- Alcohol
- Faith
- Friends & Family
My story is a lot like every other story you’ve heard. I started using alcohol at an early age. One thing lead to another, drugs and alcohol affected my life negatively, and I had a lot of bad, really bad consequences. When the misery became too much I decided to do something about it. I went to a detox then a drug rehab in South Florida. I didn’t realize what the road to recovery had in store for me.
Van Gogh is quoted as saying, “Dying is hard, but living is harder still.” Don’t get me wrong, life is much better now than when I was “out there,” but there were parts that weren’t all rainbows and lollipops. There were boring times, angry times, sad times, scary moments, and basically a veritable roller coaster of emotions.
It was especially tough in the first couple years of my recovery. There were days when I felt like I wasn’t going to make it and then that punch in the stomach feeling when I was so afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. I know today that fear and guilt are useless except that they are both awesome motivators. A lot of things got me messed up and I used to blame them all on everything and everybody else. Nothing was my fault. I was a total victim. “Poor me…Help me…I can’t.” This was my mantra. I was really out of my mind, in total denial about my circumstances and the need for change.
Lying to everyone about everything to get what I needed to stay well was a daily routine. I felt like a real piece of you-know-what. I remember sleeping in one of the local parks. I was so dirty and I smelled so bad. I had been showering at a community outreach center every week at least but this time I went for nearly 3 weeks. UGH! I was disgusted by myself. I rarely looked in a mirror and when I came across one I rarely had the courage to take a look. I was far from the little toe head boy that my folks had wished on so much before.
I was a nice kid from a nice family, I went to a nice school, and I wore nice clothes. I was well spoken and had manners. Mom would always say, “Where did I go wrong?!” My family is dysfunctional just like almost every other family but there was love…and a lot of jokes. I wondered sometimes if that was the reason I never really took anything seriously; everything was always a joke and mom and dad kind of swept things under the rug. I actually thought I was adopted until I was about 8 years old. I never felt like I fit in at all, even though I got a lot of attention and care.
Anyways, fast forward through about 15 years of depression, homelessness, overdoses, visits to the hospital, psych wards, and jail. I was lying in a dirty bed in an apartment with an eviction notice taped to the door, praying. I remember a few people on my brief visits to the rooms of recovery had told me to keep praying. “Keep coming back,” they would always say and, “Ask God to relieve you of your obsession.” I had no idea what they were talking about. I convinced myself that I was doomed to die a hopeless drug addict, homeless and alone. I understand now that it was my addiction telling me that. It was a lie.
I contacted someone who had once helped a girlfriend of mine years ago. He told me about a website that could help me. I got high and went to the library to use the computers to look it up and saw that there were a lot of different options for help. I kept calling him, every day for almost a month, begging for help until one day he agreed to help. He could tell I meant business and was willing to do anything to get better.
He told me he had a friend who knew somebody who knew somebody that might be able to help me get into drug rehab somewhere. It was just a thread of hope but I grabbed it like it was the last life boat on the Titanic. The guy told me to make my way to the local detox clinic. This was the longest walk I have ever taken. It felt like I was never going to get there and when I did it was like an oasis in the desert. I slept on the couch at the detox for 7 hours until they were convinced that I was serious and really, really sick. I wanted help in earnest, so finally they admitted me. I was there for a week. I didn’t hear from anyone and that thread of hope got thinner and thinner. They released me from the detox and asked what my plans were. I didn’t know.
They said I should go to the 12 Step meeting down the street at a local church. The meeting started at noon and it was like 11:40 so I started walking again. I felt a little better physically but I was completely terrified about what would happen to me next. I walked into the meeting with a ripped pillowcase stuffed full of dirty clothes. “At least I don’t stink,” I thought to myself. I was sitting there with my head down staring at my shoes when somebody came and sat next to me and said, “How ya feelin’, kid?” I looked up and it was the man I had contacted for help. He said, “I knew you could do it, I’m proud of you.” I responded with tears in my eyes, “You don’t even know me.” I said. “Yes I do, son, you’re just like me. Thank you for allowing me to help you. This is how I stay clean today.”
All that was gibberish to me that day but now it all makes sense. He took me right from the meeting to a drug rehab where I stayed for 90 days. It was the hardest and best thing I have ever done. To this day, I don’t know how it was paid for. Anytime I asked about it I was usually told, “It’s a gift.” I received therapy, medical care, life skills training, tons of support, and a safe place to get back on my feet. I’ve heard the term “One chip wonder” and that definitely did not apply to me. It took me a long time, many years and lots of white chips before I finally made the decision to change. It’s a commitment and one I choose to make every day. Now I’m the one helping some kid with a “leg up” toward a shot at a better, clean and sane life. I wouldn’t trade my life today for anything.