In my youth, it never crossed my mind that I would grow up to be a drug addict instead of the astronaut or president that I imagined I would be. At 31 years old though, active addiction had been a major part of my life for 20 years. I know that many stories surrounding addiction involve rough upbringing and traumatic experiences during youth. That was not the case for me. I was raised in a good home with a large, loving, caring, and supportive family. The battle I fought from an early age was one of hate, and that was hatred of myself.

Throughout my school life, I made good grades, competed well in sports, and had many friends. Regardless of all these things, I always felt alone and like I did not belong. It was hard for me to believe that other people liked me whenever I could barely look at myself in the mirror because I gave myself so little value. It didn’t help that being a child of the 80’s, the male examples in my life taught me that we were to suffer in silence and that was our strength. Imagine my despair when I failed at that also.
Everything changed in middle school. In a health class, we were covering drug use and why it was bad when a simple statement caught my attention. “Many use drugs to attempt to escape reality.” From that moment on I knew that I wanted to experience that. To escape how I felt about myself and the anxiety I felt about facing the world. It didn’t take much seeking before I found what I was looking for, and what started with a little smoking and drinking that could be hidden in high school became full-fledged binge drinking and drug use in college. I made my excuses for flunking out of college and continued to make excuses as I lost or quit job after job and started to rack up criminal charges. All stemming from the addiction that I was still not willing to admit had a hold of my soul. Eventually, my life was mere existence. Surviving would be overstating my situation. I was homeless, sleeping and using in an abandoned trailer hoping each night that I wouldn’t wake up in the morning, and disgusted when I did.

When the State Police came through the door and arrested me, I was relieved. I knew that I wouldn’t have to worry about food or shelter if I was locked up, and I was done. I had reached a bottom that I didn’t even know I needed to find, but I was there and was willing to try anything to find relief from the soul-shattering dependence on illicit chemicals. My probation officer saved my life by only allowing me to be released to Recovery Point Bluefield. While I had no idea what to expect, I was so broken down that I was willing to try anything. You can imagine my surprise when I walked into the front entrance of what appeared to be an old school building and a fellow in a polo and ball cap asked me, “Are you willing to go to any lengths for your recovery?” I said that I was, but I had no real idea. Then came skepticism as 60 grown men almost lined up to tell me that they “loved me” and that “they were glad I made it.”

Thus began a truly life-changing experience. I spent the next year taking every suggestion thrown my way. Sometimes less than willingly at first, but always with the desperation of a fear of going back to the life I had escaped. I learned to forgive myself and to find my part in every situation in my life. I made amends to all those I had harmed. I learned that I found real purpose in being of service to others and felt true joy in seeing others walk the path to recovery. Most of all though, I found that I could look in the mirror and be content with the man I saw looking back because I know that I can always strive for better and continue to do so. Upon completion of the RPB program, I was offered an opportunity as an on-call Program Monitor and then part-time. The next thing I knew, I was a member of the leadership team as Phase I Coordinator at the same facility that saved my life. Then my dream was to work as a Community Engagement Specialist, putting bodies in beds and giving others the same chance that was given to me. Then when it seemed things couldn’t get better, I became the Program Director of RPB and worked to maintain the purpose and calling of the program that means so much to so many people, and to help facilitate a move to a bigger and better building in which to help those in need.

Today I am well on my way to my first college degree, happily married, a present father, a loving family member, a sponsor, a sponsee, and last but not least, an alumni of what I consider to be the best treatment program in the state.