Into the Mirror

Putting it back up

2007-08-01T23:39:00.000-07:00

After much thought I have decided to put this book back up online. The publisher that was behind the project decided that they did not have enough money to make the project work.

My feeling is this...

I didn't write this to make money. I just want my story to impact people's lives.

Its hard to read because of blogger format. Start on the first week and scroll down to "Chapter 1". You have to read starting at the bottom.... sorry

God is Good

Steve

Sorry but I have to remove this from blogger because it is going to print!

2006-11-02T11:07:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone who has read this book so far. I am so excited to say that it is going to be published. It has been a bit of a process to get it all together and there is still some things to work out, but it will be a "Real" book shortly.

The publisher has asked me to take down the majority of the book. I would love to keep it up and continue to reach people with this site but I understand that God might have some other plans with this.

It has been close to a year since I started to write this "blog/book". It was a very intense process that I got lost in for a while. I just sat down and started writing out where I came from and what God had down in my life. It consumed me and allowed me to take another look at my life. What had God done? I looked back and I saw so many blessings that I had taken for granted and saw so many times where God had held me and protected me. I also saw where God had allowed me to feel a tremendous amount of pain so that He could finally get me to where He wanted.

So this has been quite a humbling experience. I truly "Let Go and Let God" with all of this and now am just trying my hardest to be faithful to what God wants from me. I don't have any idea what is going to happen with this book. I do know that it will be published and I do know that God has a plan for it and for all of us.

I will remain faithfully in prayer. I would ask that you all do the same.

I am going to leave the first Chapter of the book here. I do want to thank you all SO much for your comments and for your emails. You have touched my heart.

CHAPTER ONE

Warm.

The water flowed over my body and mixed with the bile in my mouth. Naked and curled on the shower floor, I once again tried to piece together exactly where I was.

Who I was.

I vomited again and tasted the familiar mix of Jack Daniels and my own stomach acid.

Welcome to Tuesday.

I dried myself off and checked the clock. 6:23 A.M. I shouldn't have any problem making it to work. The toothpaste was a welcome companion to the current hell that was raging in my mouth. I rinsed my mouth for the third time and once again confronted the person I hated in the mirror.

Empty.

my eyes were empty.

Blood red and empty.

As I inched closer to the reflection the familiar rage surfaced and those same blood red eyes seared with anger.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

"I hate you..."

*********************************

The drive to work was like most other weekdays. My head pounded and I actually moved in and out of darkness. The ritual was the same. Enter car. Turn on car. Load pipe. First gear. High ho High ho its off to work I go. I am one horrendous crash waiting to ruin the lives of whomever is unlucky enough to meet me on the road at 7 A.M. I welcome that thought.

Every car I pass, every tree, every solid object becomes a daydream.

Just one quick turn of the wheel. No pain

The weed really hasn't helped the pounding in my head so a couple Vicadin should at least make the start of my work day bearable.

As I sat waiting for the light to turn green I didn't even notice the tears. Slowly at first they came. I had cried before but something was different today.

I couldn't stop.

"What are you going to do now?"

"WHAT are you going to do now?"

over and over in my head.

"FUCK!"

"What are you going to do now?"

I hate you...

I drove through the tears. I drove through the anger. I drove through the pain. By the time I pulled into the parking lot I was a wreak. I sat in my car wondering if I should just turn around and go home. How much more of this could I take. I have to make a decision one way or the other.

Live.

Die.

I hate myself but I hate the pain even more.

I walk towards the front door, take a deep breath and walk inside. One more decision to make.

Take a right to my desk or turn left and walk into the office of my boss.

"What are you going to do now?"

over and over in my head.

I didn't even knock on his door for fear that in that split second I might change my mind. I just barged in on him as he was talking on the phone. He took one look at my face and ended his phone call gracefully.

I am a drug addict and an alcoholic and I need to get out of here.

I still can't believe I hear myself saying this.

"Are you serious?"

"I am going to die. I need help."

The fear and the tears must have been enough to convince him that I was serious. He was on the phone in a matter of seconds.

There is no turning back

Thanks everyone

2006-01-23T13:50:00.000-08:00

**** UPDATE****

This Book is going to be published. I will be required to take down this work "as a whole" very soon. If you are currently in the process of reading this let me know and I will get you the rest.

GOD IS GOOD!!!!

9/11/06 -Steve

If you are just reading this page for the first time I want to welcome you to my life. This website is actually a full book. It is my own story of pain, redemption and salvation through Christ.

I am a drug addict.

I am an alcoholic.

I am a believer in Jesus Christ.

Please feel free to read my story. I wrote it to show the change in my life and to show that God can take you from darkness if you allow Him.

Many people have emailed me wanting to know what happens after this story ends in Russia. If you haven't read the whole book I would suggest that you do before you continue reading here. You can follow the links on the sidebar. Click on the lowest chapter and continue until you hit "Chapter 1".

This whole journey of writing this book was nothing like I expected it to be. I started writing because I felt I had a story that should be told. I had gone through some serious pain in my life because of addiction and I was saved through an honest relationship with Jesus Christ. To not tell the story would be dishonoring to God.

I had no idea what I was writing when I started. I just started it one day and it consumed me. In some ways it has been great and in other ways it has been two months of reliving quite a bit of pain. I have had some rough days because of this book. I have sat and cried many times over writing it. In some ways it was a final push to purge the pain and sin of my past. To face it all one more time now that it is approaching four years since I went to rehab. To face it as a new man, one who has dedicated his life to serve God to the best of my ability. To let it all go.

I have been humbled by the response to this book. I had no idea that I was going to be getting so many emails from people telling me about their own lives and their own struggles. Each of you that has written me I want you to know that I have prayed for you and your situations. Any of the goodness and strength that you might have obtained from this writing is not from me. I can't take any credit for that. I wrote what God put on my heart and I wrote what I went through to the best that my memory could grasp. A wise man named Dale once told me that the beauty I saw in him was only a reflection of his ability to let God in enough to let him shine. The honor in my story doesn't go to me, it goes to God. Without God this story would have ended in a tragic way. The story is one that I hope shows HIS strength and NOT mine. The main thing I did was have faith.

I came to believe.

I am still currently a worship leader at the same church. This church continues to grow and in the four short years of it's existence has planted three other churches. I lead worship every Friday night and I also lead 3 services on the first Sunday of every month. I am no longer at the job I had in the story. I actually lost the job I held for five years three days after I bought my first home. That was a little over a year ago. I had no idea how I was going to survive after losing a pretty high paying job. The truth is that God provided for me. I took a job as a mortgage broker and this year I made about 1/4 of the income I did from the previous years. God taught me how to make do without the excess income I use to have. Money is money and it isn't high on my priority list.

I am involved in the church as much as I can be. On the Sundays that I don't lead worship I take care of the 2 and 3 year olds at our church. I am "Uncle Steve" to a whole lot of beautiful children. It gives me a chance to love on the little ones and it gives rest to my heart that so longs to be a daddy. Like all of us I am just trying to listen to what God's will is in my life. Maybe I am destined to be single forever and I am trying to be ok with that. I haven't dated in a very long time. I am working on the most important relationship first, my relationship with God.

I have never seen or heard from my ex-wife. I did hear that she remarried and I still pray for her and her family. I wish nothing but the best for her. I hope that God has reached her heart in the same way that he has reached mine.

Cozmo and I are the best of friends. That isn't ever gonna change.

Mark and Joe and I still are playing music and trying to figure out what is God's plan for us. We have played together for eight years. Right now we are fully concentrating on being accountable Godly men. We meet weekly to go through the book "Measure of a Man" which teaches men how to achieve the traits that Godly men have as outlined by Paul in the Bible. It is an amazing book and an even more amazing journey.

I haven't seen Lacey for a long time. She did get married though. She married Aaron from rehab! Can ya believe it!! I am totally happy for them. I wish years of happiness to them. God bless them!

Right now I am just trying to figure out what to do with this thing. I think I am going to have to go back and change names to protect the "innocent". I have been thinking about that a lot lately. I don't want to cause harm by writing this book. None of it was meant to be demeaning or vengeful. I just wanted to tell the whole story so that maybe someone might relate to it. So they might see a hope in their own darkness.

I have a few people reading this as a whole. I am getting input on how to best put it together to maybe get it published. I just want it to be used for as much good as God allows.

It feels very weird to be done with this. I just didn't want to carry it out to a point of "boring". I felt that ending the book in Russia really showed how far God can take a willing man/woman.

If you want you can go to my other blog "Following God's Will" and follow my story from there. I have pictures of my mission trip from Russia and stories. It has a day to day of what has been going through my mind since this story ended.

None of our stories is ever really over.

Maybe it's only begun...

With Love,

Steve

The Final Chapter

2006-01-19T12:32:00.000-08:00

Music begins to flow out us.

This has never been a problem in the years that we've played together. Back when we were "I Am" we had something like fifty-two original songs. That's what we did when we got together, we wrote music.

I spent all of my time writing lyrics in one of my many books and trying to put the words to music.

God wasn't really the focus for me then. My focus was the struggle.

The focus was me.

I look back on words I wrote at age thirteen and they mirrored the struggles I had at twenty-seven.

A search for purpose and meaning.

The old music contained so much search and no resolution. It talked of how I was reaching out but not about what I finally grabbed on to. I couldn't sing about what I hadn't found yet. Now that I was cleansing myself of the filth of this world I was starting to see the hand of God in a majority of my life. Where I was weak He had been so strong. He had never left me.

I had walked away from Him.

