SHAUN'S STORY
There are a lot of things that lead up to the person I used to be, and there was no real “Start” line, at least in my mind. Maybe I could say it started in 6th grade, or maybe things really did not begin until the 8th grade. Regardless of the time and date of when “it” started, by high school my life was spinning out of control. Instead of writing a full biography with intimate details, I thought it best to give you three snapshots of Shaun prior to Christ invading my heart.
A little background: These three snapshots reflect the power of drugs. They are small examples of how devastating and wicked drugs can be. The drugs I used lived inside of my mind, my spirit, my soul, and in my heart. They were internal parasites, sucking away the very core of who I was. Only my parents truly had a window into how bad my mental and physical status had eroded. I hope these snapshots can give you a little picture of how bad it used to be.
ONE
I am going to start with the most difficult memory. This is the most difficult because no matter how hard I would try, no matter the drug, I could not forget my actions. What I did was horrendous. It makes me shudder every time I re-live that night. The night I broke my Mom’s leg.
I was high, and my mom tried to stop me from leaving. We ran up and down our stairs, as she chased me to keep me from hurting myself any further. She was tired of me running away from my problems. However I was faster, and I had made a quick break for it. She grabbed me as a last resort, knowing that she had to do whatever it took to keep me in the house. At that point I was so high that when I pushed her away, I had no concept of how hard I pushed her. She fell to the ground in a screaming heap of pain. I did not do it on purpose and to this day I do not know what physically happened for my Mom’s leg to break. However I know I will never forget her scream. Nor will I forget how far I ran knowing how soon my Dad would be home.
I will never forget when I returned home that my Grandfather (Pops) was sitting on the couch next to the lamp shaking his head, and telling me that I had really messed up. I had no idea what I had done, literally. My loving Grandfather was there to make sure my Dad did not destroy me when he got back home from the hospital with my Mom. I will never forget the look my Dad gave me when he walked through that door. I will never forget the pain my mom went through the next few months.
TWO
This next snapshot reads almost like a cartoon. When I play it back in my mind, I chuckle at how lost I really was. However, it was not a laughing matter at the time. This could have changed my life forever, and I feel such joy knowing that Holy Spirit lives inside of me, replacing the wickedness that I allowed Satan to place in my heart.
One night my Dad and I were standing at the top of a stairwell in our house arguing over the dishes. At one point during our conversation I got so angry that I tried to push him down the stairs. I did not think about the potential consequences or results; I just wanted to make sure it happened. It was my goal to make sure he fell down those stairs. In my stupidity I never considered that my Dad was (and is) a REALLY big man. Additionally, it does not help that drugs may make the user think he or she is invincible. The reality of the situation was when I tried to push him I bounced off of his stomach more then he stepped backwards.
When my meager push did not work, I ran for my life because the battle was not done in my mind. If a push would not work, I would find something that would. I was convinced it was either me or him. As my dad chased after me down the stairs it became very clear to me what I needed to do. I needed to flip over a table and break the leg off so I could beat him with it. Again, my invincibility meant a cracked table leg and my dad catching up with me very rapidly.
So I ran again, and he chased me. He caught me and threw me away from the door so I could not do any more damage. I flew through the air like a little rag doll. (Some of you might cringe at the fact that he threw me. Trust me, I should have had my head bashed in).
The one thing that drugs are guaranteed to do is help the pain go away, and that was certainly the case here because I bounced right up and ran some more. Finally my Dad caught me and put me in a hold that would make a UFC fighter tap out. I tried everything I could to get out, no luck. My mom was running from room to room crying and screaming, asking my Dad what she should do. She called the police and while they were on their way I told my Dad something I was extremely serious about. Something I had forgotten I said, until he reminded me.
I told him that if I could get ahold of a knife right then I would kill him. I made sure he knew that if I had my way he would be taking his last breath. Thank God for my Dad’s strength and the speed of the police.
THREE
The third event was the last night I used ecstacy. At this point I was a shell of who I used to be. My head was shaved down to stubble. I probably weighed 115-120 lbs., and I was getting sick pretty frequently. I had a court ordered curfew, and my parents were allowed to randomly drug test me. However, I was undeterred in my drug use; every day was a party in my mind.
