S
stephan11
Guest
hello i'm new(in every way). just thought i could help someone with addiction, here's a short story. My disease of addiction became a living hell, stopping life dead in its tracks. No longer was I able to grow mentally, spiritually or emotionally. It destroyed and threatened relationships with everyone around me, creating havoc with my parents and wife, while neglecting and endangering my children. I was playing Russian roulette with my life. I spent money extravagantly and made foolish financial decisions. I took risks while driving and operating heavy equipment. I led my son into his own addiction by example and by telling him “if you just smoke pot you will be okâ€Â. How sick was I?
Early on my disease became active when I was 19, toying with pot and alcohol. By the time I was 20, I discovered cocaine and soon afterward I began smoking freebase. At 21 years old my addiction was raging, I lost everything I owned. Including the car I purchased one year earlier that I traded to my coke dealer for previous fronts. After hitting bottom, I decided to move back home with my parents, broke and hopeless. My father offered me a job in the orchard and I took the opportunity. At that point there was no hope of ever becoming a professional photographer with my focus on drugs.
A year later I got married at 24 and by the time I was 25 my wife became concerned with the amount I was drinking. I told her “Don’t worry about it, if it becomes a problem, ill be the first to do something about it, ok? Its not your problem, plus I need something to calm me down after a day in the ‘War Zone’â€Â. The “War Zone†was a day at work with dad. “Besides I don’t drink that much anyway – a six pack a night?? C’mon†I became a master of deception and denial in short order.
I used pot and alcohol throughout my marriage until Kay, my wife, asked me to stop drinking at the age of 41, drinking a 12-pack of beer or more daily. I agreed to stop drinking, but promptly switched to cocaine. At first I used it in small amounts, and it soon became my drug of choice over pot and alcohol. Cocaine became my savior, a lifestyle for me. I could get up with it. I could diet with it. I could sleep with it. It became everything for me and more. I could work hard, function daily, and what could be better than that? I used cocaine for four years daily until my tolerance went up.
By the time I was 46 I was up to a half ounce every 5 or 6 days, until I became paranoid, sexually overcharged, and hallucinating, both visually and audibly. At night, I was convinced at least 3 people were on the roof of my house and peering into my windows at night over the eve. It was like clockwork that it happened every night. During the day everything was normal, no hallucinations, no sounds-operation normal. I was freaked and spent every night listening and watching for the intruders. I walked around the house slowly peering around every corner. I even saw one guy run away outside the house after the dog barked. I thought how could this not be real. And even after I looked for tracks in the dirt and couldn’t find any, I was still convinced they were there. I was sure I could catch them. I stayed up for three nights in a row, worked full days simultaneously, then slept the 4th night. This was my pattern for a month and a half. I was obsessed repeating this insane behavior over and over again.
Looking back on my relapse, from previous treatment, I must have had shit in my ears. What was I thinking? But in reality its how my disease affected, tricked, and trapped me. I understand now that’s why they call it recovering and not recovered or cured. All it took was to smoke a little pot or drink a little beer and the door to the “cocaine train†was wide open-hitting me right between the eyes.
I started using to fend off the fatigue of 100 hour work weeks. Initially I thought I could control it, and nobody would know. I just needed a little boost to get me through a busy time on the ranch. If I just used a little for a week or two I could quit and everything would be fine. I justified it all because if I could use pot and beer moderately for 2 years after treatment the first time, why not small amounts of coke? A drug is a drug, right? Tricked again by my addiction, over and over. I rationalized my way right back into addiction and I obtained the same level of destruction within four months that I had developed over 5 years of use before. It was a raging addiction once again. I was obsessed with sex and porn while using cocaine and it most certainly became my drug of choice. Bad morals? No. Bad disease? Yes.
There it was proof positive a pattern had been established. Cocaine and all the obsessions that go along with my disease had been repeated. At this point I was so toxic that I refused treatment even after a family intervention. How selfish my disease made me risking everything and I didn’t even care. The horrific part of the sanity was that my addiction outweighed my will to live in terms of importance within my life. In my mind I was ok with the fact that I didn’t care about getting better. I was hungry for cocaine.
