Other people are going to find healing in your wounds. Your greatest life messages and your most effective ministry will come out of your deepest hurts. –Rick Warren

Hi my name is Chelsea Spradlin. I would define myself as one who is full of passion and fulfillment of life which is laid by a deepness that has yet to be fully unwritten. I just celebrated my 30^th birthday and after a sequence of life changing circumstances and a lifetime full of the influence of addiction, I found myself pondering on my life. Where my life has been the past 30 years and where it is headed. The question I’ve had to ask myself is: Why has the bondage of addiction been so prevalent in my life? My epiphany came as a surprise. Maybe it was one that I didn’t want to see or maybe I was finally willing and ready to look at the realization in the face. I’ve discovered that there was and always has been a vast realm of reasoning for the battles of substance abuse that have been intertwined in my life, the seeds that are just beginning to bear fruit in changing the epidemic of this world. I’ve discovered through opening up about my story that so many people struggle greatly with the same battles that I have, loving someone so much but having to watch them destroy themselves. As sweet, beautiful, and amazing as life has been, my entire life has been interweaved with addiction in some shape or form. Something that starts as innocent, eventually turns into a dead end for all. And there it was, one day loud and clear, my story, our stories are meant to be heard. God had a plan all along, and it’s time to fight for our purpose in his plan.

I tell many people that I’m an introvert and the main response is “I never would have guessed that!” I’m outgoing, loving, and extremely friendly, but there is a part of me that is a mystery to many.  I’m an open book, you just have to ask. Give me a comfortable place and kindred spirit and I will tell you my whole life story. But there is also a deepness in me, that I have yet to fully understand or figure out. And in all honesty, the writings and experiences in this blog are histories that I have yet to ever fully expose to anyone, much less the closest people to me. It’s going to get raw and it’s going to get real, but they are the truths that have set me free. No pity here, just the glory of growth. Here lately, God is working and is urging me to use my story and to use our story. The more I open up to people, both new friends and old, the more I realize that these struggles are real and prevalent in the world today. And my one hope through my journey is that people realize that they are not alone and that there truly is healing in this season.

So, this is my story through addiction. It’s not just any story. It’s my testimony through my seasons. It’s my darkest days to my brightest rays of light. These are just three of the most influential people, with many more that may one day be exposed. And sometime in the last couple of years, it’s been revealed to me that God is ready to use the stories that have grown me into who I am today. I tell my story not so that I get glory, but so that others may know Hope and where it comes from. So that others may know that an everlasting and genuine joy is out there for all, no matter how dirty your past may be. I’ve learned that your testimony is both your most powerful weapon and your strongest defense. We can’t let it go to waste. I’m just an ordinary girl with my life span full of addiction struggles and growth from people that I have loved the very most and in life, there are no coincidences, just divine appointments. God is not going to forget to put the people in your life who are not meant to be there.

Some days I question, what was it like growing up with a father? What did it feel like to have him look at you and tell him how proud he is of you or how beautiful you looked when you walked down in your prom gown? How special did it feel to have him cheering you on at the side lines of your sports games when you made that new PR? How did it feel to be able to fall apart in your father’s arms when you needed someone strong that would protect you and make the world ok? I’m one of those people that couldn’t answer any of these questions. I wouldn’t know how amazing that must have felt, but I have surely longed for that as long as my mind can remember. While those dads were protecting their children, my dad was protecting his right to chase his next high.

