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I've Sat Where You're Sitting

You might be wondering if I really get it. Or if I've actually walked through what you're going through right now.

Let me tell you my story. Not the polished version.

The real one.

I had been Holding My Breath

My struggle started as a teenager. I was a pretty sad and lonely kid. I didn't click with my siblings. At school, I was undiagnosed dyslexic and everything was hard. Ridicule and shame were used as motivators, but it only served to make me feel like less of a human.

When I got into middle school, I went from sweet and bidding to very rebellious. One night with new friends, we got beer. I hated the smell. I was scared to try it because I knew I shouldn't. But the desire to fit in was much stronger than anything else. I had recently told Jesus that I didn't care what I needed to do to fit in, I just wanted to have friends. In retrospect, I made a deal with the devil. Not until very recently did I realize how every aspect of my life would be changed because of that deal.

That first taste was terrible but oh! the amazing feeling I got! All those terrible feelings were now gone. I found the solution to those "wrong" emotions—alcohol.

Partying became my lifestyle. Once I turned 21, it became nightly. I had a short marriage in my 20's that I felt so much guilt over. I did what I thought everybody else was doing. Get up, go to work, come home, have a drink or three. On the weekends—party.

In my early 30's I started to think that I should slow down and I did. At 32, I had a "got saved" experience. I dedicated my life to Christ. At 33 I married a great guy. He was not a partier. I continued to have wine with dinner but I didn't think it was a problem. My husband and I had 2 sons and life was really grand! I was living the dream!

Then my husband was diagnosed with stage 3 primary brain cancer. The next 13 months were like living in a constant tornado. I knew I needed to be intentional so that I didn't start to drink too much. A couple months after my husband died, I quit drinking for a couple of years. But ultimately, the pressure of learning to live without my husband was getting the best of me. I made a major decision I would soon regret, and then COVID happened.

It was the height of the COVID shutdown. I wasn't working. My husband had died from cancer years earlier, and I was hitting those same ages—when he got sick, when he died. I turned 50. He didn't.

My sons were getting older, more independent. I had devoted my life to them and began to wonder if there was going to be anything left for me once they were grown and gone. I remember thinking: They don't need me anymore. There's really nothing left for me.

I was living from so much unresolved grief. So many hopes and dreams that seemed distant and impossible. I had forgotten who I was in Christ as I tried to "fix" past "mistakes." My closest friend and I had a disagreement and she said she "needed a break from me." I had no one to share my tangled thoughts and difficult emotions with. I got caught up in my own head—trying to undo mistakes, trying to make sure I didn't make another "bad or wrong" choice. I was in a perpetual state of feeling like and believing that everything about me was wrong.

And so I drank and drank. I drank to numb the internal pain I was experiencing. And truth—I drank to avoid looking at the reasons why I was feeling so much internal pain. I didn't see it as a problem, but rather a solution to the pain.

I was holding my breath. That's really the only way I can put it.

Those 3am wake-ups with panic and horrible self-talk: "You idiot. You did it again. What's the matter with you?"

I was curing those panic attacks with the bottle under my bed—that's when I really knew I was in trouble but I was too afraid to tell anyone for fear of losing my kids.

I felt like I was two different people. The Carol who loved Jesus and who wanted to be a great mom, and this other part of me that was depressed and seemed to hate me—that drank to try to quiet the negative voices telling me I was a failure and to give me a boost of energy to get through the day.

I tried to keep that version hidden from my kids. But inevitably, wine breath and my purple teeth, and the fact that they were now old enough to see that I was impaired, gave me away every night. I tried to act happy and like everything was "just fine" but on the inside I was at war with myself and even with God and I didn't know how to make the constant feeling of "not enough" go away.

I was afraid to ask for help. Afraid I'd lose my kids. Afraid I'd lose my job. Afraid of what people would say. Afraid of how bad I let it get. Afraid I couldn't stop. Afraid I'd be "found out." Afraid. Afraid. I got so caught up in the "what ifs"—the fear.

But I had started listening to books about quitting like "We are the Luckiest" by Laura McKowen. That book opened up my mind to new perspectives—to new ways of thinking about how I got so stuck and that I wasn't as alone as I believed I was. That's about the time I also found the website, the 30 Day Alcohol Experiment. I started the book and the website in early November 2021. It was my "big secret." I experienced my first sober Thanksgiving in a few years and I told no one. It was so hard. Then I experienced a sober Christmas. That was so wonderful! Still I told no one. I didn't want to tell my kids because I wasn't ready for accountability, and I didn't want to let them down if I couldn't do it.