In retrospect, I was lucky I guess, but probably blessed by God to escape virtually unharmed physically, but the price I paid mentally, spiritually, and emotionally was very high. I'm lucky to be alive. I'm sure a heart attack or stroke was just around the corner. God and my family gave me a second chance. But even then at the offer I refused help by convincing myself and my family that I could quit on my own. After all I had quit so many times before I could do it again. Twenty nine years of use was proof enough for me that I could quit. No longer was it I who was the master of deception. It was my disease.
Justification was my best friend and worst enemy. It followed me everywhere in and out of recovery. It was pure denial. Denial when I was young in my use and denial at its peak, why couldn’t I see? Why couldn’t I help myself? I was going crazy, remember it’s the disease, its how it works you. And during my short-lived recovery, remembering any of the ugliness of my 5 year stint with cocaine had all gone away. It was just so hard for me to remember. How did I forget about my disease? Just remember Stephan, “damn- it, just rememberâ€Â!
Shortly before I left for treatment in Chelan, my wife Kay suspected there was something going on with me. Had I relapsed she asked? “Absolutely not“ I replied. At this point I knew I had to protect my use. I became more elusive, hiding, concealing and lying. I thought I could just quit in a week or two and everything would be o.k. and again. I would be CLEAN AND SOBER, right? Besides I had quit so many times before I knew I could do it again. I didn’t even know the meaning of those words, clean and sober. Truly, I was lost. I had made so many justifications to myself and to Kay, so many excuses, so many lies. After what we had been through before with my addiction, how would she ever forgive me if she found out I relapsed. I feared she wouldn’t. She would leave me, I was sure. Sure that she would grow tired of all the of all the hell and just say enough is enough. If she left me I would die. But even after all the thinking and worry I still continued the insanity.
Then came the family intervention after my son Tyler found my stash. The words “You’re a piece of shit when you use,†came straight from the lips of my wife, my best friend and hitting bottom was on its way, but the insanity continued, even after my family tried their best to help! My use continued, the insanity continued, the sneaking around at night , looking for intruders. I knew I could catch those bastards. That my moment of glory would arrive, proving to my family that they were really there.
And then two weeks after the intervention I snapped into reality. I realized this was the end of the road for me and my love affair gone bad. I finally hit bottom realizing Id lost the charade. Realizing I couldn’t do it my way anymore. Realizing I was powerless. Powerless to control it and powerless to stop. By the grace of God something told me enough is enough, get help before its too late.
I was high out of my mind and the morning sun was breaking light. For me on that morning it was the light of day, the light of life, the light of God. I knew I had to surrender to my disease and to my Creator.
During my stay at the treatment center I wondered, where did I go wrong? It started when I put my disease on the shelf after I got home from my first time in treatment and it grew out of control from there. I refused out patient, I didn’t go to meetings, no relapse prevention. I had no sponsor, I had no chance, no chance in heaven and no chance in hell. I continued to associate with my user friends. I WAS SURE I had this thing they call addiction licked.
One thing for sure, a good start is never picking up that first one again. Just deal with the first one, one day at a time. It’s a matter of choice, if I want to live. But there is no guarantee in life and it is a disease that were talking about after all . Beyond just dealing with the first one there is so much more to staying sober, as I'm beginning to realize the opportunities that lie ahead, there is much work to do.
One reservation I have is about going back to the war zone at work. Maybe I wont be able to tolerate my fathers behavior. Maybe I will crack under the pressure. He displays all of the behaviors of an alcoholic, without the alcohol. But I understand him better now, with compassion and understanding. Also I understand how distorted my thinking was through 29 years of sickness and the fact of the matter is that its not about me dealing with him, but that its about me dealing with me. Being clean at least gives me that chance and it evens the stack. No longer does my life need to remain unmanageable as it was before, as long as I remember that I have a disease. I have the gift of choice now and with work my choices will become reality. Relapse is in the past now, hope is in the future, hope is in today. It is a disease, surrender Stephan and love yourself. God loves you, your family loves you, you are loved! Surrender honestly and surrender completely.
