My story begins back in 1987. March 29, 1987 to be exact. I was ten years old, and that's the day my life changed forever. My mother died of cancer at age 31. I remember instantly becoming angry at God and resentful at everyone who still had their mothers. I felt so much less than everyone else, and I hated it. My dad remarried a couple years later. I remember being happy for him, and I was anxious to have a motherly figure in my life again. However, things did not go the way I expected. Instead, I found another resentment. She and I were as different as night and day, and as much as she denied it, she clearly showed preferential treatment to her kids, and my sister and I could do nothing about it.
Meanwhile, I had been playing football since the fall before my mom died. As I got in to high school, it became my identity...my first drug. It allowed me to escape all the rage that I had built up and couldn't share with my dad or stepmother. I was a good student also, and at the end of high school, I found myself with an offer to play college football at a very good school. I had avoided alcohol and drugs for fear of losing football, and as college began, I drank minimally. But, that first fall, my football career came to an end due to a shoulder injury. All of a sudden, my world turned upside down. My identity was gone, and I had no idea what to do with my time. Naturally, I thought I'd take advantage of my new found freedom and enjoy partying, so I started drinking. By the end of my senior year, I was a full blown alcoholic, but somehow managed to graduate and land a job in retail management, making pretty good money. I was on my own, with my own income, and having the time of my life, so I thought. The alcohol allowed me to be a different person. However, my lifestyle soon caught up with me, and I couldn't afford to keep it up, so I made the decision to bounce checks to continue to go out, and it cost me my job. I thought surely I'd find another one quickly and that I had just made a mistake, but the day I was fired was 9/10/2001. The next morning, the 9/11 attacks occurred and the job market disappeared. After a couple months, my father suggested I try the car business. They were the only people hiring and some guys my dad taught had made a decent living. It was only supposed to be temporary, but I fell in love. At that time, selling cars was very profitable, and more than that, the managers had a philosophy of work hard, play hard, so I was home. Shortly after, they hired a guy that turned out to be one of the biggest cocaine dealers in town, and I met my second love. I had experimented in college, but I quickly became his best customer. However, being a costly drug, once again, I was bouncing checks to keep up. This time it had legal consequences. I was initially put on probation, but didn't change anything I was doing, so I found myself in jail for 45 days. When I got out, I decided I was going to stop the cocaine, but I kept drinking, so things didn't last long. Quickly, I was at a new dealership and doing the same things. Somehow, I got promoted to a sales manager, and was allowed to handle money. I ended up taking some money, and found myself in trouble again. Once again, I got probation, but somehow managed to not get caught. I bounced around for a while and landed at a dealership a friend was working in. I was doing ok for a change, until I hurt my back pushing a stalled vehicle. I went to the doctor and got diagnosed with Degenerative Disc Disease and given a prescription of narcotic pain meds. It was then that I met my next love. I quickly began taking more and more, and a friend introduced me to a guy who was going to a doctor in Florida. About that time, I got a settlement from workers comp, and life was great. I had money and and endless supply of pills. However, I went through the settlement in record time and could no longer even afford to keep seeing the doctor in Florida. I had become unemployable because I was high all the time. I tried waiting tables for a while so I could have money daily, but I was always high, and they knew it, so I couldn't even do that anymore. I was living with two guys who both sold pills, and we all shot up together. But, I could no longer afford anything, and they got tired of fronting me and never getting paid, so they cut me off. One day, one of them was gone, so I broke in to his room and stole his stash. A couple days later, when he got home, I was quickly figured out, and kicked out of the house. I only had time to load a small gym bag with a few clothes. Mind you my car had broken down, so I had no transportation. It was the middle of November, it was cold, and it was raining. I set on on foot for a friend's house that was close, but he wasn't home. The only shelter was a dog house in the backyard. I crawled in, loaded a syringe with the last 400 mg of OxyContin I had stolen, and shot up with hopes of killing myself. I couldn't go on any longer. I remember starting to fade and thinking how happy I was that it would be over. The only problem was that I woke up a few hours later. I was broken, and had no money or place to go, so I did the only thing I knew to do. I walked to a gas station and called my father. I figured I'd stay with them until I figured things out. They had different plans, though. I was told I was no longer trusted enough to stay there, and my stepmom suggested I go to the Hope Center, a homeless shelter in Lexington, KY. I was angry, but it got me no where. I stayed at my parents for two nights, and that Tue morning, my dad drive me to the Hope Center and dropped me off. I was scared to death, and thought I was different than everyone I saw. While in intake, the girl doing my paperwork asked why I looked so bad.
For the first time, I told someone I had a problem with alcohol and drugs. She instantly called someone, who ended up being the detox unit staff and they decided that's what I needed first. Mind you, my plan was to only stay there long enough to convince a friend to let me couch surf. During my second day in detox, someone came in to talk to the guys in detox. It turns out he was from the recovery program that they offered that was part of the Hope Center. For the first time in my life, I could relate to what someone was saying. When he left, I got up, asked to use the phone, and called my dad. The program was six months and you couldn't work, but dad assured me that if I was doing the right thing, I would have everything I needed.
After detox, I spent the next six weeks sleeping on a mat in the shelter hallways, mixed in with the homeless population. I wasn't serious about recovery at first, but that changed at the beginning of Feb. my stepsister had a baby, but he died at 7 days old of a genetic defect. Like any good alcoholic or addict, I was caught up in my own grief. However, a guy that worked in the program suggested I pray. I laughed at him, but he insisted I try it. That night, lying in my bunk in the dorm, I was restless. All of a sudden, what he said came to mind and I tried it. A few minutes later, I felt peace and went right to sleep. The next day, I made a decision to try recovery for real. The program used Recovery Dynamics, which taught about the 12 Steps, and I was introduced to AA. I got a home group, got a sponsor, and began working the 12 Steps. As it turns out, that cold, rainy November night was my last use. It was November 14, 2009.
I completed treatment on June 7, 2010. I was in the directors office with the two other guys that completed that day. He excused them, but asked me to stay. He reached in his desk and pulled out a contract, and offered me a position as a peer mentor, to stay on and help teach Recovery Dynamics and oversee the clients in the program. I discovered I had a passion and ability to teach recovery. I did that for nearly two years. In Feb of 2012, I was due for a promotion that I had been promised. One Friday I was hired, and the next Friday I was told they promoted too many people and I was the least senior, so I was getting passed over. I was devastated, but in the midst of my pity party that weekend, I managed to apply for a mental health tech position at the psych hospital in town. They called on Monday, interviewed me on Tue and Wed, and I was told they wanted to hire me. However, a week went by, and I thought my background got in the way. Finally, though, literally a week later, they called and said they had created a position for me because they were beginning Recovery Dynamics, and wanted to know if I would accept a position as an addiction specialist. Naturally I accepted. One year later, I was promoted, and today I am the Adult Addictions Supervisor, I will finish my masters in addictions counseling this year, and I am still active in my personal recovery. I go to meetings, write inventory, and sponsor guys trying to find their way. I also got asked to become an assistant high school football coach, and got to resume that passion, as well. All as a result of recovery.
Being in recovery is like being a pumpkin at Halloween. God picks you from the patch, washes all the dirt away, opens you up and removes all the seeds of guilt, shame, remorse, and doubt, puts a smile on your face, and places his light inside you for all the world to see.
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