I was born in Colorado on September 24th, 1981, to a loving family in the suburbs of South Denver.  The middle child of three, I was happy, beaming with curiosity and naive to the shape and direction my life would eventually take.  As a young child I was very particular, and it would become evident that my senses were heightened more than my peers.  Analyzing the sequence of events, it was also discovered my learning style didn’t fit the mold of the curriculum offered in public school.  I was a hands-on visual learner, taking photos in my mind to use as reference later.  I could piece things together in my mind, making sense of new ideas and concepts.  As I progressed through my early years in school, so did my disconnect from the so-called ‘norm’.  Almost everything in school began to sound like a foreign language.  With this, I continued to struggle with average grades and mediocre efforts.  The importance of what I was learning started to fade away.  I always felt like I might be a little different, but how?   

‍

While I was somewhat popular in school, I always felt uncomfortable, collecting small bits and pieces to gain confidence and independence.  This falsely began to define my identity, which was rarely my own.  My lack of satisfaction began to grow while searching for ways to fit in.  I played sports and was a little better than average. I was average in life, and all around, I just felt average.  Feeling average fell so far short of what I had envisioned satisfaction to look like around me.  I knew there was more.  My main interest soon became discovery through experimentation.  I began to find more interest in projects and activities outside of school, filling a void of inadequacy, depression, and anxiety. 

‍

No one ever told me I was inadequate with the exception of a few ignorant people.  However, it became one of many false pretenses developed by the critic inside.  This is one among many false ideologies I created while searching for my place.  I never felt like I had a particular path or objective; I just wanted to belong somewhere.  To feel needed or valuable subconsciously became my focus.  I was young, grasping to a feeling unknown while trying to develop self-confidence.  Filled with doubt, I began to develop strength within myself.  Endlessly searching, I would come up short every time of achieving the feeling I expected.  I wanted to feel different than I did without knowing what feeling I was looking for.  I simply knew I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin.   

‍

Sometime early in middle school, I began to broaden my experimentation with drugs and alcohol.  I had finally found something to make me feel different.  It was instant satisfaction, and I was eager to research more.  With little trepidation, I began to discover how easily available this sense of relief was.  It didn’t take long for me to find solace in the euphoria, including it in all my activities.  What began as a recreational experiment soon developed into part of the foundation in my daily life.  While still not physically dependent on substances, mentally, I had become obsessed with my next escape.  I found a new group of friends, a broad social circle, all with a common thread.  While most people can use in moderation, I always wanted more.  Most of my friends continued to maintain the recreational aspect, living normal lives, but I did not.  I had begun down a path filled with irrational decisions, manipulation, and deceit.  I would find myself in the unforgiving grip of addiction long before I realized what was happening. 

‍

As a teenager and into my early twenties, drinking and using drugs seemed to fit the mold as part of the college experience.  It was commonplace and all part of growing up, at least that's what I thought.  Before I was of legal drinking age, drugs were easy to come by.  As soon as I turned twenty-one, alcohol quickly became a regular part of my daily life.  Rarely would a day pass without a drink.  Up until this point I had little to no consequences and didn’t ever consider my habit as a problem.  I was a full-time college student and working full-time.  Stopping by the liquor store on my way home was part of the daily routine.  I started noticing I drank more frequently than my friends, larger amounts, and had a high tolerance given my size.  Progressively, it was taking more to achieve the same results.  Before long, certain aspects of my life began to shift.   

‍

I began noticing certain parts of my life being affected by my drinking and drug use.  My priorities started changing, grades in school began to suffer, and I became less reliable at work.  While I was mentally becoming dependent, I was beginning to become physically dependent, feeling shaky and sick in the mornings.  The only cure seemed to be more alcohol; I was reaching for the bottle in the morning to start my day.  I started isolating, drinking alone and making excuses to avoid obligations.  Finances shifted to ensure I would have enough money to afford my habit.  Rarely would I go twelve hours between drinks and driving under the influence daily.  Friends began to make comments and family was asking questions.  Money was always thin, often scraping together change to afford my next drink.  I found myself creating elaborate stories to cover up and hide the truth.  I found myself living a double life, often telling one lie to cover another.  It became a nightmare to keep my stories straight.   

As a few years passed, I began to feel the weight of my actions getting heavier.  I wanted help, but didn't know where to start.  At that point, I was lying to everyone about everything.  That is a feeling I will never forget.  I began to implode at an alarming rate, trying to suppress the negative thoughts associated with shame and guilt.  This carried on for months through my mid-twenties.  I simply could not do it anymore.  There was no hope, it seemed.  It was suggested that I go see a therapist to help work through my issues.  As I proceeded to get a counselor, thinking nothing of it, that would become the very beginning of my road to recovery, and I was willing. 

