7 Years Sober and 8 Months Pregnant

Photo Credit: Caroline Brothers Deese, 704 Photography

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them-yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me. -1 Corinthians 15:10”

I woke up this morning 7 years sober. I also woke up this morning 8 months pregnant. I’m 39 years old. I was 32 when I got sober—when I landed myself in rehab for substance use disorder. Alcohol was my solution.— a real shitty one but it was my answer to not have to show up to life on a daily basis. To say I was a lost soul might sum it up pretty well. I wasn’t connected to anyone or anything—just wine, beer and the occasional pill.

I remember that day—this day 7 years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was my first sober day in years. I was hungover and miserable but I had this tiny ounce of hope that maybe my life could be different. I had admitted to my parents that I was sick and needed help and that I couldn’t do it alone. I checked into rehab a few days later that week. I had so much fear but I also had that sliver of hope and I guess it was really all I needed. I was willing to try anything at that point. That included being dropped off at rehab by my parents at the age of thirty-two much like I was eight and they were sending me off to summer camp.

To think that was seven years ago is crazy. I remember being over the moon at 30 days sober that I had made it that far. Then 60 days passed, 90 days, 6 months, 1 year and here we are at 7 years. If you ask me how I’ve done it, I wouldn’t be able to give you a road map. I’ve relied heavily on God, the 12 Steps and good sponsorship, being of service to others, family support, community support, and a whole lot of grace. And on days that I’ve been spiritually or mentally broken? I just haven’t picked up a drink. And believe me, over the past 2,557 days, there have been days that I have wanted to drink. There have been days that I have turned my back on prayer, God and the 12 steps. And trust me, it’s not a good a place to be for someone like me.

But here I sit 7 years sober and 8 months pregnant. As I try and reflect on the past 7 years, it’s pretty unbelievable. No, seriously. If someone would have outlined my first 7 years in sobriety and given me a run down of what was in store, I would have told you there was no way I’d remain sober through it all. You see, that’s the beauty of sobriety—a beauty I knew nothing about 7 years ago. Sobriety allows you to really show up for life and deal with whatever comes your way without blacking out or making a bigger mess of your life in the process.

And now here I am about to bring a precious baby girl into this world and the biggest gift I have to give her—a gift she will never truly understand, is my sobriety. Because I am sober, I have a chance at giving her my best. She’ll know God because I am sober. She’ll have a mom who is present for her. She’ll know compassion and empathy and the importance of being of service to others. She’ll know what a life of purpose looks like. She’ll be raised with value placed on people, not things. And she’ll see me fall and mess up and make mistakes and I know I will fail her from time to time. What she won’t see is a mom who needs to drink to deal with her or life. And my most sincere prayer for her is that she will never find herself walking a path similar to mine with substance use disorder, but if she does, she will have a lifetime of knowing and seeing what recovery looks like and that it is possible for her too and that it’s a better way of living life.

So, here’s to 7 years sober, 8 months pregnant, the years to come, the baby girl I get to raise, and the stumbles and falls I’ll make along the way without picking up a drink.

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them-yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” 1 Corinthians 15:10

From My Head to My Heart

Five years ago when my brother died suddenly from a drug overdose, everything changed. I knew from the moment that it happened that nothing would ever be the same. I didn’t know what that looked like, or how the days ahead of me were going to be.  I didn’t know if I would even be able to survive. What I did know was that life as I knew it was over.

There was no warning. No one saw this coming. One day I woke up just like every other day of 32 years, thinking and taking for granted that life goes on—assuming that the people I love will live forever. I had just seen Will the Monday before he died. We had spoken on that Friday. We had made plans and then cancelled them to go to a NBA game in Charlotte on Saturday night. And then Sunday afternoon I got a call from my dad. “Your brother, he’s gone.” I’ll never forget those words. I’ll never forget the fear and panic in my dad’s voice. I’ll never forget the fear and panic that consumed my mind in the moments, days, weeks, and months that followed.  

I immediately wanted to go back in time and change everything--change everything so this wasn’t true-- change everything so my brother wasn’t dead. And for some reason my brain allowed that kind of thinking. Like there must be something I can do to bring my brother back. It’s a panic and anxiety I can’t explain. Your mind and your heart are at war with one another. Everything around you seems to be suspended in time except for your mind and it’s going at record speed with thoughts but nothing makes sense. I thought if I could just calm down to think clearly, then surely I could figure it out and make it right.

But the thing is, you can’t. It’s over. He’s gone and there you are with a thousand questions and a million regrets all coming at you at the same time. My heart didn’t let me feel anything because my head had won the war in the initial moments.

