*Before reading this, please see yesterday’s Part I*
I was born on July 23rd, 1991 to an Irish Catholic family on Long Island, New York. I don’t remember all that much from my childhood, but from what I do remember, I recall it being magical. My parents were my role models, and my large extended family taught me the importance of having fun. They also taught me the importance of alcohol. At family parties everybody drank, and I learned from the best.
This is not a story of childhood trauma - I don’t see my childhood as traumatic (like I did in the past). Sure, I saw some crazy things, but I had it good. No, I had it great. I was surrounded by love and good intention at every turn. For this, I will be forever grateful. What happened next in my life was not born from trauma, but from what I like to call “learned development”. I saw people around me drinking and having fun, the large majority of it completely harmless - naturally, I decided to do the same. Little did I know I had all of the makings of an alcoholic and drug addict buried inside me, gnawing at the opportunity to claw their way out.
I had my first drink when I was 16 years old…let me rephrase that, I had my first drinks when I was 16 years old. My parents went away for the weekend and I had a big party, and I drank an entire twelve pack of Natty Lite (thinking about that now makes me want to throw up). Yes, an entire twelve pack, a full 144 ounces of stale piss. I loved it. I finally found what I had been looking for my whole life - a way to ease the anxiety, a way to talk to girls, a way to be free from my mind. It wasn’t weird to me that I drank so much my first time - I thought that’s what everybody did. In the beginning, alcohol worked for me. Needless to say, beginnings never last long.
Throughout the remainder of high school, I threw parties. I mean, BIG parties, every chance I got. If I knew my parents were going out to a long dinner, I threw a party. I didn’t care about the people who loved me - I needed to drink, and I needed people to like me. I wasn’t thinking about the strain this put on my parents marriage. I wasn’t thinking about the influence this had on my young siblings. I was only thinking about me. I got my wish - everyone knew me as the “guy who threw the crazy parties”. I would often blackout at my own parties just to make sure everyone knew I was a good time. My parents’ house got destroyed and the cops often came, but that didn’t matter. I was getting fucked up, and I was finally being accepted.
By the time college came around, things started getting weird. Alcohol wasn’t working as well as it used to, so I needed to drink more to get the same effect. I had found my concoction of sister substances - weed and Adderall - and I was constantly bouncing between the three. I don’t really remember much of college, and I squandered every possible opportunity I was given at one of the country’s most prestigious schools. I found my identity in my pain and isolation, and once again earned the label of “crazy”. I remember the incessant desire to be normal - to date the cute girl from class, to get good grades, to not show up to every class high. By that time, though, the phenomenon of craving had kicked in. I didn’t know it yet, but my ability to stop was already well severed.
I discussed the feelings of being an addict in Part I, but here it’s worth mentioning a noticeable shift that occurred within me. The self-worth issues from my youth had bubbled into a sort of disdain for life (I was completely unaware of it at the time). I grew my hair out long and decided I was going to become a famous rock star. No one understood me, so I was going to show them. I locked myself away with my drugs and alcohol, committed to realizing some future glory. I didn’t know I wasn’t in control. I didn’t know it was the addict inside me running the shots, convincing me that my “uniqueness” justified the use of more and more substances.
By the time I had gotten out of college, I was broken. This was the first time I experienced total, all-encompassing despair, but it would not be the last. My “dream” girlfriend had left me (I don’t blame her), and my lack of clarity towards my future landed me a job in construction. All of my friends were starting their careers and getting cushy corporate jobs, and I was sweeping up construction sites. It was all in the name of my dream to be a musician, but I still don’t know if that dream was mine or my addict’s. For the next 5 years I bounced from one job to the next, carefully hiding my secret. Ironically, the addiction that was fueling my dream also made it impossible to achieve that dream. I spent my nights getting fucked up rather than learning the skills I needed to be a successful adult. It was a state of constant tension, and the person I became was always at odds with the person I wanted to be.
At the very end, I was drinking 14 beers, taking 100 mg of Adderall and smoking 1 gram of weed every day, with bouts of cocaine use mixed in when I was out of Adderall. It had escalated to this point by the time I was only 26 years old. I didn’t think I had a shot of living beyond 27. I lost my apartment and was about to lose my job, and I was resigned to the fact that I was nearing the end. I figured I might as well go out with a bang, so I just kept using. Then one day, everything changed. A family member of mine had found a spiritual solution to this his own alcoholism a year earlier, and he invited me to try. I was at the end of my rope, and with nothing left to lose, I gave it a shot. I have not had a drink or a drug since - that was over 4 years ago. My life has done a complete 180 degree turn since that day.
Sobriety has been my greatest gift, and it has enabled me to create a life beyond my wildest dreams. It has enabled me to chase my dreams, not the dreams of the addict that lives within me. This does not mean I am healed, nor does it mean I am a saint. As a sober man, I have been a cheater. I have been a liar. I have hurt the people I love most in this world. The substances have been removed, but the alcoholic still remains. The difference is, I now have a solution to the problem that is me, not just a temporary fix. I am unlearning behaviors and thought-patterns I have clung to my entire life, and sometimes that takes a long time to overcome. Sometimes that takes life smacking me over the head with a bat and bringing me to my knees. I now find myself in a place where all of my shadows are being dragged to the surface, and I invite it willingly. It is a necessary process for me to materialize the man I’ve always wanted to become - a great son, a great spouse, a great father, a great man.
Sobriety does not demand perfection. It demands humility. It demands that I own up to my mistakes and take the right actions to change my behavior moving forward. It demands that I be honest and rectify the harms I have done. It demands that I offer others the same compassion I wish to be offered to me. My secrets, my sins and my deceit will all lead me back to the place I never wish to return. It’s been 4 years, but I’m only now seeing this clearly. Letting these parts of my ego die is a frightening process, but it’s what I’ve always been looking for. It’s the freedom that drugs and alcohol always promised but never delivered.
This is my story. I tell you this to own my truth. I tell you this because maybe this will help someone out there, even if it’s just one person. I tell you this to remind you that there are oceans of pain inside us all, and many of us suffer in the way I once did.
If you or someone you love is suffering, you can always reach out to me. I’m on Instagram (@modern.bronze). Shoot me a DM and let’s talk - you never know what may happen.
Thank you for sharing your experience, strength, and hope. Different events will cause a shift in your life. Some good and some bad. Some of the shifts are small, but they are there and your life will never be the same. They are life on life's terms. However, no matter what, we just don't pick up that first drink, one day at a time. That first drink controls all your other drinks. The disease of alcoholism is one of the only diseases that talk to you. I know when it comes to alcohol, my mind is trying to kill me. Thank you for sharing your journey.
Thank you for sharing your experience, strength, and hope. Different events will cause a shift in your life. Some good and some bad. Some of the shifts are small, but they are there and your life will never be the same. They are life on life's terms. However, no matter what, we just don't pick up that first drink, one day at a time. That first drink controls all your other drinks. The disease of alcoholism is one of the only diseases that talk to you. I know when it comes to alcohol, my mind is trying to kill me. Thank you for sharing your journey.