From Sloth to Sober: One Man's Journey to Recovery

I was born into a great family. I have two older brothers who are good-looking and successful - think Tom Cruise and Ryan Reynolds. My two younger sisters are gracious and cool - picture Martha Stewart and the Devil Wears Prada. Then there was me - Sloth from the Goonies. I just didn’t fit in. Early on, I remember thinking, "What’s wrong with me?" I was somehow passed over when they handed out the instructions. Life was like a pop-quiz, and I didn’t even know what subject it was on. And I was also scared of everything – especially the future. While other kids were talking about Jimmy’s birthday party next weekend, I was thinking, “Will I have enough money for retirement?” I’m just wired differently. For example, I'd have a birthday party and 45 kids would show up, but I'd be in the bathroom crying because I didn’t think I had any friends. Nothing would make me feel okay with myself.

I got hurt a lot playing sports in high school and was prescribed pain pills. I seldom took them, except when I really needed them. Then came my first high school dance. I had hurt my ankle the day before and took some pain pills. Because I wanted to be cool and show off some fancy dance moves, I took a couple extra. And when I went to that dance - I didn't just go to that dance - I arrived at that dance! I remember every weird part of myself that I'd been missing showed up at the dance. And I was dancing. I was happy. I was so excited for the future. For the first time, I felt okay. I felt confident, handsome, and tall. I felt like I belonged. The next morning, I woke up and I was back to being me. My feelings of fear and self-loathing returned. I sought help from my religion and all I heard was that God was disappointed in me. At that moment, my relationship with God ended. If this is what God’s about, then I don’t want any part of it!

After high school, I got into an argument with my parents and hit the road. Because God was disappointed in me anyway, I thought I might as well do whatever I wanted. I’d drink alcohol and get drunk. I’d black out and hurt the people I loved. But all this damage didn’t make me an alcoholic. Alcohol changed the way I felt. I felt less pain and less loneliness. Maybe I could get through another day without killing myself. I was drinking to take away the pain of being me. You see, drinking to change how I was feeling is what makes me an alcoholic. It's not what alcohol does to me and the people I love, it's what it does for me.

The next ten years were a repeated cycle. I’d move to somewhere new, earn people's trust enough to get a job, and I’d try to control my drinking. But, six months in, my drinking would take over and I’d lose that job. Then I’d pick up and move to the next place, repeating the same pattern. Along the way, I got married but the cycle continued, though I tried harder to control my drinking. In one city, I got into an accident and hurt my back. That changed everything. I got addicted to pain killers and when I couldn’t afford them, I turned to heroin. I was stealing my wife’s money to pay for drugs. I kept telling her I’d get my life together. For a while, I did just that. We moved to California for a fresh start. I landed great jobs - real, proper jobs. We were living 5 minutes from the beach. I interviewed well and could land any job, but I just couldn’t keep it. I’d get jobs and lose jobs. And I wanted to die. Once, when I was unemployed, I met a homeless dude. He asked, “Hey, have you ever tried crack?” Well, I hadn't, so I tried it. Things went downhill fast, and thankfully for her, I left my wife. I became homeless.

With nowhere to go, I returned to my family who put me into treatment. But soon I got kicked out. I just wasn’t ready. I tried AA and worked it the way I thought it was supposed to be done. That is, I came to AA, went to a lot of meetings, but didn't do anything else. I got to a point where being sober was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Because without the alcohol and without the program, my untreated alcoholism almost destroyed me. Naturally, there was some good reason, some injustice that had been done to me, that made me pick up again. But then I got leveled out there. I was living in a car and I was just drinking: drinking, blacking out, waking up, drinking, blacking out, waking up. One day, I woke up to see this family playing in the park. I thought to myself, "Why can't I do what that man does? Why can't I have a family? Why can't I go to work? Why can't I do any of that?" And the thought came to me: it's because I'm powerless over alcohol. Because I can't stop drinking. Not only can I not stay sober, but my life is unmanageable from the inside out. My emotions and reactions to everything create an environment where I can't succeed or be happy. My life was never going to change. There was no hope for a guy like me. I didn’t know it until later, but that was when I admitted to my innermost self that I was a hopeless alcoholic. I still didn’t get sober, but something inside me had shifted.