But then the shock wears off and reality becomes clear, and eventually your head surrenders to your heart. Sadness doesn’t begin to describe it. A thousand forms of fear and sadness travel their way from your head down to your heart. And when sadness and fear not only make it to your heart, but when they settle on your soul-- it’s debilitating. It’s life changing.

I’d venture to say that when anything reaches your soul like that, it changes you.

It’s was 49 days after Will died that I found myself sober for the first time. I was in rehab and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the shower floor letting water run until it went cold because it was the only time I had alone. Everything that I thought was important was suddenly meaningless. No amount of money in the world was 1. Going to bring my brother back, and 2. Going to get me sober. I didn’t care about all the drama, gossip and petty bullshit that I was tangled up in back in Charlotte. I didn’t care about everyone’s problem-of-privilege of the day. And somewhere over the past five years, I eventually lost the ability to pretend that I care at all about all the meaningless crap we give attention to on a daily basis.

I often think of the girl I was five years ago. I was so miserable. I would often go out of my way to make life more difficult for the people around me. Why? I don’t know. Pick a reason: hurt people hurt people, ego, pride, self-centeredness, victim mentality, misery loves company…and the list goes on.

But the person I used to be didn’t serve me. She didn’t make me happy. I left rehab with a new outlook and a new hope. My brother’s death changed my soul. His death gave me perspective. And no, I don’t always get it right today. I have defects and sometimes they glare, but I am aware and I am sober and with that I can navigate my way to happiness and peace of mind.

If there is anything I know to be true from my head to my heart, it’s this:

Life is short and none of us have any guarantee. People die. Sometimes we get to say goodbye and tell them how much their life meant to us and sometimes we don’t. Be ready for both. Treat everyone like it could be their last day, because it will be one day. Don’t get caught up in meaningless drama. Learn to forgive even when someone isn’t sorry. Don’t place importance on things. Things do not matter. Family matters. Friends matter. Relationships matter. Stuff does not matter. And don’t be difficult. Life is difficult enough. Give grace; give it to others like God gives it to you.

We’re all just walking each other home.” Ram Dass

Let’s make this walk home a pleasant one.

Let Me Tell You About the Man We Knew...Our PawPaw

Everyone and anyone that knew our Paw Paw, no matter how or why or when you knew him could probably all agree on one thing:

Mickey Biles was one of the best practical jokesters that ever was.

If he was here today he’d pick a flower from one of these arrangements, stick it behind his ear and tell you he was a blooming idiot.

It didn’t matter if it was Sunday morning at church, a day on the job, or just randomly running into him at Food Lion, he was going to try and get you with a joke. He loved to catch the eyes of kids in church and wiggle his ears at them to see their eyes grow big in amazement. Kids, including myself, would peer back to where he always sat in the back corner of the sanctuary to get a laugh during service. Sometimes you would catch him asleep, which would also make us laugh. This of course did not make our Grandmother laugh…but he got pretty good at positioning himself in the pew so Grandmother couldn’t see him from where she sat in the choir.

He was known for pushing his false teeth out of his mouth with his tongue or removing them all together and asking if you needed to borrow them. His target audience for this was often the age when you start losing teeth as a kid. Some would laugh and some would cry but either way, you were guaranteed to walk away with a piece of butterscotch or cinnamon hard candy he’d pull from his pocket.

But he didn’t reserve his humor and desire to make people laugh and smile for just kids. No, he had his own set of jokes and props for a more mature audience. You may remember his “special” apron. His fake leg he would hang from his car or his pant leg. And of course his infamous business cards he loved to hand out. Some of you might be a lucky “Mitchell Biles” business card holder. If you are you know he is a master of many trades…a real Renaissance kind of man, if you will. His services were available but not limited to: having swamps drained, manufacturing antiques, picking ticks, plotting assassinations, repossessing coffins, and negotiating negotiations. He even claim to provided midwife services, fight wars, castrate alligators and stomp out forest fires. I’ve left a few out due to the nature of today and the fact there are children with us but we will have them available after the service if you’d like to take one home.

He would do anything for a laugh. Grandmother would often tell him to “stop your aggravating” but he didn’t see it like that. Just this past Monday one of the nurses was taking his blood pressure and told him that it was rising, he immediately gets wide eyed and looks up at the ceiling as if it was literally rising. He didn’t pass up an opportunity to make you smile, not even with a blood pressure of 60/30 and just days away from passing.

