THE MIRACLE

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Across the sky of twilight dawn

A vague evidence of luminescence lingering

Brings mysterious curiosity

Of a universe beyond my reach

So infinite it easily consumes my limited imagination

  

With the vastness of a stellar constellation

And the preciseness of its meticulous order

I can find within my own mind

No sense of uncertainty, but rather the knowledge

Of an existing and sovereign plan to this creation

 

Gazing my eyes upward

I feel a sense of my very being

Engulfed in its infinite mystique

As the vast darkness reaches inward

Toward the farthest edges of my mind

Filling me with a certain warmth that can not be described

As I stand alone, staring, ~ entranced almost ~

There is a coolness in the air that causes my breath to mist,

I see before me a glowing stellar light

That above all others seems to call out in simple humility ~

To be remembered…to be thought of…

 

It is this glowing mystery of creation

That brings to me a sacred reminder… of another ~ so long ago

That served as direction for those so blessed – as to witness the Miracle...

The Miracle that would forever change, so simply…

An ever complicating world

 

          I close my searching eyes and try as best I can

                 …To picture within my own mind

                          ~ The night that birth was given to a King ~

How the angelic hosts must have sang with joy!

On that most silent of nights, in a humble manger…

Warmed only by hay and animals gentle breath

 

A night when Peace did enter this world as flesh…A gift so freely given…

I try to imagine the mist that must have also come from His breath,

As gifts were given by some of the mightiest & most powerful of men

Who on that night… could stand only in humble awe…

Gazing in silence, with tear filled eyes ~ at the Miracle…

                                                                                 

As I open my eyes, I can feel the dulling pain rising in my throat

And the chill, as the wind brushes my moistened face ~

Allowing myself to give in to this,

I feel my very soul warmed by His majestic hand…

 

Standing still…weeping…

I know that I am not alone ~ for my Father stands with me,

His gentle voice speaking to the secret place of my heart…

 

         ~I will show to you my child, the universe which I created…

 

                     I will reveal to you, it’s mysterious wonder… 

 

                                   And the star…it is a reminder…

 

                                            ~ That the Miracle is with you always~

                                                                                   

Rebecca Balko

© 1990-2022

THE GIFT

 

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Gazing upward I watched the window above our bed, as the bushes just on the other side scratched & tapped against the pane of glass. The wind made a light howling moan that normally would have caused me to drift off into a deep sleep. However, not this night – for on this night I was consumed with the excitement and anticipation that went far beyond my 6 year old ability to control. I stood on the tip of my toes in the bed for what must have been the 10^th time.

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My hands and face pressed eagerly against the glass as I strained to look as far as I could to the left and as far as I could to the right. The cold felt so good against my skin as the faint smell of chimney smoke made its way from outside the window into my nostrils. I was fascinated with the prints created by the heat radiating from my tiny hands as they remained against the glass. Likewise I would watch with endless amazement, as the fog caused by my breath, would appear and then disappear. It was all just too much to take in: With my heart pounding and my mind racing, it was then that I heard her - my older sister… “Rebecca!!” she said, “Lay down! He won’t come at all unless you go to sleep.” Realizing that she was right… there were after all, rules that had to be followed! It was all I needed to hear. Quickly I slid back under the covers, pulling them up tightly beneath my chin, trying desperately to make myself sleep. But it was SO hard! What would be there when I woke up? Would it be the gift I wanted? Could it be even better than what I wanted? You see tonight was the single most important night in the history of the whole world – for tonight was the night that Santa would come!!!  

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Everything about Christmas made me happy. Watching all the things my mom did leading up to that day was nothing short of amazing! Our home would be filled with the smell of cinnamon and apple cider. She would decorate each room with various holiday items, strategically placing the “Christmas Mouse” for my sister & me to try and search out. Every room would possess in it a sweet aroma, as she prepared with love, various snacks of all sorts - including chocolate fudge, peanut brittle and my all time favorite - Buttermilk Fudge! It was absolutely melt in your mouth good! Going out with my dad and my sister to find that, “just right” Christmas tree was always a wonderful adventure. I loved holding his hand as we walked, with the smell of pine filling the air around us. It created a feeling within me, that everything about life in that moment was good. I can remember my dad laughing as we would agonize over which tree was the “perfect” tree. Upon arriving home we would begin the best part of all – DECORATING! Daddy would first put the lights on the tree. Waiting for him to finish was next to impossible. 

