“It’s time for me to move on. You can’t stay here anymore. I’ll take you to your mother’s house on Saturday.”

Those fateful words… That mental shift… That was the decision that changed it all. Just a few days after my 25^th birthday, those were the words I uttered to my then estranged live-in boyfriend. No tears. No discussion. No questions to answer. We’re done.

Saturday arrived and I took great care in putting myself together. Hair and makeup were flawless. Tall boots, sunglasses and oversized designer bag. When I pulled my SUV out of his mother’s driveway, I had never felt freer. It would have been tacky of me to burn rubber, so with the windows down, music bumping, and my past in my review mirror, I deliberately drove away that day and never looked back. The day was Saturday, October 15, 2005. 

I had my life back! I had my apartment back! I had my vehicle back! I was responsible for no one but myself! For the first time in 4 years I felt strong and in control. I had started a new job about 3 months prior making more money than I could have imagined just a few years out of college. I loved the culture and the women I worked with were heaven sent. Between Weight Watchers and Tai Bo, I lost 25 lbs. and gained a lot more in confidence. With an insatiable hunger for something bigger and better, I rededicated my life to Christ and became a faithful student of his word.

Then the test came… 

I received a phone call from my mother sometime in January 2006 asking if my then 17 year old brother could come to live with me. She needed a break. He needed a break and distance put between him and his neurotic, narcissistic, and flat out dangerous girlfriend. I knew the hell that was going on just 90 miles North of where I was living. I knew that she was afraid and desperate to save him. But I also knew that I wasn’t the answer. I was 25, single, and trying to get my own life on track after ending a 4 year relationship with a seriously broken man. I didn’t have enough to offer anyone else at that point.

But afraid to tell her no and not wanting to live up to her accusations of my selfishness, I told her I would think about it. That next week, I called a trusted advisor and big sister to get some advice. She told me that she was going to email me a list of questions to meditate on and pray over before I gave my mother an answer. She sent me a list of 20 questions. I read them all, but I knew after reading the first question that I shouldn’t have him come live with me. But I said yes anyway.

I enrolled him in an adult education school about a mile or so from my apartment, bought a futon for the second bedroom, went grocery shopping, and drove my black SUV the 90 miles to pick him up. This time, no fearless energy followed. No celebratory bad-ass music bumping through my speakers. I knew I was making the wrong decision. But I wasn’t yet strong enough to make the right one. 

This 17 year old boy was hurting and struggling with demons that I was not equipped to help him fight. I got him to come to church with me once or twice. After begging and prodding, I managed to get him up most mornings to get him to school. The other mornings, well…his feet got him there. He stayed in his room mostly. I stopped going out and doing things in the evenings and on the weekends. I felt guilty about leaving him alone. He quickly made friends; unfortunately, of the wrong sort.

School wasn’t going well. I called his teacher and she told me that he told her he was doing drugs. I left work hysterical. My manager asked me what I was going to do…what I was going to say to him. Bewildered, I simply responded, “I don’t know.”  We both sat on the couch in my living room silent. He was high on something. I was breaking inside and deathly afraid. For some reason, drugs scare the shit out of me. I refuse to listen to songs glorifying their use and forget about watching a movie scene with drug use. I just can’t stand them, not even the thought of them! We exchanged a few words before he retreated to his room…or out with his new friends. I honestly can’t remember. I do, however, remember becoming paranoid. I didn’t know who these people were he was associating with and I didn’t know if one of them would be waiting outside my door one morning. I started praying even harder, fasting…reading my Bible. Trying to find solace. I don’t know how, but I stumbled upon this verse:

“But if you return to me and obey my commands, then even if your exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them from there and bring them to the place I have chosen as a dwelling for my Name.” Nehemiah 1:9

Reading that verse of scripture felt like a rain shower after a 4 year drought. I cried and contemplated, reasoned and rehearsed. As difficult as it would be, I knew what I had to do. I knew I needed to follow the original leading I received and take him back home. I knew that my co-workers/angels/big sisters were right when they told me that I shouldn’t be dealing with this heavy burden, but rather, enjoying and living my life. And now, I had not only a feeling and other people’s opinions, but God’s word to back it up.

So one Sunday evening, I told my brother that I was going to call my mother and that I wanted him to listen in from the telephone in his room because I had something to tell them both. For a people pleaser who feared her mother, uttering the words was one of the most courageous and difficult things I have ever had to do. But utter them, I must. I was miserable and knew that I was the only one who could put myself out of that misery. I knew that I needed to regain control of my life. So after two months with me, I made that 90 mile drive again in my black SUV, this time wearing my mourning clothes. Although I knew I was making the right decision for myself, I was ashamed. I didn’t want them to think of me as selfish. But I needed to be selfish at that moment. I needed to nurture and heal myself. I didn’t have room or energy to help anyone else.

After I dropped him off, me apologizing profusely, my brother hugged me in the middle of my mother’s kitchen and told me that he understood. I cried the entire ride home. When I closed the door and turned the key to my apartment, my knees hit the floor and an ocean of tears followed. Kneeling on the side of my bed, I prayed that I had made the right decision. I knew I had, but making it almost broke my heart. 

Part II tomorrow…