Where The Wild Things Are (Part I)

This is my story...

“Where The Wild Things Are,” Maurice Sendak

For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Denis O’Leary. I’m the writer of Daily Reflections and the founder of Modern Bronze. I’m also an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink or drug in over 4 years, but I’m still an alcoholic. I’m forever one substance away from destroying my life and the lives of everyone around me. That’s the cross I bear, and while it may sound like a curse, it’s proven to be the biggest blessing of my life. Sobriety, as it turns out, is my superpower.

I don’t have hangovers anymore. Ever. I’m in my early thirties and making my way towards the best shape of my life, rather than looking back at it. I don’t do horrible things to myself and others in blackouts, and I don’t actively aim to burn everything down around me. I still feel pain - more intensely than ever before, I might add - but I have a community, a program and a spiritual practice that have taken the place of mind-numbing substances. No, it has not been easy. Freedom never is.

In Part 1 of this reflection, I want to tell you about my experience with addiction. In Part II, I will walk you through my story and all the factors that have led me here. I have seen horrible things, done horrible things and felt horrible things. Don’t worry, this is not a Tucker Max story. This is a story of redemption (at least I hope it is).

Have you ever felt pain so deep it almost felt psychedelic? I can’t recall where I first heard that (Google is no help), but I’ll never forget how much it resonated with me. That was me. It started off as every-so-often, then sometimes, then most times, then always. I was unable to cope with the reality around me, and I needed drugs and alcohol to survive. In my mind at the time, there was no other option. It was that or death, and no in between. You must be wondering how I got to that place, so I’ll reveal the big secret…there was no secret. It wasn’t caused by a horribly traumatic event. I wasn’t a victim of some horrible abuse or maltreatment. I was just a kid who wasn’t prepared for the reality of life, and I found escape in the bottle.

I’ve seen many arguments about where addiction comes from. Some say it’s in our genes, others say it’s in our environment, most say it’s somewhere in between. I listened to a fascinating podcast with Dr. Gabor Mate yesterday about his view - he believes addiction comes only from childhood trauma. He made some very powerful arguments, and I can see that being true. For me, though, it doesn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, trauma work is definitely beneficial, but no matter the amount of trauma work I did, I was not going to stop the compulsion to drink.

Let me take you through a “day in the life” of what it looked like for me, over time. It started when I was in my later teens, only on weekends. I just remember how scared how was, how rejected I always felt, how I always saw everyone around me as better than me. I hated myself, and I finally found the solution - drugs and alcohol. My goal every weekend was to blackout because I couldn’t stand to live in my body. Maybe if I got fucked up, people would like me. Maybe if I got fucked up, I would finally get the courage to kiss a girl. These things did happen, but something else happened as well - I felt even worse about myself.

From there, it was a rollercoaster ride. Alcohol never fixed my self-esteem issues, it only blotted them out for a night (or several nights) at a time. I went from a weekend warrior to a daily drinker, and I smoked pot around the clock. I still hated myself, and I needed more substances to quiet the voices. From the little I remember of college, most of it was filled with pain. I had incredible friends and memorable experiences, but I was always focused on the pain. Everyone else had it figured out, and I was deformed. I grew my hair out long just to make a statement, and it made me even more self-conscious. Nothing I ever did worked - I was a failure in relationships, I was a failure in school, I was a failure in life.

The five years after college were a blur. Drinking became a 24/7 affair, and Adderall and cocaine were now a huge part of the equation. The pain cascaded to the point of monthly panic attacks and suicidal thoughts. I was resigned to the fact that I was never going to figure out how to do life “right”. I was hollow, and there was nothing left to do and nowhere left to turn. People think addicts have a “will” problem. It’s so much more than that. There was no “will” involved. No matter how many times I decided to quit forever, no matter how many times I told myself never again, my body and mind were pulled to the next drink by a force greater than any power I could muster. It felt like someone else was pulling the strings behind the curtain of my mind.

This was all until I got sober, which I will discuss more in Part II. I wanted to first connect with the feeling and explain what it felt like to be under the chokehold of addiction. It’s my opinion that many of us suffer from this compulsion in some area of our lives - alcohol, drugs, sex, food, shopping, you name it - and I aim to be a beacon of light for those in the dark. You do not have to have my story, but you may connect with the pain and darkness I once felt. Even if you don’t have a tendency towards compulsions, you may still relate to my experience. If I was able to get out, we all are able to get out, and I truly believe that. I was set to join the “27 Club,” yet here I am, slinging weights, singing songs and bearing my soul in these reflections. There is always a solution to any problem you face - always.

If you or someone you love is suffering, you can always reach out to me. I’m on Instagram (@modern.bronze). My page is currently a lot of me doing insane weightlifting feats, but over time I will be expand it to focus more on the whole of my message. Shoot me a DM and let’s talk - you never know what may happen.

You can come out of the furnace of trouble two ways: if you let it consume you, you come out a cinder; but there is a kind of metal which refuses to be consumed, and comes out a star.
-Jean Church