Could any former alcoholics or drug abusers share their story?

Sharing one’s journey with alcoholism or drug abuse is vulnerable and personal, but it can also be healing and helpful to those in situations similar to those of your past self. Some of our readers have shared their stories with alcohol and drug abuse. Keep reading to learn more about their lives and what helped them get to where they are now.

Do You Want to be Happy?

I was born into a family where drugs and alcohol were common things. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were not getting high right in front of me, but over time it was fairly easy to figure out what was going on. This is also the reason that I grew up in the meeting rooms of AA. I have always found it ironic that my childhood was spent listening to the woeful tales of other addicts and despite this, I still was destined to spin my own.

I set my world on fire at a young age. Drinking, getting high, and having late-night adventures terrorizing the city streets were part of daily life for a long time. How I never got expelled from school is anyone’s guess. Especially considering that I had an ambulance called on me midday during class because of an overdose. However, my brush with death in front of the entire school did not deter me from continuing to self-destruct. It only added to my over-the-top ego and made me think I was invincible. My mother decided that she no longer wanted to be on this earth a short time later and that is when things went from bad to worse. No longer was I just a teenage rebel looking for thrills: I was running. Running from the pain, running from uncertainty, and mostly running from myself.

Heroin, painkillers, alcohol, and anything I could get my hands on soon became the guiding force in my life. Every decision was made based on whether or not it would interfere with my drug habit. I started using a needle and things got worse. The next ten years were a nightmarish blur of violence, crime, and loss. There were some close calls, countless nights in jail, and the overdoses of people close to me that I was now trying to forget with as many chemicals as possible. Over the years I graduated from petty crimes to felonies and soon found myself on the run, living on the streets of Albuquerque, NM. At this point, everyone in my life that had any sense wanted nothing to do with me. I felt hopeless, lost, and constantly looking over my shoulder. A reasonable person could see that I had hit rock bottom and that I needed to get help, to make a change in my life, but a reasonable person I was not.

However, The State of New Mexico made that decision for me after I got caught stealing a candy bar. The candy bar was just the match to tinder. I was on the run for multiple felonies and my past had finally caught up with me. I quickly learned that I was destined to spend the next few years locked inside a box wearing an orange jumpsuit. While the experience was not something I would recommend as a good time, it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I had no choice, sitting there alone, to face the demons I had been trying to ignore for so many years.

Luckily, I soon found myself in the company of a few other men who were trying to turn things around and live a better life. I’m not sure this is the typical experience for someone when they get locked up and I am eternally grateful that it was for me. In the beginning, I wanted nothing to do with “recovery.” It never worked for my mother, in fact, the way I saw it, this is what made things worse for her. There was a heart filled with resentment inside of me and I couldn’t let it go. Aside from that, recovery sounded lame and cheesy. I thought it was for weak people.

This all changed with one question.

Do you want to be right? Or do you want to be happy?

I had to decide, did I want to go on to the grave? To continue down this miserable path out of spite and resentment for the things that had happened? Or did I want to try something new, to sit down and listen for once in my life?

Up until this point, I thought I had everything figured out. Still, somewhere deep inside I knew that this was not what life was supposed to be and that things could get better. So in that concrete cell, with the metal toilet and scratched-up sink, I made a choice. I wanted to be happy.

I was finally ready to listen and accept help. I did all the cheesy recovery stuff that I was told to do. The funny part: it worked.

Things are different today, and I’m happy. By no means am I a perfect person, and life still has its ups and downs, but I can deal with them as they come. I have healthy relationships with the people around me, and I know I can count on them when things get rough. Currently, I am a Certified Peer Support Worker who is on his way to a Master’s degree. I’m working for change and growth, not only in my own life but for anyone who is struggling with addiction. The best part is, I am ok with just being myself. That is the great gift of recovery, available to anyone who dares venture into the unknown in search of a better life.

From Fun to Self-Medicating

I have been to over 20 treatment centers; I stopped counting after 15. I had a successful career in marketing and landed my dream job with the NFL. However, my marriage was toxic and my relationship with substances turned from fun to self-medicating.

I didn’t want to be present in my life. It started with alcohol and within a few years I found myself in Kensington using fentanyl. Finally, I refused to go back to treatment and started studying what I did to my brain. I started researching dopamine and how to increase that naturally.

I now advocate for change. For years I thought I was broken, when in fact I was a product of a broken system and I am determined to fix that system.