At the ripe age of 4, as we waited on my father for the last time in the Dairy Queen parking lot in my hometown, little did I know on that summers night, him chasing another pill would be the last effort to our existence. Out of my last 26 years since then, those were the biggest crocodile tears I ever did cry. And don’t think for one second that I have forgotten what that very moment felt like along with the aftermath that has lingered for over 26 years now. That moment of realization and abandonment that his next fix was more important to him than his little girl, left me with an aftermath that has built the woman that I am today. Both in exceptional ways of growth and perseverance and days that would bring you to your knees if you could feel what my heart aches for. The deepest moments where abandonment cripples me and you still could not fathom the pain that sinks into the deepest places in me.  With a head full of brown hair, eyes that the world glowed through, and Cherokee cheeks the size of Texas, I had no idea that such a small synthetic, manmade piece of this world could change one entire life with just one choice. I was looking back through childhood pictures a few years ago, and the ones with him in it, I was glued to him. And then I found it ironic and obvious that in every single one of them after his exit of existence to us, I was holding tight to my grandfathers and uncles simply because I missed my very own safe place to my world.

I started researching the where abouts of my father about ten years ago and I have been able to follow him throughout his past 26-year journey according to his jail records. Before I could and would say that I didn’t care about him, but if I was being honest, I did. I get to know that he’s alive with that little bit of hope for restoration.  Sadly, he lives just 40 minutes away from where my entire childhood and adolescent years took place. I remember right before our paths together were no more, Ethan and I used to visit my dad on the weekends. I had a step-mom named Cindy. She was so wonderful and saved me from so much that I remember in vivid detail. I still wish I could talk to her and thank her. I don’t think she would have any idea of what an impact she had on me. I used to see women back home that looked like her and think to myself, “Is that her?” As we continued to visit on the weekends, Cindy was never there anymore and our first question was “Where is Cindy daddy?” “Well, Cindy is building and preparing a “Mountain house” up in the mountains for all of us to go live in.” And every weekend that we would visit, with her still not there, she would still be up there building and preparing the “Mountain house.” It was big and it was on top of the mountain with views for miles and miles. One weekend she picked out my paint color and it was baby pink! The next weekend we got there and he said she was picking out the stone for the fireplace that I had in my very own bedroom. Then the next, she picked out my 4-poster bed and he said it was absolutely beautiful! And the next she had gone shopping and put all new, blue-jean vests in my closet (that was the thing back then). Oh I was so excited to finally get to see this place and share life with him here. It felt so real. The day he left us standing in dairy queen parking lot, I sobbed all the way home and I remember talking to mom and said “but mom!! What about the mountain house? We are still going to live there with dad on the weekends!” And my moms truth of a reply left me with shattered dreams when she told me there was no mountain house, that Cindy had left my dad months ago. You know that I still have dreams of that closet with a window in it looking out over the mountains with blue jean vests hanging in it. And you know you that my two biggest wishes for my bedroom one day are a 4-poster bed and a fireplace in front of it? It’s funny how a simple “White lie” to a child can seem to impact them for the rest of their lives. But I have promised myself, that one day I would fulfill those very dreams that I’m still hanging tightly to.

When I was 8 years old, I picked up our home phone as we were walking out the door headed to my basketball game and I hear “Hi Chelsea, this is your dad.” I froze- my mouth, my mind, and my heart.  I couldn’t speak and didn’t know what to say. 4 years had gone by with nothing. Tears began flowing before I could even feel the pain. Or was it relief? As angry as I was at him, this was my dream come true. Maybe he wanted me again, maybe he was ready to come home for us. I could only dream, right? Needless to say, that basketball game on that Saturday was sided with a lot of tears, pain, and lack of court time. It’s like getting over that mountain and thinking you are ok, then bam! Abandonment all over again.

When I was around 14 years old, little did I know, we passed him in the mall shopping for back to school clothes. I had no idea what had happened but I sure saw something evidently wrong with my mom. I knew her and protected her with everything I had, she was all I had. I watched her fall apart in fear within minutes and begged her to tell me what was wrong. Reluctantly, as she pulled me behind a rack in American Eagle, she said, “We just passed your dad, if I pull you in a dressing room, I need you to come with me as fast as you can.” And in that moment, I saw how the fear of an unwell human being struggling with addiction crippled her to her knees. As we left the mall, both with heavy hearts but in completely different ways, the fact that I had just passed my father and had no idea who he was, brought me to my very own knees. What did he think when he saw me? That little 4-year-old girl who is now turning into a woman. Did it hurt him as much as it hurt me? And sadly, I hoped with everything in me, that it did. That the pain he felt was as intense as the pain I was feeling. And until my 26^th year without him, I always wondered. How can you love and hurt for someone so much that you don’t even know?

