One day at a time

A bunch of people have been instrumental in my sobriety. To name just one wouldn’t be fair. They know who they are. I have a great support system.

It’s been nice to gain a little bit of trust back from people. Before, you couldn’t trust me with anything. But now, if I say I’m going to be somewhere or do something, I’m going to do it.

Sharing my experiences with others helps. I've been talking to a group of adolescents at Recovery Resources. Some of them are too hardheaded. They think what happened to me won't happen to them, but I keep telling them if they keep doing what they're doing, they'll end up in prison one day. I may not get through to all of them, but if I can make one or two think a little more about the choices they're making, I'll have done my job.

One day a time. That’s how I have to look at this whole disease. So what if I only have one day? I just strung a bunch of them together to get to today.

Looking to the future

My short term goals are to stay sober one day at a time and to rebuild relationships with my family and loved ones.

I have an opportunity to go back to school. There’s an organization that helps ex-felons and drug addicts go back to school. I’d like to become a counselor or social worker and work with adolescents. They wouldn’t get away with anything.

The obsession to use has left. Now it's more of a thinking problem than a drug or drinking problem. I could think myself out of this room, back to using drugs.

People say I’m in the right place. It just takes time.

Day by day

I don’t like to live in the past or the future. Day by day, I take it as it comes. At the beginning of September I completed my fifth step: admitted to God, to myself and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs. It took two days and six hours to admit everything and not feel judged for it. My sponsor said, “Bryan, you were a drug addict. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Sobriety hasn’t been too much of a struggle. My biggest struggle was being in jail and admitting I had a problem. Once I admitted my powerlessness, things fell into place.

Real friends, not using buddies

Everywhere I go, I’m surprised at the people I run into. I lost acquaintances—I wouldn’t call them friends—when I became sober. They were just using buddies. Some of them are still out there. I don’t have anything in common with them anymore. There is one girl I used to use with. She’s the only one I know who turned her life around.

I’m grateful for many, many things. I’m grateful to be alive and be sober today. It’s a daily struggle, but people have shown me that there’s a lot of fun in sobriety. You can make friends you can seriously count on.

One year and counting!

December 15, 2009. That’s my date of sobriety. It took a lot to swallow my pride and get humble. I had to get on my knees and pray. But then, sure as sh** these little miracles started happening. I should be dead, in prison, anywhere but here, but I’m here today. Slowly my relationships with my daughter, with my parents and with my significant other and her son are getting better.

Chris told me, “It’s about time you started making some right choices.” She’s working her own program and doing well. I was always bringing her down. I didn’t realize how much my using affected a whole circle of people. And even my recovery affects a whole circle.

Doing the right thing

It’s so much easier to make the right decisions now. I don’t have to be selfish and self-centered. It’s not all about me. It’s about doing the right thing, and the next right thing falls into place.

I did some work for my in-laws at the end of summer, and they wanted to pay me for it. The old me would have taken the money and used it to get high, but I told them to use the money to buy Katherine what she needed for school.

They showed me the receipt of all the stuff they got her. “This is what you did,” they told me. It felt good. This way of living is all new to me.

Celebrating sobriety…with my dad

Around the time I started drinking, my dad stopped drinking. I’ve been an alcoholic for 27 years, and he’s been sober for 27 years. Since I’ve been sober, we’ve gotten really close. We talk in depth about our struggles, and sometimes we go to meetings together. He splits his year between here and California. When he’s in CA, I talk to him every weekend.

I don’t see my mom as much as I’d like to, but it takes two people to make a relationship work.

Getting reacquainted

I have an older sister who I’ve let down a lot. Growing up, we were fairly close, or at least as close as a brother and sister can be in a house with an alcoholic father and a mother with mental health issues.

We didn’t really talk when I started drinking. She couldn’t understand why I was doing what I was doing. She didn’t understand alcoholism or addiction. When I’d come around, I could see in her eyes, “Oh, it’s Bryan.” Now, it’s a welcoming look. It’s good to spend some time with her on a sober basis. We’re closer than we’ve ever been.

Yes, you can contact me in the case of an emergency

Chris and I have been together for more than 15 years now. I consider us married. I think she does too. I’m sure we’ve talked about getting married, but what’s the point? It’s just a piece of paper.

This year we were filling out Katherine's school papers and Chris filled me in as an emergency contact. This was the first year I went to my daughter’s school orientation, and this was the first year Chris put me down as a contact because I am actually reliable. Before, I was too wrapped up in my own bullsh** to pay attention.

Daily living today

My average day consists of waking up around 7 a.m. I live in a sober house. Before my roommate goes to work, I drink coffee with him. Then after he leaves, I do my morning meditation and prayers. I try to spend time with Chris and Katherine, when she’s not in school. I go to meetings at night and then hang out with a couple friends. We go out, get coffee and BS. Sometimes we go to the Saharid Club, an alcohol-free social center, where we shoot pool and play basketball.  I’m not usually out past 11 or 12. What really happens after that anyway?

Daily living is enjoyable. The smallest things that used to hurt the sh** out of me don’t bother me.

One shot

After Matt Talbot House, I had 12 weeks of intensive outpatient treatment at Recovery Resources. I still have to report to my parole officer weekly and attend five 12-step meetings every week. I also have to make restitution for the thefts I committed.

That judge gave me one shot. I can’t do anything more.

Help and hope...finally

In 2009, after being out of prison for a couple of years, my life began spiraling downward again. I got caught up in a new case and was facing a whole bunch of jail time. I did something I’ve never done before. I asked the judge for help. She was shocked that no one had ever offered to help me, and so she gave me a second chance. I spent 45 days at Matt Talbot House (a residential treatment facility for people with substance abuse problems), where I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizoaffective disorder because of my drug use. 