Paw Paw was a fighter and tough ole bird.  He’s had heart surgery, battled cancer, been through chemo, survived a mini stroke, lived with diabetes and was on dialysis for 7 years. And even through all of this he never once thought about giving up. He’d tell you he was doing it for his “babies.” And on the worst of days when you’d ask him how he was doing or feeling, he’d say “I feel pretty good” or “I’m doing alright.”

If you knew Mickey, you knew how much he loved home grown tomatoes.  He would pick them off the vine and eat them like apples. Often, you’d find a salt shaker in his pocket when he’d walk out to his garden just in case he found a ripe one that was ready for the pickin'. He loved working in his garden all his life. When he was unable to tend to a garden a few years ago, my mom always made sure she had tomato plants to keep PawPaw happy. A store bought tomato was bordering on a cardinal sin in the eyes of our PawPaw.  

While living with my parents he gladly made it his responsibility to pick up all the pecans on the farm and shell them and put them into bags and store away in the freezer. He also gladly made it his responsibility to be the taste tester of anything anyone would make with those pecans.

But enough about the man that you all knew. Let me tell you about the man that we knew, our PawPaw…

As a little girl he was my favorite person on earth. I’d pack my tiny suitcase and from the age of 2 or 3, up through middle school,  I’d spend practically every weekend at Grandmother and PawPaw’s house. My grandmother would pick me up on Friday afternoon and I wouldn’t see my parents until church on Sunday morning. We’d watch HeeHaw and eat canned plums and he’d peel and cut endless amounts of oranges and we’d sit in the living room watching tv while Grandmother would work on her Sunday school lesson. He’d fall asleep on his recliner every night but wouldn’t go to bed until Grandmother was ready. Bless his heart, our Grandmother was so slow, he’d be asleep for hours before she was done with whatever it was she did for hours sitting at the kitchen table.

Every Wednesday, my Paw Paw would drop my grandmother off at choir practice and pick me up and together we would go to the laundry mat. I don’t think I ever helped because oddly enough I didn’t know how to wash clothes when I left for college, but I’d sit and talk with him until all the laundry was clean and folded and loaded back in his truck.

Something my mother was probably not aware of at the time, but my PawPaw would let me sit on his lap and steer the car from Albemarle to Mount Gilead. My Paw Paw and I shared a love for muscadines, scuppernongs, and molasses. He would pick  grapes for me and save me a jar of molasses and homemade preserves up through my college days. I was happy to do the same for him when he stopped canning. He loved my homemade preserves and would have them everyday with his breakfast. He was sure to let me know when he was running low so I could bring him another jar. It didn’t matter if they didn’t come out like I wanted them too, he loved them because one of his babies made em.

But I wasn’t the only one who was lucky enough to call him PawPaw. Matthew, Jennifer, Will, Summer and Suzanne were his babies too. And PawPaw was happiest when he had us all together.

Although he obviously knew our names, we were often referred to as suzie, lucy, George or fred and no matter how old we got, he always called us his babies.

Nothing was more magical that going to his house on Christmas morning. And whether it was Christmas morning or any ole Saturday, he had a permanent place at the stove cooking breakfast for us. His days of being First Cook in the Army National Guard prepared him well for the many family meals he made for us over the years.  PawPaw loved to fish and bought most of us our first fishing poles. It didn’t matter if it was Matt or Will or one of his girls, he was always ready to take one of us fishing off the pier at Woodrun. 4th of July was always special because we got to watch our PawPaw shoot off fireworks for all the lake to see.  We’d cookout on the lawn and lay out blankets and wait for it to get dark so we could sit there and watch in awe the display. There would be hundreds and hundreds of people on boats and piers and docks… all there to see OUR pawpaw’s firework display. We were pretty proud of that. And none of us can forget the Saturday night outings to Sir Pizza and trips to MaxWay where he’d always let us get something.

Matt remembers always being able to con him to let him have a sip of his homemade wine when he had a “stomach ache” when he was little.

Jennifer remembers how she would drive him a little crazy driving so fast up and down the driveway. He’d always tell her to slow down and want to know if she was in a race.

Summer has fond memories of her and Will doing flips on his arms in the hallway at his house and bouncing on his knee while he’d sing “PawPaw’s baby.”

And Suzanne always loved to hide behind the door and wait for him to come home on his lunch break and pop out to scare him when he walked in. He’d act so surprised every single time. It wasn’t til years later she realized he was just playing along with her joke. After all, no one appreciated a good practical joke more than him.

Most of you might know that our Paw Paw loved his chewing tobacco. What you might not know is that we used to hide it from him because we didn’t want him to get cancer. We said “spit out paw paw” so many times that he actually quit for years and we got him a trophy that said “spit it out, paw paw” just in case he needed a reminder.  

