“Going into high school the progression of my disease acted quickly and within the first month I was in trouble for stealing a car at a dance and being drunk. I was suspended and quickly found out that whenever I got in trouble at school I didn’t have to go to school, and I liked that a lot. I got suspended quite a bit or I would just decided not to go at all. Going from being a starting pitcher as freshman to quitting the sport all together truly showed that baseball wasn’t my first love anymore. Drugs and alcohol were more important. They were more important than not only sports, but also my family and any other relationships I had.”


“The group of friends I had in high school were all really involved in a particular music scene which brought us all over the country to see them play. What came along with that was more and more drugs in their purest form. So by the end of high school I had traveled to 42 states and done just about every drug under the sun. I expected that this is how I would live my life, traveling, listening to music, and getting high. It took me five years to graduate high school, luckily I was able to graduate at all. At this time I had moved along to psychedelics and prescription pills and I started noticing that other people my age around me had all these plans after leaving school. I never had one of those, no dreams or aspirations. My remedy for that was to not think about it and continue to drink and get high which sounded like a good enough plan for me. I never really saw myself doing much with my life or really living long enough for it to matter. No dreams of a family, or a job, or kids. None of that seemed possible.”


“As my addiction and alcoholism progressed, so did my mothers. At this time I was 24 years old, my father had divorced my mother, my sister had moved out to live with my father, and I was a full blown heroin addict, using cocaine benzos regularly. It was just me and my mother and I remember getting so angry with her about why she couldn’t just stop drinking, yet I would go upstairs after yelling at her to shoot a half a gram of heroin. I remember during this time coming home from work, when I could still hold a job, and at this point my mother had dwindling down to under 100 pounds. We got into an argument in which I said some incredibly mean and hurtful things to her about her drinking and went upstairs with a gram of heroin in my pocket. I got high, and overdosed. I feel out for around 3 hours and when I came to I went downstairs to find my mother on the floor. This was somewhat a normal thing to see when living with an alcoholic but this time she wasn’t breathing. I recall very vividly trying to give my mother CPR, the sound that the air made when it came back through her lungs and out her mouth. My disease is so strong when Im using that the first thing I did was call 9-1-1 and then the second thing I did was step over her body and get high leaving her there alone not the cold floor. My mother dying sent me into a really bad depression and cause my disease to skyrocket for the next few years which brought me to new lows that I didn’t know I could reach.”


“I continued on for another 5 years, my whole 20’s and into my 30’s were spent on probation, in and out of treatment programs, multiple detoxes, methadone clinics anywhere from 6 months to 2 years at a time, 6 times on suboxone, and now looking back, I was always just looking for a quick fix. I didn’t want to have to face this thing head on, I always wanted to go around it or take the easy way out. Hard work was not in my vocabulary. I kept coming up with dirty urines for probation and was looking at 2 1/2 years of jail. Ultimately my probation officer gave me an options of treatment of jail. The disease in my head told me maybe jail wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t remember exactly how but I came back to reality long enough to decide to go to treatment. Entering into treatment things were different this time. I was in such physical, mental, and spiritual pain but for the first time in a long time I didn’t want to die. I just started begging something to help me. My first prayer was “PLEASE FUCKING HELP ME”. Things started to change. One day turned into two days. I started listening and then actually putting into action what I needed to do.”