Chapter 8 · Another chance to live

I experienced several moments in my life that could have been considered "the bottom" for me. There were situations that felt like they couldn't get any worse — and then they did. There were times when I felt like I almost had it and was coming around — followed by a devastating relapse and a series of terrible decisions.

My last experience with the law happened to be a life-saving situation for me. I was wasting away on the third floor of my mother's house, having bad experience after bad experience. I had been smoking crack daily, using ecstasy often, and taking OxyContin every couple of hours, without limits. I was selling all of these substances to try and make enough money to put my life back together, but kept sliding into debt because I could not stop getting high on my own supply. I would start working at a new job and lose it within a week because I couldn't handle working while getting high. I was falling apart. I was feeling lost and hopeless.

I got a call from a friend who wanted to buy some cocaine from me, so I went to meet him up the street away from my mother's house. I showed up at Dunkin' Donuts prepared to make a normal deal with an old friend, but was surprised by the all-too-familiar face of a local police officer.

I had spent many years on probation, and at the time I was under the impression that it was over, but I quickly found out that I was mistaken when I was arrested for a probation violation, compounded by new charges for the sale of narcotics. My friend — who has since passed away due to his own untreated addiction — had previously been involved with the police and they had used him to get to me.

I ended up in jail again with a new set of consequences hanging over my head. I had spent many years of my life in prison, and I was used to it, but this time it offered me something a little different. This time it offered me safety from my life and some forced sobriety. I was given some time to sit with my thoughts. This led me to the conclusion that I, and the ones who loved me, were safer with me in jail. I could cause them less harm and damage from in there.

I embraced the idea of being a full-time convict, and started to get more involved in jail politics and creating a reputation for myself. I worked out daily, shaved my head, and grew my goatee into a point on my chin. I am 6'3" and I weighed roughly 250 pounds at the time. I was considering some jailhouse tattoos, and I started a gambling operation to pay for my canteen. I was about to push all my chips into the pot and go all in. I was planning to stay.

I decided to read the Bible for some reason. I guess I just had a lot of time on my hands and I always wanted to read it, even if I wasn't sure that I believed what was inside. I got as far as Kings and gave up. But apparently that was as far as I needed to get in order to have an experience.

I remember one night lying in my bunk thinking about my life and letting my mind drift around. I suddenly began to realize that, although staying in jail would be the easy way out, I still had a life to get back to. I still had a life that I wanted to keep.

With a renewed desire to get back to my life, I started looking into my case and what could be done to get out. I asked my family to help me sell my car so that I could bail myself out and try to fix this mess one last time. I managed to persuade an old friend to buy my car. My mother and my little brother were forced to meet up with a pretty scary friend of mine to make the sale, which they said felt more like a drug deal than the sale of a car.

I bailed myself out and was released to face my other charges. I was free again, standing outside of the Lynn District Court, barely fitting into my court clothes, with a freshly-shaved head and a pointy beard. I was uncomfortable and I didn't feel like I belonged out here. I felt like an animal that had just been released from the zoo. I remember getting picked up and brought back to my mother's house temporarily, and I eventually ended up moving into my brother's house up the street.

I tried to get high a couple more times without much success. I smoked some cocaine and tried to shoot heroin again, but it just didn't work like it had in the past. I didn't enjoy the high this time. I think that I was just done.

I didn't try to get high again until much later, when I approached my primary care doctor regarding some pain-related concerns. With some discussion and some previous experience with the drug, I was able to convince him to give me Suboxone "for pain". I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I could justify it to myself and to other people. I used these pills for years and created a way of life that seemed manageable while I was using them. I worked, I lived, I loved, I was available, but I was still sick inside. I felt "sober" but I still had an untreated illness that was being masked by my use of Suboxone.

I was able to maintain this situation for quite a while before finally feeling so terrible about my "sobriety" that I decided to seek out some real help. I needed more help than just taking a medication every day that kept my symptoms at bay.

I reached out to a friend that I knew was in recovery, someone who really knew about my situation, and he drove me to a detox, threw away all of my pills, and ripped up my stash of prescription refills (all except my super-secret just-in-case stash, which was still at home just in case the detox did not work). I went into detox for six days and was pretty hopeful that I would be fine until my little sister picked me up from detox and I was still feeling sick.

