Copyright © 2006

I suppose my story begins in 1983 when we moved from Teague to Palestine. I had left a job, where I had worked for over 11 years and was on 24-hour call, 7 days a week and I was burned out. I went to work for TDC, which was the first job I could find. However, in doing so, I also took a large cut in pay, this began our real money problems, and I did not handle it well. I would buy things on credit, thinking that the new possession would make me feel better. The enjoyment of the item would last only days, if that long, but I was convinced that I would be happy if only I had money. I was absolutely, totally convinced of that, and no matter how she tried Kathy could not convince me otherwise.

I left the prison system to work in retail sales for a couple of years. My boss was a drinker and working with him made it very easy to start drinking again myself, although I had not drank in several years. I was his assistant manager and we would regularly go out collecting delinquent accounts… with a case of beer in the front seat.

During the next 15 years, I continued my occasional drinking; still believing that money was the answer. Most people had no idea I was unhappy. I was always running, from depression, responsibility, and from God. There were times, that I would drink almost every day. When I drank, the pain would go away. However, as time went on, it took more and more.

I need to say that in my 20’s I had accepted Jesus and had a good relationship with Him. However, with the stress of our finances, along with drinking, I started to struggle in my beliefs and began to question everything about the Bible, as well as how God fit into the scheme of life. I felt He was a passive God, letting everything just happen and that man was in charge of his own destiny. I was not sure if the Bible was written in parables or was it to be taken literally. Did prayer work? In addition, I really had a hard time accepting that Christ was the only way to get to Heaven. I had more questions than I had answers.

I was going to church, because I thought I should, but really did not have my heart in it. I felt guilty for spending money and the drinking, but I could not ask for forgiveness, because I knew I was not going to change. I was feeling worthless and living a meaningless life and our marriage needed help. I remember one of Kathy’s “favorite” things to say was, “I want the man I married back”. I would tell her, “This is the real me.” I wished that my life was over and I wanted an easy, painless way of escaping everything.

Then about 5 years ago, things changed. Money got better and I still was not happy. I still had not yet come to believe the hole that I felt was not going to be filled with money. By this time, my occasional drinking had turned into heavy drinking. I secretly drank and I was lying constantly to cover it. I was mixing drinks for my drive home and would continue to drink until I went to bed, but even then, I still wanted one more. This would go on until Kathy would find that I was drinking again and we would have an argument. I would apologize and would feel better with the hiding and lying behind me. This time I was quitting for good. That would last about a month at the longest, and I would slowly start drinking again. This cycle continued repeatedly. Each time, my feelings of self worth eroded even more.

The beginning of my new life began November 22, 2005. I got off work, and mixed my drink for the drive home. By the time I got there, I was relaxed as usual, and ready for another. I greeted Kathy, held my breath while I gave her a short kiss, then later fixed another drink, and got on the computer. Later that evening, I asked her to look at an e-mail. I had the drink on the desk and she asked for a sip. I remember saying, “I don’t think you will want this”. She asked me if it had alcohol in it. I told her no it didn’t, although it was about half vodka. She took a drink and looked me in the eye, not angry, but with a hurt look and asked me, “Why did you lie to me?” It took me by complete surprise. She was hurt, not angry. I could not think of a thing to say, so I just stood there. She left the room and a while later I went to discuss things with her. She was sitting in the living room working a crossword puzzle. I said, “Do you want to talk about it," she said “I’m done talking.” I didn’t know what to do or say, because in the past, we always had a huge argument but that didn’t happen! I felt backed into a corner, and I was not going to stop drinking, so I left. This was not the first time I had left, but this time was different. I wasn’t coming back.

[I found out later, the Lord had spoken to Kathy, while she was praying about the situation a couple of weeks earlier, The Lord told her “Get out of the way and let Me do my job!” It wasn’t in an audible voice, but there was no doubt that it was the Lord talking, and for the first time, she sat back and let Him do just that.]

So I left, with just the clothes on my back, and a bottle of vodka got into the truck and drove off. She wasn’t worried about me not coming back. As I said, I had done this before, but I always returned within 2 or 3 hours. For some reason California felt like a good destination. That night my goal was to make it to New Mexico before I stopped. After about 2 hours on the road, my son, Adam called. We talked a little while; I ended up getting upset about something he said, so I hung up on him. During the night, Kathy had tried calling several times but I wouldn’t answer. As far as I was concerned, it was over and I was not talking anymore. Then after midnight, Kathy called the rest of the family, told them I was in trouble, and asked them to pray. When she talked with Steve, she told him that he would be the only one I would talk with. She was right. When he called me, I tried to explain to him all of the reasons why I drank. He didn’t try to reason with me, he just tried to get me off the road and to a motel, but I kept driving. I had never stopped drinking since 4 o’clock that afternoon. The drive was getting boring. West of Waco is a desolate part of the state with not many towns and nothing to see but darkness and the road in front of me. I decided to head north for better-looking country and I took the first exit I came to. When I got to the intersection, I discovered the road was just a Farm-to-Market. I knew that wasn’t going anywhere either, so I took a left at the light. When I did, I noticed headlights that appeared to be coming right at me. Where I had turned was divided by a 6-foot wide, raised median and I had entered the wrong way into on-coming traffic. I jumped the median and got away from there fast. That scared me enough to think maybe I should find a place to sleep. As I was driving, I thought about how I had driven on the wrong side of the road, and the possibility of the Highway Patrol stopping me. In my present state of mind, the prospect of going to jail was not an option. I devised a plan. If police stopped me, I was going to yell, that I had a gun and to stay away and I wasn’t going to harm them, the gun was for me. I was not going to think, I was just going to do it. I knew if I thought about it, I would not go through with it. I would not go to jail.

