Sample Chapters - A Wretch Like Me

The snakes had momentarily left, but once the door clicked shut, they started to slither underneath, coming in through every little crack. The lights went out and darkness had taken over again. “Dirty, whore, filthy,” they started slithering and hissing again. “You will never be clean.” Firmly planted back on my bench, one of the bigger snakes made it’s way up the metal frame, raising his head to my level. “Filthy whore,” his words were piercingly cold, as he spit right onto my face. His saliva started to burn, like acid burning through plastic. It started melting the flesh off of my face and I started to scream for help, but no one could hear me and the door was locked. Extreme pain overwhelmed my insides, as if the acid and disease were eating me from the inside out. The snakes got louder and louder. They started slithering out words, spelling names with their slimy secretion. Names of men I had slept with. Names of men that I had completely forgotten about. They climbed the walls, spelling and writing. The number “76” started to appear all over. Seventy-six men. Intense shame made the room even darker. These snakes were right. The walls were lined with names written in mucous, reminding me of every mistake I had ever made, and every ounce of deep pain they had caused me. “You will always be fat.” They started hissing again. “You will always be fat,” they repeated. I wanted to tear my skin off, but I couldn’t grip it tight enough. My helpers started desperately screaming, “Focus on her eyes! Use your tools, push the enemy away! Don’t give up!” I could barely see their faces through the thick layer of guilt. I started to try, I tried to close my eyes to focus, but instead of her eyes, all I could see were the names of those men, written inside my heart. All the pain they had caused, all the hurtful things they had done. I was giving up; I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to die. The snakes were right, no one would ever love me. My friends started giving up too. Matt and Kasey left first, “she’s never going to change.” I had forgotten that they could hear my thoughts, they knew I had given up. I watched them walk away and I screamed, “Where are you going?” They replied, “you have to want to change, and you aren’t even trying anymore.” They vanished. Next was Jenae. “Try Stephanie!” She pleaded again. “I can’t,” I thought, but she heard. And she closed the door behind her. As the darkness got darker, the black wind blew faster, the room became both fire and ice. On the corner of my bench, I looked towards the ceiling. Something was happening, something was festering out of the wallpaper. Hair started forming on this figure as it grew clearer in my sight. I leaned in closer to see what is was. A wolf? A hyena? A small bear? As piercing and startling as the sound of a gunshot, it started barking at me. He was foaming at the mouth, violently barking louder and closer to my face. It’s teeth were razor sharp, and dirty dark yellow. “Focus!” Shouted the calm voice, only this time He was stern. All I could focus on was the monster with gnashing teeth trying to devour me. I watched my church pastor and his wife leave. I watched the worship leader leave, I watched them walk away without a word, I couldn’t even think, let alone speak. I watched the door shut behind them. I heard Kathy’s voice, “sweet girl,” was all she said as I started to cry uncontrollable fat tears. Sobbing. My heart begged her to stay, but I didn’t have the strength to say it. She looked into my eyes right before she left. I could tell she was crying too. She looked so sad for me. And then she was gone. My warrior for literally decades was gone. Pastor William’s voice was also sad, “Just try, Stephanie. Just try. You know what to do.” I looked at the savage beasts getting closer, I wanted their chains to be broken, unleashing them to have their way with me so that the torture would just end. My skin still boiling and festering inside, “Just let me go!” I screamed, begging for God, for satan, for the doctors, for someone, anyone, to just let me die already. I couldn’t bare the pain anymore, and my eyes were growing heavy. I heard the anger over come Pastor William as he shouted to God, “just let her go, she’s not going to try anymore.” And he walked away, slamming the door behind me. The only person left by God’s side was my precious mother. I could hear the unfathomable distress in her voice, she was also crying, but she wasn’t talking to me. She was begging God, “please don’t take my daughter. Please help her. Let her live, please I’m begging you.” She dropped to her knees, pulling at His white robe, “Please!” she desperately cried. I began to realize how much suffering I had already caused in her life; I didn’t deserve to live. I deserved to be consumed by these monsters. I was so tired of disappointing all of them. The snakes were right, I could never change. If they knew the real me, they wouldn’t have tried so hard to save me. I started to move towards the beasts. My mom screamed “NO!” I could tell she was trying to run towards me, she was trying to climb through the window, over the railing to get to me. Helpless, and almost lifeless, it took all my strength to just watch as God grabbed ahold of her. “It’s time to let her go,” and then he told my Momma to leave. “You must leave now,” he forcefully told her as he started walking her towards the door. There was a railing behind the window that only allowed me to see my helpers from the waist up. Once God ushered her past the railing, I could tell she was holding onto something. It was my daughter! My eyes lit up, my heart became alive again, my mom was holding her sweet little hand as they were walking towards the door away from me. “Karlee!” I screamed as loud as I could. It had been almost two years since her death. “Karlee, sweet baby, it’s me!” She didn’t flinch. Could she not hear me? I saw her walking; I saw her moving. I saw her pink little tennis shoes, her faded blue jeans, and white hippie style shirt rimmed with lace, and her beautiful dark brown curly hair bouncing with every step that she took. “Karlee,” I painfully screamed louder, “Turn around baby, please!” I fell to my knees, crawling through the snakes, reaching for her. With my arms stretched out, I begged her, “Karlee, turn around!” I could tell my mom was still crying, she didn’t want to take that final step out of the doorway. God reminded her, “you must leave her now.” And the door shut. Karlee was gone, and living seizure took over my body but I was aware of the violent flailing. Everything froze. God’s words were loud, clear, and calm. “If you do not change your ways, you will never see your daughter’s face again. You will stay in this place. This will be your eternity; this is your hell. You will never die; this is your living hell. Always in torture, and never getting to see her face again.”