I realized I had a problem when everything I touched and came in contact with, I destroyed. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Using needles so often drained me. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually, I was beaten down to nothing.

At Matt Talbot, I got unconditional love and they didn’t even know me. If I wouldn’t have gotten caught, I would not be here today. It was a blessing in disguise.

Heroin became everything

My heroin addiction became prominent in the last 10 years. Heroin was a whole different world. One drag fulfilled all my needs. It was so powerful and overcoming. It literally took me to my knees. When I was high on heroin, I didn’t desire food, sex or basic hygiene. I didn’t feel anything emotionally or physically, unless I had so much that it made me sick. Once I was high, heroin became everything. My world revolved around the next high.

“A daughter is a day brightener and a heart warmer”

I finally realized how lucky I am to have my daughter, Katherine*. She’s an angel. She taught me what unconditional love is.

She knows I struggled with addictions. She even came to visit me in prison.  She’s smarter than most 11-year-olds should be. Now we have a bond, and she knows I’m sober and on the right track.

She’s in middle school this year, which is scary since that’s when everything started for me. As of now, she doesn’t drink. I want her to know that alcohol looks fun and glamorous at first but it truly isn’t. I believe alcoholism is genetically inherited. She just needs to be careful and know that she can always come and talk to me.

I don’t want my daughter to live the life I did.

Organized monotony

Jail was complete misery. I was always dope-sick from detoxing. And the jail controls everything, even when you can eat. They strip you of your total freedom. And jails are so overcrowded. It’s organized monotony.

They do have AA in prisons. It wouldn’t have helped me because I never would have been honest with myself. Until I got honest with myself, nothing worked.

I did force myself to read in prison, since there was nothing else to do. Since all my teachers wrote me off as incapable of learning, I’m pretty much self-taught. I can’t put limitations on what I can do. I discovered that I love reading. I especially liked biographies. One of my favorites was “An Education in Rebellion: The Biography of Nikki Sixx,” about the bassist and songwriter of Motley Crue.

Now I’ll pick up anything and read it. You can never stop learning.

What conscience?

Five years after we started dating, Chris got pregnant. I didn’t want kids, but figured having one would help me change my priorities. It didn’t.

When I started using drugs, I was spending $60 to $100 per week. By the end, it was closer to $500 to $1000 per week. I sold drugs and committed crimes without a conscience. All I thought was, “I’ve got to steal this in order for me to get high.” Eventually, it became a matter of basic functioning. I couldn’t get up and get going without a shot of dope. It was everything. I didn’t care about consequences.

In my early 30s, I went to prison. Within a year of being out, I went back.

Relationship high

I met Chris in my mid 20s while I was working as a boat mechanic. She worked in a bar/restaurant as a server. We dated on and off for five years. In the beginning, alcohol strained the relationship. I was severely alcoholic. She’d give me ultimatums, then leave. Then I’d swear up and down I would change. I never did.

Chris didn’t really use drugs when I met her. I took her down some roads she wouldn’t have been if we weren’t together. Eventually, she made some choices too. In the long run, we both made some bad choices, but I regret a lot of sh** I put her through. At one point, our whole relationship was based on drugs. We were more using buddies than boyfriend/girlfriend.

Just a boat in a stormy sea

At this point in my life, I did a whole lot of nothing. I had odd jobs doing construction work. I’d work a couple of weeks and then get fired. I would miss a day of work or come in late, and I drank and used on the job. I didn’t care about consequences.

People were always trying to help me, though. One winter, a kid I was hanging out with was looking for people to help shovel and plow snow. I offered to help, and he offered me a job. In the spring, he showed me the ins and outs of working on boats. I picked up a trade as a boat mechanic. I helped with tune-ups, moving the boats, and preparing them for summer and winter. I know boat engines inside and out. 

Those guys took me under their wings. I was never book smart, but I was mechanically smart. Show me once, and if I couldn’t do it better than you the next time, I could tell you how it could be done better.

I was in and out of that career for 15 years. I loved it, but drinking and drugs were my main priority. Bosses bent over backwards to get me out of trouble and keep me out of trouble, but it didn’t mean anything to me. I burnt so many bridges, lost so much trust with people—good people—and I lost good jobs. I chose alcohol and drugs over everything else. My life centered on the next high.

Teenage years

Drinking led to smoking pot. By the time I was in high school, I was drinking or smoking every day. I even got into selling drugs. I sold whatever I could get my hands on to support my habit.
My parents separated when I was 15. My father was an alcoholic. He was abusive, both physically and verbally. In 10th grade, I quit school and was kicked out of my house. I started living with older friends who were using. I experimented with every kind of drug from A to Z. While doing drugs, I continued to drink. Alcoholism was always my biggest problem.

I met a bartender and got married when I was in my early 20s. My wife got pregnant and miscarried. We never dealt with that, just tried to block it out by drinking and getting high. We both had addictions and that’s really what our marriage was based on. Not surprisingly, our marriage failed within two years.

Dyslexia • An impairment in the brain's processing of information that results in difficulty with reading, spelling, writing and related language skills

I was held back in the first grade because my grade school said I had mental health issues. Really, I was dyslexic. My mom refused to put me on medicine because she didn’t believe in “drugging a child.” I went through grade school in special education classes, where my teachers told me I would amount to nothing. Then, when I was 13, I had my first beer. For the first time in my life, I fit in. My peers accepted me. And I was finally good at something too. I was good at drinking.

I don't remember my first girlfriend's name, but I remember the hot day when I cracked open that first cold beer. The can was sweating and the beer went down smoothly.

Alcohol made me everything I wasn’t.