During an influential year at the age of 25, I had a life transforming epiphany that rocked my world. As Psalms 68:5 resonates within me… He is a father to the fatherless. And as a song states that hit me as well that year, “I am no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God.” My true and ultimate father was there then and is now and had been the whole time, I just never accepted that and fully understood it until that moment. As this truth settled within my soul, I felt a weight lifted off of my life as well as a desire on my heart to tell him that I had forgiven him. Last year as I discovered I had a hereditary kidney disease, I decided this was the time to call and find out the medical history of my past in order to move forward in the best way possible. I was ready at last. I called my little brother to find out if he knew how to get in touch with him and my brother said “Chelsea I need to tell you something. I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted to protect you. Dad called from the hospital this past November to ask if we had forgiven him. He said he didn’t have much time left.” I lost it and I mean I fell apart. Had I missed my opportunity to tell him that I truly forgave him because of my stubborn and hurting heart?? Did he pass in the bondage from something that I could have freed him of? We began searching for information and obituaries. We couldn’t find an obituary, phone numbers or anything pointing to a current contact but I did find an address from an inmate search and took a long shot at sending a letter via pony express.

“Hi, I’m trying to reach my dad, ____ _____. If this is you, I’d love to talk with you. I think 26 years has been long enough. Here’s my number and email if you feel it in your heart. Sincerely, your daughter.”

Short and sweet and off it went. Four days later standing at my chair with a client of a similar story (divine appointment by my never-failing father upstairs) my phone rang with a Greenville, SC phone number. And in that moment, I knew it was him. What I had waited all of these years for. I walked outside and answered. “Hi Chelsea, this is your father.” I couldn’t even breath. He sounded so old an aged. I guess I thought he would still sound like the last day I ever saw him all those years ago. “Honey I have missed you for so many years. Not a day goes by without me thinking of you.” We talked for a few minutes and I composed myself enough to ask him if I could call him back tonight when I wasn’t at work. After all, it wasn’t just a light phone call. “Of course. I am looking so forward to it. Thank you, thank you sweetheart for reaching out and doing this.” I had about an hour break and John came and rode me around until I could calm down enough to get through the rest of my day. My mind was running wild. That night he never answered his phone, I never knew how fresh abandonment could feel until I felt it rush back in that late evening. 26 years and you can’t even pick up your phone after all of this? Out of anger and the pain of watching me in sheer pain, John ended up reaching out numerous times before he could get a hold of him. He protected me as he always does. He stood up for me and told my dad that he will not hurt me again. And if he did, to go ahead and move on down the road and to never call back again. “She’s been through enough sir.” Peace was settled. The next evening was the evening that my soul was set free. I prayed before I picked up that phone. He answered. And for the next long while we talked.  John sat right beside me and held me tight as tears rolled down both of our faces. What do you say to a man who is your father that you haven’t seen since you were 4 years old? I let him do the talking. I wanted to hear about him and how life has been to him and selfishly, how life has affected him without us. He told me all kinds of things that I didn’t know or remember. Good times.  He told me where my middle name Elizabeth, comes from. Meaning strength in the bible. And how we planted tomato plants in the back yard. He told me how he still has pictures of me in the house, 26 years later. How my baby clothes are still in his closet and more often times than not, he takes them out and sits there and cries.  How I used to lay on his chest and wrap my arms around him and that’s where I fell asleep. I was his little sidekick. And then it was my turn to talk.  I said “I need to tell you something and I want you to listen to me. If you get nothing out of this conversation, please get this. I have forgiven you, for everything. And I mean everything. I am thankful for you. I am thankful that you chose to walk out. I know you didn’t want to. I am the woman that I am today because of you. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. And if it wasn’t for your actions, I wouldn’t be the woman that I am today. You built me whether you knew it or not.” He said “Oh sweetheart, I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve forgiveness.” I said “Everyone deserves forgiveness and I love you for you. Always have and always will.” He cried and could speak no more and said he had to go. And that Wednesday night was the last time that I spoke to him. I didn’t know if I wanted restoration or not, But I did know that he deserved the affirmation of my forgiveness. In the past, all I remembered was the abandonment and the anger. The drug deals I went on and the things he did to me as a child. But in that moment on that evening last year, my soul was set free. The chains were broken to that bondage. Compassion overflowed my heart. I hurt for him instead of being so bitter towards him. I realized that he has felt immense pain all these years just as I have, but in different ways. He didn’t want to leave us, he made a choice that was best and one that at that time, had no control over. I applaud him for that and I respect him for that. I love my dad and the man that created me, and I despise who addiction has made him into. But for everything that he didn’t supply as a father, God supplied something even better. Many days I question what my life would have been like with him in my life, and I thank him and God for allowing him to walk out. As Father’s Day rolled around last year and this year, for the first time in my life. I shed no tears and it was just another day. There is hope in healing but it begins with us. Whether the addict is still active or has a past with addiction and is doing wonderful, YOU can be set free and so can they. Fight for the bigger picture and know that through all things, good WILL come. Romans 8:28