‍

The therapist asked me why I was there, so I began to lay it all out there.  Before we ended our first session, he asked me to write down everything I thought was a problem and bring the list to the following appointment.  I did as he requested and went back to talk about all my problems.  I handed him the piece of paper full of what I considered problems. I barely left any room on the paper, and it resembled a spotlight of the chaos occupying my head.  After briefly glancing through my list, he circled two topics: alcohol and drugs.  He handed back the list and said with astounding certainty, “If we can get those two topics resolved, most of the other problems would subside or completely go away”.  That seemed like nonsense, but I was willing to look at it. He suggested I try some moderate drinking and report back next week.  The following week, he asked how my week was and if I had tried to drink in moderation or go a day without alcohol.  I drank the same, if not more, over the week.  After a few more weeks of experimenting, I realized what he was doing, and I admitted I was powerless.  He revealed that he was in recovery for over thirty years and asked if I knew about AA.  He told me about a few AA meetings in the area.  So, I went to discover AA (more about that later).  With only a little knowledge, I found a meeting, but I simply wasn’t ready.  I went off for some more research. 

‍

Things got worse over the years, often finding myself reaching for the safety button and in the same unfortunate predicaments.  I was bouncing from state to state scared shitless.  I was exploring new cultures, trying to run away from myself, an endeavor which was destined to fail.  I worked off and on, earning decent money and spending it as fast as it was coming in.  As I reflected on my life at that time, I was blatantly reckless and selfish among my peers and family.  After thirteen treatment centers and countless medical detox facilities you would think surrender was imminent, and to some degree it was.  For nearly half my life, I was playing with fire, knowing the danger. I added a splash of gasoline when everything was going well.  Self-sabotage is my middle name. Afraid of failure and success, I had become proficient at rebuilding my life to a certain degree.  Relapse is part of my story; it doesn’t have to be in yours.   

‍

I am fortunate to be alive, considering the abuse my mind and body endured.  With periods of sobriety off and on without proper support, time becomes exhausting.  Due to my ego and pride, fulfilling commitments and obligations became a selfish chore.  I have had everything and lost everything in the blink of an eye.  Nurturing a toxic level of self-sabotage with no idea why it became comforting, it was something I was familiar with.  I was hopeless and I wanted help, to feel something resembling happiness and freedom within. I was beginning to embed myself in a new life surrounded by people with structure, balance, and productive lifestyles.  Though my circle became smaller, it is much stronger than ever before. 

‍

When I look at patterns of instability, it becomes a clear step: keep it simple and choose which road to go down. What is simple for most people left me in a battle of familiar scenarios.  Fear of the unknown, lacking logic and reason brings me to my knees time after time. I am tested every day, wondering if I was going to sink or swim.  Fighting my inner strength to grow sometimes leaves me scratching my head, waiting to implode.  I'm finding it to be much easier to surrender my will each day with hope, honesty, and willingness. There are always going to be temptations and uncomfortable situations that arise.   

‍

These days, my thoughts are better to talk through, accessing a focused, clear train of thought.  I have everything I need.  Relationships are more meaningful.  It comes with a path of honest and genuine social experiences to further my belief in people as well as their daily life's purpose.  Although it becomes tough to handle for most, it is quite docile.  Things aren’t always rainbows and butterflies, being present to create my ongoing dialogue that feels strong.  I no longer run away from my problems. I use coping skills to tackle them one at a time. 

Something to note, after years of neglect, it is my turn to heal and dig deep.  My mental state and body have been a punching bag, always ready to help anyone in need. 

‍

My recovery has been turbulent, but I have a strong support network I can rely on.  Summing up the last few years, I'm lucky to be alive.  It is an eye-opening glimpse of what my future has in store.  I go to doctors' appointments with an open mind, hope, and willingness to do what's best as I move forward. Tough at times, it’s the reality for me trying to continue while operating in the red.  Time will tell as I move forward, not knowing and feeling things clearly are a mess.  I work to search for answers while time seems to stand still.  Within the bubble, I'm comfortable, and so many do not have access to that. I stay present, taking the time to embrace the little things.  I lean hard on my faith and family, medical professionals, and my relationship with Nicole to keep me grounded.  Today is about the little things; take time for yourself to prosper in them.  They add up to big things.  Just get up and move, one thing at a time, and learn something new every day.