That last evening I was so focused on getting as high as possible that my curfew had come and gone because I could not come down. One hour passed, two hours passed, and I was still high and feeling completely out of sorts. It was probably the worst high I had ever experienced. Finally I decided that taking a shower would be the only thing to break the horrible high and get me home because it was past three in the morning.
When I stepped out of the shower I looked in the mirror and finally saw the reality of what I had become. I was emaciated. I could see my ribs through my skin. My cheeks were sunken into my face. One eye was completely dilated but my other pupil was the size of a pin head. I knew that I was more dead than alive, and I knew that the minute I stepped through the threshold of my house my life would never be the same.
Those three events (plus many more) put me in a situation where I required a court appointed advisor that gave me the option to go to Boy’s Town (a juvenile detention center), or to go to a long term inpatient drug treatment center. Naturally I chose the treatment center, thinking I would be done with the program in three quick months, and right back to doing what I loved to do.
At this point you may have noticed a theme in this story: God is not really mentioned. That is how I looked at God in my life. I did not care about Him even though I had been exposed to His Awesomeness throughout various situations and conversations. God was unimportant to me, and irrelevant to my lifestyle. Fortunately for me, God did not think I was irrelevant. I was a lost boy, I just did not know it yet.
On March 10, 2000 I found myself outside of a hotel in Collierville, Tennessee. In the morning I began shooting a basketball while I evaluated my life. It was not a deep evaluation, it mainly revolved around what I needed to say to make sure my parents did not lose my earrings. I was ready to fake my way through treatment as quickly as possible. (Even though I knew I needed help).
Later that day I was admitted into Second Chance, (a Christian drug treatment center). Through the 12-step process, (which can work in a Christ-centered setting), I really began to realize that I had a serious problem. Even though they preached about Jesus I was more focused on coming to an understanding of my addiction. I fought and fought my growing faith, and focused on just getting through the program.
Finally, on March 23, 2001 I graduated from Second Chance, fully “recovered” and prepared to head back home to Maryland. After eating dinner out that night, we went back to the same hotel I stayed in a year and 13 days before. I cannot really remember what we did on the morning of the 24th, but I do remember my Dad and I watching Maryland play in the March Madness Tournament. After watching them play I decided to take a shower.
While in the shower everything hit me all at once. Suddenly I realized that I was about to move back home, a place that I had never really dealt with because I was in Tennessee. I was going to see all of my old friends, and all the places I used to do drugs. As I closed my eyes I could see myself tumbling down the path that had taken so much of my life already. I realized I had two choices: drugs or Jesus. I unequivically chose Jesus.
Right then, at that point, I realized that God had put something special in my heart. It was as if I had opened a present that had sat and sat for years just waiting for me to open it; but finally, finally I had torn off the dusty wrapping paper, and opened the box. When I got out of the shower, with confidence, I was able to tell my parents that I was never going to be the same because of Jesus. The hug that we shared as a family will be a lasting memory every time I think of March 24, 2001.
Since that time I have made monumental mistakes. I have fallen, and fallen hard. I have learned the easy way, and the hard way. However, I never again will be entangled in the crippling yoke of bondage that is addiction. I will never again, by the power of Jesus Christ, be considered an addict or “recovering.” I am a follower of Christ, and I am fully recovered. It was not until about 5 years ago that I really began the process of taking my faith seriously. Since that time I have only looked forward; which is much easier when you are married to my wife. Which is another testimony in itself.
However, how we met is a story I let Amanda tell. For the record, next to knowing Jesus nothing better has happened to me!
Shaun & Amanda Wissmann
Reader Comments (2)
I love you Shaun. I am sitting at work at the hospital listening to KLOVE and googled you and Amanda and found this beautiful testimony that brought back so many memories. God Bless You both. Mom in Tennessee
Almost 12 years - God is so absolutely awesome. Praise the Lord. Love you both. Mom from TN.