After
a friend told me her triumphant story, I asked her to write about her
experiences in the hope that she could inspire others. A few weeks later I
received nine single-spaced pages. She wrote how the task wearied and pained
her. How “difficult it is to bare one’s soul.” Yet at the same time,
a powerful catharsis blessed her. We both pray that her experience will
embolden others to walk away from abuse and enter a more peaceful world.
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Among
the rolling foothills of the Davis Mountains cradles a little-known West Texas
treasure, the small town of Alpine, surrounded by ranches flowing with
undulating waves of buffalo grass marked by grazing Santa Gertrudis cattle.
Felicity
grew up on one of those green-grassed ranches. She rode the range, rounded up
cattle, roped ‘em, and branded ‘em with her father by her side. She adored him
with his tough yet tender ways and became deeply disappointed in herself when
she failed to please him.
She
excelled in rodeo barrel racing, but she was plump. Kids called her Fatty
Filly, Sow Cow, and worse. In all of us those early childhood scars persist
throughout a lifetime.
As
ugly ducklings change into regal swans, dumpy little girls turn into beautiful
princesses. High school days transformed her. Felicity reached every girl’s
dream when she became a high school cheerleader and homecoming queen. She felt
comfortable, befriended, and loved in Alpine. Following graduation she left her
contained world for new adventures at the University of Texas.
Whoa!
Every UT girl was a former cheerleader or a homecoming queen. Blond, blue-eyed,
long-limbed girls with Pepsodent smiles and charm school ways populated the
campus. Felicity felt smothered by confident beauties that breezed through
calculus, composed flawless essays, and gave self-assured classroom speeches
without a single stutter or an “and-uhh” hesitation.
Now
you and I know that these template coeds don’t exist, but if you are from
Alpine, or Dalhart, or Alto or any of the other small Texas towns all you see
in Austin are the bold and the beautiful. You don’t see the flaws and the
blemishes or the girls just like you, desperate to fit in.
You
also see freedom. Her Zeta big sister introduced her to Tequila Sunsets and
Sunrises. She liked them, but convenience soon made vodka tonic her favorite. A
drink or two turned her life into a party, but once she had a drink she
couldn’t stop.
Felicity’s
first semester grades ended her sorority quest; her second semester earned her
an academic pink slip. How could she return to Alpine? How could she face her
beloved father? Her answer: a man. A man she had met in a 6th Street
bar.
She
was 18. Lester, handsome, fun, and romantic, had celebrated his 30th birthday.
Felicity, grievously disappointed in herself, feeling inferior to her peers,
surging hormones unrelieved, failed to see the warning signs. Lester was
self-centered, controlling, and one bale of hay short of intelligent. After a
two-month courtship Felicity married him.
She
soon learned what Lester wanted: A pretty girl, a virgin, a Baptist, and most
important someone who he could mold into a servant who cleaned his home, made
his bed, cooked his meals, slept with him, gave him babies, and supported every
decision he made. He ridiculed her in front of friends, blacked her eye, spit
on her, and bullied anyone who inconvenienced or disagreed with him. Wine that she drank copiously and surreptitiously helped her endure.
In
a few months her unexpected pregnancy interrupted her job search or thoughts of college re-enrollment. Her expanding girth and swollen legs escalated the verbal and
emotional abuse.
Seven
months pregnant, she packed a small bag, walked down the road to motel to call
her parents. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t admit she had made another mistake
by marrying Lester or tell them about the abuse. She was afraid Lester would
kill her…or her parents. Her Baptist belief discouraged divorce. She couldn’t be
the first in her family to end a marriage. Felicity had no money for the motel,
no car, no way to escape. She returned home.
Two
years later another child was born. The children became her life. Lester’s
frequent business trips brought temporary peace, but when he returned the abuse continued. School activities, PTA, and community service helped her suppress the foul verbal
abuse. She wore long sleeved shirts and pantsuits in the blazing Texas sun to
hide the bruises.
Finally,
supported by her prayers and the Holy Spirit's presence, Felicity ignored Lester’s
taunts about her ignorance and began to take courses at Austin College. Her
good grades surprised her. Lester enraged by her success threw her across the
room with such violence that she broke her left arm and three ribs.
As she lay
on the floor with their two 8 and 10-year old boys crying and screaming,
“No, Daddy, no,” Lester sobbed for forgiveness. She refused. He left and
slammed the door with such ferocity that one hinge detached, plants, china, and
books flew off cabinets. Yet she stayed for two more years.
Why? Thousands upon thousands of women ask the same question each day. Why: Fear for
their lives or those of their children, perhaps. No support. No money. No job.
The continuous verbal and emotional abuses making them believe they deserve the
beatings. Wretched self-esteem. Childhood sexual or physical abuse. The numbing
effects of alcohol or drugs. A strange pitying love when their men whimper and
plead for forgiveness. The yearning for resolution. The adventurous and fun-filled times.
Marriage
counseling and encounters confirmed the marriage lie. She saw others living
happily. Her children desired peace. She began to feel, with increasing fervor, the
presence of God. Her department store work provided confidence…and some money.
Finally after her manager screamed about her ignorance when she made a sale
mistake, Felicity drove home enraged. The next day she filed for divorce.
After
the divorce Felicity felt a strange, all consuming guilt. For an entire year
Lester would call begging, pleading, sobbing for her to return. She felt pity
for him, but remained resolute even though she continued to drink. She wrote:
“I wanted to teach from the time I was small. When my husband and I
divorced, I knew I had to finish my degree and teach. My friends, supporters, and mentors helped raise my
self-esteem and confirmed my conviction that I could be successful. While working, and raising two boys, I got my
degree from Austin College with a double major in History and French. I was asked to teach French in several Austin
high schools. My choice of West Lake was a great move.”