One day, a guy I used with called and said, “Hey, I'm eight months sober, and I took advantage of you. I want to make it right. Can I buy you breakfast?” Actually, he was paying me back for a drug deal gone bad, but still, he was losing sleep over it. I didn’t have anything to eat, so I said yes. He sat down and paid the money back, knowing that I was going to buy drugs and alcohol with it. But he did it anyway because he needed to stay sober. He left, and when I went back to my car, I had my second step experience. I thought, "If he can do it, anybody can." With a small grain of hope, I went back to AA. I was still sleeping in my car, but I wanted to stay sober. I’d offer to mow someone’s lawn or clean their windows if they would let me sleep on their porch. Then a guy showed up in AA who had 13 days clean. At one time, he had 13 years and had been trying to get sober again for the past 4 years. He let me crash at his house. He took care of me and took me to meetings. This guy really looked out for me. We were talking one time, and he said to me, “You're one of the lucky ones because you've been given grace.” I replied, "I don't even know what that means." “Grace,” he said, “means you were given something you didn't deserve or have to earn." I recalled that gift of desperation I was given when I saw that family in the park. I thought of how God showed up as that guy who made amends to me at breakfast. These were things I didn't deserve or earn. They were just there for me.

I got a sponsor who took me through the steps. He told me to pray every day. When I called with a problem, he’d ask if I’d prayed about it yet. We worked the 4th and 5th step. I learned that I judged and blamed others to let myself off the hook. I was able to see how my problems were of my own making. I had harmed many people. The 8th and 9th steps have been the hardest and the most rewarding. It was humiliating, but I did them anyway. I had stolen a car from a drug dealer and needed to give it back. He said he was going to kill me, but I returned it anyway. One day I called my sponsor about the constant fear of what this guy might do to me. He said to do the next right thing. At that time, it was to go to my Saturday morning meeting. After the meeting, a guy grabbed me and said, “I heard what you did about that car. I need help.” That’s when I started to experience the promises.

By making my amends, I gained some integrity. I've become an honest man. I work hard. Alcoholics Anonymous gave me that. Staying sober, I was able to save some money to buy a house. I’m getting married again and I'm trying to move on. As I was almost ready to buy the place, I called my sponsor about it. He said, “That's awesome. You must have made those financial amends to your ex-wife.” I responded that I couldn't afford that right now, but after I buy my house, I'll pay her right away. He replied, “I wonder what it's going to be like living in a house you paid for with your ex-wife’s money.” So, I used the money to pay her back, and I didn't get the house. But I had peace of mind. I found freedom. After making these amends, I could finally answer the phone without fear.

Alcoholics Anonymous changed my life and gave me a reason to live. Everything was great, but one day I hit a bump and lost my job. My old fears of the future returned: My girlfriend would leave me, I’d become homeless, and my life would fall apart. Not knowing what else to do, I went to a meeting. There's a young guy sitting on the curb asking to bum a cigarette. It was like looking in the mirror. I asked if he had a job, and he said he didn’t. “Me neither,” I told him, “But we’re going to get one.” I bought him something to eat and gave him a big book. We started to work the steps together and took care of each other. It taught me that when I'm struggling, if I think of others and help them, I benefit too.

Alcoholics Anonymous has introduced me to a God who loves me. He's happy with the man I’ve become. I met my wife in AA. We have a house filled with laughter and love. I sponsor men in AA and share the gifts I’ve received. I say “yes” when AA asks something of me. I now work with my dad, and he's proud of me. My sister named her son after me. Such blessings don’t typically happen to someone like me, except through the grace I found in Alcoholics Anonymous.