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Sometimes I wonder just how much damage I did to my brain after 24 years of alcohol and drug abuse. Out of nowhere a low-level depression can come about, and everything around me seems negative or just dark, and with it comes a lot of pain. In recovery I have learned that these things always pass, but when you are in the middle of it the moments and seconds are stretched out, with a feeling that it will never lift or go away. My head is often guilty of “fast forwarding” and avoiding the present, and what I forecast in my head is generally not positive either. I will convince myself that all of my fears will manifest itself into reality, and that I will lose what I have and be living in some fucking pup-tent in the middle of the desert.

The best medicine for this is to get out of myself and find someone new in recovery to work with. And recently I had the privilege of doing an intervention for a wonderful family who have a son in his early 20’s struggling in the disease, addicted to painkillers and heroin. I see the pain he is in and the desperation that we as addicts ultimately run into as our addiction progresses. All I can do is share with him what I have done and continue to do in order to stay clean and sober, and hopefully he latches on to something, anything that will make him feel that he too can get well.

That’s what happened for me. On a Tuesday night in March of 2007, I heard a man in a recovery meeting share something that struck me right between the eyes. I remember almost chasing him out of the meeting, and I was still detoxing radically and shaking uncontrollably, I asked him, “Tell me more, tell me what I have to do.” And he responded with sincerity in his voice, “You have gotta change or you will die.”

His response stuck with me, and I took his words as serious as anything I had ever heard. He told me I needed to work the twelve steps and work with a sponsor who has done them himself, and then work with others, and if I did that I would have a bitchin’ life. The man was right. It’s not Prozac or Wellbutrin that I need to relieve my low level depression when it hits, when I am down, or am getting slammed with that low-level depression I must do something to get out of myself, and nothing for me is better medicine than talking with the new man in recovery who reminds me so much of myself when I first came into recovery in 2007.

“I just returned from Costa Rica with a buddy of mine for an eight day surf trip. Never had I traveled there, and knew of two things that were prominent: really good waves, and cocaine of the highest quality. Having just celebrated being six years clean and sober the latter was not an option but I’ll be damned if the thought of the devil’s dandruff didn’t enter into my mind about 100 times. I heard you can score a gram for about ten U.S. dollars. Back in the day, not too long ago, I would have found the connection and thrown two C-notes his way, and piled up 20 grams of the drug onto my hotel table, along with six cases of beer and never leave the room. I saw a few people who were obviously high on the drug, and as much as I may have thought about the cocaine, what was more powerful was where it would take me if I made the decision to ingest even one line, or one of Costa Rican’s finest brews. I know for certain I could never make it back to recovery again, because getting sober was too fucking hard to begin with, and going to that “Hell” of having my heart skip beats at 5 in the morning while listening to the wild howling monkeys would probably induce me to tied a rope and hang myself from a tree.

It was a beautiful thing to greet the day with long surf sessions with my clean and sober friend, eat some healthy food, and most important, not drink or use any drugs. What I realize more and more is that no matter where I go, I still take this drug addicts brain with me, and that it’s absolutely vital to my recovery to treat my disease by going to meetings, regardless of what part of the world I am in. And we were able to hit a few recovery meetings in the jungle with some locals with long term sobriety. We met wonderful people who had also had their lives torched by drugs and alcohol, but were living meaningful, healthy lives as a direct result of a strong program of recovery.

Hell, if I made the decision to snort their pure cocaine I doubt I would ever even leave the country. So I guess some positive change has taken place in my life, because the “old me” would have been holed up in a hotel room drawing up long lines of white powder and talking out the side of my mouth for a week. It’s a blessing to not have to go in that direction, and I hope I am lucky enough to keep what has been given to me…a thing called freedom.”

