A Testimony of Faith from 2022

What follows is something I wrote and posted on Facebook on January 4, 2022. I was not actively blogging at the time, and I made the comment that, due to the length, what I was sharing was more like a blog post. Since today is the second anniversary of that post and I am actively blogging, I thought I would finally share it where it belongs, within the blogosphere. Please note, it is a religious post. If religion is not your thing, this may not be the post for you.

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January 4, 2022

I am a person of faith. I understand and respect the fact that religion isn’t for everyone. I am not comfortable “witnessing” to people, so unless I know you are religious, I generally keep my religious views out of the conversation. Still, I find strength in my faith. Does it ever waiver? Sure. Some days the strength is stronger than other days, but the faith remains.

During these past several months of job hunting, I relied greatly on my faith. It was 100% my faith (and friends) that kept me moving forward. And because I know in my heart that my faith was the strongest it has ever been, I feel called to share my testimony.

I started looking for a job in September 2022, but I started fully focusing on it in October. I sent out at least 10 resumes a week. I spent my Mondays and Tuesdays searching and sending – leaving Wednesday thru Friday waiting for responses. I prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

I applied for many jobs, most of which were ones where I was overqualified. Having been out of the corporate world for 3+ years, my confidence was low. I aimed low, knowing that I would “wow” them when hired. [Though midway through, thanks to my Facebook friends like Charles and Jennifer, I aimed higher, because it was the interviewer that would determine my qualifications for any job. Why should I limit the casting of the net on my perceived limitations?] I still prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

Just like I foolishly believe I will win whatever contest, sweepstakes, or raffle I enter (“foolishly” because it never happens), I foolishly believed that every interview process would end with a job offer and that I would quickly and easily find a job. I still prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

Over the course of 3+ months, at least 100 job applications, and only four interviews (which I made all the way until the end of the process only to be told that they would not be moving forward with me), I was still without a job. Furthermore, I had already closed my dog sitting business, no longer booking jobs for 2022. It was December, and I was coming to the unexpected realization that I was going to start 2023 without an income. I still prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

On December 13^th, I received a message from someone via my LinkedIn account. The person said “I found your info on LinkedIn and thought you might be interested in our Sr. Program Coordinator role. Pls let me know!” I figured it was a recruiter spamming me, so I didn’t click on the link included in the email. That said, I was curious enough to go to the company’s career page to see if such a job existed. It did, and I read the job description. I still prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

I wasn’t qualified for the job. I didn’t understand what it was about my LinkedIn account that made this person feel that I was qualified. But. I was curious. (And I remembered what Charles and Jennifer said.) I decided I would reply to the person, and if nothing else – I would confirm it was spam. My reply included the following: “With regards to my past experience, what do you see that makes you think I am a good fit for this position? As I read through it, I am wondering if I am truly qualified for the position. That said, I welcome the chance and challenge, and I am interested in learning more about it.” I figured I would be blunt and transparent, presumably calling this person’s bluff. I even called my friend Carol to talk to her about it. I still prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

The person replied and told me what qualities/skills/experience stood out, and this person encouraged me to apply and see what happens. So, I did. I still prayed daily, fully believing that all things would work out because God was with me.

On December 23rd, after 3 interviews and two 40-question skill assessment tests, this person called me with a job offer. She told me she wanted to let me know before the holidays, so I could enjoy the holidays a little more relaxed. (They were “closed” Dec 23rd – Jan 3rd.) I immediately prayed, thanking God for this opportunity. And today, January 4, 2022, I received and signed the offer letter. I start my new job with Emory University’s School of Medicine on January 12th. Once again, I prayed to God, giving thanks for this opportunity. And, I still pray daily, fully believing that all things will work out because God is with me.

This journey has not been fun or easy, and the anxiety and stress was debilitating at times. Though I am currently not taking medication, I battle depression. I reached out to my doctor and got my prescription filled, because I wanted to be prepared. Through my faith and prayer, I made it through without medication and without spending days in bed. I always managed to get myself up – if only to apply for jobs. (And there were days when I got out of bed just to look and apply, and then I would get back in bed.) When interviews were scheduled – I was “up” and happily functioning; but, when interviews weren’t on the calendar, it was my faith in God that helped me put one foot in front of the other.

And you see what happened, right? I applied for at least 100 jobs. But this job? The job I was offered … it came to me. 