For the next year, I started in therapy again and I was working the 30 Day Alcohol Experiment as best I could on my own. I remember when I got through my first full week. I was a combination of proud and disgusted. The next many months would consist of a couple sober weeks, then drink. Try, try, try again. I was feeling defeated. Finally, I decided that I just didn't want to have any more day 1's. I wasn't counting up days anymore, just no more day 1.

As of this writing, that's the last day 1 I had. But I almost died to get it.

"I Don't Want That to Be My Kid's Story"

In early June of 2022, I was a camp volunteer and my sons were both campers at the family Christian camp that we had been going to for years. I had my "got saved" experience at that camp almost 20 years prior. We loved this place.

We were having lunch and listening to a college-aged camp counselor share his testimony as is tradition there. He shared that one of his parents was an alcoholic. As I sat there, the heaviness inside me seemed almost unbearable. I knew that I did not want that to be my kids' story. I had to turn this around.

The last day of camp, an incident happened that triggered a (then unknown) memory. It hit me hard and took me by total surprise and its impact lingered for days. Back at home, I returned to a major gardening project and was working hard day after day in the hot sun. Recently I learned a friend's son was killed in an accident. That boy was my son's first friend. The combination of all of this caught up to me later that June when I ended up in the hospital by ambulance with extreme dehydration, alcohol toxicity, and in a panic attack.

When the nurses asked me who to call, I realized: I had no friends anymore. There really was nobody they could call.

My kids already lost their dad to cancer. How close they came to losing their mom to alcohol.

That's when I knew: it was now or never.

It's Not Your Fault

I stopped trying to get to 90 days. I just decided I didn't want another day one.

I went back to working the 30 Day Alcohol Experiment and started understanding the science—that what I was struggling with wasn't a moral failure. This wasn't my fault.

Hearing that was like turning on a light switch.

All the anger I'd been directing at myself? I finally aimed it where it belonged—at the pattern, the lie, the enemy. And I used that energy to push through.

I started going to the gym. Lost 40 pounds. At 51, I took up running—my first 5K, then a 10K.

I started feeling like, "YOWZA! I can do hard stuff."

I spent more time in Scripture. Getting back together with God. You cannot be as far down in the pit as I was and be close to God at the same time. It's impossible. I read the devotional "Jesus Calling" by Sarah Young. I wrote out each day's Scripture longhand. I read "Take Your Life Back" by Levi Lusko and that helped me get my perspectives back in line. I started believing again that God had a purpose for me and that that did not die when my husband did. I told myself I have a life that's worth living and my kids deserve to have a great mom.

I kept asking God to help me change my story. To show me a different way. And He did.

What Freedom Looks Like

I'm not waking up at 3am in panic anymore. When I wake up now, well rested, my head is clear. I'm not mad at myself. I'm proud of myself.

My relationship with my kids has improved immensely. They want to spend time with me again.

Freedom, for me, means this: My kids—and hopefully one day my grandkids—will never see me passed out on the couch again.

The biggest lie I believed was that I wasn't worth the fight.

But I was. And so are you.

Compassion. Education. No Baloney.

I've worked with clients now, and the main theme is always shame. Shame that it's harder to quit than expected. The belief that something's wrong with them.

And every time, when they hear the truth—that their struggle is not a moral failure, that there's nothing uniquely wrong with them—it's a relief.

My approach combines neuroscience-backed methodology with Scripture.

We start each session with prayer. We get curious about what's driving your habits. We challenge false beliefs. We rewire the patterns.

And we show you how to take your thoughts captive (2 Corinthians 10:5)—not just tell you that you should.

93% success rate with clients who complete the program.

Who Am I?

I'm a person of faith. I can't tell my story without Jesus. But I'll meet you wherever you are.

I'm a habit change and addiction freedom coach, certified in Affective Liminal Psychology (ALP). I'm a special education aide and I train dogs. I'm a mom who knows what it's like to juggle everything and feel like you're failing. I'm a person who has discovered that she's actually really great and no longer wants to numb from life. I'm a living, breathing, walking testimony that no one is too far away from God.