And just like that, everything ended.

I remember every vivid detail of that time of my life, but I do not remember anything from the next four months. I spent four solid months, incoherent, admitted in a mental institution. One day, I just woke up. I still believe that they had me highly sedated during that four-month span, but I will never know. And honestly, it doesn’t matter, because I woke up. I heard the doctors telling my mom that I had a case of Wernicke Korsakoff Syndrome. I heard doctors tell my sweet momma that I may remain a vegetable permanently. But I woke up. Instantly, lights back on, fully functional, and I actually felt great. I felt healthy as if my body had taken the time to rid itself of all poisons and was then pumped full of nutrients and electrolytes. That’s exactly what had happened. Doctors were amazed at my coherency, my brain functions, memory, motor skills, all of it was perfectly functioning. Wernicke Korsakoff is also known as wet brain. The first stage is Wernicke Encephalopathy, which is an extreme deficiency in thiamine, vitamin B1. This condition is associated with chronic alcoholism because the alcohol decreases your body’s ability to absorb the nutrients by up to 70%. Gastric carcinomas and persistent vomiting can also be the cause of the thiamine deficiency. It was figured that I was suffering from encephalopathy for quite a while, which then, with my prolonged alcohol abuse and bulimia, became Wernicke Korsakoff which is the irreversible syndrome that causes hallucinations and psychosis. It’s also known as wet brain. I can give you all the scientific terms, but my version is that basically your brain needs water, not alcohol. I consumed so much alcohol for so long that my body could no longer process it and therefore my body used the alcohol instead. My brain was basically floating in rubbing alcohol. Beer was the closest thing to water that I consumed, and because I bought cheap beer, it had more water content and it was ironically what had kept me alive for so long. The doctors also noted that the psychosis could be a permanent effect of all the seizures I have had; this condition is known as postictal psychosis.

With all these conditions stacked against me, I woke up. Why? God knows why. He is the only one that knows why, and how. But I was grateful. I was grateful to be alive, and my question to the staff was, “if I was hallucinating, how come I can remember every vivid detail?” They couldn’t answer that question, but I now know, God can answer it for me. Problem is, I still didn’t know who Jesus was. I didn’t understand the concept of the trinity and it all seemed too confusing to me. I didn’t have the energy to deal with confusing, so I just chalked God up as definitely being real, well at least I thought he was real, whoever he was, and that’s where I left it. I ate my first meal, and just like all old habits that never die, I went into the bath room and threw it all back up.

Remove distraction; Know your neighbor

When I first started attending church, I was broken and lost. I had no idea what I was doing. Today, five years after following Jesus, I am still broken. What I mean by this is, when I started attending church, I had my vodka in my coffee cup, and I was paranoid that someone would know my secrets. I was a hot addicted driven mess, wrapped inside a normal looking body. If you looked at me, you wouldn’t necessarily know how bad my addictions were. Today, as I sat in church, I was thinking about my neighbors in the pew. I was thinking about how much people really do judge one another, or maybe it’s just me. We think we know someone by their appearance, or perhaps their Facebook posts. Even though I am sober, and even though I will tell you all about my story of overcoming, I’m still a little broken inside. I still fear rejection. I still worry about what you will think of me. I still need Jesus just as much today as I did six years ago. I may come across as a completely different person than I really am, but the truth is, my heart is honestly just a little fragile so I keep it guarded. People might judge me because of the clothes I wear, or because of my husband’s reputation, and those fears can cripple me if I allow them. You know what I do in order to acknowledge my guardrails in this situation? I sit in the front row. Not because I want to be noticed, but I sit in the front row because I want to soak in as much good stuff as I can. I know myself well enough to know that the further I sit back, the more rows full of distractions there are. If I am in the front row, I can see the words on the screen, the worship band, and the pastor. If I sit two rows back, that allows me to have two rows worth of distractions, two rows worth of people, and two rows worth of chances for that fear to creep in. I’m only five years saved, I’m just a baby Christian at this whole thing in comparison to most. But I know what tempts me to take my focus off of God. Once I can pin-point things that take my focus away from God, I know that I must remove it. Might seem silly to you, but it works for me. Face to face in His presence, in the front row I am able to focus on what the message is. I am able to let the words of the song truly sink into my heart. I can let His presence be the only thing I notice because I have chosen to remove the distractions.