The journey now had more focus. The music had complete meaning and purpose. We want to create music that talks of the truth.

I am tired of hiding.

Just when it seemed we were making the most progress again Joe hit us with some bad news.

He was moving to Las Vegas so that his wife could finish nursing school.

This was a tough blow for us. Joe was a huge part of us and to lose that meant we had to look at what we really wanted to do. Mark and I decided that we needed to get grounded. We needed to get involved in a church and let God work on us. We needed to get completely centered in Christ.

We had been going to a church together for a while. It was Mark's church from childhood. The head pastor, Ron Mehl, was a man full of amazing wisdom and grace. In May the Lord took him home. Over 10,000 people came to his funeral services. His church began with a couple dozen people in the early 1970s and now numbered over 6,000.

This is a true testament to what God can do through a person who is willing to do His work.

With the passing of Ron Mehl, Mark and I decided that we needed to find a smaller church that we could actively get involved in. We knew that if we could be a band that was dedicated to the church first then God would open other doors for us.

A friend of Mark's told him about a new church that just moved into a new building. It was called "Our Place Christian Church". Mark and I went on a Sunday to check it out. It wasn't like any other church I had been to. It had a relaxed atmosphere and the band that was playing wasn't playing "church" music. They were pumping some hard rock through a killer sound system.

We talked to the head music minister and introduced ourselves. It seemed like we got along with the people that we met.

We started going to this church. The next thing I knew I really needed was a Bible study group. The one thing that all my rehab groups taught me was there was a strength in numbers. People discussing their hearts can be a very powerful thing.

I got hooked up in a men's bible study group. We met every week and did workbook assignments and verse memory. Most of all we had fellowship. This really isn't a word that ever meant anything to me and now I am beginning to see what it is all about.

I have spent so much of my life living 100% for myself that I missed out on what it is like to live for others.

What it is like to live for God.

I really start to read the Bible. I read it with the same passion that I read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. I read the Big Book because I knew it had some of the answers that I needed to live a life of happiness. I never use to look at the Bible that way and now I see it is so much more.

The word of God. Everything I need.

**************************************************

Mark and his wife are blessed with two beautiful baby boys.

Twins.

I get to celebrate with them in this new journey. I feel equally blessed in some ways and I feel such a deep connection with these boys. I get to be "Uncle Steve" to Mark's babies and I thank God that they won't ever know the old me. Through His grace, God gives me the chance to be a part of all of this. I get to see Mark and Tiffany in a Godly relationship. I see a young married couple that put God first in their lives and it gives me hope.

I know that it is possible for me.

I know that right now I just want to be comfortable with me. I want to grow in my relationship with God so that when He chooses to bless me like he has Mark, I will be ready.

I will be a man that is worthy of true love.

Mark and I continue to write music and play. Right now it is difficult because of two new babies. We decide that it is best if we just concentrate on church and family.

I am blessed to be given an opportunity to lead worship at this church. It is something that I have never done. I have sung in a "Christian" band but I have never felt like I could stand before a church. It was always about me and for the first time in my life I just wanted to worship God and use the gifts that He had given me.

He alone deserves any praise.

I continue with my program also. I live in the 12 step.

Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry the message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

I started this journey as a broken man full of sin. A man that was his own master and I was spiritually bankrupt. Through work and being honest with myself I found that I wasn't the King of this kingdom. God was on the throne.

I found life.

Salvation.

Peace.

I was not owed any of this. I did not earn the right. It was given to me freely and because of that I am called to give it back to the best of my ability. I start sponsoring others like Jeff had sponsored me. In the process I am given insight to what Jeff and others had told me but I did not yet understand. He told me that helping me gave more to him then he ever gave to me.

I see that now.

I understand.

It isn't just about the message of sobriety. It is a message of freedom.

Being freed from ourselves.

To allow God to work through us to reach others. To show others that are hurting that there is a life outside of the pain, outside of the guilt, outside of the sin that surpasses all understanding.

For the next two years I focus all of my energy on worship and service. I try to the best of my ability to allow God to show me what His will for me is and I follow. I stand before a church and I play. I let God use me in any way that He can and I try my best to just get out of the way. Some days I succeed and others I fail.

I fail.

God never does.

It is me.

I try and just let the light shine through the darkness.

His light and not mine.

********************************************

I haven't been in a rehab facility for over three years. This one doesn't have the nurses station and the detox wing like the one I remember.

The floors are dirty and it is small.

This one is a converted farm house. The people here are no different then the people I went rehab with. I can imagine that they are just as confused and hurt by the disease as all of us were, or as some of them probably still are.

Cozmo and I are still the best of friends. He is the only other one that I know of that is still sober. He and I have a bond that I know can never be broken. I can imagine it is somewhat like a bond that two soldiers get when they fight side by side together.

He is my brother.

I think about him as I sit in this farmhouse waiting to meet some of the residents of the facility. I wish he could be here also to show that recovery and salvation is possible with faith.

These people are no different.

No different except the language. I need to have an interpreter with me because I don't speak Russian.

I have been in Russia for a week or so. I came on a mission trip to help spread the Good News. We are here to help with a new church in a small Russian village. This rehab facility is just outside of the town in the middle of farmland.

I have been walking through the village with my interpreter Sergei and God is stretching me in ways I never thought possible. I stop anyone that will listen.

Hi my name is Steve and I am from the United States. I came 5000 miles to talk to you. I want to invite you to come and hear a concert that we are putting on. I also want to tell you about Jesus Christ and how He wants you to know Him.

I have conversations with Russian villagers.

I meet children and I play soccer with them and I talk to them about God.

I meet amazing Russian people that share my love for God and that share a passion for reaching people with His teachings.

I stand before a Russian church and I play worship music. I get the chance to meet a girl named Sasha who sings in a Russian praise group. She has the voice of an angel and we play and sing together as if we had done so a million times. She is also a songwriter and she teaches me some of her songs. I learn parts of them in Russian and we sing together. We praise a powerful and mighty God.

The Holy Spirit lives in each breath and within each note.

Now I sit in front of addicts and alcoholics 5000 miles away from my home. I listen to their stories and they are no different than mine. They also are finding healing in Christ. After they all speak they ask if I would like to share my story.

I stand and tell them parts of my past. I tell them about being in rehab. I tell them about the mighty power of God in my own life. As I speak I see each of them nodding in understanding.

These are my people.

We stand and we all sing. There is a man with an accordion and he plays as the Russians sing a worship song. When they were finished we sang a worship song also.
As we prayed and praised God an amazing thing happened.

The wind.

As if God himself came down from the heavens to touch us all.

I could only be reminded of His glory as we sang the most precious song I know.

Amazing Grace how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now I'm found
was blind but now I see

****************************************************

I awoke early.

It must have been 5:30.

I walked outside of the farmhouse in the middle of Russian farmland with my guitar in hand.

I stood by the side of the pond and took my guitar from it's case. The sun was rising signaling the start of a new day. A day that is given freely to all of us. A day that is ours because Christ died for our sins.

He died for me.

He died for you.

I stand at the waters edge and I play worship songs and sing into the Russian air. I sing to my audience of one. I sing and think about the path that I have taken to be right here, right now, in this very moment. On all accounts I am unworthy of these gifts. I live now only to try and serve God the best I can.

I stand and I sing 5000 miles away from my home and even farther away from the pain of my past.

I sing because I am thankful.

I watch the sun rise and I can't help but cry.

My tears of joy left forever on Russian soil.

The only thing I can think to say is

God is good.

Chapter 69

2006-01-19T09:48:00.000-08:00

Pain fades only as much as you allow it to.

I have had to deal with one truth this whole first year in sobriety.

True happiness and joy can only come through forgiveness. I have been praying for my ex-wife and truthfully I have gotten through it. I could see her on the street or in passing and I wouldn't think twice about saying hello and asking her how she was. I do wish the best for her. At some point I will have to fully grasp that forgiveness in this past relationship.

The biggest obstacle for me is forgiving myself. I talk a great game when it comes to the program and when it comes to "Letting go and letting God" but there comes a time when action is the only way.

I have to forgive myself for all that I have done in my past. I have to give all of this to God once and for all. The issue I have had in the past is giving it to God but then taking it back to play with when I don't think He is doing things the way that I want Him to.

I need to just let go of the wheel and let the Big Man drive for a change. My ride thus far has been more of demolition derby than a cruise down a beautiful country road. I can keep the car on the road for a while but inevitably I will crash.

I have to come to terms with the absolute truth that God knows better than I ever will.

Some days it sickens me that it has taken this many years to figure all of this out. I have to put that aside also. I want to just be released once and for all from this bondage of self.

There is two things I want to do in 2003.

Quit smoking and get to know God like He knows me.

I have been smoking and chewing for at least 15 years of my life. I want to quit because I know how unhealthy it is. I have tempted fate for far too many years. I had a dream that I lost my lower lip from cancer and that was enough for me. I had tried the patch and I had tried the gum and I always went right back to my habit. This last year had shown me that I can do anything through belief and faith in God.

So I prayed.

God please take away my desire and my need to smoke and chew. I want to live a healthy life of service to You for all You have done in me.

Take it away.

I believe with all my heart that today will be the last day I smoke or chew.

***********************************************

February 19th, 2003.

Today is a day I never thought was possible. I made it a whole year without drinking. I made it a whole year without putting anything in my body that alters the way God made me.

I woke up today at 5:30 AM and took a shower. I talk to God the whole time. I decided that I would take the day off work to celebrate my year of continuous sobriety. I walk to the Alano club and hit up the Dawn Patrol meeting at 6:30.

