- Alcohol
- Drugs
- Faith
I remember my first planned mission to drink with my friends. It was a hot summer day in 1973 with an eight-pack of Miller High Life stolen from my friend’s dad’s stockpile. We climbed onto a flat garage roof, got comfortable, passed each other a beer and the world stopped. I felt like I would live forever, and my new found friend (beer) was responsible for it all. I also noticed five beers left, and there were three of us. The voice in my head told me that my friends were going to try to leave me short for the last round of beer. So I drank my first one fast to get to the second one before them. I reached over with a sense of accomplishment for another. Now four beers were left. I thought, “This stuff is magic.” We were laughing at each other, and then I noticed them finishing their beers. So I drank faster, not wanting to get short changed. As I finished my second, they finished their first beers. We reached for the next ones all at the same time. Now seven beers were gone, and I wanted the last one. My prayer was answered when one of my friends asked if I wanted it. I was feeling no pain. I thought my friends were conspiring to do this tomorrow without me, so I put my last beer in my pocket. I climbed off the garage ever so slowly and immediately guzzled it down. I thought, “This is the best day ever.” I was eight years old.
As a small child I had a fascination for alcohol. I didn’t know why it was off limits for kids. It seemed as though everybody who drank it was funny, happy and very friendly. I thought old people drank crappy tasting stuff. When I got the chance to taste a glass of wine, I thought, “This stuff tastes awful.” But it warmed my throat, and there was this slight sensation in my head. I wanted some more, so I planned many ways to try to drink it. I snuck under my grandmother’s dining room table to the liquor cabinet and tried to pry open the door without making noise. It never happened until that hot July day in 1973.
I was a good student and went to church with my grandma every Sunday morning. God was who everybody prayed to, but I never did anything to know Him. A few experiences happened to me sexually, and I felt scared and alone. I hid it from everyone and was scared and ashamed. I was eight years old. I was scared and thought that if I said something, something even worse was going to happen. I knew the people who hurt me then. But when it happened again four years later with a total stranger, it turned ugly fast. It happened in an automobile. I reached down, grabbed a pen and stuck it into the neck of the person molesting me. Then I reached for the door handle, opened it and ran. That year was my first blackout experience from alcohol. Over the next four years, I drank secretly more and more. On my aunt’s wedding day, I was hiding under a table during the reception, drinking red wine from a chalice. Then I woke up on the floor of my mother’s car. I don’t remember any yelling or punishment.
During my teenage years, my drinking worsened. I seemed to always have a high tolerance for alcohol and would feel superior for drinking more than most. I played baseball, football and roller hockey from age 12 to 19 and was very good, especially when I was drinking. The last few years, I often combined marijuana, opium, hash, acid and cigarettes. By the time I was 20 years old, cocaine was great, and I wasn’t blacking out so much. I also got my break on Wall Street. I got a job as a runner, which is an errand boy. I was free to drink, and they liked me. This helped because I never really felt all that comfortable with myself. Their smiles and compliments gave me a boost. I spent 15 years on Wall Street with promotions, raises and nothing to show for it. I was also drinking a lot and crack was a mainstay.
In 1998 and 1999, I had two spinal surgeries, spent six months bed ridden and underwent a lot of physical therapy. Along with the perfect combination of drinking alcohol and smoking crack, I found a perfect addition: Vicodin. I didn’t need my job anymore because I got disability checks now. In 2000, I was back at home, barely able to take care of myself and in a self-induced state of oblivion. On March 8th, 2006, my grandmother passed away. I was on empty, running on fumes. I had 17 months of daily self-loathing, drinking and taking drugs.
On August 1st, 2007, it was 100 degree weather and I just got off work on a Friday afternoon. I had cold beer and pain meds and was arrested while hunting for crack. I’d been arrested before many times but avoided felony convictions. I felt as though it all was over but had no idea what was going to happen to me. I got released on bail and was led by a friend into outpatient therapy and by another friend into a 12-step group. I didn’t fight it. I was like a child looking into his trusting father’s eyes for everything. I learned how to stay sober one day at a time and that, by getting right with God, I could feel the release from the bondage of self. I could believe without condition that God could do for me what I could not do for myself. Yes, I believe. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in your words. I see it by the way some of you live by example. No horn blowing good deeds and no rule bending. I believe because of your patience with time, tolerance of others, acceptance of things out of your control and forgiveness for sick and selfish people like me. You believed God forgave you, and I believe.
By God’s grace, I will mark six years sober on August 1st, 2013. I have a chance to live free from addiction, as long as I continue to keep God in front of everything. My daily reprieve is contingent upon my spiritual condition. I look back at what I went through: losing a child, finding comfort in a chemical for 32 years and having no coping skills and no future. Today, however, I have a life spared by God. The reason for this is not my concern. I believe His will for me is to tell of his love for us and to inspire life through my experience. Today I am a correctional substance abuse counselor for the New York City jail system. I can honestly say that when I’m on the block with the incarcerated men, I am the only one who wants to be there. I love my life today. It’s only because I wholeheartedly put my life in God’s hands to the best of my ability. I trust God, keep my side of the street as clean as I can and I help others. Thanks to so many people in Queens, NY.
I used to think so little of myself yet I was all I ever thought about. Today, I tell people to not be afraid to become someone you’re not aware of. If God could help me, He could help you. God bless you all!
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now I’m found
Was blind and now I see
Thank you Lord God for giving me life. I close my eyes to seek your face.