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Once we got the “go ahead” my sister and I would then delicately take each ornament, (many of which represented years of history in our family), and search out the best place for them to hang. The finishing touch would be the tensile that we got to spread all over the tree. Once this was done mom would put the star on top and we would turn everything off but the tree lights. The way the light reflected off the tinsel & metallic glass ornaments into the room was like magic! With each passing day, there would be more mystery and amazement as new presents would appear both under or actually in the tree, just waiting to be found. The week leading up to Christmas meant being out of school, playing all day and watching Christmas shows at night like “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer”; “Miracle on 34^th Street” &“Frosty the Snow Man” to name a few. But the best part of all was sneaking over to that magical tree when no one was watching, to touch and shake the beautifully wrapped presents that bore my name!

Looking back on these memories causes my mind to wander. The past is funny isn’t it? Memories from so long ago, yet flooding back into my consciousness as if they just happened. Another memory that comes to me is of my very first 12-step meeting. I was taken from the hospital to the church it was held in. Waiting by the door for our driver to take us in, overcome by feelings of both excitement & trepidation, I peered through the window, looking around as much as I could. With a rush of emotion my heart began pounding, my mind racing; I turned to go and then heard him, “Alright folks! Let’s head in!”  I did NOT want to go in and had made a feeble attempt to stand my ground. He leaned down to me and said, “There are actions you will have to take if you want to live. Many wonderful things lie ahead of you, but you will not be able to get them unless you take the first step.” Deep inside of me I knew that what he said was the truth and I desperately wanted those “wonderful things” that he mentioned.     

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Entering into the basement of that church, the aroma of coffee and cookies filled the air. As we were shown our seats I watched all the different people who were performing various jobs. It was amazing to see because they all just seemed so…happy. Throughout the meeting I heard people share about where they had come from, what they were going through and all the things that were changing in their life. My heart began pounding and my mind racing, however this time for a different reason. I wanted what they had. I thought, “Will it happen for me?”, “Would it be the life I desired to have?”, “Could it be even better than I hoped for?” You see this night was the single most important night in the history of the whole world – for on this night I would begin the journey into a new life that I could not even begin to fathom. As that first meeting came to a close, everyone got in a circle and held hands. Within myself I was filled with a feeling of warmth, and everything about life in that moment was good.

I approached treatment and recovery with newly found vigor and zeal. I wanted it so much! It was all I could think about. I got a sponsor and wanted everything to happen fast! Waiting for her to give me step work was next to impossible. With each passing day there was more mystery and amazement as new truths were revealed while still others were just waiting to be found. But the best part of all came when I was given my medallion – the one I had touched so many times when I thought no one was looking. It represented something I could not have grasped in the beginning… that of a gift freely given to those who would have it and the promise of a new and amazing life.  

Rebecca Balko © 2009-2021

What Do You MEAN, "There is NO Santa?!!"

 

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There is no time of year more precious or holding more treasured memories for me, than that of Christmas. As a child I found everything about it to be nothing short of exhilarating. From the moment that the first breeze of fall air brushed across my face and I could almost smell the approaching winter, to the Grand Night it’s self – I loved it all! “What grand night?” you might ask – No other than the night that SANTA CLAUSE would come!!! I mean it was the single night of the year that a kid could pretty much count on “FREE toys!” to be awaiting them upon awakening ~ that is as long as certain obligations were met.

It was all that my young mind could think about. I mean there were always so many things to consider, so many things to ponder, so much self evaluation that had to take place in order to insure the very BEST probability of achieving a successful haul of gifts from Santa!  First there was the need to begin scanning all advertisements, both on television and in the Sunday paper, for toys and other items I wanted. There were the reconnoissance missions while going to the store or mall with my mom, always scanning and making mental notes of what to put on the list. (I mean lets face it – Santa can’t just know everything, he needed my help, and I was more than happy to give it.)

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Next on the list of important matters was the letter to the North Pole. Not only did it need to be thoroughly written and well thought out, (because after all, you only got one shot a year to get it right), but there was the need to get it in the mail in a timely manner so that Santa had it early enough to actually get ALL the stuff! Once this was achieved, what remained was far more methodical, because you see – I could do the missions, gather the information, put together the letter AND mail it…but if my behavior wasn’t in line ~ it could all be for NOTHING. Worse yet…I could potentially have received the dreaded piece of coal and switches that my mother had warned me about – it would have been a fate worse than death!

So from about Thanksgiving until the GRAND NIGHT, I would scrutinize the things I had either done or more so, the things I was thinking about doing – measuring and weighing everything against its potential interference with Santa’s delivery. Yes, I would say of any time during the year that my parents could count on relatively little problems out of me…this was definitely it!

