This guy’s description of the development of his addiction and progress to sobriety really struck me, so I thought I’d share it:
“I'm a drug addict.
First off, don't y'all go worrying about me. After some months of trying and failing, falling into traps and routines that led me back to my disease, I finally surrendered and found a home within a fellowship that helps people like me.
from my earliest days of remembered consciousness, I felt this absence--some describe it as a void inside. Now today a counselor might tell me that it had to do with my adoption, with my mother's struggles with depression in my early childhood, or somesuch as that. Frankly, I have to admit that I never found the whys and wherefores very useful.
First it was Hot Wheels cars, then Star Wars stuff, then endless parambulations in the woods behind our house, making up all sorts of fanciful stories. My parents would tell me to get home when the streetlights came on. Funniest thing though. Those damn streetlights never came on! At least not for this kid. Not until more than twenty years later. Maybe six months ago by my reckoning.
At that point, a bad drinking problem nurtured in college, emboldened after the tragic death of a close friend in an automobile accident, had made its transit through all type of recreational drugs and settled into a death struggle with crack cocaine here on the streets of Brooklyn, New York. At the end I had two choices: go on to the bitter end--jails, institutions, and death. . .or find an entirely new way to live.
After going in and out of recovery meetings, I finally came back to stay, with a penitent 'never mind all that stuff I thought about doing this myself' and a willingness to take suggestions. Today I have more than two months clean, and my commitment to keeping that clean time becomes stronger every day.”