From Addiction to Living - And Everything In-Between

There wasn’t one big, dramatic moment that started my addiction. I don’t have any major trauma or a broken home.  I had, what I would call, an above-average and extremely blessed childhood.  It crept in slowly. I wasn’t the guy sleeping on a park bench or getting arrested every weekend. I had a job, responsibilities, and a life that looked functional from the outside. But inside, I was unraveling, slowly. 

Alcohol became the solution to everything. Anxiety? Drink. Boredom? Drink. Celebrating? Definitely drink. I told myself I had it under control. I told other people I had it under control. I believed that lie even when the consequences started piling up, missed opportunities, strained relationships, and a version of myself I barely recognized.

Ultimately, I didn’t believe my lie anymore.  I knew…I knew I had a problem, but was yet to be convinced I couldn’t fix it on my own.  As time went on, I began to find that I didn’t even recognize myself, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  Physically, I was a wreck, constantly shaking, unless I was drunk. My face was bloated and red.  Mentally, I couldn’t remember the last time I had a clear or conscious thought.  I didn’t care anymore, once a person with deep passions and very sensitive, I had become a shell of a man. Emotionally, well, this was a state of constant anxiety.  Whether I was anxious about the next drink, how I would pay the next bill, or convincing myself no one else knew I had a problem.  I was a wreck. 

That wasn’t all that occupied my bottom, lies, tons and tons of lies.  Some were mere white lies about not having a drink that day and others, well, let's just say these lies are some of the things I still grapple with today.  Those lies are some of the few regrets that remain.

Like a lot of people who struggle with addiction, I was the last to admit it. Friends and family voiced concerns, but I brushed them off. “I’m fine.” “I’m just stressed.” “It’s not that bad.” You know the lines.  For the purpose of this story and my personal journey, I will talk a lot about drinking and alcohol.  This isn’t about the alcohol; if you relate to the story but not the drink, replace it with your vice.  It's not about the substance, it's about the behavior. 

But eventually, things got bad enough that even I couldn’t ignore it. There was a moment, my personal bottom, where I had to face the truth: I was going to drink till I died or get help.  I think it's important for you to know that I didn’t just wake up one morning with this realization.  It took my parents showing up at my townhome on the request of my then-girlfriend.  

Here's how that went.  My parents showed up, I was drunk in a chair, going on about how I was going to travel the world or some nonsense, still convinced they didn’t know anything bad was going on.  Ultimately, I ended up at their house that night. It didn’t take long for the alcohol to wear off, and the detoxing began.  To keep it short, 3 days in the ICU followed, and what followed that, my first olive branch…my parents' willingness to financially help me with treatment, I just had to find the place. 

So I chose help. I chose to give it a try.

Going to treatment didn’t fix everything overnight. It wasn’t a clean break or a single epiphany. It was hard and it was scary. 

I wasn’t successful in treatment.  I went through the motions, talked the talk, and flew under the radar.  I made some friends who seemed to be doing it right, and for a while after treatment, I tagged along with them.  I wasn’t drinking, but I wasn’t doing much else to help myself. 

The first relapse came shortly after distancing myself from them.  I don’t remember where, what, or why I drank, but I can tell you that at that time, I still didn’t have a reason not to drink.  By now, I had lost everything, the car had been repossessed, I’d lost my job, and my bank account was empty.  I couldn’t go back to the friends I had before starting this journey, and I was too ashamed to turn to the friends I made in sobriety. 

I wasn’t given much choice at this point, but one thing was for certain: I had burned my last bridge (or so I thought) with my family.  My options were clear: go back to treatment or continue drinking on the streets.  In what I call my first “God Shot” or “Hell”, it depends on how you want to look at it.  I ended up in Denver Cares Detox (Denver Scares, if you know you know) and discovered their free treatment program, TRT.  This place was a long way from what I was used to. Communal living, controlled “fresh air” breaks (the only time we got outside), a bed that resembled a yoga mat, and food that was, well, I'll just say it filled you up. 

Fast forward 90 days, and I completed the program.  I found a job and an apartment with more help from my parents, and I was BACK!  I did the same thing I did last time. I stayed connected for a bit, but after falling out with my boss, I went right back to my old ways…stressed, let's have a drink.  It didn’t last long before my family was bailing me out again. My Brother showed up with my mom and packed up the apartment I had been evicted from.  

I ended up back in Denver Cares, basically living there.  I had nowhere else to go and felt like I was out of options. Here's “God Shot” #2, I ran into a buddy from Denver Cares who was there attending a meeting.  He took one look at me and said,“I’ve got the place for you, man”.  He gave me a phone number to a sober living, and once again, with the help of my parents, I was BACK!

I'll wrap it up now.  In sober living, I flourished, I was going to meetings, I was managing the house, and soon I was even working for them.  But like all other times, I got back on my feet and didn’t change anything, or rather, I stopped doing what I knew and was told I needed to do.  This time was different, though, I met a girl!  Life was good, we moved in together, and soon enough, we were engaged.  And…soon enough after that, I was drinking again.  Same thing, I don’t know why I was drinking, this time I had every reason not to, and even more to lose. 

After my most recent relapse, my then-finance, now wife, gave me an ultimatum.  I either did it the right way, did the work, got honest, and started to repair, or she was out.  If you met my wife, you too would have probably been in the same position I was, do whatever it takes not to lose her.

Here's the thing about Sobriety: it is so much more than just not drinking.  My Sponsor always says, “If everyone practiced the 12 steps and the 12 commandments, the world would be a better place”.  Couldn’t be more true.  It's about the work, it's about finding out why we drink and how do we rediscover ourselves. In all those relapses were lessons (some refer to them as failures), but I just wasn’t ready for them.  Not drinking is the ticket to admission.  There are a lot of people who punch that ticket and stay on that ride their whole life, most people refer to them as dry drunks.  

