I was that girl…

The sky was growing darker, and black was its only hue. The storm was not dorment. It was just not visable to all eyes. As I looked up the sky was as dark as the thoughts that came with every sip. It was as dark as the blood that now ran through me. The storm was raging within my skin. My heart was taking such a beating, as it was gail force winds brewing. Dark, darker, darkest..

I was the girl with a life long invitation to the Masquerade Ball. I was married into the church at 20. I married a P.K.(pastors kid). I was a devout wife, and mother. We had many a hardship financially. My husband seemed to have great difficulty holding down jobs. Financial security, what was that? So in all honesty I don’t think I had known the true me up until my coming claim of alcoholism(August 2013).

I was a mom who was present, but who would slip away into a bathroom to guzzle down as much alcohol without obviously being gone too long. I was the employee who brought alcohol to work in a sports bottle, taking bathroom breaks frequently. I was the wife who longed to go out with her musician husband, because that gave me the freedom to drink off the band’s open bar tab. No one would be none the wiser. I was the girl who had a slit in the very bottom of her purse lining where I could hide my alcohol, because my wallet and such could lay over the top. I had sat in church pews buzzed. I always had alcohol on my person. It was like a security blanket for me.

We always had alcohol in our home once we moved from Washington to Florida(2002). It was as if that spiritual identity of the P.K’s family was gone. No one knew us. We could do whatever we wished. I could not of course. There came a time my then husband had told me I could not drink, and in the same breath he declared God told him he could drink. My kids got their eye full of gross behaviour. I was so confused at his wisdom it seemed foolish, and made me angry. Who was he to tell me, and yet sit there as we watch a family movie and drink? Calling me an alcoholic, yet stumbling me along the way. So as he always had a box of open wine by the side of his bed, I would wait with great anticipation for him to fall asleep. Usually pretty blitzed himself, he was none the wiser as I slowy crept to drink from it myslef. Always scared of him waking, but I was skillful in my ploy. I usually could manage 3 glasses. He never knew how much he drank, so I was so careful to not drink too much to make the box too light. In all of this I actually had myself fooled that no one knew. I am sure even with all the breath freshners, perfumes, and rinsing of my mouth I always had that stintch of alcohol coming from my pours. Especially in the humidity of Orlando. Also I was a horrible drunk. I was not the girl who drank bringing the house down with laughter, and comic relief. I was the girl who drank, and walked in with a huge brick in my hands. Waiting to begrudgeingly throw it at the first person to open a fresh, or old wound. I was like the incredible hulk, but a small woman whom wanted to make others feel my pain. Pain is what I bathed in, and my bath was full. My marriage was far from happy. My husband was far from the man, I had always hoped him to be. I began looking at him with very different eyes than I did when we were younger. I knew he did me, as it seemed every other woman caught his fancy.

I was the girl who would drink anything as long as it was alcohol. I did not have a preferred taste, or special drink. If it could make me dumb to my life, give it to me. From the time I woke, until I went to bed. Constant feeding of sober. I could not do sober. I did not know how to do it.

I mentioned we were always in a bad way financially. So I was also the girl who managed how to walk into a store, and walk out past the registers without paying with a purse full of “my” candy. This was repeated multiple times in a day. Yeah I was that girl(very sad), and humbling to admit.

I was always a happy go-lucky, sarcastic girl. Could have won an award for class clown. I had so many gnawing pains, being serious was just not my thing. I became very good at a very young age at pushing everything so far down inside. I painted a beautiful fasaud for all to see. I was a mess on the inside, yet for a time managed to look the beautiful part on the outside. I did say for a time. For as you could see by the mugshot of me I was far cry from beautiful.

I was the girl who had a monster unleashed the day I was put in jail. I was the girl who lived for her next drink, and God was trying to wake for her sake. I was the girl who did not care about anything, but the next sip. I was decieved by alcohol, and was I deceiving because of it. Or another way to put it I drank to live, and lived to drink.

Desperate hands searched the bottom of her purse

Breathing fast, to drink fast and hard

Pound it down, hurry the feelings are coming

Desperate hands clamering the back of the car for a look to see if she had truly run out

Desperate hands finding new hiding places so no one could take her most prized possesion 

Desperate to feel the warmth in the buzz, desperate oh so deserpate she was that girl…

Desperate was killing her, but desperate was what she felt she needed to live. Catch 22. 

She was the girl with a drawer full of different masks for she had a lifelong invitation to the Masquerade Ball 

I was that girl…

Exodus 20:3

You must not have any God but Me.

I was that girl that made alcohol her idol 


Author: Lisa O'Day, Cries from an unkempt garden

I write to tell my story of how I overcame self affliction, and great despair in this life. For I write to share the death to self that took place. That I may Glorify God in all I do. May my writings be a refelction of freedom, for I am no longer in captivity of self. May they be warm, and inviting. For I write because God has given me words that drip from my mouth to be seen.

6 thoughts on “I was that girl…”

    1. Indeed I praise God for the “was” daily. That is why GRACE is my favorite word. I can not judge another for I have worn every shoe, and it is not for me to do. I have great compassion for people because of the life I have endured. I could go back all the way to childhood with the pains of my heart. I look at Paul, Abraham, and Job. All men after God’s own heart with many a tribulation. Yet they persevered, and to the Glory of God. Thank you for stopping by, and reading. Today I am beautiful inside, and out. I have nothing to hide, and so much to be grateful for. God is a God of Grace, and Grace lives here.
      Blessings, Lisa

      Liked by 2 people

  1. You are a courageous woman, with an amazing testimony for the Lord. These posts must have been so difficult to write, but through writing them, and sharing your story, you are blessing the lives of so many people ❤ Thank you so much❤


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