Each Christmas was wonderful and overall I felt successful in that I had somewhat mastered my technique for achieving the highest payload of Santa gifts…until that is, one terrible horrible day arrived ~ a day that would change everything. It was shortly after Thanksgiving Day 1976 and I was over at a friend’s house in my neighborhood. I had begun sharing with him my ingenious plans for what I hoped to get from Santa and he said something that shook me to my core. He said, “Santa? There is NO SANTA!” To say that anger began to rise in my young body threatening to explode every corpuscle in my brain ~ would have been to put it mildly. Feeling sweat beginning to push its way to the surface of my forehead, the sound of my own heart beat pounding in my ears, my fingers instinctually turning inward to the palms of my hands creating fists, I heard a shrill scream out of my own mouth ~ “YOU are a LIAR!!!!!”

My mind racing all I could think of was to go to the one person who I KNEW would confirm my absolute knowledge that in fact “I” was correct … there was SO a SANTA! I didn’t say another word to my friend – I just took off running for home as fast as I could. As I was running a memory came to my mind…it had happened only a couple weeks earlier and I had simply blocked it out - I had been standing with my dad at the trunk of his car, where he was going to retrieve an item he needed. In the blink of an eye he opened it and then said, “OH!” and slammed it shut. In that brief millisecond I had seen the miniature pool table that I had asked Santa for. I found it odd, but whatever questions it provoked I had shoved out of my mind – PTSD (Post Traumatic Santa Denial). Slowly, as I approached my house, a door in my mind began to open and the horror of it all began to sink in….there was no Santa.

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You know I can remember the early days of recovery, having fanciful ideas regarding what recovery was and about what my sponsor and people who had been in recovery many years were like. I imagined that recovery was a process of righting wrongs, learning from my past mistakes and about getting it right and being successful. I would watch my sponsor and those around me with all of those many years of recovery and think to myself, “They are probably as close to perfect as one can get”. In my eyes they really had their lives together – They had jobs, cars, homes, families and money in the bank. Yes, in my mind they had arrived at a plateau I dreamed of reaching. I imagined that the things I struggled with – anger, fear, insecurity, failure and the like – were things that probably lay along the trail of their past.

I will never forget watching a mentor of mine just TOTALLY blow his top one day – it was AMAZING and HORRIFYING all at the same time as my unrealistic ideals all came crashing down. I remember thinking, “How can this be happening? He has been sober FOREVER – how can he act this way?” It was just like that moment when my dad had opened the trunk and I saw what I had not known before – I began to realize that all this time, I was wrong.

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So back to the story: Hurling myself through the front door I cried out to my mother, (tears flowing from my eyes, snot pouring from my nose), incapable of even breathing normally due to the spasms in my diaphragm caused by my hysteria. She came running to me with strict concern on her face, (I’m sure trying to imagine what horrible thing had befallen me), and said, “Rebecca, what is wrong honey? Just slow down and tell me what is wrong.” Guttural wailing sobs pouring from me, my mouth incapable of forming the words to describe what had now all but consumed my mind…I finally managed to say, “Mom, is there no Santa??!!!” I knew the answer from the look on her face, as her eyes ever so briefly, left contact with mine. But what my mom said to me, (as mothers seem to have the ability to do), made everything better – at least bearable. She looked me in the eye and she said, “Honey, there is not a Santa that magically comes into our home and brings you gifts - that part was make believe. But Rebecca there really was a man, (a Saint), by the name of St. Nicholas and he was the patron Saint of children and carried with him the spirit of giving and honey that spirit hasn’t gone anywhere. Your daddy and I love you very much and as long as you believe, there will always be Santa.” It wasn’t the fantasy that I had believed, but the reality and the truth from which the fantasy had been born – which was actually better.

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I love the way that God allows our lives to be so intertwined ~ past and present ~ all throughout our journeys. In mine it has been one of finding that just as it was as a child, when the fantasy of Santa was gone and it felt like all was lost ~ I couldn’t imagine the Christmases to come, until my mother spoke those sweet loving words of peace and truth into my heart. So too was the experience of realizing that the people I had imagined as being so “together”, had not achieved perfection, (in fact there was no perfection to be attained), rather there was only “human” and a Road to Happy Destiny to be trudged ~ Speaking words of peace into my heart when they said, “But we do it together”.  

© 2010–2021 Rebecca Balko

SUPPORTING THE SUPPORTER

 

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As spouses/parents/children/friends of alcoholics, we tend to be strong, loyal, compassionate people. Always looking out for the best interests of others. We love big and hurt even bigger, yet we bounce back from those hurts and try even harder. 