And if you are reading this dad, know that you are still forgiven and trust that you are still loved more than you will ever know. -Your little girl

Next, it was my brothers turn. We were inseparable. We had been through nightmares and back together and addiction grabbed him too.  At the young age of 13, he began chasing anything that could numb the pain that he felt inside. Pain from the lack in a father, I must assume. My sweet brother crying out. And that was the first time he saw the inside of cell walls at a juvenile prison. And sadly, for the next 10 years, he began to know that place better than his own adolescent home. The routine, the cycle. Many Christmas mornings, Mom and I would call in and order to a Waffle House closest to his prison at that time just so we could celebrate Christmas with someone we loved so very much. Life wasn’t the same without him. I remember being in high school and pulling into the driveway with medical responders and police everywhere and as I walked into the front door, seeing four cops holding him down on our couch just to get him restrained. I remember running, I couldn’t handle it. I ran a lot when he was in that state of mind. My sweet brother, who would give you everything that he had, who I loved so dearly, and just like that- he was someone I didn’t even know. I’m a strong woman today but I still cringe when I hear a man yell. I remember the months of him running from the world and the police and the feeling of shear panic every time my phone rang fearing that my little brother was dead. I still have boxes of letters that he wrote me from the walls of that place and once in a while I will read them just to remember the good days of clarity and not the bad. I just wanted to shake him, I wanted to save him and take it all away. Many days I felt guilty for not getting those attributes of my father that he seemed to have gotten at that time. I never could make sense out of how such an incredible person could battle with such a terrible thing. I wanted my brother back. He was my best friend and side kick. Even on the worst days, but I still wanted my brother back. That person inside that I knew was in there.

We had many seasons of back on forth. Closeness then distance. Some days were more than I could handle so I was left with no choice but separation. But not a day went by without prayer over his life for healing and peace. Years have gone by as he celebrated his 28^th birthday with four years out of prison. His epiphany happened after moving to a horse farm and finding one of the most peaceful places within himself that he never knew existed. He has always been a believer but he found his relationship. Seeing my brother reach that place of peace was nothing less than a miracle. I finally had my brother back.