They ask if anyone is celebrating any time.

My name in Steve and I am a grateful alcoholic. I have one year today.

My voice shakes as I say it. I get my coin and I just stare at it and rub it with my thumb. I pass it around the room and people hold it and rub it and some pray on it. They put their own mojo in it.

When I am called on to share I really can't do anything but cry.

I never thought I could do this. I did what you guys told me to do. I got a sponsor and I worked the program. I trusted in God. I am just thankful. That's it.

It is a good day. I go to the gym after the meeting and I work out. I hit a noon meeting in Lake Oswego at the firehouse. At 5:30 I am going to be the chairperson at my home group in the basement of the Alano Club. I have invited my Mom and my Dad to share in this with me.

They have never been to a meeting before so I explain to them how it all works.

The meeting is a full one. It feels really nice to have my parents there with me because I know that it means just as much to them as it does to me. They smile with me when they hear my friends celebrate my recovery.

I talk just a little bit about the last year. Mostly I talk about the word "gratitude". I am thankful for having the family that I do. Thankful I have the friends that I do. Thankful that I have a loving and caring God in my life.

It is a great meeting. The people that I call on to speak are those that have serious time in the program. These are people that I know will talk about the one thing that has saved me.

Trust and faith.

Chapter 68

2006-01-18T10:06:00.000-08:00

Once again I am home alone on New Years Eve.

This is like a nightmare Holiday for me. I have rented some movies to try and pass the time and in a lame attempt to shut my mind off. I wish I could say it was working but the reality is I can't stop the pain.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of talking to her husband. She knew it was going to get back to him and I guess she told him. I don't know what she said and I really don't care. The only thing I tell him is that I didn't know and if I did this never would have happened.

Leave me and my wife alone.

Just hearing him say that cuts me to the core. This guy has no idea about the extent of our relationship. It has been YEARS. This wasn't just some random fling. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt and shame.

I have so many questions that I will never have answers to. That, in itself, is enough to drive me crazy.

I didn't know.

I didn't know.

I have to say it over and over in my head.

I am so restless. I am trying to watch Ocean's 11 but I just can't get into it so I turn it off. I try and play music but nothing wants to come out. So I just sit and I just stare blankly at the television. The Times Square celebration is on and the ball is going to drop.

What are they even celebrating? I think the only way to describe myself at this point is "bitter". I am really falling into a depression that I can't see a way out of. I just keep thinking that I won't ever trust another woman. I won't ever put myself through this again.

It is done as far as I am concerned. I put my heart out there and only a small part of it came back.

It is my own personal New Year's Eve Pity Party.

At 11:30 or so my phone rings. I know it is her. Every part of me wants to answer it and really punish her with how I am feeling. What's the point...

I just let it ring.

No message is left.

How much longer am I going to do this to myself? I am creating more pain for myself. It is almost like I enjoy it. I am so use to the pain that I feel uncomfortable without it. That is a sick thought.

I need to do the next right thing. I am the only one that can get me out of this. No amount of worry will fix what has happened. What is done is done. I have to get out of my house. I have to be around people that will understand. Things could be worse, I guess...

I could be her husband.

******************************************

I get to the Alano club at 11:50 pm. They are having marathon meetings downstairs in the basement. There are usually marathon meetings every holiday. Apparently I am not the only one that needs a meeting. There is quite a few folks hanging out. People have brought food and the atmosphere is exactly what I needed.

The clock hits midnight and I celebrate my first sober New Years.

I celebrate it with a group of drunks that made the same choice I did. They chose to surround themselves with people that understood that pain inside of them. People that understood the struggle of being alone on a holiday.

I wished everyone a happy New Year and decided to take a walk. I walked down to 21st street and heard the noise of the local bars. The noise of a life I can no longer live. I walk and smoke, reliving in my mind the past year of my life. I have been so enveloped in my recovery and focused on all my errors that I haven't fully seen the truth.

I am sober.

If nothing else, I am that.

I just went through one of the most painful things I have ever experienced in my life and I stayed sober.

Progress, not perfection.

I smile slightly as I continue taking sober steps into a new year of my life.

Chapter 67

2006-01-17T15:26:00.000-08:00

Be careful what you wish for.

I asked God for the answer. The question that I keep asking myself is "can I actually deal with this truth"?

I have been through my share of trials in this life. I have been through the refining fires more times than I ever expected. I am at a loss at this very moment. I don't know what I am going to do. This is true heartbreak. I have never awoke to find that part of my life was completely opposite of what I believed it to be.

The pain of my soul was coming to the surface in the form of tears and cries of torment that I have never heard myself make. I don't even know how to begin trying to understand what I am going through. Where can I start?

I drive and scream.

The questions just race in and out of my head.

How?

Why?

I try and call her and she doesn't answer. I continue to try.

I finally get a text message on my phone that says she is scared to talk to me. I don't blame her. I am scared enough of myself right now.

Fear and fury, I am a potent mixture of both. There is feelings raging in me at this moment that I have not felt for almost a year. I am explosive.

I am once again hate.

I text her back to meet me and she actually agrees to do that. I drive to her gym parking lot and wait for her. She shows up and gets in my car.

She tries to say she is sorry.

I tell her to shut up.

I only want to tell her one thing. The pain is building inside of me and I can't say it without screaming it at her.

I HATE YOU! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR!

I don't even let the door shut for a second before I race my car out of the parking lot.

Fear and fury.

I want only one thing at this moment and it is to get as drunk as I possibly can. I want to fuel my pain the only way I have known how. I want to punish myself.

I am realizing that I am driving like a crazed man. I have already blown straight through one red light. It is only a matter of time before my world comes to a crashing halt.

I pull my car over in a 7-11 parking lot and just let it all out. I know that I have come too far to give up now. I am not that man anymore. I am not that man who will take the easy way out.

I will walk through this fire once again.

I call Jeff, the one person in this world that I feel I can trust at this very moment. I tell him the story and I admit to him that I want to drink myself into oblivion. He asks if I can make it to the 5:30 without drinking before then. I tell him that I will do that.

I start doing what I need to do to protect myself. I call Cozmo and I tell him what has happened. I call my roommate to let him know I am ok. The next call I make is to my parents.

I tell them what has happened. I need them to know so I don't feel so alone in this. My Mom is sickened for me. They are both worried about what this will do to me. They ask if I have talked to Jeff yet. I tell them that I have.

My Mom says the one thing that makes all the sense in the world to me.

Thank God you found out now and not any later.

I started to really think about it.

I sat in Arizona and I prayed long and hard day after day for God to reveal the truth to me about this relationship.

I asked for this.

I needed to know the truth and the truth was revealed to me in an extaordinary way. Many things had come together at exactly the right time to make me see what I had been unable to see for so long. I was more than an hour away when Krista convinced me to drive home. During this time my roommate was out on the town and out of all the people in Portland he could have met and invited back to his house he meets the woman who did Krista's hair on her wedding day. All of it timed to perfection. All of it revealed in the only way I would have believed it.

The fury fades.

I am going to get through this because I know I can get through anything.

Let go, Let God.

I drive and I cry. This is a pain I won't soon forget.

I do make it to that meeting. I sit in the room with all of my fellow addicts and alcoholics and I cry. They support me and they love me. I talk it all through with my sponsor. I only have to answer one question in my mind.

God is either big enough or he isn't.

Which do I honestly believe?

Chapter 66

2006-01-17T10:49:00.000-08:00

My first sober Summer.

Seems like this year is nothing but "firsts". I spend most of my Summer getting in shape and golfing. My golf game is just shy of atrocious and I am trying to be ok with that. I usually like to succeed in everything I do but I am slowly letting that go.

Cozmo and I have spent some time together this Summer. It looks like he and I are going to be the two rehab guys that stay in touch. I rarely talk to anyone else, with the exception of the guys in my outpatient group.

I saw my childhood friend Ryan the other day, my friend that Lacey and I saw at our Sunday meeting. He had been sober for over a year and he decided that he hadn't had enough pain yet. He is back drinking. It really bothers me that he gave up all of that sober time. It bothers me because I know him so well and it bothers me because it proves that this disease is never over. It will always be a struggle in one way or another. Ryan will be the first to admit that he just didn't work the program at all. He doesn't want to turn that will over to God.

I just hope that somehow he finds his way back.

I have gotten to a place in my program that I am really thankful for. The 11th step is a turning point for me. Everything up to this point has made such an impact on my life but this step seems to contain the answer that I have really been searching for my whole life.

Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

I found a gold mine of a meeting every Saturday morning at the club. It is an 11th step meeting. I knew from the first time I sat in this meeting that it was a good one. It is in the attic of the club. The meeting starts with ten minutes of silence. Ten minutes of meditation.

There is an amazing feeling that happens when you get a group of people together actively searching for God's will. It is beautiful. It sets a tone for the rest of the meeting. People are very relaxed and the talk is all about prayer and meditation and how it relates to recovery.

There is some people that go to this meeting that have a lot of time. I think that the prayer and meditation and searching for God's will is a huge reason why they have the time they do. I get to hear these people talk every week and I take what I can use. That is the same with all meetings I go to. I take what I can use and I leave the rest. There is a lot of crap in meetings. That happens because there is a lot of sick people and honestly I can't expect to have some sort of epiphany every meeting I go to. I do see that if I look with the right heart I can find what I need.

I try and take that into my day to day.

If I look at it with the right heart I can find what I need.

The 11th step meeting really gets me focused on calming my mind. It shows me that I can open myself up to God's will if I just silence myself long enough to truly listen. I believe that in that silence I can find the answers that I am searching for. I can find the what this step is talking about.