I made it to Brownwood a little after midnight and I pulled into the first motel and got a room. Steve called about 9 o’clock the next morning. I talked with him although I didn’t want to. I was really tired of everyone’s holier-than-thou attitude but I tried to explain to him all of the many reasons I drank. The main reason being that drinking was the only way I could feel as good as I did when I had first begun taking anti-depressants. I remember him asking if I knew that alcohol was a depressant and I told him I did. He said “So you’re using a depressant to make the anti-depressant work??? “ You need help, Frank.” “You know that don’t you?” It hit me like a ton of bricks. That instant, I knew that I did. I went from being convinced that everyone else had the problem… to seeing that I had the problem. I asked what I could do and he suggested that I go to rehab. I had no idea what rehab was. If I had to guess, I would say it was a hospital, where you put on a gown and got strapped in bed. I did not have a clue. Steve has been an RN for over 20 years and knew about the process, and explained it a little. I agreed to go if he would find a place. I had finally admitted to myself that I needed help, and I wanted to get it. A few hours later, he called back and told me about a place he had heard good things about in Grapevine. I left for Valley Hope Treatment Center soon after. I still wasn’t talking to anyone but Steve. I assumed that Kathy had written me off just as I had written her off. I was still very angry, and blaming her for almost everything.

I got to Valley Hope a little after dark. Steve asked me to call him when I got there but I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to anyone at that time. I felt devastated and completely alone. To make matters worse, as I was walking up the sidewalk to the front door, the sprinkler system came on and it sprayed me! I was scheduled to be there at six PM, it was now seven, and no one had heard from me. I was oblivious to everything except what was going on with me. Karen had just told Kathy that she had a strong feeling that I needed to hear from her right then. She thought about calling, but with all of the privacy laws, no one thought they would tell her anything. She called them anyway and they told her they had admitted me. She thanked them then immediately called me on my cell phone. To her surprise, I answered! They had assigned me a room and I was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling when the phone rang. I wasn’t wearing my glasses and couldn’t see the caller I.D. I assumed it was Steve, so I answered. It was Kathy and I will never forget what she said. She told me she loved me, and all of the family loved me and that everyone had been up all night praying for me….. I can in no way describe how I felt. I understood, without a shadow of a doubt, at that instant…everything that had transpired over the last 24 hours had not just happened or was some accident. As sure as I am about anything in this world, I knew that God had just worked a miracle in my life. Even now a year later, as I write this, I can still feel the overwhelming love of God each and every time I think of it. As important as it was to know that my family had not rejected me, and believe me, that was huge, it was even more important to know that God loved me. With everything that I had done and all the hurt, I had caused over the last 15 years, He had just shown me that he loved me. He loved me!

On Thanksgiving Day, 2005 I spent my first day in rehab. The next 3 weeks were some of the best weeks of my life. I was beginning a relationship with the Lord that I never knew was possible. I also discovered that there were others out there in this world just like me, we all had the same problem, and it wasn’t drugs or alcohol. Those were just the symptoms,…it was the hole in our lives. Since that day, my faith in the Lord has continued to grow by leaps and bounds. I learned that my way to recovery could only be through Jesus Christ. I now regularly attend A.A. meetings. A.A. is a twelve-step program that has helped literally thousands of alcoholics. The first three steps in the program are the most important to me:

Step 1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.

Step 2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Step 3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understand Him.

If you’ve ever wondered why Alcoholics Anonymous has been around so long and is so successful, well, it’s because the whole program is based on God. I believe it was inspired by God as well.

I have remained sober since November 24, 2005, but it has not been an easy year. I assumed that since I had experienced such a close, personal relationship with the Lord, my faith would carry me through all trials unscathed. I was surprised to discover that I would continue to sin so much! The first two or three times I took it extremely hard. I just knew that God was as disappointed in me as I was myself. It hurt deeply that I had failed Him. In the past when I failed, I listened to the enemy and gave up. My faith has grown and I have so far, overcome each major hurdle I have encountered. I have continued to grow in my faith and now understand I am going to fall short for the rest of my life. God can and does forgive me and I am able to forgive myself. This was something I never could have done in the past. I still have to fight with some my old habits, and the temptations of the world, but I have been able to control them, not them controlling me.