Over the span of the past four years, he moved to Florida after the horse farm to chase dreams, became very successful, and reluctantly began chasing things instead of the very thing that instilled so much peace within him. With each “thing” that he achieved in hopes of it making him happier, he seemed to move further and further away from where he ultimately wanted to be. Taking his IV out of God and placing it in the material things of this world. The further away he got the more miserable he became. Once you find the ultimate peace and joy in God, you will cling to it for the rest of your days. The further you get from it, the more you will try and grasp back onto something only he can give you. As time progressed, he was distant, he had everything he could have dreamed, and he was more miserable than he had felt in a very long time. One thing led to the next and he ran back to the very thing that would numb those feelings that were so obvious to the lack of life. Fortunately, God’s divine appointments for a trip to the family cabin brought him down to his knees. It’s funny what coming home to your roots can sometimes do within God’s marvelous plan.

Years of healing between us is still taking place. Years of healing with himself is still taking place. He’s still on a journey. He is my person and will always be. Overcoming isn’t always easy. But it is always worth it. I got a phone call from him a couple of weeks ago and he said “I want my sister back. I need you to make me a promise: If I promise to work on my life and move forward with my relationship with God, will you promise to work on letting me back into your world? I don’t want to do this alone. I’ve realized chasing all of this stuff has helped me to lose some of the best things in my life.” Sitting there in silence only because I couldn’t speak, with tears streaming down my face all I could muster was “I would love that more than anything.” And just like that, God does answer prayers. He talks to John or me almost every day throughout this journey to healing and restoration. To believe in himself again. And it is the best feeling in the world to have my brother back. This is just a season. Mom used to wonder what she did wrong. What could she have done different and better where he wouldn’t have this battle and this struggle. And is in the truth as I voiced… We each have our own destiny and path set out before us. We make choices that lead us on paths, many different types of paths but they will each be used for his good if we allow them to. I have watched Ethan minister and help other people that would never listen to anyone else through his experiences and journey. Without testimonies such as this, these people would still be looking for that hope that seemed so far away. Never stop believing and don’t give up.

 

And then there’s the love of my life. You know how you search for that one person your whole life? That fairy tale and a best friend.  That person that changes your whole world. As cliché as the term “soul mate” may sound, that is it and that is us. And not for what the rest of the world defines the definition of a soul mate as, but for logical reasoning of them being the person that turns your world upside down. One who makes you want to be a better person and one who shows you every little thing that is holding you back. The one who brings you to your own attention and to God’s so you can transform your life. They tear down your walls and they smack you awake. It breaks your heart open so that new light can come in. To make you so out of control that you have no choice but to change your life. Is it pleasant in the midst? Not always, but I can promise you that it’s worth it. He’s amazing, and he loves me like I’ve never been loved before as I do him. We are inseparable. Quickly into our relationship, I realized that I wasn’t the only love of his life. Pills were too. He started at a young age and never really knew how to quit. Whether it came to chasing them on the street or doctors that handed them out like candy, the chase wasn’t ever too far away for a weakness in the heart. We endured some very dark days. Some of the darkest. Watching someone you love so much destroy themselves is one of the hardest things you will ever endure. The loss of trust, the pain of betrayal, and the division between the two of us because of it. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and the stress got more than I could handle. My kidney disease was at it’s all time worst because of the stress and simply not taking care of myself. I shut down and he couldn’t stand seeing the pain when he looked at me. He was a lost soul who eventually believed that an “addict” was who he was and all he would ever be. How could someone so incredible love like he does but have this bondage over his life? Just like him and millions of others in this world. I’ve learned that on our darkest days, the one using is in more misery than we could ever begin to imagine. We are both in a severe struggle but in two completely different ways. I wanted to shake him too, I wanted to fix it all just like I did with my dad and brother. But I ultimately knew that I didn’t have that capability, only God did. He will tell you, he thought when he found that person, he could just stop and never go back. And that was the choice that was laid out. I’m a runner, always have been, working on always never being. But from early on and with the experience of the loved ones in my past, I made a promise to fight for him because he was worth every bit of fight that I had in me. And goodness knows I’m a fighter. One thing is true, we never gave up on each other. Even on the darkest nights, we still sat here and fought it together. I wouldn’t and couldn’t take anymore and he started fighting, and I stood right by his side. I believed in him and always will. I learned to love him and hate the time of addiction. Simply because that’s not who he was, it was just a season in his life. I’ve learned that sometimes your mind doesn’t understand what your heart does. And others didn’t understand what my heart did, but that’s ok. They are starting to as they are beginning to see our story unfold. My heart and my God never fail me. There were tough days, and I mean tough. Nights I would lay in the bed and stare at the Corinthians 13 bible verse that hangs on our wall and read it over and over, just as counting sheep until I could fall asleep: Love is patient… Love is kind… I stood my ground, he bucked me with everything he had, but then he began to fight with everything he had. We started on a journey of recovery over a year ago, and man has it been a ride. It wasn’t until he turned his life over that the freedom of bondage truly came. Some of the darkest nights that I’ve ever experienced and some of the brightest days that I have thus far to my life are wrapped up with him. And the most exciting part is, the best is yet to come. As he got down on one knee to ask me to spend the rest of his life with me not too long ago, with tears flowing down both of our faces, he said “Thank you for believing in me, standing beside me, and not giving up on me. I am finally ready to do forever with you.” One of my best decisions yet to my life, was to fight for this man who once held the title of “Addict.” My life will never be the same because of him and the impact that he has on me.