The answer to what God's will is for me in my life and the strength to carry it out.

************************************************

Cozmo and I celebrate nine months of sobriety. That is 270+ days and nights without drugs and alcohol. Each milestone in my recovery is more staggering to me than the last. I never saw myself as a guy who could reach nine months. I think back to those first days in rehab and how horrid it was. How challenging each day was. It is different now that my body has cleansed itself. The desire to drink and use doesn't show itself like it use to.

The true search now is about contentment. It is about happiness and purpose. Being with Krista has made me happy in some ways and in other ways it is so painful. It has been painful for a long time.

This year at Christmas I have been invited to go with Cozmo and his family to Arizona. It would be the first Christmas I have ever spent away from my family. I talk to them about it and they think that I should go and have a great time. I except the invitation.

I get some time off work and fly to Arizona. We have a great time just playing cards and golfing. We are also there to watch the Oregon State Beavers play in the Insight bowl two days after Christmas.

Christmas eve is really hard for me. I knew that being away from my family was going to be tough. I just imagined all of them together eating Christmas eve dinner. I imagined the excitement of my nephews. I did call all of them and talk to my parents. I told them how much they mean to me and how thankful I am for the support this year.

Christmas day we had a huge yatzee tournament with Cozmo's family. I thought me family was competitive but these guys bring it. His Mom can talk trash with the best of them. It is a great time with my "other" family. I have grown to really love these guys.

The football game wasn't as pretty as expected. The Beavers got beat pretty bad by Pitt. Still fun to watch college football.

I have talked to Krista a few times since I have been here. I am just struggling tremendously with our relationship. I can't put my finger on it exactly but I know that God is really trying to tell me something. I feel very uneasy over Christmas.

I start putting the 11th step into practice and I really seek what it is God is trying to tell me.

I pray.

God, I need you to tell me if this relationship is the right one for me. I need to know. I will follow where ever it is you want to lead me. I just need to know.

**********************************************

We all get back to Cozmo's house and I am going to stay one more day with him. That night at around ten o'clock I get a call from Krista. She really wants to see me and really wants to spend some time with me. She tells me to come back up to Portland. She says that she will be waiting for me outside my house.

I really don't want to drive back to Portland but something tells me that I should. I thank Cozmo and tell him I have to go. He isn't happy that I am cutting out so quickly but he understands.

I have to get back to Portland.

I drive back and meet up with Krista at my house. It is really good to see her. We decide to go inside the house. It looks like my roommate is home. Krista and I walk into the kitchen and my roommate Tom is with a few people. It is two girls and a guy that he had met that night in a bar. He had never met them before tonight. He decided to invite them back to the house.

The first thing I hear when we walk into the kitchen is one of the girls.

Krista?

Immediately I can feel a very uncomfortable vibe in the room coming from this girl and Krista. They say Hi to each other. They obviously know each other. Krista definitely wants to get out of the kitchen. She walks out and tells me she wants to go upstairs.

Who was that?

She tells me it is a girl who use to cut her hair.

She won't give me anymore information then that. It is very uncomfortable. She stays for a few hours but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. She tells me she has to go. She tells me that she loves me.

I fall asleep.

The next morning I wake up and walk downstairs. My roommate Tom is sitting on the couch. He just looks at me with a look I won't forget.

Dude, I don't even know how to start to tell you this.

I look at him confused.

Steve, that girl last night was Krista's hairdresser.

I know, she told me.

Dude, she is married. That girl last night told me that she did Krista's hair on her wedding day. She couldn't believe it when you guys walked into the kitchen holding hands. She got married in July.

The feeling I felt at that very moment was one I hope I never feel again. I just stared at Tom not being able to speak a word.

God man, I am so sorry. I don't know what to say. It's not your fault.

I have to go.

I have to go.

Steve! God man, please don't do anything stupid. This isn't your fault.

I have to go.

Please just stay here man. Just stay.

I have to go.

I walked out the door in a daze. The most surreal moment of my life. I got in my car and just started driving.

July.

One month before she was at the beach with my family. All of it started coming together. The last three years of my life. My God, I talked to her on the phone the day of her wedding. I remember the day. Her friends were in town for a rafting trip.

A rafting trip.

I pulled my car over and opened my door. I threw up. I can't even comprehend any of it.

All I know is that getting drunk feels like the perfect solution.

Chapter 65

2006-01-16T22:32:00.000-08:00

This is the most time I have spent with my family since getting clean and sober. My Dad and brother and I golf every day and it is wonderful, but I still feel uncomfortable. It isn't that I don't like spending time with them at all, it is the fact that I am going through so much change.

Some days it really feels like they just won't understand what is going on inside of me.

A couple times during the vacation I just have to go and be by myself in my room. It is hard to explain to myself, let alone them, why I feel the need to isolate myself. I have always loved action and attention. I have hated being alone.

I hated seclusion because I hated the guy that was keeping me company.

It is different now. I am starting to enjoy the quiet time I can have alone. I am enjoying getting to know my true thought process and what really makes me act the way I do.

I am finding peace.

Maybe it is finding me.

Tonight I just sit alone on the beach listening to the lull of the ocean. The rhythm of the waves allow me to calm my soul. The night is perfectly clear which is rare at the coast. I watch the sunset.

I watch as the sun slowly drops, seemingly right into the ocean. The colors are beautiful as the evening light fades before my eyes. Complete and total peace takes its place as my eyes turn skyward to gaze at the stars.

I think to myself that this might be the first time in my life that I have felt this small and been ok with the thought. I am but one grain of this sand that slowly sifts through my fingers.

The sound of the ocean soothes my restless heart and sets my mind free. Free from addiction, free from pain, free from worry and most of all free from myself.

This is the God that I long to know better.

The God that created this night.

This one perfect night etched forever upon me.

Without question a simple "Thank you" doesn't feel like it would ever be enough to express the feelings of gratitude. The waves crash as I close my eyes and take in the coastal air.

It is pure, unmarred by the foulness of this world.

It is everything I ever wanted to be.

Chapter 64

2006-01-16T12:11:00.000-08:00

One of the hardest steps for me in this whole process is step 10.

Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

This is a daily step for me.

That means I fail at it daily. I have lived a life full of half truths for so long that it is a very hard habit to break. Rationalization and justification have been two training wheels that I haven't been able to fully remove.

Without them I have a tremendous fear that I will crash. I will fail. That is my day to day battle still. Fear of failing.

The Big Book will say it's all about progress and not perfection.

That is a tough one for me. I still think that I can be perfect. It has been a downfall of mine for as long as I can remember. I am never good enough for myself.

My progress has at least allowed me to admit that and it has at least allowed me to see how completely irrational that is. Day by day it gets better through work and through prayer. I start my day with the same prayers. I begin with the serenity prayer and then I ask God for strength. I pray that I stay clean and sober and I pray that I approach all situations with a pureness of spirit.

I approach each day that way.

I fail at it everyday in one way or the other. The difference is I work the program around it.

There is a lady at work that I really can't stand. She is fairly new and she thinks she knows everything. Right away I know I will have problems with her because of the attitude.

Truth is it is a trait that I have. I know everything. I hate it in her because I hate it in me. This is something in the past that I could never admit.

Well we got into it. I said a few things that I really wish I hadn't said. I wasn't the one who started it. I had one of her clients on the phone and she had given the client some poor information. She was on the other line so I did my best to handle the issue. The client wasn't happy at all. I took the full force of the anger and that never makes a guy smile.

I went over to her to explain what had happened and she got nasty with me. Instead of staying calm I shot it right back at her and walked away.

See if I ever try and help you again.

For the next hour I sat and just fumed about it. Most people would say I handled it the way I should have but I just can't let anger play a role in my day to day anymore. I get resentment and I want to drink. Even though I might have been justified in what I said to her it was still wrong.

When I am wrong I promptly admit it.

Well I swallow my pride and I walk over and apologize. She has the nerve to berate me a little over it and I just shut my mouth. I will never be able to control anyone else's actions but my own. I have a responsibility to myself and myself only. I let her say whatever she wanted and then walked away.

I cleaned my side of the street.

That's just how I have operate from now on. When I mess up I have to see and admit to myself that I failed and I have to try and make it right.

At night I do what the Big Book says. I look at my day and I see where I succeeded and I see where I failed. Do I owe anybody amends? How could I have acted differently? What do I need to change?

I hate doing this some days.

I hate it.

That doesn't change the fact I have to do it to achieve long term sobriety.

******************************************************

This year is the first year that I will be sober for my family vacation.

I am nervous about it. The past six months have not flown by at all. It seems like my days have crawled by. Each day in sobriety has been a long day indeed.

Krista and I have been talking quite a bit and she is concerned about what my family thinks about her. I have been honest with my family and told them that she is back in my life. They were not very happy to hear this because of the track record of our relationship. I told them that things were going to be different and that we had completely talked about the past mistakes she had made.

My family supports me. They may not agree with me but they support me. That is what family is all about.

I talk to Krista and tell her exactly that. I tell her that my family will welcome her with open arms if it is what I want. I ask her if she would like to meet me down at the beach for part of my vacation. She agrees to do that.

I spend a good amount of time with my nephews when I go to the beach. We build sandcastles and play in the ocean. The other thing is the arcades.

Skee-ball has long been a family tradition passed down from generation to generation. I have played these very Skee-ball machines when I was there age. I know that my Mom and Dad did also. The beach has family history.

There is nothing better than good family history.

