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Let's take just a minute to go back to THAT Monday - 

June 24th, 2019

Did you know that in the fourth grade - YUP, same grade as the one where the red-hot-chili-pepper-chia-pet-haired, sitting in her own puddle of wailing tears girl ripped the entire butt out of the homemade jumper whilst on the gym/auditorium/cafeteria/hub of all of the dang elementary school floor - 

that very same year, THAT very same girl WON the school's cake walk with the number 24?!

It was a chocolate cake.

And, I remember not sharing it with anyone.

Thus, another conversation about how boys would like me better if I was thinner...

Anywho, THAT Monday...

Heidi is a mess.

Like, eyes swelling shut from crying and lash extensions collapsing down into said eyes mess.

Like, the ex-husband and autistic son pulled out my braids for three hours and I looked just like you'd assume a girl would look after having her hair in braids for three weeks, mess.

Like, there was not enough tissue in the house to wipe up the sewage coming from my nose so I used whatever clothes I had on, mess.

I was done. That kind of mess.

I was broken, and those cracks in my soul were splitting like the freaking windshield rock chips I got on my way home from my last visit to Idaho weeks ago.

Splitting me wide open for the whole world to see.

And I didn't even care. 

I was done.

I called my brother, who I hadn't talked to in WEEKS because, you know, he offended me...

I asked him to come over.

He did.

And that was the beginning of the end of me carrying around approximately 32 years of stuff that has culminated into an addiction, heartache, fear, destruction, sadness, anger, complete and utter embarrassment, lies and hiding.

The end.

He sat in front me.

About three feet in front of me.

He wept as he told me that he thought I might be an addict.

I told him I was.

I told him I was ready to get better.

He told me he loved me.

He told me my children were broken.

I agreed.

And, we started this journey of recovery in that very minute on that very day (that just so happens to be my lucky number thank you very much).

A clergyman came over.

He told me he had never seen me look this way.

Well, that was an understated way of saying that I looked horrifying.

People, the Bride of Chuckie had nothing on me that night!

Brandon (my brother) told me that there were going to be things that were going to be REQUIRED of me.

I was all about hearing the rules because, let's face it - my rules hadn't been working for 32 years. 

Take that Math 1010!

I was internally at a point where I was ready to be HONEST. No more hiding. No more lies. No more I got this's. No more trying to prove anything.

I was ready for someone to lay down some boundaries for me until I was healthy enough to set my own.

Brandon said that he, my dad, my mom and T (my sister from another mister) would be my "sponsors." 

I would report to them every single morning on how the previous day went, based on a list of five "rules" that I made for myself.

Friends, Enemies - whoever you are:

I haven't missed a morning.

Whether the day prior was near Godly or enough to send me right to the fiery balm of Hell -

I have not missed a morning.

I am accountable.

These people in my life, who I have hurt so tangibly through my actions, are my lifeline right now.

And, I could not be happier about being brutally honest about my five daily steps with these people  who love me anyways.

In my opinion - and I get to have one since I'm an addict - 

Recovery without this step is not going to work.

As addicts, we need accountability.

This won't work if the addict is not yet ready to be brutally honest about EVERYTHING.

But, if the addict is ready - like a lion in mating season ready - this is an essential part of recovery.

My sponsors are not those in my 12-step group.

That would not be good for me at this point.

My sponsors are those who have been along for this Cannibal-at-Lagoon-Ride mess.

I check in with them. I respond to them.

I tell them my fears and my faults.

I tell them when I fail.

AND, I tell them when I DON'T fail.

And they love me.