In the morning I would wake up and see an empty 40oz bottle of malt liquor with 3 to 4 cigarette butts in it. Ashes all over the make-shift night stand next to the mattress I had on the floor. The bottle’s neighbor, a week-old diabetes needle, dull and dirty. I would often sleep fully clothed, so there wasn’t really a need to get dressed most mornings. At this time of my life, I didn’t really plan things out, my days were always the same for the most part. Figure out how to get well, then figure out how to get high.
The thing about active addiction or alcoholism for me that trapped me in it so long, was that I could never wrap my hands around a solution. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to change, or that I didn’t have a reason to change, because I had those things. It was that I didn’t have the hope to change. I wasn’t strong enough to hope. I was never strong enough to muster up the hope on my own, that never changed.
On the day I made the decision to get sober, the hope was given to me in the form of love for my son, Canaan. The love I had for him was the only reason I decided to try sobriety one last time. It is also partially the reason I have managed to get through some very tough days.
The love for my eldest child was the catalyst for my relationship with God as well. Now before you come at me with “No, God’s Love for you was the catalyst for your relationship with Him” let me point out that I don’t disagree with you. My heart tells me that God is limitless and God knows better than anyone or anything…and God knew that the only way to pierce the hopelessness I had was by reminding me that Canaan deserved the best version of me. She
That’s what happened.
In the morning now, I look over and see my wife most mornings. There’s usually a bottle of water on my nightstand and my phone and watch charging. I try to remember to start the day by asking for direction, but admittedly, most mornings I open my eyes thinking about work. What do I have to do today, and then I get my day started. It almost never happens that I don’t eventually get to prayer, but I make a practice of being honest, and some days I miss the mark.
The thing about recovery is, I get to put my motivation to be a good father, husband, friend, etc… at the forefront of my thoughts because I recognize that my relationship with God provides me that ability. I do not stack my job above my God, nor do I prioritize my family over God. God comes first and in turn, everything else takes care of itself.
I like to see where I can help, when I can help and it’s served me well.
I don’t have to fake relationships, I know who has my back and who doesn’t. I keep my circle small and support my people. I feel like this understanding that I don’t have to be liked by everyone was God given as well. I try not to hurt anyone, and I try to be honest. If you don’t like that, that is fine.
So I have learned to be a friend, father, husband and son all by giving up myself.