- Alcohol
- Drugs
My name is Emmett and I am an alcoholic/addict I don’t have any memory of my first drink; alcohol has always been in my life. Family friends that helped raise me always joked that if no one paid attention to me, I would have any unattended drinks downed in a heartbeat.
When my mom was too sick to care for me, my dad would drop me off at a local strip club. My dad was always taking us (my two brothers and me) to the bars when he had to watch us. Of course drugs were there. One time I almost died sniffing gas; however, I preferred alcohol.
I believe that I sought oblivion since I was 7 or 8 years old because I was molested by one of my dad’s barroom buddies. I always felt different and not belonging in any group, so I was a loner most of time. What reinforced my sense of being different was having visual & mental dyslexia. The only time I felt I was part of something was when I was drunk or high.
I was an all or nothing in anything I did. If I was not the best, I did not like doing it. I became a blackout drinker by the time I graduated from high school. My blackouts would last up to a couple weeks at a time and I would not know where I went or what happened. Also I did not know if I did drugs during the blackouts. Most likely I did because of the crowd I was with. I went from job to job always being let go sooner or later because of my drinking.
The one thing I have not mentioned is that I loved everything about the party life, and all the crazy mishaps that I went through. But there comes a time when things stop working–I mean the only thing I was really living for and that was the way I partied. At this time I started using meth. Meth brought me to my knees and got me in a rehab where I got clean and sober for the first time in my life on January 1, 2004.
Meth got me in enough trouble where my sentence was five years of probation. My charges were unlawful taking of a vehicle (which I still drive to this day) and drug paraphernalia. I told myself I would get sober for five years and when it was over I was going to drink a fifth of Jack and smoke a bowl. At this point of my life I truly believed I had control and I could do anything I set my mind to.
The three months leading up to my trip to the rehab I was trying to think of a way to blow up the courthouse and visit my friends that were still using. By the way, I was the most angry, miserable person you could come across.
For no reasonable explanation I relapsed at the worst possible time–the weekend before a urine test. For three days I used $800 of meth just for myself and experienced for the first time knowing I should stop but being unable to stop. December of 2003, I was sent to a rehab instead of prison. For two and a half weeks I stayed in a daze and I remembered my first support meeting was January 1, 2004 and I use this for my sobriety date.
One of the most important statements was said every day “The support group doesn’t need me at all; it will survive with or without me, I need this group for a chance to live.” and “If you do not want to be here–there’s the door.” I was there for eight months–it was a six month program, but they let me stay there because I needed a surgery done. They could have kicked me out at any time because I was a medical mess and have been throughout my recovery.
I did not know I had a walking injury until I sobered up. All the fun caught up with me. My back is caving in on me– without blood pressure meds I am a walking heartache. It took seven years into recovery for me to have a good blood test. Things are improving because I guess I am finally honest with the professionals in my life.
When I got back to the little town I was from in New Mexico there was no support group–so I started one. I was angry as hell sitting and sitting with a big book and coffee pot once a week for one year before anyone showed up (my higher power has a good sense of humor). Other members started showing up when they knew I was faithful about keeping doors open.
I had a good knowledge of the big book and the 12 by 12 but not the heart or simplicity of the program. I was a two stepper and I almost broke completely down mentally. Luckily one of my ministers told me, “If you are going to do that twelve step thing, try getting a sponsor.” That’s when I finally started following the principles of my own group–get a sponsor–work the steps (in order of course) and everything has been falling in place, especially when I started giving the gift away.
I have had things happen in recovery that freaked me out. I started to have emotions three years into recovery so I went to outpatient rehab and angered a therapist, so I tried to become a drug & alcohol counselor where I met man who was one of many who started working in the drug & alcohol field. He was my college adviser and close friend with thirty years of sobriety, and also a recovery group member himself. He helped me realize that there is no way any one person can know everything about recovery. Once you think you have it you have lost the whole thing– you’ll be a dry drunk or go back out and some will kill themselves–we keep learning and remain teachable or die.
Through most of my recovery I cared for my dad. In his death I found out how much he took care of me. It was the best thing I learned from him–even though he had 25 years of not drinking, he was still a dry drunk holding on to resentments, some for 60 years even to the ones he loved. Each person he loved was a person he also held resentment toward. The things that killed him were things the doctors were trying to treat and he did not take their advice because he felt he knew best.
Today I am moving to Lubbock, Texas so I can take care of myself better. I will have to get more balanced mentally to become a drug and alcohol counselor. I will never know unless I start using all the tools. And the tools I want are a sponsor, a therapist, spiritual advisors and doctors. The main thing is learning to reach out for help and giving it away to keep it.