“On February 17th, 2013 I will have been clean and sober for six years. When I came into recovery in 2007 I thought that I just needed to get off of the prescription painkillers, which I had been addicted to for almost seventeen years. If I could just detox off of all those medications I would be just fine, I even thought I could drink alcohol, but I quickly learned that if I drank I would most likely use cocaine again, and I sure as hell didn’t want to return to that. I obsessed about alcohol on a daily basis for over two years, and then, out of nowhere the obsession to drink was removed. That was a relief beyond description. But being free from drugs and alcohol didn’t mean that life was just “fine” and emotionally I was just fucking perfect, far from it. In fact, in hindsight, I had no idea that since I had been drinking and using drugs from a young age that I suffered not only from drug addiction and alcoholism, but a state of arrested development. Grossly immature in fact, as I found that abstaining from Oxycontin, Norco, Vicodin, alcohol, and cocaine was just the beginning. As I grew into this “new skin” I realized I was nothing more than a lost little kid, who was maladjusted to life, and the fact is I had no idea how to live day to day as a clean and sober individual. Through attending a lot of recovery meetings, taking the twelve steps, and sponsoring other people, I have learned a spiritual way of living that is far greater than anything that drugs and alcohol could ever deliver into my system.

Someone said to me recently, “You have been drug and alcohol free for almost six years, do you really still need to go to meetings and do all that crap you have to do stay clean and sober?” My answer was emphatically, “Yes.” In fact I have to do as much if not more than ever in order to keep the life that has been given to me. Recovery is an ongoing process, and in going through the process I am finding more about myself, other people, and the world around me. I no longer blame others, or point the finger when things aren’t going my way. Accepting life on life’s terms is one of the biggest challenges I face today, and when I can accept what is going on around me, and come from a place of love and tolerance, versus anger and resentment, my life is really pretty damn good. To have a purpose in life today, and to be in a position to help others struggling with addiction is a gift I have been blessed with, but I also have to continue to work on my recovery, and by no means do I think “I am out of the woods” with regards to my addiction. It’s something I must remain vigilant with, because I don’t ever, ever want to forget how hard it was to get clean and sober, and I never want to return to the hell that I was living in for so long.

I was contacted by a college student back east, who asked me the following question:

What advice would you give someone who might be dealing with addiction themselves or someone close to them?

The first thing I would tell someone is that they cannot do it alone. I tried so many times to kick and get off the narcotics by myself and failed miserably. A 12 step program has literally saved my life, and I go to meetings regularly and sponsor other men. For anyone who wants to knock the 12 step program of recovery I am good with that, as I didn’t think it would work for a guy like me, like my case was unique or something. The fact is the 12 step program and regular recovery meetings have kept more people sober and saved more lives than any program in history. It’s a fact. No therapist, reading of books, or psychiatrist could get me or keep me clean and sober, and there is no quick fix. Recovery is an ongoing process and as I come up on 6 years of clean and sober time I am still finding more and more about life, how to live it, and experiencing on a day to day basis how beautiful this thing called life really is, drug-free. That doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days, but that’s just life. So long as I don’t drink or use, it’s a good day, and if you lived the hell that I came from, you would understand that’s my truth.

I am coming on ten days of working through a case of bronchitis that has drawn me into a state of isolation and bullshit self pity. It has given me opportunity to dwell on everything that is wrong with my life which diminishes all that is good, which lends further into the validation that I have a mind that is out to get me alone and kill me.

Discomfort can arrive out of nowhere, and it stems from resentment, fear and other sorts of manifested negatives which often try to persuade me to get comfortable. And a guy like me gets comfortable one way, which is getting loaded.

The obsession to drink and use drugs was lifted from me about three and a half years ago. But that doesn’t mean I have a get out of jail free card, and forever immune from popping pills, snorting coke, and drinking alcohol, or whatever else I used to ingest to make me feel good. It just amazes me that out of nowhere, when alone for too long, and not regularly attending recovery meetings, that I can try and talk myself out of the very thing that has saved my life.

So, I must get “out of self” and take some type of action which will result in feeling better and more comfortable in my own skin. Silly as it may sound, I did something which hasn’t been done in a while, which is clean out my closet. But there’s a point to all of this, I promise.

A few times a year I gather stuff up that I no longer wear, and take it to a detox center for men up in Costa Mesa. It’s a place that saves lives, and guys can stay there for ten days while getting sober. Many of these men never get sober, but a lot of them do.

So as I am putting the clothing into bags I realize that a few things are getting accomplished. First, I am cleaning up an area that definitely needed some attention. But most important, is the fact that some clothes will be going to some guys that really need it, and at the end of the day nothing is better than to have helped someone else out, regardless of what it is.

