When I tell my story, the overarching theme that resonates in every single experience I’ve had throughout my life is abandonment and acceptance. Just about every struggle and source of trauma in my life can be traced to these core wounds. My acting out and destructive patterns of behavior all came out of a result of trying to meet those needs in my life.
As a kid at the age of six or seven, my mom, sister and I ran from an abusive, terror-based relationship with a man who by biology alone can be called my father. My mom later re-married and I was introduced to the only father I’ve ever truly had. But to be honest, that was never enough. While I may have had a stepfather’s physical presence, I grew up not knowing the intimate sacred presence that an active and engaged father gives to his children.
The initial markers on my life created by both an abusive and absent biological father and then by an absent stepfather began what I can now connect to the thread of my addiction and acting out. I grew up in the church, and if the doors were open, that’s where you’d find me. I grew to know tremendous beauty in the church but also tremendous pain.
I felt alone, different, separate and isolated. Even in my closest circle of friends, I found myself experiencing life as an outsider. And the moment my hormones kicked in, I found acting out with girls and pornography to be the safest place in the world. I knew how to get what I wanted and felt I needed that in order to be whole.
I now know that it was all an illusion, but my prison was constructed during those formative teen years and lasted throughout my 20’s. I harmed a lot of people in those years. I took advantage of a lot of people. I lied to a lot of people and hid from those who loved me most. Part of my problem, though, was that I didn’t trust anyone and could not accept that I was loved. After all, the abandonment I had experienced left me with a wound that I didn’t know how to process. I was a child left alone, without even knowing how to handle what I was feeling and going through.
I began a career that allowed me to continue to hide. I traveled the world for 15 years working in the entertainment business, which created a gap that allowed me to easily act out with no perceived repercussions. Everyone else was doing it and, in order to fill my abandonment and acceptance wound, I would do whatever it took to be accepted by those I toured with.
When I got married, I was naive enough to think that this person would be able to fill that hole in my heart. Of course she couldn’t. She was never created or intended to do so, but that didn’t stop me from putting a tremendous amount of pressure on her and our relationship to do just that. Naturally when my need continued to go unmet, I continued to act out. I continued to use and abuse whoever and whatever in order to just feel safe, secure and known.
Like many others in recovery, I hit bottom. Having been found out several times, my actions took my marriage to the brink and nearly destroyed it forever. In my heart, I knew I couldn’t keep up or continue my behavior forever. It was too hard, and eventually I began to ask for help. I began to get honest and eventually I began to see with great clarity what was actually going on in my heart.
I’m cautious in telling my story because I don’t want to describe it as a “before and after” glorification. I have been harmed too often by those deceptive descriptions of life. Life isn’t always that clean and can’t always be compartmentalized that simply. Rather, my hope is that my story is one that people relate to because they see their own stories in it. I hope they recognize the pain and recognize the path and see themselves in the mirror that my story presents.
I’m blessed to still have a wife and family that loves me. I’ve been sober for longer than any other period in my life. Entering my ninth year of recovery has taught me that in order to stay sober I not only need to ask for help, but I need to speak up, name my fear and name my emotions. Hiding from them and stuffing them will never take me to the fullness of life that I desire.
I now find comfort and security in knowing I’m not alone. Although I continue to struggle with my core wounds and trauma, today I act out differently. I attend meetings and I make myself available to those who love me. I’m accountable and I refuse to hide anymore. I use my voice and tell my story. I love others and help others discover their stories even if only for one stretch of the road.
I’ve learned that I’m not alone and neither are you!