The Short Version of Me
I’m a storyteller and a storyseller.
I’m a sober wife, mom, author, poet, bookstore owner, Jesus lover and founder of Divine Intervention, a place to find support and tools for Christians in recovery of any kind.
I live in a magical town in the North Carolina Mountains where I own a magical bookstore called Sassafras on Sutton. I’m surrounded by words all day and I can’t imagine my life any other way. If you’re ever up in the North Carolina mountains, head over to Black Mountain and say hi. You will LOVE this town!
I’m a published childrens’ author of 8 books and am hard at work on an upcoming book of poetry about my battle with drugs and alcohol.
I’m passionate about ending the stigma of addiction and helping people in recovery. I used to battle the world with a wine bottle. Now I’m using my words.
The Longer Version of Me
I was raised by a schizophrenic MS-afflicted mother whose alternate personality, Olga, hated me and my sisters. Olga was sexually and emotionally abusive. My dad was gone for long periods of time for work and didn’t do anything about anything when he was home. My childhood is wrapped up in darkness and secrets and loneliness.
We went to a Methodist church and then became Christian Scientists and then Pentecostal. That’s a whole mess of religious confusion for any child.
My mother spent years in and out of nursing homes while I was growing up. We raised ourselves. She left for good when I was in high school and died at the age of 51. I can’t imagine her life.
I battled infertility for years. I know that pain and struggle. I’m still not over it.
My teenage son has Tourette Syndrome. As a mother, watching your child suffer with something like that breaks your heart. I want – I need – to make it go far, far away. He’s amazing though and handles it all with grace. My admiration for him is huge.
I’ve been a model, a bridal shop owner and a farmer. Now I’m a bookstore owner and author. All have been fun. This is super fun.
I’ve spent the last 20 years in the trenches of addiction. First with narcotic pain medicine and then with wine. I fell madly in love with wine. I didn’t want to quit drinking. I just reached a point where I had to quit. My body couldn’t keep up with what my addiction wanted to put it through every day.
So here I am. A little battered. Maybe a lot battered. But I’m here and God is calling me to recover out loud. He pursued me for a long, long time. I ran for a long, long time. Then it all came crashing down and I started listening. Sometimes we don’t have a choice anymore. I didn’t.
My secrets were killing me and I believe in my heart, they are killing many of you. Abuse, alcohol, drugs, food, sex, gambling, marriage problems, loneliness, depression, mental illness. The list goes on and on. We are hurting and not sharing it because we are ashamed and embarrassed. It’s time to put an end to the stigma of addiction.
So I’m stepping out into the light. Being broken is not who I am. It’s part of who I am, just like being sober is part of who I am now. I’m a lot of other things too. Things that are good and worthy. And you are too.
I’ve been through a lot in my life. A lot of bad and dark and scary. But I’ve also been blessed with so much good and I thank God for every bit of it. I have a strong and happy marriage that is still deepening after 19 years. I have two really amazing kids. I spend my days in a place that is full of books and coffee and good people. I have godly women in my life that I call friends. I get to go to church every Sunday in a place where people truly and honestly love the Lord and not what you are wearing or the car you are driving. I have a spouse who supports and encourages my dreams no matter how crazy they are (and some have been a little crazy… like when we ended up with 500 chickens). My gratitude list is long and full.
Most importantly, I have a Father who has never left me. He loved me in spite of my stumbles. He loved me when I ignored Him and loved my wine more. He loved me. That is huge.
Somehow I crawled through all this chaos and ended up on the other side. Healthy, whole, alive. There are scars. Of course there are scars. But there is also healing. And each scar reminds me of how far I’ve come, how lucky I am and how much I am loved. Thank you, God. Thank you.
Thank you for being here! I hope you’ll stay awhile. If you need support, prayer or a point in the right direction, let me know. Please.