Our #1 problem tends to be we don’t understand WHY they drink. We can’t understand because we do not think the way they do, and probably never will. We spend all of our energy trying to make their life good, so they won’t drink. That makes sense in our minds. We stress ourselves to unhealthy levels to ensure they are happy. But they still drink. WHY isn’t my love enough? WHY isn’t our life good enough? WHY don’t they care about me/family? I’m sure you have asked those questions a million times. 

You are NOT alone! We all ask these questions at some point or another. The real question should be - How can I cope with these issues? Every support person needs support or it will crush you eventually. We all come to a point where we can’t handle it all anymore. If you put too much stress on a support beam without proper balance it will give out eventually. 

Please know and understand we CAN NOT control the life of an alcoholic. We can only control our own life. Our own 3 foot world. {A 3 foot diameter around your person) We are responsible for getting our OWN help and support. We can not allow alcohol control over our own lives. If we continue in the cycle of its control- we end up bitter, resentful, exhausted and full of anxiety. How can we be supportive when we are broken? We can’t. And that keeps the cycle going. 

Our healing begins with forgiveness. Forgiving isn’t to “let the alcoholic off” from the destruction they cause in our lives. No, forgiveness is for your healing- your peace- your pathway forward! Sometimes forgiveness requires a daily choice to walk in peace and forgiveness, it’s rarely a one time deal. Once you choose to forgive all of the hurts, pain and destruction, let it go! Give it to God and allow HIS peace to flow through you. It takes some faith to let it go, because we like to hold on to it as a means of self gratification. That’s a whole other topic! 

Now, that you have chosen to forgive to help yourself, you need to find some outside support. People who are or were in your position, people who understand your pain, frustration and stress. Doing so, will provide you with the support you need to be the support your loved one needs. Talking and listening to others who have been or are in your situation is beyond comforting and helps us to feel seen, heard and supported. 

Please reach out, we are all in this together. You are NOT Alone. 

Julie Brewer-spouse of a recovering alcoholic 

Freedom Family FB group 

Al-Anon.org

**Provided by Julie B.**

FALLEN HEROES NEVER DIE

 

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I like to start by qualifying ~ my clean date is 11/11/20. I was born and raised in South Jersey, I'm 1 of 4 children and I am a twin. I grew up in an Italian Catholic household. My parents are not addicts or alcoholics, however they still had all the same behaviors, and so to me, I thought it was normal. Everything was picture perfect on the outside but on the inside everything was chaotic. From the age of 7 until 14, I was sexually molested by my older brother and paternal grandfather; Which at the time I didn't know was wrong. I knew it didn't feel right, but thought that was what everyone did, so I never said anything. By the time I was 8 I was self mutilating. I didn't know why I was doing that at the time, I just knew it felt better than everything else. I went through the motions of activing like a happy child, when really, I was dying inside - in silence. 

I went through school and partied on the weekends like any other normal teenager, till I found myself in the woods huffing, but not thinking I had a problem. I graduated high school and wanted to go into the military, but because I messed my knee up playing field hockey that was no longer an option. So I joined the Fire Department. I knew as a child I wanted to lead a life of service and to help others. I rose pretty quickly in a man's world. When 9/11/01 happened we got called upon to report to NYC. Our orders were to report to the staging area across the river, and that we would help with fire and EMS in the lower Manhattan area. I was a rescue tech on NJTF1, which is a urban search and rescue team. We got called upon while at the staging area and I would reamin at ground zero for 4 weeks - searching - but found no one viable. It was at that time I realized we had to play God - it was up to us who lived and died, and as a 20 year old, it was an extremely heavy burden to carry. When someone is begging you to save their life and you can't, it changes you. 

At 25 I met my husband and we had a son, who is the light of my life! But sadly, not even my love for him could save me. I was a very large girl weighing 300 pounds. I was pre diabetic, hypertensive and just overall, not healthy. I decided to get gastric bypass surgery which I would later come to find, was the worst mistake of my life. After that surgery I traded cupcakes for percocet and I could not stop. I lost drastic weight and ended up at 85 pounds dying from malnutrition. When I ran out of pain meds a 'friend' gave me something in my picc line which was the 'big H'. I did not enjoy it said, "I cant do that". I stuck with that decision...until the next day when I found I needed more and more and more. This continued for 10 years. 