John attended an incredible faith based recovery facility called Spring to Life that we only by the Grace of God, ran across one late night looking for an end to this battle. And off to Tennessee he went. One of the hardest goodbyes wrapped up with a hopeful hello. He didn’t care where, he was just ready. This program has restored a faith in God and a faith in himself to be something that he never knew he could be. I’ve watched the transition of a man who lost all faith in himself to finally starting to believe in himself again and believing in something greater than himself. To realize that he does indeed have a specific purpose here on this earth. To realizing that an “Addict” is not what or who he is, it’s only a season in his story. John and I have always been an influential couple as we like to call it. It was as if the stars aligned the day we met. He’s a strong leader in a loud way, I’m a strong leader in a quiet way. We knew God had big things in store we just didn’t know what. As time has progressed, John and I have had a compelling desire instilled in us to use our testimonies together with addiction on both ends of the spectrum to help this world fight its way through and out of this epidemic. There has been a shift in our generation today. One where drugs are more prevalent and accepted than ever, but also a time when the world is beginning to fight against substances that are killing people daily. And now is our time, only in his perfect time. John is doing so wonderful living his life for recovery and for God. He is on staff at Spring to Life and using his testimony near and far to reach those still sick and suffering. We have prayed for pathways to be made straight and for doors to be opened and it is happening left and right. God is working and it is so good. Divine appointments have never felt so pleasing. There is no greater feeling than getting out of ourselves and living for God’s will. The clarity of alignment has been prevailing over our lives. And as we move forward trusting his will wherever that may take us, with hands and hearts open wide, we are ready for whatever is coming our way through recovery on both parts. We’ve learned to not hide our scars. It’s proof that God does heal and we want the world to see.

As you can see, Miracles do come true. Not always how you want them or how you would have expected, but always as planned in his divine timing and way. As time has gone on, the very thing that has changed, ruined, and killed millions of lives, families, and homes with that influence residing in mine. I’ve learned that addiction or past addiction is only a season and a facet to a human loved one’s life and to our very own. It doesn’t define who they are in this broken world. But WHOSE they are in this broken world. And HE is the ultimate healer. There is one start and there is only one finish. One day or day one. The paths in between are up to you! And that’s where the beginning of my story began with addiction. Luckily, life came with something greater! We have a choice to let the factors of our past define us and hold us in bondage or to let it catapult us into an even greater destiny, in alignment with where our lives are supposed to be. And there is no feeling more glorious than that!