However, completely contradicting what I just said, I now ask you this question? As you look around the room during church, do you really know your neighbor? Or even at home where you live, do you truly know the neighbors on your block? Do you know their hurts? Do you know their favorite colors? Do you ever put strangers in the pew more important than your already tight schedule? What if that stranger is silently begging to be noticed by anyone? What if that stranger in your family church has no clue who Jesus is? What if that person across the sanctuary that you have only waved to in passing could really benefit from your story because she is actually struggling with the same exact thing? I know eating disorders are a lot more common than we want to let on. But they are becoming more and more of a serious problem. And I won’t know who I can reach if I don’t tell my story, and more importantly, I won’t know your story if I don’t take the time to listen. Invest in your neighbor, it could save their life.

Accountability SOAP

Accountability. If you don’t have immediate accountability as a recovering addict, it would be so easy to listen to satan’s sweet little seducing whispers, “No one is looking, no one will know. Just have one. Go relax. Just drink one beer. You deserve it.” Accountability is someone you can trust. Accountability is someone that will call you out on your bull crap. Accountability is someone you are one hundred percent vulnerable and transparent to. I was blessed into this amazing group of women that I will always know as my SOAP sisters. SOAP stands for scripture, observation, application, prayer. It’s a daily devotion and we text each other our devotions each night. We pick a book in the bible and read one chapter a day. When I joined this group, I only knew two of the women. Now, all of these women know my heart better than I do. Why? Because I have opened up my prayer life to them. My most sacred, deepest hurts and worries and fears, all spewed out in my devotions not only to God, but also sent to these women to read each and every day. Jenae, Cat, Connie, Kirstie, Sarah, Cheryl, Ola, and Jamie. We are like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, only way cooler. This random group of women that I have come to cherish, and love, have been my earthly rock. Throughout the day whenever I need prayer, I text the group and instantly, eight other women of strong Faith are praying with me. Co-parenting is hard enough without a wicked step-mom. My son’s step-mom’s name is Jezebel. Whenever I had to see Jezebel’s face, I text the group instead of punching her in her ugly mouth. Don’t get me wrong, I was a stepparent for five years, and I have the utmost highest respect for stepparents. However, this female did not have Aiden’s best interest anywhere in her thought process. She was evil. When I started the court process, my SOAP sisters encouraged and guided me along. They encouraged me to always be the bigger person and to always simply just pray for ol’ Jez. This group of women would let me vent, but they would always give me wise Godly counsel. We have been through everything together; divorces, weddings, childbirth, tragic deaths, financial struggles, alcoholism, etc. The list is endless. I cannot reiterate enough how valuable and vital these women are in my life. Daily accountability. One day, out of the blue during a visit from Aunt Flow, I thought I could handle taking Diurex just to ease the discomfort of bloating. I bought the bottle, and conviction set it. Before I took the first pill, I texted my SOAP sisters. Instantly my phone blew up like the 4th of July. DUMP IT OUT! FLUSH IT! DO NOT TAKE THAT! They all were ready to drive to wherever I was and dump it out for me. They made me video myself flushing it down the toilet. And I did. I flushed it. I had their wise counsel stop me from making a negative life altering choice. That one little pill was satan’s sweet little seduction. “just use as prescribed,” he whispered. “It will make you feel better.” He knew I’d be hooked. He knew it would set me into a relapse. These amazing women didn’t skip a beat, they called me out and saved my sobriety. Key factor in this, I was transparent, and I reached out. It’s an action that you have to physically do. I made the right choice and I was honest. I told them something I knew they would disapprove of, because I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew taking that pill was the wrong thing to do. But after buying it, I couldn’t stop on my own. I needed help. I reached out. I was open and honest. Honesty and transparency keep me sober. To this day, no matter what the other person might think, honesty and transparency are vital. You must have these people in your life. Find someone you can trust and open up to them. You’ll get out of the relationship what you put into the relationship.