Once all his babies grew up, a new set of babies became his pride and joy.  He had 10 great- grandbabies and he literally lived for them. Nothing brought him more joy than seeing Gavin, Cooper, Noah, Ava, Brody, Bronx, Kase, Cash, Henry and Ila when they’d come to visit him.

Our PawPaw left us with a lifetime worth of love, laughter and lessons in life. He lead by example until the day he died. He didn’t tell us how to be honest, he showed us an honest man with how he lived. He didn’t tell us how to be respectful, he showed respect to everyone. His daily living was a playbook for life on morals, ethics and hard work. He was positive and optimistic about everything. He enjoyed simple pleasures and taught us the value in that. He set the bar for myself, Jennifer, Summer and Suzanne on how we deserved to be treated by any man. And during those awkward bad haircut years, he always made us feel special and pretty. He showed Matt and Will how a woman should be loved and respected by the way he treated our mom and Grandmother. He could cheer you up in a heartbeat without saying a word, but if words were needed, he had those too. He showed us how to not take life so seriously. He was honorable and humble to the core. He was a friend and a confident and he was always there when we needed him. And let’s not forget the important stuff…he taught us all how to shoot a gun, hook a fish, clean a deer and cook in the kitchen.

He will be missed beyond belief and there will be less laughter and practical jokes in the world without him here. At least he has a whole new audience in heaven to pull one over on. I imagine Will meeting him at the gates of heaven with fishing pole in hand and off they go.

So, until we meet again, we love you, PawPaw. You were the absolute best PawPaw in the whole world and we were incredibly blessed to be your babies for so long.

When Grief Comes Knocking

It was two days ago I was driving to an early morning 12-step meeting and a wave of awareness flooded my consciousness. It came out of nowhere. Like the many times prior to this one, I didn’t see it coming. I hardly ever do.  It was something of a warning. Not the actual storm that is on the way but more like the alarms sounding off to let me know it’s time to prepare.

Tears betrayed my eyes, there was a lump in my throat, and anxiety fluttered in the pit of my stomach. I’ve gotten pretty good at holding my tears back-- literally making them retract back into my eyes. It’s an art, of sorts. Sometimes I’ll do it because I don’t want to make someone uncomfortable. Sometimes I’ll do it because crying in a yoga class seems a little dramatic and I hate attention. But more often than not I do it because I don’t want to go there. I don't want to open the door and let her in.  It’s as if I’ve looked through the peep hole to see who’s there and there she is, Grief.  She doesn’t go away but I can try to avoid opening the door and letting her in for a short time.

Sometimes I let her right in. I welcome her. I hug her and she provides me a sense of comfort and peace. And it feels good to see my old friend. Sometimes though, I look through the peep hole and she’s the last person I want to see. I quietly walk away, hoping she didn’t see me to give me a little time to straighten up before I let her in--running around like a mad woman trying to get everything in place before I open the door. You know what I mean. If you haven’t been there with grief, you’ve most certainly been there with an unexpected house guest. Same thing. And sometimes I’ve been known to throw my body against the door and try to keep her out. I will tell you this about that: Grief is one strong force. She always makes her way in…even it’s through a window or back door. You put all your energy in keeping her out and she pops up somewhere else. That’s grief for ya.

Grief lives within in. I know this. That peep hole is directly attached to my heart. And when I open the door, it consumes my being. I can feel it rising within me until it reaches the outer layer of my skin. It’s vulnerability in its rawest form. It leaves you feeling exposed. And that leaves me feeling scared and anxious.

I don’t want to face another holiday season without my brother. I don’t. That’s what this latest warning is about. The warning came in the form of Faith Hill’s “Where are You Christmas” song on the XM Holly channel.

It’s taken me a while to see the warning signs. It’s been a process over the past 4 ½ years to come to recognize grief and there is definite comfort in that. The awareness allows me to take care of myself. It allows me to set boundaries and be open and honest with the people I love. It allows me to give grace more freely because it’s a time I need grace the most.

Grief is one of my greatest teachers but to be honest, I was never a fan of school. I was never a fan of doing the work to get the grades. Grief is a lot of work.  It takes acceptance to learn from grief. It takes acceptance to receive love and growth from grief. It takes acceptance to receive all the benefits that grief has to offer but acceptance isn’t something that flows freely within me. It’s something I ask for. It’s something I work for. It’s something I wait patiently for. It’s something that can come and go. It’s something I must always seek. But it’s a promise that I will always find it when I’m leaning on God.