Simply said, recovery isn’t just about not drinking.  It’s about building a life that makes drinking unnecessary.  I started to understand that, but I wasn’t ready for everything in between.  

• The boundaries my family and friends set weren’t them abandoning me, they were guides for us to maintain our relationship and guide me toward the right path. 
• The friends I said I couldn’t turn back to, I could have, I was just ashamed and afraid.  Had I gotten honest and humble, admitted my wrongs, and asked for forgiveness, they would have welcomed me with open arms. 
• Honesty is always best.  You know the saying “the truth always comes out”, yep, that's true.
• The support I had from my family and friends was a gift.  Not many people get that, and for that, I will never take it for granted. 
• The work never ends.  I am not perfect, I am broken, and that is ok.  

I like to refer to the first two years of my recent sobriety as “peeling back the onion”.  I had so many layers of protection, coping, and lies that I forgot who I was.  At first, I was running a race, wondering when I would be at the finish line, racing to achieve the ultimate goal of “I’m healed”.  I don’t know how many times I came home and said “I’ve figured it out,” thinking I had cracked the code, I understand, and now I’m good.  Oh, how frustrating it was the next time I felt myself being anxious, insecure, or unsure.  I’m not sure when I realized it, but at some point, I figured out that there was no finish line, there was no ultimate “healed,” and I would never be perfect.  Really, the goal was these couple of things for me. 

• Step 1 every morning
• Not Drink
• Do my best to be my best version
• Be Humble
• Be grateful for everything.  Find the good in what you can and find the lessons when you need to. 
• Own the mistakes I WILL make and do my best to fix them
• Be honest with others and myself
• Remember, it's not all about me. Find a way to be selfless

I fail at one or several of these every day.  All except one, not drink.  That is probably the longest promise I have held to date.  I will not drink. 

I began to realize something important: recovery isn’t just about not drinking. It’s about building a life that makes drinking unnecessary.

After getting some time sober and working with others in the community, I kept seeing the same pattern over and over: people wanted help but didn’t know where to start. They were overwhelmed, isolated, or just exhausted from trying and failing on their own. I knew that feeling all too well.

So I started Step One Recovery Resources. A bridge. A place where people can come and easily find the help they need.  We don’t tell you what is right for you, we don’t give you your specific recovery road map, but we will provide you with the options you have.  We’ll provide them in a clear, easy-to-understand, and navigate way.  We’ll show you what paths are available, we’ll give you the info and encouragement, but the first step is yours to take. 

Recovery is hard enough, we’re here to make it a little less hard.

First off, I think it is important to say that building a life worth not drinking over doesn’t mean it's perfect, that doesn’t mean it's easy, and it doesn’t mean I have everything I want.  For me, it just means that a life lived sober is always better than a life lived drunk.  It means I’ve found happiness in who I am, what I stand for, and what I am trying to do. 

So, my life today.  Maybe we start with the 30,000-foot view.  I am a husband, a father, a son, a brother, and a friend.  All of these things I get to show up and be present for.  One of the best parts of my sobriety and fatherhood, my son never has to see me drink.  All that anxiety, wondering if my family knows or if my friends have caught on, is gone.  My biggest concerns in my relationships are no longer where I stand or if my actions last night hurt someone.  They are really just centered around whether I am showing up the best way I can.  

Today, I do a lot of work on myself. Today, it's less about how do I stay sober and more about how I maintain it and grow.  I meet with a therapist, and my wife and I see a couples counselor.  These two things to me used to mean that I had major problems and my relationship was in ruins.  That's not the case.  I meet with a therapist to discover and understand all the nuances that make me who I am, then take that info and be my best version. My wife and I meet with a counselor to improve the areas we struggle with.  Remember I said that a life worth not drinking over isn’t perfect, neither is our relationship.  It's still one I wouldn’t trade for the world, but it takes work.  And that’s okay. Because today, I’m willing to do the work. I want to have the best marriage possible, and if someone can help me see it through my wife's lens, get out of my way, and show up fully for her, I'm in. I show up for the hard conversations. I own my part. I listen, even when I want to shut down. And sometimes I still do shut down, but now I circle back. I try again. That's the difference.

In recovery, I’ve learned that relationships, whether with my wife, my son, my family, or friends, aren’t about being perfect. They’re about being present. And being present, for me, is something sobriety has made possible.

Professionally, I get to pour my energy into something that matters. Step One Recovery Resources isn’t just a project or a business. It’s personal. It’s meaningful. It’s a daily reminder of where I’ve been and where I get to go now. Every time I connect with someone who’s struggling to take that first step or know what to do, I remember the chaos, the fear, the hopelessness, and I get to be part of the solution. Not because I have all the answers, but because I’ve been there, and I stayed sober long enough to learn how to live.

I’ve also learned how to rest. How to go slow. How to say no when I need to. I used to run myself into the ground trying to prove something, trying to outrun whatever I was afraid to face. These days, I’m trying to stay grounded instead. I value peace more than I value being right. I value connection more than control. And I value the quiet, steady joy that comes with just living honestly.

Of course, I still have days when I feel off. I still have doubts. I still get impatient, insecure, or overwhelmed. But the difference today is, I don’t drink over it. I don’t have to.

I have people. I have tools. I have a life that matters to me. And I have this deep, settled belief that I didn’t use to have: that I’m enough. That this life, with all its imperfections and messy middle parts, is worth protecting. Worth staying present for. Worth staying sober for.

That’s my life, the life where drinking isn’t necessary. The one I never thought I’d get to have. And the one I wouldn’t trade for anything.

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