- Alcohol
- Faith
- Friends & Family
I grew up in a fairly large city in North Carolina; you might say I’m a city boy. We played our games in the streets, and the only gun I ever fired was a pellet rifle. We used to shoot mourning doves off the power lines. My parents were hard workers, survivors of the Great Depression. My father worked three jobs at times because his role as provider was all he knew. My mom was Supermom, as she juggled the roles of employee, mom, disciplinarian and coach. My parents wanted me to have an easier, better life than they had.
I never lacked anything and always knew I was loved, but something inside just didn’t feel right. I was full of fear and felt defective, like something was wrong with me! From an early age, I equated my performance with the measure by which I would be loved or have value. As a youngster I set out to blaze a trail of glory by excelling in school and athletics. I was enrolled in academically gifted classes, sang in the teen choir at church and played Pop Warner football. From the outside you would think I was on the road to success and happiness, but then life showed up.
We moved across town the summer I turned fifteen. All of a sudden, I was in a new neighborhood where I knew no one. I would be going to a new school. I was going to have to meet new friends. My comfort zone had been stripped away from me, and I was scared to death. The feelings of being inadequate and not measuring up engulfed me. What was I to do? Where would I turn? I latched on to the first group of peers that felt just like me. They were the ones that smoked pot and drank. I longed for acceptance. I longed for the comfort I was used to, so I joined them. Thus began a long journey of fear and anxiousness beleaguered by feelings of inadequacy and not measuring up.
Alcohol and drugs were all I had to help me cope with life. Alcohol and drugs worked for a long time. They gave me what I needed, but I eventually became enslaved, as I did not know how to live without them. I rode the roller coaster of life that so many of us ride while occasionally having glimpses of happiness and peace.
One of those glimpses of happiness was when I married the woman of my dreams. She embodied the covenant of marriage, and we had two wonderful boys together. One would think our union and our children would have been enough to shake the grip of my disease, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t stop no matter how badly I wanted to. I wreaked destruction in their lives, and I gravely affected everyone and everything around me. Eventually I ended up giving away the very things that made life worth living. I surrendered my family, my home and my livelihood.
After a series of destructive events, I ended up in jail, a shell of a man who was broken, defeated and homeless. I wanted to die for I believed that everyone who cared for me would be better off. The disease of alcoholism and addiction had almost fulfilled its mission. I had reached a place of total despair and hopelessness.
I called a dear friend of mine who I hadn’t talked to in over five years. He dropped everything he was doing to pick me up off the streets and drop me off at a detox center. They allowed me to stay. The first few days were horrible. I was afraid and anxious, and my head was foggy. I made the decision to stay, and I entered a long-term recovery program. I had no idea what was in store for me so I followed their instructions and watched the guys in the program. While in the homeless shelter, there were many times I wanted to leave, but I stayed “one more day.”
Little by little, slowly and surely, the fog lifted, and I became more at ease. I trudged hard, and I began to feel better physically. I paid attention and learned about the disease of alcoholism. I watched others farther along than me in the program, and I began to have hope. I was introduced to a 12-step program. For once in my life, I made a decision to do something differently. I immersed myself in recovery, and I participated in the program. I didn’t always understand, but I witnessed where recovery was working for others. I started to see the benefits, and I wanted the joy and peace that was so visible in them. Today I have almost twenty months clean and sober. I am blessed to be where I am spiritually and emotionally. I have a hope and a future that is beyond measure. I no longer have a desire to drink or use, and I know what it means to be at peace. I will be forever grateful for my hero that dropped me off at detox, who took the time out of his busy schedule to pick me up and care for me. The gift of desperation was a blessing to me for it provided the motivation to find my way back.