I believe 100% that this was a God-given opportunity. Especially because this job is my dream job. I’m not settling for this job – I’m rising up and meeting it. This job has me doing everything I want to do and nothing I don’t want to do. This job is taking me back “home” to an environment similar to the 10yrs spent working at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

I have always regretted leaving CDC. Always. And I wanted to find a way back. But the job titles and job descriptions for what I did and what I wanted to do are funky. So, I aimed low, sold myself short, and searched for traditional titles that made up my post-CDC job career. But I prayed, too. And, I held tightly to faith. And God knew better. And God provided better.

I didn’t find this job – this job found me. And this job is taking me back home to my roots. This is my testimony; thanks be to God.

Epilogue
Two years later, I am still very happily employed with Emory University. My job can be intense and stressful, but I am part of an incredible and supportive team. My bosses are the best. Truly. It is the best job I have ever had. I know I am where I should be, and I genuinely look forward to each and every workday. I have many friends who, when talking about God, will say, “Won’t he do it?!” And well, I am here to tell you, “He done did it!” Amen.

Alcohol Free Since November 15, 2023

Friday, November 15, 2023 is a day I will not soon forget. It was “early action” decision day for in-state residents to find out whether or not they were accepted to the University of Georgia (UGA), Class of 2028. That is significant, because my younger son was within that pool of in-state residents waiting to hear if he had been accepted. And, it was the night Rob and I met some friends at a local brewery.

The excitement started early in the afternoon, in part because my friend’s husband was returning from a business trip. His flight came in early, and he was headed to the brewery straight from the airport. My friend and I ducked out of our jobs just before 3:00, and we rode together to the brewery. Rob was going to join us a little later, because he had to work a little longer.

The weather forecast for the day was rainy, but the rain was nowhere to be seen, and it was a great day to be outside. It was a nerve-wracking week for me, as I was waiting to hear if my son was going to be accepted into UGA, so I was very much enjoying the time outside, relaxing with friends. By the time Rob joined us, I was ready for my second beer. His timing was perfect!

After a couple of hours, our friends were getting ready to head home. Rob and I decided to linger and enjoy another beer. Shortly after our friends left, two people approached us and asked if they could take two of our chairs. We said they could either take the chairs or join us, whatever they preferred, and they joined us. They were brother and sister, and the brother was visiting from out of state, I believe. They were super nice, and it was really nice talking with them.

Until it wasn’t.

I remember feeling a little weird. I was getting really dizzy, and I could not really hear what our new friends were saying. I was having to really focus. I tried to played it off, though, because if I was drunk – I didn’t want it to show. I was on my fourth beer, which does not normally cause this kind of effect. True, I had not eaten much all day, and the beer was a cider- not my usual drink. Still, this was unusual, and I could tell I was losing control.

It was around 8:00 p.m., I looked at Rob and worked very hard to say, “I’m drunk. I don’t think I can walk, and we need to go home. Now.

I pretty much let him take it from there. I don’t know what he said to the new ‘friends’, but I don’t recall saying anything. I think I got myself up, but I clung to Rob, as we walked to his car. (Thankfully, the car was really close to where we were sitting.)

As soon as we were in the car, I said, “I’m drunk. Like I am way drunk.” The entire drive home, I repeated that I was drunk, way drunk. And, I grew increasingly upset. Our boys were home. I did not want them to see me like this. I did not think I would be able to walk up the stairs when we got home. I certainly would not be graceful or quiet. I was so upset – sad, mad, etc. I was yelling and crying. I am old enough to know better.

Rob pulled into the driveway, and as soon as he parked the car, I opened the passenger door, leaned out, and vomited. The only thing in my body was the beer, and it was making its exit.

I was miserable, and I was a crazy mess. I told Rob that I needed help, and he needed to take care of me. I told him I needed food, and I was not going to go upstairs until the morning. I told him that I was going to spend the night in the car, because I did not want the boys to see me. I was yelling at him for not reacting and jumping to care for me. Again, I was a crazy mess.

We had been in the car for about 10 minutes, and I called my friend in Maryland. As soon as she answered I told her that I was drunk – way drunk. I told her that I threw up. I told her that I was probably going to die. I told her I did not want my kids to see me like this. And I told her that Rob didn’t know how to take care of me. She laughed. And, I was grateful.