And for right now this simple act has brought me back into a state of gratitude, and for the time being I am no longer fixated on this stupid ass bronchitis, which is only temporary and will pass in a few days. I can remember the days and months prior to checking into rehab where I never thought things could ever get good, and that life would just be this revolving door, consisting of a drugged out state of sickness and non-existence, void of any life worth living.

Today life really is good. I just often have to do something to remind myself how good it really is.

On this day, five years ago, I chewed up my last handful of Oxycontin & Morphine tablets. I wasn’t sure if I could ever really get off of the painkillers that had torn me to shreds, but it was time for one last shot at it. Everything was bad. I had lost my mind, I couldn’t sleep anymore, and no matter how much I either drank, popped or snorted I couldn’t get high. I was moving all of the things out of my house to make way for someone renting it out. I wasn’t sure if I could even keep it. My business was in ruins, but worse than that, I was in ruins.

I had no idea that I would not sleep for the next 44 days. I remember vividly, that I made a deal with myself to commit suicide if I didn’t get any sleep by day 50. So, I went the entire month of March, 2007 without sleep. I would talk to myself, and my skin constantly hurt from the withdrawals and detox. I was engaged to a girl at the time, and in hindsight I ask myself, “Who would want to be engaged to a man as sick as me?” I can recall hearing her sound asleep, as I had returned home from the rehab facility after 23 days of being hospitalized. Never have I wanted something so bad, and I am not talking about sex, I am talking about sleeping soundly. I would have traded in my right arm for a deep night slumber.

I would shuffle from room to room in the house, and think to myself, “Maybe I will get some sleep here if I just get in the right position.” So, would get into a comfortable position, and moments later say, “This is so fucked. How will I ever feel human again? My skin fucking crawls, like little insects that I cannot see. I can’t stop shaking, this is not normal. Will I ever feel normal? But then again, how the hell would I know what normal is? I have been popping, chewing, and snorting these pills for almost seventeen years. How in the hell do I even know what normal is?”

My legs were really weak, as much of my muscle had atrophied from lack of activity, so I wasn’t really walking, I was shuffling. Dragging my feet to recovery meetings twice at least, but generally three times a day in my first six months of “sobriety.” But I don’t think I felt physically sober for at least a year, maybe more like sixteen months. Dr. Headrick (my treating doctor at the rehab facility) told me, “Your detox will probably last at least 12 to 18 months.” He was right. I remember my right hand and right leg shook constantly in my first nine months. I recently met with Dr. Headrick, and he commented upon the shaking of my right side, “Medically speaking your body was close to, and contemplating a stroke.” He had no idea I shook for so long, and he knew my detox was bad, but the symptoms I had were far from normal .

In looking back I ask myself often how I am alive, because I honestly do not know. If life were fair I would for sure be dead. I will have five years of clean and sober time tomorrow so long as I hit the pillow tonight without getting loaded. To have a little bit of hope today, where there was none five years ago is a beautiful thing. The very best thing I can possibly do today is to help another addict understand that he or she can get well. I know that I never said to myself, “Yes, I can do this, no problem. I can handle this disease on my own.” The fact is, I cannot stay clean and sober on my own today. I have stay attached to my recovery by sponsoring others, going to a lot of meetings, speaking about addiction, and visiting detox centers, as well as continuing to work the twelve steps of recovery.

When I do all of those things I have an amazing life. The bottom line is, if you are sick and addicted, but willing to surrender, you CAN get well. If there was any message I could ever share with another addict it is, “You can get well…I know this because I have been given a new life through a structured program in recovery.”

“I am lighting a candle right now for my friend Rachel from Indiana. Just a few days ago she lost her life to prescription painkillers. It was just a month ago she corresponded with me to share she was happy and embracing a new life in recovery. For whatever reason the disease got a hold of her again, and my heart breaks for the people she has left behind. Having lost my own father due to alcohol related suicide I can relate on so many levels. What it reminds me of is that unnecessarily, addiction kills and robs us of people we care about and love so much.

I had just got off the phone with my mom, telling her how excited I was to see her this weekend for Christmas, and how much I love taking her to the movies and holding her hand. Within minutes of hanging up, I received the news of Rachel losing the war, against a tiny pill that was too much for her. My heart breaks right now, but like my father, there is a sense of peace in knowing that she is no longer suffering.

