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On Journaling

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Ken Atkins January 19, 2021

In 2013, my life was a mess. I was drinking heavily and daily, sitting with my mentally handicapped son watching cartoons every night until I passed out, lonely, isolated and despairing.

By day, I was a fairly successful salesman and building material estimator, as well as a highly involved church volunteer, doing everything from teaching in children’s ministry to helping write job descriptions for all our volunteer leaders to speaking to the church body during the Communion portion of our services.

Mostly, I was known as a stand-up guy raising his son, Danny, who was 21 years old at the time but functioned as a 21-month-old. Between people seeing me at his side as school events and special needs baseball games, plus my omnipresence around our church, most people had a false impression of who I was—and I both treasured that image and feared the loss of it.

In the depths of my despair, I made a decision to write it all down. Even though this would be a private accounting of the truth, perhaps in the process I could find some hope for a brighter future. Thus began an 8-year project of writing regularly about the sad state I found myself in, and how I got there.

I have recently come to believe that the most important gift we receive from a loving and benevolent creator is our story. That story not only contains our past failures (and successes), the people we have met and loved (many of whom are no longer part of our lives because of death or decision), the good and bad choices we have made (and the lessons we learned from those experiences), it also contains our dreams  (often unrealized), our hearts (including the broken parts) and our deepest fears, regrets and unspoken dreams.

When I began this journey, the goal wasn’t to share my story with the world. It was to commit it to paper so it could be studied (by me only) and parsed step by step so that I could better understand the pain and low-level panic that I kept trying to control with nightly doses of vodka.

Along the way, I found a wonderful recovery group through my church, which gave me the tools and the support to dig deep into the past. I had the opportunity to share my struggles with a group of non-judgmental fellow strugglers, realizing that I wasn’t really all that different from everyone else. Part of that recovery process is sharing your story, first with your closest group of supporters, then with the larger group, then with other recovery groups in your area. Finally, you are encouraged to share it with the world at large, even the people whose judgment and approval your feared.

So the writing continued, along with lots of prayer, study and consulting with my sponsor. As the years passed, and sobriety helped clear my mind and keep it honest, the story of my dark and lamentable past began to take on a completely new, and unexpected, aura. From behind all my dark clouds came streams of bright, beautiful hope and peace. The light of truth began to overwhelm the fogginess of past doubts and fears. I could see the story changing right before my eyes; not just the new story, but how I viewed the older parts.

What I had seen as repeated failure, I now saw as determined steps toward a better horizon. What I had perceived as loss now revealed itself as pruning to make room for new, and better, growth. The people I had lost were gone, but in their place were new, healthier relationships. It was all right there, recorded in my own words—not some fleeting memory that can be later lost or blurred, but forever available to review and receive future encouragement during difficult days.

It took five years of living and writing to reach the point where I felt it was time to share my story with the world. My desire was to let people understand what it’s really like to care for a special needs child or adult (or anyone for that matter), and at the same time to give encouragement for people who are struggling to make sense of their sometimes crazy and often self-destructive lives. I’m certainly not the same person I was when I started this writing project, and for that I am eternally grateful.

The book, “The Silent Son” recently became available in stores and on-line. I have no idea how it will fare in the world, but it has already been a blessing to me and to many I have encountered along the way. It has touched caregivers and family members of the special needs community, as well as the doctors, teachers and other professional who support them.

It also has touched those who have struggled with their own demons, both publicly and privately. It has touched those who understand despair and fear and loneliness and loss of hope.

The truth is, next to life itself and the promise of an eternal life where there are no more tears and no more pain, the greatest gift we are given by our creator is our story. It defines us. And if we truly are made in God’s image, that means it is part of His story too. Our job is first to live the story we are given to its fullest, and then to share that story with those around us. There is no one else in the world with my, or your, particular story. We are all unique, but we are all the same. We all have hopes and dreams. And we all have fears and failures. You are not alone.

Don’t hide your truth. Write it down. Study it. Learn from it. Then share that wisdom. You will be amazed how many people will be blessed by it—starting with you.

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Ken AtkinsAuthor bio: Ken Atkins Author of “The Silent Son: What a Mentally Handicapped Child
Taught His Struggling Father About Life, Love & God” (to be
released in January 2021).
• Parent of special needs son, Danny (born 1992) and daughter
Chrissy (born 1993).
• Raised on a small North Texas dairy farm, the sixth of seven
children.
• Former schoolteacher, newspaper writer, editor and columnist,
magazine business manager, vice president of sales,
construction estimator and home building supervisor.
• Has overcome lifelong battles with alcohol, codependency and relationship addiction. Has
served as ministry leader for Celebrate Recovery at Crossroads Church in Decatur, Texas,
and Calvary Chapel in Newport News, Virginia.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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