I want to be able to spend as much time with my nephews as I can. I want them to remember me as a good man. A good Uncle who was always there to bring them smiles. I don't ever want them to remember me as a drunk.

Ever.

So we all spend time playing Skee-ball and Fascination. We collect tickets that the boys will use at the end of the trip to get ridiculously overpriced candy and toys.

Bite sized bit-o-honeys have been known to cost in the upwards of twelve dollars.

It is ok though, time spent with family has never had a price tag.

I have been going to the same meeting every day for almost six months. It is very hard to be away. I don't go to a meeting my first night at the beach. The second night comes and I really need one. I had looked up the meetings online and there are meetings every night. It says they are at "The Little Yellow House".

They didn't lie.

It is a little yellow house on 3rd street. This is my first meeting outside of Portland. It didn't shock me at all to find out that the addicts and alcoholics were just the same here at the beach as they were in Portland. The meetings weren't much different at all.

It is comforting to me.

No matter where I go I know there will always be people that have the same problems and issues as I do. There will always be people who are searching for the same healing that I am now searching for. There is an amazing amount of strength in that.

There is peace.

*******************************************

Krista is welcomed by everyone when she shows up.

I didn't expect it to be any different. I know my brother holds a pretty serious grudge against her. My brother saw me through my relationship with my ex-wife. He stood by my side and gave me support in ways that he may never know. I can only imagine that he just doesn't want to see me hurt like that ever again.

I don't blame him.

He was a perfect gentleman to her and that makes me happy.

We spent the day running and playing with the boys on the beach. It was great. The boys really like her.

Unfortunately she is really busy with work this week and can't stay for a couple days like originally planned. The good thing is she didn't miss out on family bowling night. This is a riot.

The clan of us goes and takes over the bowling alley. Watching the boys bowl is a little slice of heaven. They are so dang cute.

They also are really competitive.

This is a trait that runs in the family.

We have a great day and evening. It is awesome that I could show Krista what kind of family I had. I am very thankful that they trust and respect my decision.

Nobody says a negative word about it.

Chapter 63

2006-01-13T11:16:00.000-08:00

Playing and writing music with Mark and Joe is a beautiful thing in my life.

I know in my heart that God has been trying to do something with all of us for quite some time. The way we all met, how it was all put together, could only be described as an act of God.

When I first met them and started playing with them I was at such a low point in my life. I was having such a hard time with everything. I was just coming out of a terrible marriage and I just didn't think that I could have any happiness.

I didn't know if playing in this band, "I Am", was the right thing to be doing. I knew I wanted to play but is it the best thing for me. About the third week of playing with them I started really suffering from some serious anxiety in my life. At this time I had a Jeep whose windshield wipers never worked. This night driving out to Joes house to practice was particularly dark and stormy.

The rain was coming down at a rate that was making it almost impossible for me to drive.

It was frustrating me to the point of tears.

It was one of those "nothing is ever going to go easy on me" moments. I was literally arguing out loud with God while I was driving on highway 217.

ARE YOU EVER GOING TO GIVE ME A BREAK?

ARE YOU EVER GOING TO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?

I was so frustrated. I really needed to know if I was doing the right thing by devoting my energy to this band. Is this really what God wants me to do? Was it just one big coincidence that I prayed to Him and it seemed like He answered by giving me a new boss who happened to be a Pastor? That same boss introduced me to Joe who, together with Mark, had been praying for a singer. Am I just making it out to be something that it isn't?

Over and over in my head I had these questions. Finally I just screamed out loud to God.

IF THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME THEN SHOW ME!

At the split second those words left my mouth my windshield wipers came to life.

I broke down in a mixture of laughter and tears. It was to a point where I couldn't control the outpouring of emotion. I had to actually pull my Jeep off of the highway.

I got out in the pouring rain and through my laughter and tears looked skyward and yelled

SERIOUSLY, JUST A SMALL SIGN WILL DO!

************************************************

Here we are again some three years later.

We are all different.

With each time we get together we grow closer again. It seems that God can heal broken relationships if they are honestly brought to the foot of the cross. I am trying to still wade through all the guilt issues I have in my life. That seems to be the biggest bi-product of my drinking and using.

Guilt.

Slowly I am learning to really put it all in God's hands. It is still very hard for me to let it all go. Part of me still holds on despite all of the work I have done. It is hard to fathom that this is going to be a lifelong struggle for me.

I will always be an addict.

I will always be an alcoholic.

If I chose to drink again I know in my heart it will kill me and I can guarantee that it won't be pretty.

I am amazed by my two brothers. They are showing me love when I probably don't deserve it. I never thought that they would really understand what I was going through. Especially when I was going through it. I thought that I was so unique in my suffering.

Terminal uniqueness.

I am seeing now that I have never been alone. Everyone has pain and everyone falls short of the glory of God.

Mark has really been opening up more and sharing his past experiences. It pains me to know that he has done this before with me but I really didn't see our similarities. I was so blind.

I am excited to see what God has in store for all of us.

**************************************************

It is a vivid dream.

In the dream I am playing guitar and singing the phrase "More like your Son".

I wake up and I know that I have to get my pen and notebook. I know that I am going to have to grab my guitar. I get up and look at the clock and it reads 3:15 AM. I sit Indian style on my bed with my guitar. I pluck out a very simple bass line. I hear a distinct melody in my head. I just start writing.

I once was lost inside
not that long ago
longing to be free
so unsure of where to go
all that I've know
everything I've felt
It took me from your Grace
as I glorified myself
Glorified myself

Standing strong I'm a man
thankful for all you've done
I'm trying harder every day
To be more like Your Son

Now inside I've grown
much stronger I've become
now I long for love
the love of a Father's Son
Standing strong I am
the man that I've become
a little closer every day
a little more like Your Son

I write the song in a single sitting and I know that when I take it to Mark and Joe they will add their influence to it. I feel very close to God at this moment. I feel like I am starting to listen to what He wants.

I still know it will be no easy road.

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Chapter 62

2006-01-12T14:59:00.000-08:00

The feelings I have towards her seem to overpower any rational judgment.

From the very first moment I met her it seems I made my mind up that she was the one that I was destined to be with. She has driven me to do more than my share of stupid things.

The good that I feel from her seems to always outweigh the bad.

We have everything in common.

Well, almost everything. There is a little thing called "belief in God" that we differ on.

She comes from the "Biology" view of the world. Still I pursue her. I pursue her without consulting anyone else, even God.

This pursuit leads me to a one on one meeting with Lacey. I tell her that I think it is best that we don't see each other. I think that I am doing the right thing. Should two addicts be together? What if one of us relapses? Isn't that more dangerous?

Justification.

We talk and I tell her that she should concentrate on her son and getting her own place. I tell her a lot of things. What I don't mention is Krista. Lacey knows all about her. I talked to her many times about how my heart was broken.

I watch as she cries. This time the tears aren't about what she has been through. The tears are caused by me.

From the moment I found out that Krista had moved back from Colorado I had made my mind up. I was going to make it work this time.

I was in control.

*******************************************

Lacey and I avoided each other at aftercare meetings for a while.

I was still in the same group. Several people had come and gone. That is just the nature of the beast.

Tattoo Eric is one of them.

Life seemed to have gotten in the way of his recovery and he just stopped coming. I called him a few times and I never got calls back.

I continue to pray for him. I just hope that my gut feeling is wrong and he just started going to meetings on his side of town.

It is good to be in a men's group every week with the same guys. Everyone really gets to know each other and we get to keep each other accountable. You start to see through people's crap in a small group. We call each other on it.

I have some great guys in my group.

We talk outside of the meetings and I see some of them at A.A. meetings all over town. I trust these guys and they trust me.

There is a new kid in outpatient. He started showing up a couple weeks ago. He is convinced that he doesn't need to work a program at all. He is convinced that the only reason he is here is because of a D.U.I. that he got. He says he doesn't have a problem.

Well today he talks about his past.

Two months ago his father found him hanging by his neck and cut him down. His Father found him in time to save his life.

He tells this story and the rest of us just look at him in complete disbelief.

The funny thing about recovery groups is the bluntness.

He tells this story and I look at him and say

Let me get this straight. Your Dad found you hanging by your neck because you tried to kill yourself and you DON'T think you have a problem?

We all kinda laugh. It isn't that we are making fun of him at all. All of us laugh because we know how sick this disease makes us. How much it lies to us about who we really are.

My approach really pisses this kid off.

I tell him straight up that I am not trying to do anything to make him angry and if I have I am sorry. I just want him to hear what it is that all the rest of us hear. I told him about my experience with wanting to kill myself. So did a couple other guys.

He calmed down.

We are all in this group to help each other out.

Our counselor Leeza lets us talk things out. Some days it gets ugly. It gets real ugly. There is a couple guys in group that call me an AA Natzi. I've been called worse so it doesn't phase me. I know in my heart what has worked so far. I know in my heart what is bringing me closer to turning my will over to God.

After the group the kid comes up and asks me what a sponsor is. I shared my experience with getting mine. I told him to go to a meeting and find someone who had what he wanted. Someone that would really work the program with him.

He said he would do that.

I gave him my number and told him he could call me any time.

************************************************

I started really golfing a lot.

There is no better way to try and relax and gain some serenity then playing the most frustrating sport in the world. It is good for me though. It teaches me how to fail gracefully over and over again. Something that has eluded me for years.

The best part of the game is that moment you hit a perfect shot.

It feels so good to taste a piece of perfection after so much failure.

