and just went wild.

Then, I had my first suicide attempt when I was 27 and got diagnosed as bipolar. I didn’t really get healthy. I was on and off of medication. Then, when I was 35, I had my second suicide attempt and hit rock bottom. I ended up calling the suicide hotline, and a great lady basically saved my life. For the kind of hole that I felt in myself, pills weren’t going to fill it; I needed God.

From Blaming to Praising God

I moved in with my parents after I got out of the mental hospital. They didn’t push me to start going to church, but I knew that they wanted me to. So, I started attending The Church at Station Hill with them. I got into a Bible reading group that changed my life. I was around women for the first time in my life who truly believed. Getting back into the Word of God—to actually read the Bible—has really helped guide me.

God had planted that seed in my soul, and it eventually grew and started to blossom. I felt like I was called to be baptized because I had been saved.