What it tells me is exactly what can happen in the event I choose to return to the life I used to live…well; actually it wasn’t really a life I lived. I was just an empty suit of skin with a shallow pulse, with no capacity for joy or love because I simply couldn’t stand myself.

I will watch the candle burn tonight…and remember how powerful the disease of addiction really is…God bless you Rachel, and thank you for being a part of my life…tz

“I am out in Las Vegas right now where my mother lives. I can remember in 2006 being blasted out of my mind, in such a hurry to take her to dinner, and get her home so I could run off and do all the things I had to do. All along I knew what I was doing was wrong, yet I couldn’t change the person I was. I had to keep using, I had to say sick, while simply hating the person I had become. I would hide out in these casinos playing two or three slot machines at a time, while drinking and chewing up Oxy’s like they were M&M’s. I would think to myself, “When will this cycle ever end? When will I just be able to just walk away from the drugs? When will I be able to just be present with my mom and enjoy her company without being under the influence?”

A lot of stuff had to happen in order to finally cave in and ask for help. Not only did the drugs have to stop working for me, but I had to get to that fork in the road that said, “take a left and maybe you will live” or “take a right, and keep using, where you will certainly die sooner than later”. That’s what it came down to for me, no bullshit.

I am smiling right now while sitting at Starbuck’s sipping on a coffee. Yesterday, Mom and I went to the movies to see “Marilyn”…and the wonderful part of it was I could hold her hand and walk her up and down the stairs, keeping an eye on her so she doesn’t fall and injure her bad knee. After a trip to Whole Foods we had dinner together, where we actually talked with no interruption for two hours, and I didn’t have to run off to some shitty casino, and I can actually recall the things we discussed.

This afternoon we are going to do it all over again, she wants to see “The Descendants” with George Clooney. As for me, I could care less what movie we are seeing, because I get to hold my mom’s hand at the
movie theater again today….it’s going to be a really good day…..tz

“I recently spoke at a high school in northern California, in front of about 220 students. It was an amazing group of young people that asked some questions that struck me like a bullet between the eyes. The honesty they expressed, while holding nothing back was at times mind blowing. I like it when people tell it like it is, good, bad, or indifferent. I have taken plenty of blows and bullshit from some people…we will always have critics, and the fact is I have zero say as to what somebody thinks about me. Recognizing that is key, but accepting it is at times a challenge…and it’s something I need to work at constantly.

One of the kids asked me, “How come you aren’t in prison? You just admitted you forged prescriptions!” I loved this 15 year old immediately. I calmly responded, “Thank goodness the statute of limitations has expired on that.” The boy then responded, “What’s that mean?” I smiled at him and said, “It means that I am not going to prison…but if life were fair I would be dead or in jail.”

The kids looked at me and you could hear a pin drop. It was dead quiet. A girl then cried uncontrollably, having amazing courage to share in front of the entire student body that she sees her brother struggling in his addiction to Oxycontin, and she said, “I have no idea why he does it…and he has no idea how much it’s hurting our family.” Her friends reached for her as the tears moved down her cheeks, and I was simply speechless. I had to take a step back, try to breathe, and feel the hurt that this sweet young girl was feeling. I said, “Deep down inside…I am pretty sure your brother is not liking what is happening…none of us as drug addicts will ever admit we are miserable until we are ready to do something about our problem.”

After the speaking was finished, and a series of questions were answered I was surrounded by a group of about twenty students. All of them asking questions that were smart, and brutally honest. At the tail end, I was getting my stuff together, and this precious, innocent 15 year old girl was weeping, unable to hold back her pain, she said, “I can’t stop taking the pills.”

I turned to stone, and thought to myself, “This is someone’s beautiful little girl…people love her…and she just can’t stop taking those pain pills.” I then reached out to embrace her, letting go I looked at her, and said, “I understand…I really do…I have been there…and I know you can get well…”

She couldn’t believe that it could happen, but felt at that moment the most important feeling that us as human beings need to all cling to at some point in our lives, and that is “Hope”…I left the school drained, emotionally and physically…but smiled most of my way back to the Sacramento airport, and all I could think of was that 15 year old girl who said “I just can’t stop.”…..I drove on and said aloud, “I totally related to every bit of what you are going through…and I only hope and pray for your recovery.”… TZ