Now That Hes Gone

proof, she only had to look at the mess that was her life at the time.
    The people in the 12-step group then said that the Higher Power had to be something, anything outside herself. It could be a person, the group, an object—anything greater than she—from which she could draw strength and support. As she thought about it, she came to realize that she could relate to the energy that comes from such support. Being a visual person, she pictured a little baby being held in a large hand. In this picture, the baby was herself and the hand was the energy. The hand wasn't necessarily connected to a white-haired old man like in Michelangelo's painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Rather, the hand represented the energy that holds and supports and comforts her. Keeping that picture in her mind reminds her that she is never walking her path alone. After 14 years, she's still clean and sober, so her idea of a Higher Power works in her life.

    By whatever name and whatever means you can derive strength and support from a Higher Power, I highly recommend it. For many women, including myself, it is the only way to get through the pain, sadness and loneliness that comes from being on their own again. A most extraordinary example of this is in the story of Terri Thomas.
A Downward Slide to the Depths
    To protect their identities, I've changed the names of all the women whose stories appear in this book—except one. Terri Thomas is the real name of a woman whose life has gone from the very depths of the gutter to the heights of personal success and professional accomplishment. She has allowed me to use her name because her story is no secret, and in fact has been a source of inspiration to others on many occasions.
    Terri Thomas is a beautiful African-American woman with a radiant, shining face. Her hair is stylishly cropped, her clothes are chic and fit well. She carries herself with nearly-perfect posture. Her stance is strong and imposing. She speaks with purpose and enthusiasm. When she sings, her voice can fill a church with love and inspiration. She seems sure of herself, but privately admits to harboring more than a little insecurity. Based on where she's been in life, that's not hard to understand.
    Terri was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan in 1960 into a working-class family. Her father was a plasterer, traveling to construction sites to work during the week and coming home on weekends. Terri dreaded the weekends because her father “rewarded” himself for working all week by drinking until he was roaring drunk. When he did, he became violent, often beating Terri's mother until her eyes were black and her lips bleeding.
    “When my Daddy got drunk and crazy like that,” she recalls, “my oldest brother would call my grandfather who would rush over and break it up.” Her mother endured this suffering because, even though she held good jobs and could make it on her own, she wanted her children to grow up in a household with two parents. And despite the abuse she suffered, she had an underlying love for the man that remained in her heart.
    Understandably, Terri greatly feared her father and stayed out of trouble so as to not incur his wrath. In junior high school, she was a cheerleader, an all-star basketball player and a standout on the tennis team. Then, when she was 16, her father died suddenly of a heart attack—and everything changed. Terri's mother, now the sole support of her family, worked a series of well-paying jobs while going to school to become an accountant. She often went to the library to study during the evenings, leaving her five children at home unsupervised.
    Her father had been the disciplinarian. With him gone Terri went wild— drinking and staying out later and later every night. She dropped out of school and took up life on the streets. Predictably, she met a dealer who got her into drugs (she preferred cocaine). In order to get money for drugs she had to sell her body, so her dealer also became her pimp. Eventually, they made their way down to Jacksonville, Florida.
    It was a tough life. When she didn't turn enough tricks, her pimp would beat her up and make her go out again. She got pregnant and had her first child, Valadd. Still needing to work and still addicted to drugs, she moved into an apartment with another prostitute who also had a child. In the evenings, her pimp stayed in the apartment with the children while Terri and the other prostitute went out on the street.
    Several