Golf is a sport that I really struggle with. My Dad loves to golf and actually works out at a golf course one day a week so he can golf there free. I want to get better at the game so we can play together. It is a great way to spend 4 hours with my Dad.

Every Summer my family has gone to the Oregon coast and stayed for a week. We all get together and golf and have a great time. This Summer will be my first time sober. It should be interesting. I just want to play as much golf as I can before we go this year.

Luckily, my sponsor Jeff is a golfer also.

He and I play quite a bit. It is good to just get out and smoke cigars and talk about life. Some of our best talks happen out on the golf course. He is becoming so much more than a sponsor to me. He is like a big brother. Someone who knows the pain I am feeling because he has been there also.

Through Jeff I meet a lot of guys that have some serious time in the program. It solidifies the fact that the program works.

If you work it.

Chapter 61

2006-01-12T11:21:00.000-08:00

Mark and Joe have been busy since I have been away.

I think it has been close to a year since we have played together. We have chatted on the phone and shot some emails back and forth but after the band fell apart we went separate ways.

They had families and I had Jack Daniels.

There is a great deal of uncomfortableness at first. They have another guy named Mark who has been playing guitar with them in the studio. I don't know him at all and I can only imagine what he has heard about me. We all know that this isn't going to be easy. The amends process has just started but the wounds aren't healed.

We decide, after some small talk, to just play. Let the music do the talking.

A little jam session.

It didn't take long at all to get into it. We picked a couple of our old tunes and for the first time in a long time, Mark and I were able to harmonize together.

One voice.

From that first time we sang together five years prior I have known that together we create one voice. After being in rehab and going through the last few months this was the sweetest sound I had heard in a long time.

I look over at Joe.

He is sitting behind his kit, hitting his drums with a big smile on his face.

Where is this life I saw, the life I saw
when I was so young?
A life in happiness, in bliss, before this suffering began
with visions of a child the darkness of this world
just passed me by
My innocence has aged and finally I can
read between the lines

When will I find my way
to a better land?
When will I be the one
to hold on to Your hand
When will I find a way
to say look a better day
When will I?

Hope is not gone within me
just momentarily delayed
I promise you my passion for this life
won't ever fade away
moving forward now I see happiness
ain't so far today
My eyes are opened now
and I dream of the day that I can say

When will I find my way
to a better land?
When will I be the one
to hold on to Your hand
When will I find a way
to say look a better day
When will I?

We sing this song and the words I wrote years ago seem to actually be coming to life. I think that I am finally finding my way to that better land. Finding a way to finally hold God's hand and not let go.

We play for some time. The other Mark leaves and it's just the three of us. The old band minus Ariel.

I want to come back and play.

They both are open to the idea but also want to make sure that I don't go back to the man I was before. I talk to them about the entire recovery process for me. What I am going through and what I do on a daily basis to stay sober.

The one thing that we all agree on is we need to be centered in Christ. I haven't had a home church in a long time. We decide that we should start going to Mark's church together. I am completely for the idea.

We make the decision that we are going to try and play together again. The three of us form the band "Jubalingen". This was a name Mark had been kicking around back in the "I Am" days. It comes from the book of Genesis. Depending on what translation of the Bible you look at, Jubal was the Father of all who play the flute, harp and organ. He also is called the inventor of the instruments in some translations. To us he is the first musician talked about in the Bible and that is a cool thing. He is talked about IN GENesis so Mark put together the name "JUBAL IN GEN".

Most importantly we just want to finish what we started five years ago.

Our band bio held everything we wanted to do.

Jubalingen: A thinking man's band with a heart for seeking, knowing, living and sharing the truth. To take a stand in sharing that knowledge,in hope of bringing resolution to matters that we all deal with on a daily basis, proclaiming why there is hope in every struggle. Keeping our eyes and hearts on the Lord through all that we do.

I want nothing more.

*******************************************

Sitting and watching Bob the Builder with Lacey's son, I convince myself that this isn't what I want.

I convince myself that I just can't be in a relationship with a girl that has a child that isn't mine.

I have been more distant towards Lacey since I met with Krista. I know that is what this is really about. It is about me being selfish once again.

The doorbell rings and Lacey answers it.

It is Aaron from rehab. He stopped by to say hello. I know that he LOVES seeing me there. He was never happy that Lacey and I got along in rehab. I knew from the start that he was interested in her. You can tell those kind of things.

I end up leaving. I am not at all mad when I leave but I can tell that Lacey is feeling that something is going on with me.

I need time to think about what I really want.

I have been bringing everything before God in prayer.

Everything but my love life.

********************************

Being in church with Mark and Joe is awesome.

There is a mid-week prayer service that Mark thinks will be great for us. I had never heard Mark's Pastor speak before.

He blew me away.

His name was Ron Mehl and he had been a Pastor at this church for thirty years. Twenty three of these years he spent battling leukemia. Mark tells me he is an amazing author also who has written a dozen books. The fact that he has leukemia hasn't slowed this guy down one bit. He still does five services a week.

I just like his approach. He is gentle and has a loving nature about him. The one thing I felt from the very moment I heard him speak was a presence of God. The Holy Spirit worked through this guy like no one I had ever heard.

Everyone got comfortable for the prayer time.

Most kneeled, facing towards the padded cushion of the pews. That looked good to me so I did the same.

Everyone just prayed as the music played and Pastor Ron spoke.

It was powerful.

I had been spending a lot of time in prayer at home. It seemed like I was always praying where ever I was. This was different. I was in a room full of people doing the same thing and it broke me.

I sobbed openly and without reservation.

It wasn't tears of pain. It was something different.

Tears of gratitude.

God was starting to do for me what I could not do for myself.

Freeing me from all of my past mistakes.

Chapter 60

2006-01-11T09:42:00.000-08:00

The list is something that is causing me a great deal of anxiety.

Am I really willing to do whatever it takes?

Step 9- "Made direct amends to such people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others"

What does that mean? Injure them or others?

I have also been going to some step meetings in the past three months. Each week the topic is one of the twelve steps. I like these meetings because I get to hear from people who have experience.

The ninth step meeting was two weeks ago.

We went around the room and took turns reading a paragraph on the ninth step in the 12 and 12 book. The step is all about the right attitude.

and about a huge trust in God.

People in the meeting talk about the mistakes they have made in this step. The harm that they have done in disclosing too much information to someone that actually hurts them more than they were originally hurt.

We want forgiveness but not at the expense of others. We also have to be careful not to do any more harm to ourselves. The step is about being willing to forgive ourselves. To love ourselves and others enough to take responsibility and being ready to accept the consequences.

The hardest part is to not blame the other person at all for my actions. It isn't about their right or wrong. It is about mine.

Let go, Let God

So the journey begins.

Before each amend I pray. I ask God to guide my heart and my words. I pray that the person I am making amends to will understand that I am making steps towards change. Most of all I pray that God controls the outcome and not myself.

I only have control over me.

The face to face amends are the hardest.

I am straight and to the point. I let them know that I am clean and sober and my intention is to ask forgiveness for my wrongs.

Here is what I did.

I never meant to hurt you.

Please forgive me.

I don't wallow in the problem. I hit it head on and then let the person respond. Most of the time it goes better than I ever expected.

There is quite a few women I owe amends to. I try and reach as many as I can. Most all of them thank me and tell me that it was no big deal at all.

I thank them and tell them it is a very big deal to me.

Humbling.

There is also amends that require restitution. My roommate is one of my best friends in the world. I live in his house. At one point, well over a year ago, I found a hundred dollar bill in our easy chair. I knew he had lost it. I spent it anyways.

Well I came to him in the same way I did the others. I also came to him with a hundred dollar bill in hand. I told him that I was not only embarrassed that I kept it but ashamed.

He called me an ass and said we were cool.

Gotta love guys.

Family amends were next. Asking my Mom and Dad for forgiveness for the stress and heartache I had put them through. Forgiveness for not being the best Son I could be. Forgiveness for not making them as proud as I should.

They both just want me to keep doing what I am doing. They want me to stay sober. They just really want me to be happy.

I owe huge amends to Joe and to Mark, my bandmates.

I used our band for my own personal glorification. I walked all over them at times in my quest for the spotlight. I lied to them. I didn't allow them to help me. I didn't let know me and know the real pain that I was going through.

I didn't respect our friendship and their love for me.

My brothers were a reflection of Christ's forgiveness. They loved me and told me they supported me. We began a healing process that included me making amends to Mark's wife also. I had lived with them for a short period of time and I had been less than respectful of her home. I know that it is going to take much more than words for all of them to fully forgive. It is going to take action and time.

They will have to see me walking the walk.

The beautiful thing is they love me enough to walk along side of me.

We decide that we really want to get back to playing music together but only for the right reasons. The glorification of God. We want to have a true music ministry. The most important thing is to focus on becoming brothers again.

It is going to be a long and rewarding road.

The amends process is emotionally draining. There is a few that I don't know how to handle. My ex-wife being the biggest. I come to the conclusion that it would not be in either of our best interests for me to try and contact her.

...except when to do so would injure them or others

I think there is only one way for me to handle it.

I sit and I write a letter to her. I ask for forgiveness for being a terrible husband, for the name calling, for the disfunction. In the letter I tell her that I wish her all the best in the world.

I have held onto the pain of this relationship for far too long. I have held the anger. I have held the shame. I have not let the scars heal. I know the only way to free myself from it is forgiveness.

I put the letter in a white envelope with only her first name on it, nothing more. I put a stamp on the envelope and I drop it in the mailbox across the street.

I vow to pray for her everyday.

I release her.