I still worked my job and felt I was the ultimate hypocrit. I would narcan people at work then shoot up when I got home. After my addiction had gotten really bad, I ended up quitting my job after 20 years and left it all, 'cause I just didn't wanna hurt anyone. I had never thought that I had a problem at all because I was, for a really long time, the functional addict. I believed all the lies I would tell myself, as well as those my disease said to me. Ultimately addiction caused me to love Heroin more than my husband, my son, my family and myself. I would do practically anything to get it. It was just always there for me...no matter what. 

In the summer of 2018 I was held hostage for 4 days by my drug dealer at gun point, chained to a table like an animal, while I was voliated and raped for 4 days - absolutely dehumanized and ultimately I was shot. I don't remember how I got away ~ but I did. When I got to my car where I could use my phone, I found that not one person had called...not even my mom who I talked to everyday. They were all just simply tired of my shit and were waiting to get that phone call that I was dead. It was at that moment, I realized I needed to take a break and stop using for a while. I knew nothing about recovery, so I thought it was use drugs or death.

Thankfully, I got help from my mom and was set up to go to Florida for detox. I got on a plane the very next day. When I threw out my paraphernalia I actually cried...it was like saying good bye to an old friend at the time, though I thought was just going to be for a while. When I landed in Florida, I was withdrawing really bad and was so sick in my mind that I asked the man who picked me up, (who was from the detox program I was going to), to take me to a dealer. Ultimately, my plan was to do 30 days and then go back home to continue to use. I ended up spending 77 days in treatment and I took the suggestion to keep on and I absolutely fought tooth and nail to stay in florida. I ended up going to a half way house, that I knew nothing about and at one point found myself walking down the highway crying, not knowing what to do with my life off drugs. 

It was at that time, I gave myself two options: to either use drugs again or jump in front of a truck. Well, the good news is...I stayed clean for 8 months that time. BUT...I thought I knew what was best for me and I didn't get a sponsor or work the steps because...'I knew it all'. I was really a huge asshole. Well, needless to say ~ I used again! When I went back to treatment then next time, they believed I had had a stroke and so I was sent to the hospital, where they found a malformation in my brain, that came from 9/11 and 20 years of fighting fire. I had experienced symptoms for years, but blamed them on the drugs. So, July 2019 I had brain surgery.  Three weeks after that, I got word from my sister that my mom was in the hospital and a day later, I was on a one way flight back to Jersey to be with my mom and family. I was there two days and my mom passed away. Which was my biggest fear and biggest reservation, but I didn't use and I came back to Florida. 

I was in a fog for weeks. The world no longer spins right without my mom in it.  To this day I miss her. The whole year of 2019 I had four brain surgeries and a stroke. At the time of my stroke, the Dr. said he didn't know if I would make it through the surgery...but I did!  I went through a lot of detox because my dr didn't want me to end up going back out, because I was on some heavy pain meds. I lived homeless and clean for a while, but then used again. I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life on and off drugs and in and out of treatment. I've really met some amazing people on this three year journey. In 2020 I did alot of stupid things and one was trying to kill myself because I just didn't see a way out. My last relapse was really bad I didn't think it could get worse...but it did. I don't even remember two weeks of my life, but ended up back at detox yet again, really not knowing how I got there. At that time my soul was dead...I was just utterly dead inside. 

When I got out of treatment I went into sober living. This time felt different...it wasn't a decision not to use, but rather a feeling that I had, that 'I have had enough'. The pain had just gotten to be too much. What I did was, I listened... I got a sponsor and I started to honestly work the steps for once. In fact, I didn't change just one thing ~ I changed everything. I have met some people in this journey that will be with me forever! I put one foot in front of the other and just simply did the next right thing. At the sober house I was at, the manager position opened up and I was asked if I would like to do it...and so I did...and for the first time in a long time, I had purpose and was helping people again ~ just in a different capacity. I celebrated a year on 11/11/21. 

This year, yet challenging at times and so hard ~ I just wanted to give up ~ but I didn't! I surrounded myself with strong sober women and they showed me the way! Working with a sponsor and doing steps is the absolute way to freedom! I now am the Operations Manager for my sober living community and have people in my life that truly care about me. In fact, they surprised me and all my girls that I live with, by putting their money together, and flew my sister and my son here so they could celebrate my anniversary with me!! I am eternally grateful for the people I have in my life today. Without true recovery there would be no story to tell. It took me 3yrs to get this year, but I'm grateful for the struggles I have had  because I wouldn't be me today without them. I'm excited to see what year two will bring, but I live in the moment most of the time 'cause that is what works for me.

 Hope you all stay blessed...

Stephanie Dixon