I have surrendered. Now there is life, now there is hope. Now I have another chance. I have surrendered. For me, The Good Lords promise has come true. 1.I surrendered 2. I repented 3. I Accepted 4. Now I grow and I live.........forever........................................................... To be continued,
a work in progress
Early on my disease became active when I was 19, toying with pot and alcohol. By the time I was 20, I discovered cocaine and soon afterward I began smoking freebase. At 21 years old my addiction was raging, I lost everything I owned. Including the car I purchased one year earlier that I traded to my coke dealer for previous fronts. After hitting bottom, I decided to move back home with my parents, broke and hopeless. My father offered me a job in the orchard and I took the opportunity. At that point there was no hope of ever becoming a professional photographer with my focus on drugs.
A year later I got married at 24 and by the time I was 25 my wife became concerned with the amount I was drinking. I told her “Don’t worry about it, if it becomes a problem, ill be the first to do something about it, ok? Its not your problem, plus I need something to calm me down after a day in the ‘War Zone’â€Â. The “War Zone†was a day at work with dad. “Besides I don’t drink that much anyway – a six pack a night?? C’mon†I became a master of deception and denial in short order.
I used pot and alcohol throughout my marriage until Kay, my wife, asked me to stop drinking at the age of 41, drinking a 12-pack of beer or more daily. I agreed to stop drinking, but promptly switched to cocaine. At first I used it in small amounts, and it soon became my drug of choice over pot and alcohol. Cocaine became my savior, a lifestyle for me. I could get up with it. I could diet with it. I could sleep with it. It became everything for me and more. I could work hard, function daily, and what could be better than that? I used cocaine for four years daily until my tolerance went up.
By the time I was 46 I was up to a half ounce every 5 or 6 days, until I became paranoid, sexually overcharged, and hallucinating, both visually and audibly. At night, I was convinced at least 3 people were on the roof of my house and peering into my windows at night over the eve. It was like clockwork that it happened every night. During the day everything was normal, no hallucinations, no sounds-operation normal. I was freaked and spent every night listening and watching for the intruders. I walked around the house slowly peering around every corner. I even saw one guy run away outside the house after the dog barked. I thought how could this not be real. And even after I looked for tracks in the dirt and couldn’t find any, I was still convinced they were there. I was sure I could catch them. I stayed up for three nights in a row, worked full days simultaneously, then slept the 4th night. This was my pattern for a month and a half. I was obsessed repeating this insane behavior over and over again.
Looking back on my relapse, from previous treatment, I must have had shit in my ears. What was I thinking? But in reality its how my disease affected, tricked, and trapped me. I understand now that’s why they call it recovering and not recovered or cured. All it took was to smoke a little pot or drink a little beer and the door to the “cocaine train†was wide open-hitting me right between the eyes.
I started using to fend off the fatigue of 100 hour work weeks. Initially I thought I could control it, and nobody would know. I just needed a little boost to get me through a busy time on the ranch. If I just used a little for a week or two I could quit and everything would be fine. I justified it all because if I could use pot and beer moderately for 2 years after treatment the first time, why not small amounts of coke? A drug is a drug, right? Tricked again by my addiction, over and over. I rationalized my way right back into addiction and I obtained the same level of destruction within four months that I had developed over 5 years of use before. It was a raging addiction once again. I was obsessed with sex and porn while using cocaine and it most certainly became my drug of choice. Bad morals? No. Bad disease? Yes.
There it was proof positive a pattern had been established. Cocaine and all the obsessions that go along with my disease had been repeated. At this point I was so toxic that I refused treatment even after a family intervention. How selfish my disease made me risking everything and I didn’t even care. The horrific part of the sanity was that my addiction outweighed my will to live in terms of importance within my life. In my mind I was ok with the fact that I didn’t care about getting better. I was hungry for cocaine.