She has witnessed my (non-alcohol triggered) craziness many times, and she has always been there. So, she listened – and she laughed. And when I told her that she needed to talk to Rob and tell him how to take care of me, she did. Well, I assume she did – I handed the phone to Rob, and he got out of the car to talk to her. For all I know, they talked about the weather. Looking back at my phone history for that day, I called my friend at 8:42 pm, and the phone call continued for 24 minutes and 10 seconds.

Rob brought me crackers, water, a pillow, and a blanket. He knew I was not going to go upstairs, and he sat with me for a long time. I eventually fell asleep passed out. I woke up around midnight, and I quietly snuck upstairs and went to bed.

It is safe to say that I spent the bulk of the following day in bed. My friend from MD called me in the afternoon, to see how I was doing. Again, she laughed. And, again, I was so appreciative of her support. There was absolutely no judgement – just support. Like always.

Before my friend called, I did manage to get out of bed and take myself to a pop-up Hot Chocolate Stand, which was set up to support a friend who is battling stage-four cancer. I sure as hell was not going to let a self-induced hangover stop me from supporting someone who was battling something way more serious than overindulgence.

I wonder if her battle is part of the reason that I decided to stop drinking alcohol. I do think it played a role in my decision, but it was not the main reason. It is official, though. I will not have another alcoholic beverage. November 15, 2023 was the last time I drank alcohol. I am done.

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Alcoholism runs in my family. I did a quick search of previous blog posts, and I realize that I have not written about that topic. The fact that I have not written about it surprises me. It played a role in my upbringing. My Dad was an alcoholic, and I believe I am an alcoholic. I certainly have addictive tendencies, though I have always said it was around food not alcohol. I do not drink every day, and I do not drink at home, unless we are having a party. (We have not had any parties since before COVID.) I only drink when I am in a social setting, and prior to November 15, I have been in social settings when I did not drink.

The thing is – when I do drink, I am obsessed with it. If I know I am going to be drinking, I start planning before I even open or order the first beer. As I got older – as in post-kids – I told myself I could not have more than two beers. I would tell people that I did not want to deal with the headache, and I knew a headache would be waiting for me the next morning if I had more than two beers. However, if I was having a good time, I would let myself have one more – maybe as many as four. For the most part, I was able to limit myself. But I was always counting. While I told myself I was trying to avoid a hangover, I was basically obsessing about having to find a stopping point and not necessarily wanting to stop.

Sometimes, while out with Rob, I would rationalize with him. “Rob,” I would say. “I’m having a really good time. I’ve already had two beers, but I really want a third, and I may even want a fourth.” And he was fine with whatever choice I made. But it was not about whether he was fine with it, because it was more of a dance that I was doing with myself.

While I was saying these things to him, I was not really talking to him. Conversations like the example above were not real conversations, per se. It was merely me, talking to myself out loud, acknowledging that – while I should stop – I was not going to stop. I got to a point where I did not want to stop – I could not stop.

I even tried to control Rob’s drinking in an effort to control mine. If we were going to a family function, I would pack a limited number of beers, and I would tell him that I packed enough for each of us to have two, or three, or whatever the number was that sounded satisfactory to me. Rather than deal with my own addiction issues, I would set limits for Rob.

I have done that for years. Years. And, just like I count my beers, I would count how many beers Rob had. And, if I am being honest, and I am being honest. It has never been about Rob and his drinking. He was merely a distraction from myself. It was always about my drinking.

As I mentioned in a recent post, my older son is in college now. He is in the midst of his first year. I do not know if he drinks alcohol. I do not think he does. I do not even know if he has ever tried it. The same is true for my younger son, who starts college next year. I do not think he drinks alcohol, and I do not think he has tried alcohol. You may think that is naïve of me, that every child has tried alcohol by the time s/he gets to college, but I disagree. I know people who have never had alcohol.

Both of my boys know alcoholism runs in the family. Both know the troubles alcohol can cause. And, I hope their knowledge is helping them make good choices. I also hope my choice to stop drinking will add to their knowledge that sometimes alcoholism can be hidden.

Sometimes the struggles of alcoholism go unseen, because it is a battle taking place in the person’s mind rather than outwardly and noticeably to others. I do not know if anyone looked at me and thought, “She is an alcoholic.” But I am. Again, if I am being honest, and I am being honest, I am an alcoholic. But I am no longer drinking alcohol. As I said earlier, I decided to quit the night of November 15, 2023.