So, yeah, I’m in a place of waiting on grief. She’s let me know she’s on her way and not much I can do to stop her. Truth be told, I don’t want to stop her I just want to embrace her and accept her. I’ll use this warning to prepare. And what does that look like? A lot of prayers. A lot of asking God to make His presence known when she arrives. (I can be blind to that sometimes). So, if you find yourself in a similar situation, I am sorry. But give yourself grace. Give others grace. And don’t be afraid to ask for grace. Not everyone going through difficulties writes a blog about it and shares it with the world. Holidays are tough for a lot of reasons for a lot of people. Some people might not even be aware when grief shows up and I can tell you from previous experience that that can look messy and angry. My prayers are with you for nothing but peace and light as we prepare to enter this season. As we prepare to set a seat for Grief at our holiday tables. Everything is a little easier with warning and time to get ready for it. Grief is no exception.  

* Disclaimer: Grief is a process and it is different for everyone. Grief is personal and I am simply sharing my experience with it. 

Remembering Grandmother and the Prayers She Prayed

Our Grandmother was a gracious and loving woman who loved God first followed by her family. She lived each day on a path guided by her unshakable Faith. I speak on behalf of all 6 of her grandchildren when I say it was a honor and a privilege to call her Grandmother.
Grandmother embraced the role wholeheartedly. It was a role she was born to be. She was the light of our lives and we were the joy of hers.

Anyone who knew anything about our Grandmother knew that God & Church came first in her life and her #1 mission was to make it come first in the lives of each person in her family. My mom & Uncle Eddie would receive calls each Sunday making sure they were up and she would see them at church. When we went away to college, her #1 concern wasn’t our studies, but making sure we found a good church to attend. As children, I think it’s fair to say we looked more forward to gifts on our birthday from our Grandmother more than the card that accompanied it. As adults, those cards are some of our most treasured gifts. Grandmother always filled the front, back and usually inserts of note paper with words of love, hope, promise and prayer.

Grandmother made sure we knew that God was for us and with us always. She also let us know just how very much she and Paw Paw loved us. I know Grandmother prayed for each of us as well as her great grand-children well before we were born and daily throughout our lives. Many of her prayers have been answered in our lives and will continue to be answered because we know from her that prayers never die. 

We used to go visiting (shut-ins and people at the nursing homes) with Grandmother and Susie every Wednesday before her choir practice. She would tell us before we went in the nursing home to not be scared…that we were making these people happy. We would go from room to room saying hello. Sometimes she would just sit and hold their hand. Sometimes she would sing their favorite hymn with them. But what I remember most was that before we left each room she would pray with them. Few things leave as lasting an impression as hearing someone genuinely intercede for others. In fact, prayer is one of the many spiritual inheritances we received from our Grandmother. 

Next to God, family was most important to Grandmother. One thing you didn’t dare mess with was family traditions. There was no question where or what we’d be doing for birthdays, Christmas morning, Easter Sunday, 4th of July and Thanksgiving. We’d all be at Grandmothers and that is exactly where we wanted to be. Going to Grandmother's on Christmas morning was anticipated with excitement all year. She always made sure she had the exact number of presents for each of us and spent the exact amount (down to the penny) on each of us (something my mother has inherited from her). Grandmother made each of us feel like we were number one, no matter if she had one or all of us at a time. Because we were all number one to her. 

We all looked forward to spending weekends with Grandmother and Paw Paw. Together, we have racked up thousands of hours at Sir Pizza & Maxway, eating tacos that she would pan fry and meticulously wrap each one individually, playing “I spy” in the bathroom, having our backs rubbed til we fell asleep, driving up & down the driveway well before having a legal license, dying Easter eggs, decorating the Christmas tree, and watching her favorite stories on her wooden box television. I’d love to hear what she would have to say about Dallas being back on air. She just thought JR was a nasty & hateful man. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out she prayed for his character. 

We each have so many precious memories with our Grandmother and so many things that will forever remind us of her…

A lipstick kissed cheek, cardinals, hummingbirds & butterflies, precious moments, lighthouses, dogwood trees, chocolate ice cream, ½ piece of Wrigley’s gum, not to forget the numerous angel figurines and plaque prayers she has supplied each of us with over the years. Thanks to Grandmother, we had angles to keep in our pocket, ones to pin on our clothes, angels to clip on the visors in our car, and now one in Heaven.

It brings us great joy and peace to know she is heaven with Will, watching down on all of us. I’m sure she was pleasantly surprised to see him waiting at the gates to welcome her home. I wish she could have known all of her great-children and the ones to come, but now we have her in heaven and will see her prayers for them being answered for years to come.