Tearing Down the Strongholds of Addiction

Ever since I was a child, I watched my brother struggle with a terrible drug addiction. I watched him in and out of jails and rehabs my whole life as I prayed for his freedom. When I was 18 years old, he was found dead in his apartment.

This year makes ten years since I lost my brother.

Addiction was not a stranger to my life. As sheltered as I was, my parents couldn’t keep me from knowing that four of my six siblings fell into its grasp. I saw it destroy their lives. I saw it change who they were, change their appearance and alter their personalities. I couldn’t believe how one could follow the same path as their brother when they saw the damage it caused. I swore to never be like them. They all knew better. I knew better.

Letting Your Guard Down

Now let me tell you how the devil can work. We already know he tries to find our weaknesses. That’s because he is weak. But that doesn’t mean you should ever let your guard down on your strong points.

Think about the Alcatraz Penitentiary. It was deemed inescapable. However, in 1962, three prisoners escaped. How did they get out of a place that was supposed to be so resilient? While you can read the rest of the details elsewhere, part of their escape plan was gradually chipping away at their cell walls until they produced a hole just large enough to get through. They also used many forms of distractions with the other inmates and guards as they performed each task in their plan. They didn’t decide to escape and then succeed at doing so all in one day. No, they planned and schemed and chipped away over a lengthy period of time until they finally accomplished the task of breaking through the strongest of prisons.

And that is how the devil breaks the ones you never thought could break. He knows he cannot get to them until they are weak, so he gradually works at them and eats away at them until his plan is complete.

Chipping Away

October 2017. I was just diagnosed with IIH. At my first appointment with my neurologist, I told him I did not want to take any medication unless necessary. We started small with non-habit forming “as needed” rescues. I remember his hesitancy, “Sometimes though, when you have a condition, you have no choice but to take something daily for it.” – the first chip.

February 2018, things became so bad that I finally gave in to taking daily medications. None of them were habit forming or offered pleasure in anyway, but it was a place I never wanted to be in. Going from never even taking Tylenol to taking 20+ pills a day was not a lifestyle I was interested in keeping. Still, I had a condition, and therefore no choice. – the second chip.

As time went on with continuing problems, medications were constantly changed up and experimented with. Desperate to find one thing to provide relief, I agreed to any medication suggested. This began the introduction to medications I had heard mentioned far too often in my past. Another chip.

I decided to inform my doctor of my family history and fear of addiction. He understood and would agree to monitor things more closely. I was proud of my honesty, and I felt confident that I had still remained strong against our family battle of addiction.

Except there was a part of me that really didn’t feel so confident. There was a part of me that had already had a taste of what some medicine could do. I had never even taken any of it for an extended period of time, but I still knew how it felt when I did. This was not a thought I wanted to entertain.

Rock Bottom

Two years since the development of my condition. No answers. No cure. No job. No money. I am in the midst of yet another bad month long episode, and my doctor wants to try a new course of medicine. While it is specifically to rule out muscle spasms, it also doubles as a psychoactive drug.

Right away, pain justifies taking it. Right away, I realize the devil just accumulated another tool to start chipping away more of my strength.

Loved ones immediately warn me of the dangers. I already know better, and I tell the doctor that I decline the course.

But now I know what it feels like. And being in pain, I can justify taking it because, medically, it’s good for me. The problem begins when I start to justify it.

I was at rock bottom. Other than dealing with the pain, I was stressed beyond compare. I was crying every day, yelling at my child who didn’t understand, ignoring my husband as if it was his fault. I was battling depression. I was battling mood swings from other medications. I was frustrated from both being sick and being forced to start from scratch all over again.

But I had medicine. I had medicine that could help me feel better. The doctor wanted me to take it. It could help me in so many ways. I was authorized to relax and be pain free, doctor’s orders. Chip. Chip. Chip.

Breaking Free

I said no.

Just as hard as the pain and tribulation I was going through, I said no to taking any medication that would alter my mind. I said no to justifying the medicine I was prescribed. I refused to let the enemy break me. If God put me through this, then He would give me the strength to endure it. I, for one, would rather suffer for Christ, the God who breaks chains.