- Alcohol
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- Friends & Family
My name is Max, and I am an alcoholic. My sobriety date is July 16, 2009. I am a sponsor, I have a sponsor and he has a sponsor. While my life is very full today, that was not always the case. I had my first drink around the typical age. My parents lived in an affluent neighborhood where residents felt comfortable leaving the garage doors unlocked. When I was a fifteen-year-old, my friends and I raided refrigerators in garages for beer. We would steal the beer, run to the golf course and drink into the early hours of the morning. I always found that I would become much more drunk than those around me, so I did not drink often at first.
I did well in the beginning of my first foray into college. I swam competitively with a team that drank quite a bit. I quickly found myself out-drinking the team and dabbling with drugs. As college progressed so did my alcoholism and drug addiction. What was a weekend pastime became a daily one. In my first year of college, I was transported to the hospital numerous times for alcohol poisoning. By the second year, I had piqued the attention of the school, but I was often able to lie my way out of the corner. My freshman-year RA and I dated all through my sophomore year, and she was the first person to use the term “alcoholic.” Despite the school’s attention and her warnings, I became a daily user. By the second semester of my sophomore year, I no longer attended class, I snorted plenty of OxyContin and my life revolved around getting messed up. My best friend no longer spoke to me, my girlfriend enabled me and my soul had completely deteriorated. None of this stopped me though.
The school issued an ultimatum: either I sobered up in a facility, or I could no longer study at the university. I decided to drop out. The school turned my logic back onto me, and somehow kept me for the semester. Newark, New Jersey was not the same town that my grandparents grew up in. A good friend of mine and I often walked around Newark and Jersey City late into the night. In a few instances, we were jumped while we were beyond intoxicated, and once I needed a hospital visit to mend my face. I awoke in strange locations quite often. Police officers woke me up in Newark Penn Station, forty-five minutes away from school. I found myself underneath the seats of school buses in mechanics’ parking lots.
The week before July 16, 2009, my outpatient counselor called me into her office because a recent drug test had tested positive for opiates, marijuana and alcohol. I was already familiar with support group programs. She issued an ultimatum: I either halt all use and attend a support group immediately, or she would discharge me into an inpatient facility and warn my school that I had failed the program. I told her to take any actions necessary. I just did not care. On July 16 I woke up in pursuit of booze. I was due to become legal in two weeks, but I could not purchase alcohol yet. The best option seemed to be pulling half-empty beers from trashcans. As I stared at a dozen half-empty beers, I knew that when I turned 21, life would not get better. I cried. Despite this realization I drank the beers without the intention of never drinking again.
That evening I attended a 12-step meeting. Though I had no intent to stop using, my mind had opened just enough to hear a message. I found a sponsor. The first six months were incredibly dry, but life seemed better, so I did not want to change any of the variables. I went through the 12-step journey much like most others who remain sober for a substantial period of time. The steps brought awareness of and clarity about who I am. The support group fellowship allowed me to trust people and form friendships. Service work kept me sober because I stopped thinking about myself.
In my first days sober, a dear friend of mine used a line from the recent Batman movie on me. Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred says, “Why do we fall Master Bruce?” When Bruce Wayne does not respond, Alfred says, “So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.” While this may not have been advice, it was a pivotal truth that has remained in my subconscious throughout my journey. Every time I fall, and I fall quite a bit, I learn to pick myself back up. I often stumble on the same situations more than once. Regardless of what the situation is, no one expects perfection out of me except for me. My journey has taught me to restructure my ideal of perfection into a much softer, gentler ideal of love for myself. While my friend does not necessarily know how much he affected me, any time I deal with the trials of life, that quote tends to resurface quickly.
Connecting with my family has been one of the largest struggles in my sobriety. When I was two and a half years sober, my biological mother died of alcoholism. I knew very little about her while she was alive. I probably talked to her monthly. When my mother passed away, I hesitated before meeting her family for the first time. My mother’s family is extensive. Recently with more than five years of recovery, I reached out. I made numerous attempts both successful and unsuccessful. While connecting with her family has proven difficult, their doors would have never opened without my sobriety. As a sober person, connecting with family is a gift of sobriety.
As a drunk I withdrew from school with no intentions of going back. Sobriety has enabled me to return to school for both an associate degree and a bachelor’s degree. I once took education for granted, but now I view it as a gift from a higher power, a gift that I need to cherish. My return to school has been the most rewarding accomplishment I have achieved thus far. My enthusiasm behind my work at the university has opened doors that I never thought possible while drinking or in the beginning of my sobriety. School, like any other facet of my life, requires my program. This past semester, Fall 2014, I made the Chancellor’s List with a 4.0 grade point average. Obviously my higher power is involved to a certain extent though I still see the process as a major accomplishment.
There are many parts of my life that I am proud of. I am a friend, a student, a son, an animal’s human, a community member and a boyfriend among many other things. Foremost I am Max, and that is all I am required to be. Such a simple realization was not easy to come to. This process has made me a proud individual through humility. While I experience many material and societal gifts, my sobriety, and my inner knowledge of who I have become, establishes a pride that I would have envied drunk. I probably would not have even known it existed to be able to envy it. I would tell someone first entering sobriety to simplify their life into the core of who they are. My higher power today seeks to reveal the core beauty of each individual. That core is not a complex concept; it is merely the acknowledgment there is a simple love in everyone.
Four days ago I lost a beautiful soul in my life. Someone who I remained good friends with while using and in the past few years of sobriety died at the age of 25 due to her own personal demons. As a friend she embodied an enviable love and sweetness. She stood by me when I became sober. She lifted me up through the dark process of coming out of the closet. She remained a friend to me and a beautiful source of love in my life. The funny thing about death is one day a person likes a Facebook post, and the next day they are gone. While her death has rattled my core, this woman gave away that simple love that emanates from my higher power. This gives me gratitude for today, and for today I can remember Rachel. Today I can smile on this journey of sobriety, and I can say, “It’s a wonderful life.”