I am very happy to say that I have gone out several times since November 15, and I have really enjoyed the fact that I knew I would not be drinking. It may sound counterintuitive, but the pressure is off. I do not have to obsess or worry – I do not have to count – I just do not drink alcohol. And, as an added bonus, aside from the restful sleep and hangover-free mornings, for someone who hates math as much as I hate math, it is nice not having to do any addition while being out and being social. It is nice to just go out, be social, and have a genuinely good time.

Cheers!

**

Full disclosure. I attended a Christmas dinner with some new friends on December 16. Some sort of homemade German “wine” was being offered to everyone. I took a cup of it, took one sip of it with the group, and then – when no one was looking, I dumped it out into the sink, and I refilled the cup with water. Because it was a new group of friends, I did not feel comfortable saying ‘no’ when everyone else was doing it. But I knew I was not going to drink it. And going forward, I will feel comfortable saying ‘no’ in all situations, regardless of the group. I certainly felt comfortable the rest of the night, not drinking anything but water and politely declining any ‘additional’ alcoholic beverages offered to me.

A Letter to Viola Davis

What follows is a letter to a celebrity who I adore, Viola Davis. Written in 2021, but not posted, it is something that I have had on my heart for years. It is not a long post, and it is not a deep post. And though I am nervous about every post I publish, this post has me more nervous than most. As I re-read and make small edits, I am going back and forth with increasing nervousness and feeling silly that I am letting myself get worked up. This needs to get out to the “interverse” (internet universe), so I can get it out of my head. (It will remain on my heart.)

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March 31, 2021

Dear Ms. Viola Davis,

I hope this letter finds you well. “Well” is an important word this year, during the COVID pandemic. So truly, I hope this finds you well.

I’ve written this letter to you several times throughout the past 10+ years. The motivation to write the letter came with the release of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”. Though, honestly, I won’t watch the movie anytime soon. Seeing Chadwick Boseman so skinny and knowing he was battling Cancer is too personal for me. My Dad died of Cancer back in February of 1994, and he, too, dropped weight and looked like someone other than my Dad. My memory and Chadwick’s battle are too tough for me right now, so I will hold off seeing the movie. Alas, that is not the point of this letter.

I first “met” you in early 2005. I had given birth to my older son, and I was home on maternity leave, being a new Mom, and dealing with postpartum depression. I spent my afternoons with my television support groups: Charmed and Judging Amy. Those shows were running in syndication on the Turner Network (TNT), and I looked forward to every episode Monday through Friday. I could count on those two hours to feel “ok”, while also caring for my baby.

During one Judging Amy episode (Blast from the Past, released May 2000), you played a character named Celeste. You weren’t part of Amy’s (Amy Brenneman) story line, rather you were part of Maxine’s (Tyne Daly) story line. Do you remember?

You were a mother dealing with addiction, and you were trying desperately to regain custody of your children. You were trying, and you were going through the process to make things right. Unfortunately, Maxine did a surprise home visit, and she found drug paraphernalia in your trash can. What happened next blew me away, and I swear I became a major fan, and I noted every TV show, movie, etc. you’ve made since.

Your performance when Maxine confronts you about the tossed drug paraphernalia, and your desperate attempt to convince her that you would do better, your pleas, your sobbing, your gut-wrenching pain … it was incredible to watch. That sounds weird, I know. Saying it’s incredible to watch someone’s pain. That’s not what I meant though. I felt it. I felt every ounce of the pain you were putting out there. Every single ounce.

What is it they say in your industry – breaking the fourth wall? Technically, that’s not what you did, and Judging Amy wasn’t that kind of show. But your performance was so intense, so raw, so vulnerable, and seemingly so very real – I felt like you broke the fourth wall.

I wanted to reach out to you, console you, help you – I wanted you to be happy and get custody of your kids again. But I knew you were acting. I knew you were playing a character, and I knew it was the character I wanted to help. Still, I was in awe at how realistic and powerful your performance was on my 30″ TV, and I was certain you were showing a little of Viola Davis in the created character, Celeste.

I haven’t seen all of your work, but in everything thing that I have seen of yours – I see you sharing the same transparency, vulnerability, and honesty on screen as you do when you are doing interviews. Thank you for sharing your gift with us. You are phenomenal. Full stop.

Respectfully and with warm regards,
Lenore