It’s that time of year again. It’s cold out, it gets dark earlier, and man, the stress seems bigger. Christmas is over, money’s tighter, and life feels heavier. But this time of year is always an annual reminder of who I was before January 2, 2009. That was the last time I walked into a treatment center as a patient. That’s my sobriety date.
Back then, I was torn up, homeless, and wanted by the law in multiple parts of Maryland. I hadn’t seen my son in a while. I was underweight, wildly unhealthy, and distant from God and my family. Christmas wasn’t something I participated in anymore. Some years, I didn’t even try to get presents. Other years, I’d boost (steal) them from a store, but those gifts never lasted long. They’d get stolen back from the recipients, sold, and the money would end up in my veins.
So yeah, this time of year is weird for me. It’s filled with gratitude, but it also keeps me aware of who I used to be and who I could easily become again. I’ve seen it happen to others over the years. People with decades of sobriety go back out. Some face heavy consequences, others seemingly just spiritual ones. But they all have consequences.
I wonder sometimes why I’ve been so fortunate with my sobriety. There’ve been challenges, like health issues requiring medication that, in the past, would’ve sent me on a run. But somehow, it didn’t. I didn’t abuse the meds, and maybe that helped. Still, I feel like I’m in a place of safety.
I’m not as active in recovery as I was early on. Back then, I went to meetings every day and sponsored more people than I could count. But life’s different now. I have a wife, three more kids, and a career I treasure that deserves my full attention every minute I am awake. I used to feel guilty about not being as involved in recovery, but not anymore. I’m not chained to anyone else’s opinion of who I should be. I’m doing the best I can in every area of my life, and that’s enough for me.
So tomorrow, I’ll wake up with 16 years of sobriety behind me. And guess what? It doesn’t define me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful I’m not shooting dope and coke or drinking myself into a blackout anymore. But abstinence isn’t what I focus on these days. What matters to me is how much my perspective, my actions, and my treatment of others have changed.
Am I perfect? Not even close. Do I treat everyone kindly all the time? Nope, though I wish I did. Do I allow toxic behavior in my life? Absolutely not, even if it means keeping people I love at arm’s length. That’s part of my strength now. Recovery taught me to protect what matters most, my kids and my wife. I shoulder the stress, the pain, and everything else life throws at me so I can show up for them.
I don’t run. I don’t quit. For them.
I don’t share much about my struggles with others, not because I’m closed off, but because I don’t see the value in venting just to vent. When I’m truly hopeless, I’ll talk to someone, but only after I’ve spoken to God first. I process some things with people I trust, but mostly, I focus on what I can change. I speak to some daily frustrations I have with people, but that’s about it. I feel like for me and my recovery, part of that is I no longer make excuses for my problems. My problems are my responsibility, and the solution almost (that’s generous) always involves me adjusting something I’m doing.
Recovery has transformed me from a homeless addict into a father. That’s what this blog has always been about, transformation. It’s about what God can do when you let Him. It’s about the drastic life changes that are possible when you put Him first.
If you’re struggling to believe transformation is possible, let me tell you, it is. There are people out there willing to help, and I’m one of them. If I can’t help, I know someone who can. But at the end of the day, it comes down to you. You have to switch something up.