********************************************

I make the decision to contact Krista.

I know in my heart that it probably isn't the best idea but I have to clear everything up.

I sit at work and try and figure out if email is going to be the best way. We haven't talked on the phone for quite some time.

I will make the phone call.

I don't remember her work phone number in Colorado so I look it up on my computer. She works for the same company I do so it should be easy.

I have to triple check when her information comes up on the screen.

It says that she is working in downtown Portland.

I dial the number with my stomach in my throat. It is a local number and she answers.

I am silent. I can't think of what I want to say.

Hello?

"Hey" is all I can get out.

She recognizes my voice and asks how I am.

When did you move back?

Two months ago. We weren't talking so I didn't tell you. I didn't want to mess with your recovery. I have been thinking about you and hoping that you are doing ok.

Yeah. I am good.

I am completely stunned that she is back in Portland. It was the last thing I ever expected. We talk for quite some time. She tells me that she had been thinking about coming back for a long time. She bought a house and got a better job with the company here.

It feels really good to talk to her. We get along very well when she isn't lying to me. The hardest thing about her is she is a very sweet girl and we have amazing amounts of laughs together.

Justification.

Lots of times it isn't about the alcohol and drug addiction at all.

**********************************************************

We meet in Washington Park at the rose gardens.

I haven't seen her in a very long time.

The second I see Krista I realize that I am nowhere near over her.

I am making so much progress in my recovery. My day to day life is very hard but I am finding new strength that I really never knew I had. My relationship with God was starting to really build and so is my relationship with Lacey.

I was the one that set this meeting up. I called her and told her that I needed to meet with her to make amends.

I am lying to myself.

This meeting isn't about amends at all.

Chapter 59

2006-01-10T14:58:00.000-08:00

Cozmo has about a three day head start on sobriety.

I think he was in jail and it wasn't really a choice though.

Both of us have just hit our 90 days sober. He invites me down to go to a meeting in Corvallis so we can both get our coins together. He says he has a hell of a surprise.

I drive down on a Friday after work and plan on staying the whole weekend. He and I try and get together as much as we can. People from rehab are dropping all around us. I get calls from guys that say

Did you hear about so and so... yeah they went back out...

I usually answer with

No, but thanks for the uplifting and positive news!

In actuality my sick mind thinks of it in terms of that 15% that make it. Each person that fails means my stock goes up.

Sad but true.

I get to Bryce's house and give his Mom and big hug and a kiss. She is such a great woman. They also have the best golden retriever in the world named Bubba. I haven't had a dog for a long time and I sure miss the love of a good dog.

Cozmo and I are cut from the same cloth.

We share the same loves in life. Both of us are competitive to almost a fault. Anything between us can be turned into a competition. Pool is one thing we both love. Tiger Woods golf on the playstation is the other.

We spend hours playing that game.

The amount of trash talk is almost unbearable.

All in love though, all in love.

The meeting that Bryce wants to take me to is on Saturday night. It is a chip meeting that they do once a month. It is a big meeting that has several people leading it.

We sit down and right away I see what the big surprise is.

No way.

Bryce just looks at me and says

and that's all I gotta say about that!

Sitting up in the front row is Dale, the amazing man from rehab. The man who's name will forever be written in the front of my Big Book.

Bryce had come to this meeting before with his sponsor and saw that Dale came to it also. Bryce's sponsor told him that Dale was quite a popular guy around these parts.

I can't imagine why.

We sit through the meeting and they start handing out the coins. When it comes to the three month coins we stand and get ours. I walk over to Dale, coin in hand.

I don't know if you will remember me but you came and spoke at Serenity Lane about 3 months ago. You gave me my one month coin down in Eugene at Emerald Baptist.

He shook my hand and looked at me inquisitively.

and then it hit him.

He was unsteady as he stood, but he did stand. He hugged me and I once again felt the power of the program through this man.

Good for you. You keep coming back, Son. God won't fail you.

I smile and hug him again.

Thanks again, Dale. You are a big part of what changed my view of sobriety.

Oh no. It was God, son. It was always God.

************************************************

I spend the rest of the weekend with Cozmo and, as always, we have a great time. The hardest thing for both of us is dealing with being bored. Alcohol and drugs can kill a tremendous amount of boredom.

I have heard it said in many a meeting that "if you are bored you must be boring."

I have never been one to be called boring but a tremendous amount of that excitement was fueled by help. I am just starting to scratch the surface of who I really am without the drugs and without the alcohol.

Cozmo and I talk about it quite a bit. Sometimes we get into the dangerous ground of "remember when".

In my mind I can glorify my use. I can glorify drinking. Make it to be something that it isn't. My addicts way of justifying. Left untreated this way of thinking can be very dangerous.

I can't ever forget who I am.

Where I came from.

What it is that is making me whole once again.

**********************************************

I get together with Jeff when I get home. He wants me to start on one of the most difficult steps in the program.

The beginning of amends.

Step 8- Made a list of all people we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all

I have been looking at my own moral inventory. What are my bad actions? What are my sins?

Now it is time to become the most humble I will hopefully ever have to be.

How have my actions effected others?

As an alcoholic and addict I like to place blame for my disease. I can think about how my ex-wife treated me and it will justify the fact that I get drunk over it.
Like anyone who has gone through hardship, it is easier to place the blame on others then it is to step up and take responsibility for yourself. Even if we are completely and rationally justified in our resentments or actions we have to look at our own faults.

This step takes others completely out of the mix.

Without looking at what was done to us, what did we do to them. By focusing on the wrongs done to me I can minimize the actions on my end that were wrong. My crap isn't HALF as bad as what was done to me! Most of the time that statement is false. I am kept in bondage if I am not willing to forgive.

If I am willing to forgive myself I need to forgive others.

I also need to seek forgiveness.

I make the list.

I write down every person I can ever think of that I wronged. I put Krista on the list and I put my ex-wife on the list. There is no way that I can say I wasn't a terrible husband to her. No matter what transpired, I still was a very imperfect man.

The list takes quite a while to write.

Once again, Jeff tells me that I will benefit from being as thorough as I possibly can.

I bring him the list when I am done.

Are you willing to make amends to all of these people?

I just stare at him in silence.

Chapter 58

2006-01-10T12:45:00.000-08:00

It feels dang good to be dressed up.

I haven't worn a suit in years. As I approach the front door I see a reflection of myself. I have no idea at all where this guy came from but he is lookin' good!

I knock on the door and Lacey's sister answers.

Hi Steve. Wow you guys are going to look great tonight.

Thanks.

She is just finishing up getting ready.

I sit and I talk with her husband, Jaime. Oddly enough I went to school with his older sister. Small world.

Breathless.

She entered the room and I was breathless. She was in an absolutely beautiful dress and looked amazing.

You look fantastic!

You are looking pretty good yourself.

We actually stand and just check each other out and we both come to the conclusion that we clean up very nicely. Not bad for a couple drug addicts.

I decided that it would be awesome to take Lacey to see The Phantom of the Opera. She had never been to a musical and I am a huge fan of any performing arts. We had gone a couple nights before to see Cedric the Entertainer. I got third row tickets for that show and we laughed our butts off. I can't even remember how long it has been since I really went out on a date.

A real date.

A get dressed up and hit the town kinda date.

Of course we have to get pictures taken by Lacey's sister. Lacey's mom really wants to have pictures of us all dressed up. I can imagine it has been a while since they had seen their "little girl".

Heroin addiction can be ugly.

We hit the town like we should. Head on and looking good.

We blend beautifully with the suits and gowns tastefully sipping wine in the foyer. Sipping wine is something I just don't understand. "Wine tasting" to me was just an opportunity for free drinks.

The complexity of this vintage is astonishing! We serve this red at a strict sixty-six degrees to avoid a "hot finish". The evolution and finish of this wine is unsurpassed by any other Pinot in the valley.

Yeah that's great buddy. Tip the bottle and fill me up. Sorry for beating you up in Grade School.

As we walk we get smiles from older ladies. We get quiet hellos and slight head nods of approval. It is nice to be acknowledged in that way. When I had long hair I rarely got those nods.

The Phantom is a beautiful musical with some of my favorite music. I sang a Phantom song at my Sister's wedding so it has a very special place in my heart. As the lights go down...

That organ music!

Dannnn.. dannnt dannnt dannnt dannnt dannnnt daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

I get shivers when I hear it. I squeeze Lacey's hand just a little bit. Get ready for a ride.

The musical is beautiful. I love the story of the Phantom. Christine is a beautiful singer who auditions for an Opera. She has a beautiful voice and when asked who is her teacher she can only say that she has been given musical lessons by her "Angel of Music". Her Angel is a voice only, someone whom she has never seen. This angel, she claims, was sent by her late father. The voice she hears turns out to be the Phantom, a disfigured musical genius who wants Christine to sing his music.

It is a love story and a story of jealously. Christine falls in love with Raoul, a patron of the opera house and childhood friend of hers. The Phantom is enraged by their love and comes in the form of Red Death to declare war on the couple and demand that his opera, Don Juan Triumphant be performed.

Raoul plans to trap the Phantom at the performance. Christine reluctantly agrees. The night of the show the plot fails and Christine is taken away by the Phantom to his lair at the Lake.

Down in the Phantom's lair, in my favorite moment, Christine confronts the Phantom with the fact that his true disfigurement is that of his soul, not his face.

When Raoul arrives the Phantom traps him and gives Christine the choice: stay with him or Raoul dies.

Christine makes the choice to simply kiss the Phantom.

Overwhelmed by this one act from Christine the Phantom lets them both go.