I went to my dad's house in Maine to get away for a little while. I was trying to hide long enough to battle the withdrawals, but my addiction won and I drove home, back to my just-in-case stash and my Suboxone. It turned out that withdrawing from Suboxone was actually harder and took much longer than withdrawing from heroin, so this ended up being quite a battle. It sucked, and the symptoms felt insurmountable at the time, but eventually I did it, and I was finally able to get to the other side of the withdrawal symptoms. I felt free!

Now it began. Now my recovery could finally happen. Immediately I was introduced to the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous in a way that I had never experienced before. I was told that I could get well, that I could become a recovered person, that I could heal, and I was very interested.

I had a guide, my sponsor. He would read to me out of the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous, and explain in detail how to get well. I was able to use this process to reach inside of myself and realign my moral compass. I was able to find a new version of myself, one that was now comfortable in my own skin.

I was finally able to accept who I was and what I had done. I was no longer running from myself, and I was able to face the world.

I was finally free from my addiction. I had transformed my life and was able to handle what life had to offer, both good and bad. I was able to start my life again. But I had to start over in the body of a 32-year-old man with the emotional capacity of a teenager. I had to develop new life skills on a daily basis. Luckily, I was able to use my recovery support network to help me do this. I had peers who understood me, I had support from others who had been through my battle. I had guidance, direction, and support.

I had to do many things over again in my thirties. I had to learn how to sleep again after years of knocking myself out at the end of the day with drugs and alcohol. I had to learn how to be social again without asking people to get high or go out for a drink. I had to come up with ways to tell people about my new life, and my new choices, without trying to sell it to them, or spending too much time trying to help them understand. I had to practice being a human being again. I had to practice listening to people, trying to understand them, and putting them first. I had to find creative ways to become useful and find a sense of purpose in my life beyond just breathing and the obsessive-compulsive consumption of drugs and alcohol.

My recovery became the foundation on which my life and my career have been built. My recovery has given me the strength and the ability to rebuild my life and become the best version of myself that I can be. It has given me the ability to feel the great pains and pleasures of facing life on its own terms. I have had the chance to grow from the many character-building opportunities I have faced in my recovery, and I have been able to use those opportunities to better myself and to be useful to others.

My recovery was about more than just not using drugs anymore. My recovery was bigger than "how to stay sober". My recovery was about learning how to be a person again, learning how to love again, learning how to be loved again, and learning how to be useful again.

Early on in my recovery, I recognized that I had developed the ability to be helpful when talking to family members who had a loved one battling addiction. I was able to carry over some of the knowledge and experience I had accumulated as an active addict, and I was finally able to use my powers for good to help people in need. I was able to be useful, and I felt like I had found my purpose in life. I was the hacker who now works for the cyber unit of the FBI, or the burglar who now works at an alarm company. I was a retired professional addict who was now working for struggling families.

Upon starting my company, I immediately recognized unmet needs within this industry. I began approaching families directly, instead of trying to work with addicts and alcoholics individually. I created a family-focused addiction recovery service, and I developed and pioneered many programs and workshops grounded in this philosophy. Since January 1, 2009 I've had the pleasure of working with thousands of families battling with these issues.

Over the years I have learned many things about addiction, about families, and even about myself. I've learned that not everyone with a problem wants to solve it. I've learned that just as the addict or alcoholic needs time to feel the consequences of their addiction before they are willing to change, so will the family need to watch their loved one struggle before they may be ready to take action. I have learned that there is no casual way to deal with addiction. I have learned that there is no gentle or easy way to get to the other side of this, and that it can be very messy and painful for everyone involved.

As of this writing, I'm still working with families every day, and every day that I am able to work with families is still a blessing. I am blessed with the opportunity to step in and adjust the way that a family system approaches their loved one. I am blessed with the trust that these families have in me to help them deal with this delicate situation. I am grateful for the opportunity to educate families and loved ones about addiction and open their eyes to the impact that it has on their family system. I am grateful in my recovery, for all that I can now offer. I am grateful that I have another chance to live.