Hi people!  I have a speaking engagement coming up soon and have recently moved from an area that had virtually no speaker meetings so I havent gotten a lot of practice.  I decided to put it down on paper to sort out my thoughts and since then decided to share it with you.

My early life was characterized by physical, mental and sexual violence.  It was not nearly as bad as some stories Ive heard, much worse than some others but Ive found that it doesnt really matter much.  What I found did matter is that I wasnt accepted and felt unacceptable.  I wasnt loved and felt unlovable.  I had no self-worth and felt worthless.   I felt unique: uniquely unqualified to be loved; uniquely unqualified to be happy, uniquely unqualified to live.  The desire to escape those feelings led to looking for the answer in drinking, drugs, relationships, food and most of the other avenues we find when were resourceful and looking for a place to run away.

After a number of treatment facilities, I found a twelve step meeting with the gracious assistance of the court system in November of 1978.  It seems I had hit the courts bottom if not my own.  Though there were rumors of Narcotics Anonymous meetings, 1978 was four years before the basic text was published and N.A. was marginalized in both the public eye as well as recovery circles; so I attended A.A. meetings instead.  To make a longer story shorter, I abstained from all drugs for seven years and then went back out.  I stayed out there for another seven years.

Im not much into war stories; most of us know the terrain: homelessness, poverty, withdrawals, and legal troubles.  Once again, it was not nearly as bad as some stories Ive heard, much worse than some others but Ive found that it doesnt really matter much.   What matters is:  I had finally hit my bottom.  I was out on bail and facing seventy years in prison.  That wasnt my bottom.  I had an infant daughter and was going to lose her.  That wasnt my bottom either.  I was one hundred pounds lighter than I am now, a walking skeleton but that didnt do it for me either.  I tried to quit and couldnt.  I truly did try; I gave it everything I had.  That did it; that was my bottom. 

Despite seven years in a twelve-step program, I wasnt convinced it would work for me at this stage of my addiction but I was desperate.  I looked in the phone bookfor you youngsters, thats the thing we used to use before smartphones, and found an N.A. meeting.  Through the N.A. helpline, a ride for me was arranged.  Honestly, I remember very little of that first meeting.  I know I was high when I got there and I know I got high afterwards, and I know that I had arranged a ride to a meeting the next day but thats about it.  I went to three meetings the next day and five the following day gathering the courage to try to quit again.  When I finally got home that night it was after midnight.  I decided that it made no sense to try and quit then that my quit day would be the same if I quit at 12:15am on that day or 11:59pm and so I continued to use through the day and into the night on that May 10^th.

Though I vividly remember my experience of quitting, it seems quite surreal now; after all, it happened to a different person I am not that person any longer. Here though, is the defining moment of that quit

I lay on the floor trying to sleep, a hammer by my side. My arms and legs often flopping around with a mind of their own as my nervous system short circuited. I sometimes would use the claw part of the hammer to tear at the crawling under my skin, sometimes resorting to just pounding on my arms and legs to kill the sensations. The mental torture, of course, was worse. My mind screamed for more, my will crumbling over and over. Finally it screamed, If I dont have a hit Ill die! I remember the thought; so clear and then a response filled with strength and total and utter conviction Then die. And I meant it with all my heart. And then I did.

Im told the ambulance got there six minutes later and I had no heartbeat. More than enough time to stay dead, or at least be permanently brain damaged. But I didnt. When I regained consciousness, I knew I would never use again. Make no mistake, I was still a disaster physically, mentally and emotionally, but I was free. And so I began the long road back.

My public defender told me my best deal was four years. I felt sick. I began attending Narcotics Anonymous meetings and really threw myself into recovery attending 387 in my first ninety days clean. Recovery became a full time job, one that I took very seriously.As the court date grew nearer, I became more resigned and accepting of my fate. I may be going away but I would make the most out of my ability to go to meetings and jump-start my recovery at the moment. I figured Id need ever inch of head start I could get.

During a noon Narcotics Anonymous meeting one day, a young woman in the Air Force came in. She had just been transferred the day before and this was her first meeting since landing. She shared that she was particularly homesick as she would be celebrating her fifth anniversary clean tomorrow and would be doing so without the support group she had come to count on for the last five years.

I was saddened by the idea. Her sponsor, her friends, her group no one around she knew to help her celebrate. And with no notice, she wasnt likely to get a cake for her birthday, which was a traditional way to celebrate out our way. Five years was too long a time to receive no recognition I decided, and went home and attempt to bake my first cake. I am under no illusions as to its appearance it looked awful. Tasted pretty good though, as I recall. Anyway, I brought it in the next day and presented it to her during the meeting. I was pretty embarrassed to tell the truth, but it seemed the right thing to do.

Three weeks later I said good-bye to that group and went to court to be sentenced and begin my four years. In front of the judge, rather than sentence me immediately, she started asking me questions. Questions about what I had been doing in the months since my arrest, questions about my recovery, questions that, quite frankly, confused the heck out of me and, from the look on his face, my attorney too. Then she called me to the bench. My attorney and I approached the bench and she suggested he go back to his seat.

Then she told me a story. Her brother and his wife had died years ago in a car accident. Someone who was stoned out of his mind hit them and they were killed instantly. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was in worse trouble than I could possibly imagine. She continued, explaining that their deaths orphaned her two-year old niece who she then adopted and raised as her own daughter.

That little girl, she told me, grew up and became addicted to drugs herself. She ran away from home and stayed missing for two years. One day she got a call; it was her daughter. She had quit drugs, had been clean a year and was hoping for forgiveness and reconciliation. She told her there was nothing to forgive and asked her to just please come home but the girl was working in a city far away with an organization that she couldnt just walk away from. They talked of a transfer for years until the opportunity finally arose. She jumped at the chance and the Air Force transferred her to a base in her hometown a day before her fifth anniversary clean.

Without knowing who it was and with no expectations, I had baked my first cake as a gift for the one person the judge loved more than anyone else in the world her daughter. Then she got serious and her voice got even quieter. You are facing seventy-years. You got a deal for four. If you violate your probation I give you my word you will do the maximum. Now go re-join your lawyer.  She had cleared it with the D.A. in the moments before I had entered the courtroom.  Even my attorney didnt know three years probation.

As for whats life been like since then its been life.  There have been joyous moments where I have been happier than I have ever thought possible and tough times that I wasnt sure I was going to live through wasnt sure I wanted to live through.  You probably have had some of that in your life too and if you havent, you probably will.  Throughout it, I havent picked up.  On Thursday, May 10^th, Ill be celebrating twenty-yearsclean.