Felicity began dating man after
man, looking for someone who would love her for who she was, not for what she
gave. Her drinking escalated. At first she had wine at night. Soon
she was putting liquor in her morning coffee. She began watering
down jugs of wine to hide her excessive drinking. She put bottles under her
bed, stayed home from school more and more, and lied to protect her addiction.
One day driving home from school she couldn’t find her house. Blackouts
followed. Spiders appeared on her bedroom wall. Felicity continued to drink.
Staying
home from school one day, drinking early in the morning, she phoned her father, an
alcoholic too, who recommended Alcoholics Anonymous. That night, dressed in her
finest clothes, she attended her first meeting. Most of the others there were
uneducated, malodorous, tattered, and tattooed, making Felicity feel as out of
place as Queen of Elizabeth branding cattle. But at the proper time, she stood
and said, “Hi, I’m Felicity and I’m an alcoholic.”
Denial,
excuse making, blaming are difficult to overcome. Replacing alcohol for AA
strains self-belief: “I don’t fit in this group. I’m not like these people; I
can stop anytime I want to; I don’t need help.”
AA, however, is more effective than a room full of psychiatrists or psychotherapists. Just going
to meetings day after day. Just showing-up. Just listening takes effect. At
meetings one receives the support of those who know the difficulty of remaining
sober and the value of sticking with the program. Over and over one hears AA
mantras:
- Attend 90 meetings in 90 days
- Read
the big book
- Work
the 12-steps
- One
day at a time
- Get
your sobriety chip
- You are only one drink away from becoming a drunk again
- Get
a sponsor
- Call
someone when tempted to drink
- Find
new sober friends
- Help
others stay sober
- Be
pleased with your accomplishments while remaining humble about future
challenges
All
her life-long friends were, for the most part, alcoholics making it difficult
to be around them. On a week hiking trip in Montana her old friend’s campfire
drinking made sobriety miserable. Oh, how she wanted to drink with them.
Attending
AA almost daily for the first six or so years of sobriety was crucial. As she
developed new friends, cultivated her talents, became Christ centered, and had
the Holy Spirit’s guidance Felicity began to attend meetings less and less. Now
after over three decades of sobriety she no longer goes to meetings. Felicity
warns, nevertheless, that almost all alcoholics do better when they stick to a
lifelong AA plan.
As
a child riding on the ranch, when fishing in the sparkling stream that ran
through their land, when walking through the cedar that grew on their mountain
hillside, Felicity felt the presence of the Holy Spirit—a warming of the heart,
a tingling sensation of being loved. She wrote: “It
was only when I drank that I lost any sense of God’s presence, though now, I
realize he never left me.
Soon after I joined AA the agonizing urge to drink occupied my mind and spirit. One night I had a terrifying vision of Satan. His deathly, dreadful, presence loomed over me, petrifying me. As his menacing apparition engulfed me, I screamed, 'In the name of Jesus Christ leave me.'
Satan vanished. I knew that Christ had intervened and saved me from the devil. I knew Christ was with me. He protected me. My urge to drink that night evaporated.
Another time, I had a vision of a
beautiful, radiant Jesus standing amidst feathery, alabaster clouds. I knelt
before Him and accepted Him as my savior. There was warmth all around me, a
surrounding glow that comforted me for several weeks. Christ gave me courage to
continue my painful journey to sobriety."
To
make enough money to send her sons to college, Felicity earned her Masters in
School Administration from Southwest Texas State (now Texas State). After serving as a high school principle, she had saved enough money to follow a dream of designing and operating home
entertainment functions. She knew that Austin’s high society would benefit from
her special gift. Planning meals, designing invitations, arranging seating
charts, hiring caterers, finding the proper musicians, and all the other
details that make home entertaining successful was a difficult but fun and rewarding
task. When her back gave way ending her business she wrote three books on
entertaining at home.
After
many years she found the man she sought. A childhood rodeo friend she hadn’t
seen for thirty years walked into the Big Bend Regional Medical Center hospital
room where her mother lay dying. They
began dating. Sam’s rugged good looks, his kind consideration for her family,
his abiding Christian beliefs and most of all his unconditional love for
Felicity erased her lack of trust in men. She calls her husband a renaissance
man, a man for all seasons.
The
Holy Spirit’s almost inaudible whispers gave her the courage to leave an
abusive relationship. Earning two college degrees helped rub out “stupid,”
words that Lester shouted year after year. The courage of her God allowed her to find a man who loved her and a man she could love in return.
As
Felicity and Sam sat in the rocking swing on the old homestead’s veranda, she
watched her 10-year old grandson, Clint, riding a colt in a distant pasture. When
they crested a hillside, he turned the gelding and the horse bolted for home,
Clint bouncing from side to side to side, almost slipping off the saddle,
holding on, then almost falling again before getting his balance, leaning
forward in rhythm with the colt as they glided toward the barn. She wrote:
“….
What a metaphor for my life. Now, after all those rocky years, I’m home again
gliding along with a man who loves me, and with my Lord and my God cradling me
in the saddle. Jesus Christ has brought contentment and joy to my life.
Everything I have now, my blessed sons, their children, great
grandchildren, dearest friends, home, a loving husband, are a gift from God,
and I thank him for leading me to sobriety and opening my eyes to the real
treasures of the world, all those positive things not found in a drink of
alcohol.”