In retrospect, I was lucky I guess, but probably blessed by God to escape virtually unharmed physically, but the price I paid mentally, spiritually, and emotionally was very high. I'm lucky to be alive. I'm sure a heart attack or stroke was just around the corner. God and my family gave me a second chance. But even then at the offer I refused help by convincing myself and my family that I could quit on my own. After all I had quit so many times before I could do it again. Twenty nine years of use was proof enough for me that I could quit. No longer was it I who was the master of deception. It was my disease.
Justification was my best friend and worst enemy. It followed me everywhere in and out of recovery. It was pure denial. Denial when I was young in my use and denial at its peak, why couldn’t I see? Why couldn’t I help myself? I was going crazy, remember it’s the disease, its how it works you. And during my short-lived recovery, remembering any of the ugliness of my 5 year stint with cocaine had all gone away. It was just so hard for me to remember. How did I forget about my disease? Just remember Stephan, “damn- it, just rememberâ€Â!
Shortly before I left for treatment in Chelan, my wife Kay suspected there was something going on with me. Had I relapsed she asked? “Absolutely not“ I replied. At this point I knew I had to protect my use. I became more elusive, hiding, concealing and lying. I thought I could just quit in a week or two and everything would be o.k. and again. I would be CLEAN AND SOBER, right? Besides I had quit so many times before I knew I could do it again. I didn’t even know the meaning of those words, clean and sober. Truly, I was lost. I had made so many justifications to myself and to Kay, so many excuses, so many lies. After what we had been through before with my addiction, how would she ever forgive me if she found out I relapsed. I feared she wouldn’t. She would leave me, I was sure. Sure that she would grow tired of all the of all the hell and just say enough is enough. If she left me I would die. But even after all the thinking and worry I still continued the insanity.
Then came the family intervention after my son Tyler found my stash. The words “You’re a piece of shit when you use,†came straight from the lips of my wife, my best friend and hitting bottom was on its way, but the insanity continued, even after my family tried their best to help! My use continued, the insanity continued, the sneaking around at night , looking for intruders. I knew I could catch those bastards. That my moment of glory would arrive, proving to my family that they were really there.
And then two weeks after the intervention I snapped into reality. I realized this was the end of the road for me and my love affair gone bad. I finally hit bottom realizing Id lost the charade. Realizing I couldn’t do it my way anymore. Realizing I was powerless. Powerless to control it and powerless to stop. By the grace of God something told me enough is enough, get help before its too late.
I was high out of my mind and the morning sun was breaking light. For me on that morning it was the light of day, the light of life, the light of God. I knew I had to surrender to my disease and to my Creator.
During my stay at the treatment center I wondered, where did I go wrong? It started when I put my disease on the shelf after I got home from my first time in treatment and it grew out of control from there. I refused out patient, I didn’t go to meetings, no relapse prevention. I had no sponsor, I had no chance, no chance in heaven and no chance in hell. I continued to associate with my user friends. I WAS SURE I had this thing they call addiction licked.
One thing for sure, a good start is never picking up that first one again. Just deal with the first one, one day at a time. It’s a matter of choice, if I want to live. But there is no guarantee in life and it is a disease that were talking about after all . Beyond just dealing with the first one there is so much more to staying sober, as I'm beginning to realize the opportunities that lie ahead, there is much work to do.
One reservation I have is about going back to the war zone at work. Maybe I wont be able to tolerate my fathers behavior. Maybe I will crack under the pressure. He displays all of the behaviors of an alcoholic, without the alcohol. But I understand him better now, with compassion and understanding. Also I understand how distorted my thinking was through 29 years of sickness and the fact of the matter is that its not about me dealing with him, but that its about me dealing with me. Being clean at least gives me that chance and it evens the stack. No longer does my life need to remain unmanageable as it was before, as long as I remember that I have a disease. I have the gift of choice now and with work my choices will become reality. Relapse is in the past now, hope is in the future, hope is in today. It is a disease, surrender Stephan and love yourself. God loves you, your family loves you, you are loved! Surrender honestly and surrender completely.
I have surrendered. Now there is life, now there is hope. Now I have another chance. I have surrendered. For me, The Good Lords promise has come true. 1.I surrendered 2. I repented 3. I Accepted 4. Now I grow and I live.........forever........................................................... To be continued,
a work in progress