The mob that followed Raoul to the Phantom's Lair arrives and finds the Phantom alone sitting on his throne. As they close in he brings his cloak around his body and as they tear the cloak away the Phantom has vanished.

Leaving only his mask behind.

We leave the theater speechless. It is an amazing performance and one that I won't soon forget. I drive Lacey back to her house and we just enjoy some more time together. It was a wonderful night.

I drive back home and I can't get the story of the Phantom out of my head. The imagery of his mask. Christine's revelation that it wasn't his face that was deformed but his soul.

The mask was his jealousy and rage.

The Phantom, in my eyes, felt the one kiss from the most important thing in his life. A kiss that said I understand your pain and I don't fear you.

He releases her.

He releases the pain.

He sees the truth.

and most importantly...

he leaves the mask behind.

Chapter 57

2006-01-09T11:41:00.000-08:00

My day to day life gets to be a little closer to normal, whatever that is.

I go to work. I go to my meeting. I go to the gym. I come home and I play music or Lacey comes over.

It is not the exciting life that I always dreamed of but it sure is beating the alternative. The one thing that I am really missing is my band. I am missing playing with Mark and Joe. I feel like a big part of my life isn't complete. I don't know if it is time yet to contact them. I drove quite a nail into our relationship that is going to take some time to heal.

Part of my program is going to deal with making amends to people. I want to start doing that right now but Jeff tells me that the steps are in order for a reason. I am not at that step yet.

I call Joe anyways just to say hello.

He and Mark have been back playing together again. Just the two of them. Joe asks me if I ever think about coming back. I tell him that I think about it every day. He wants to talk to Mark about it and see if it would be ok for me to come out and jam. I really want to do this but I also know that Mark probably doesn't trust me at all anymore.

I tell Joe to ask Mark but tell him that I am in no way pressuring the situation.

It feels great to be talking to Joe again. I just pray that Mark, Joe and I can somehow get back to being the brothers we once were.

*************************************************

I go to my first group conscience meeting.

That is the meeting after the regular meeting where decisions are made for the group. I am there because I want to get more involved in the meetings. I want to secretary a meeting a week. An A.A. secretary is a person that comes in early and sets everything up. You make the coffee pick the chairperson and read announcements. You also get to hand out any coins that people earn.

There is a 24 hour coin. This is the hardest coin, in my mind, to get and the most important. It is the first step towards salvation.

Then there are 30 day, 60 day, 90 day, six months, nine months and then years.

I carry my 24 hour and my two month coin with me at all times. When I am in the gym on the treadmill, I place my coin in front of me. It lets me know why I am here and it lets me know that no amount of physical pain can match the mental pain that I have put myself through.

The people that run the New Alternatives group have seen me every day for the last month or so. They give me a secretary job. It feels great to get this. It is a way for me to serve. A way to get out of myself and help others in a small way.

Jeff and I meet that night and he tells me I have a made a good choice to do service work. He says it will make a ton of difference in the long run.

He says that we are ready for one of the hard steps.

Step 4.

"Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves"

Be complete as you can be, Steve. Make a honest assessment of everything you have ever done wrong. Everything. Write down the secrets you were going to take to the grave with you.

I look at him like you HAVE to be joking.

He isn't.

The big book says that a business that doesn't take inventory will almost always go broke. Well, my friend, your butt is broke!

I love this guy.

I go home that night and start writing out my moral inventory. I write down every last sin that I can remember committing. Who had I wronged in this life? Who had I hurt? Who did I steal from? Who did I lie to?

It is the most overwhelming thing I have ever done.

and the most humbling.

Jeff has me also write out a list of resentments that I have and why.

Resentment, he says, is the biggest offender and the one that will send me back to the bottle or pipe every time. I had read that in the Big Book.

I made the list of my resentments. I made a list of my sin.

Sixteen pages and two days later I felt like I had been to hell and back. I can't believe what a complete pile of garbage I have been. I feel sick to my stomach when I hold this list.

It has everything I have tried to forget about.

Jeff told me to call him as soon as I finished. He didn't want me sitting on that list for too long without talking about it. I am opening doors that have caused me to drink myself stupid. Doors that hold the pain of my insecurities and doors that contain the chains that hold me back.

All of the things on this list can be categorized. What need was I trying to fill with each of these sins? Where was I at fault? How could I or what could I have done differently?

Financial insecurity? Emotional insecurity? Pride?

I call Jeff and he asks how I am doing after writing all of that. I tell him that I am not doing so hot. I feel like I just visited every mistake I ever made.

When do you want to meet and talk about it all? The next step is going to require you to tell me all of it.

I knew that was the case but right now I can't even imagine telling him some of the things on this list. What will he think of me? He is going to know my failures as a man, as a son, as a friend.

Steve, I promise you that what you tell me I will carry to the grave. There is nothing on that list that I haven't done or at least thought about doing in my own life.

I wouldn't be so sure about that, Jeff.

Let's get together and you can try me.

***************************************

Step 5- "Admitted to God, to ourselves and another human being the exact nature of our wrongs"

We sat in his car. I couldn't look him in the eye at all. I sat and held the pages in my hand and just read each one to him.

Humbled.

He didn't say a word to me as I read the list. When I got to the darkest secrets of my life, I paused. Not one other person in the world has ever heard what I was about to tell him. No other person ever will.

I cry. It hurts to see my sin. It hurts to confess my sin to him. It really hurts. The seven deadly sins. Greed, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, sloth and the biggest of all was pride.

All of them played out on sixteen pages.

I finish and I look at him for the first time and he is smiling.

I am proud of you. Not many people are willing to do this step.

Jeff then sat there and told me some of his secrets. He trusted me with some of him. When I stepped out of his car I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from me. I am no longer running from my sins. I am facing each and every one of them for the first time and I am going to work through them, whatever the cost.

The next steps were calling me. I could feel them.

Step 6- "Were entirely ready to have God remove all of these defects of Character"

Step 7- "Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings"

I don't think I could ever be more ready to have God take away my defects of character. I had been ready for years and years but had just never been able to figure out how He could possibly do that. In my own mind I felt like I had sinned so bad that God could never forgive me.

The problem I was having with Step 6 was the same problem I have had for my whole life. Being entirely ready to accept God and believe that He and only He is the answer to my defects.

The answer to my sin.

Through all of this I am starting to see the truth. With all of my own power I could never stop drinking. Never. I couldn't stop taking drugs. I couldn't stop myself from reaching the lowest point in my life.

From the first time I asked God for help, on a urine soaked floor of a club, He showed me the way. I faltered from the path and the moment I finally saw that I had I called to Him and He was there, showing me the direction and showing me His will for me. When I shut off my own self-will and listen to His, beautiful things happen in my life.

I am ready.

I spend 2 hours in prayer that night. I tearfully and humbly come before God and I admit that I am a man driven by insecurity and sin. I ask to be molded. I pray to healed.

I ask for forgiveness.

Chapter 56

2006-01-09T10:46:00.000-08:00

Step 3 in this program really makes me think.

"Made a decision to turn our will and lives over to the care of God as we understood him"

I have thought in so many ways that I had done this so many times before. The truth is I never even came close. This is the first real "action" step in the program. The first two steps just had me thinking about what I already knew. Alcohol and drugs had me at a point of powerlessness and I knew that only God could set me free.

Now I have to act on that.

It says I made a decision to turn my will over. Nobody is forcing me. I have to make a decision to turn it over.

All of it.

My whole life turned over to the care of God.

The word that Jeff points out to me is "Care". The CARE of God. It doesn't say neglect or anything else. It says "Care". God will take care of me if I just turn over the keys to my spiritual car and give Him the wheel for once.

My own self-will has been the barrier.

Willingness to give it to God is the next logical step. Jeff tells me that this step in the program will make all the difference in the rest of the steps. Align my will with the will of God and changes will happen.

All along it has been my own self-will. Trying to solve my problems with my own will instead of figuring out what God's will is for me in everything.

I start trying to figure this step out.

I start spending time every night in meditation. Not just praying to God but actually listening to Him. Quieting my mind and body enough to try and connect to that still small voice inside of me.

Prayer is the act of talking to God.

Meditation is shutting up and listening.

*********************************************

I get a call from Cozmo. He and I have been staying in very close contact since getting out. He is down in Corvallis which is a fairly short drive south of me.

What's up Cozmo? How are things?

Man, this shit is hard. You know how it is.

You staying sober?

What do you think? Of course I am. I am through with the hell. Hey, I heard that Hawaii Eric is getting people together down in Eugene for a barbecue and a meeting. You in?

Yeah, I could do that.

Cool. Swing by and pick my ass up then.

It is always good to talk to Bryce. He is a brother now. Nothing will take that away. I call Curtis up also and he is game for the meeting. I tell him that Bryce and I will pick him up for that.

The Three Lushkateers will ride once again.

*****************************************

It is a little odd seeing everyone again. I guess its just odd seeing them outside of rehab. We sit around and eat hamburgers and talk about what we all have been up to. I talk about how many meetings I have been hitting and also that I have a great sponsor. Not many others are going to meetings like I am.

I hear a rumor that Jerrod has relapsed. A couple others have gone back to drinking and using less than a month out of rehab.

Self-will.

People are openly mad about the others that have relapsed. I am just sad. I believed them in rehab when they said only 15% or so make it. Others called "BS" to it but I had a feeling they were telling the truth.

A lot of these guys live down here. A lot of them are relying on each other to keep them sober. A lot of them aren't going to make it based on that alone.

I am so worried about myself relapsing that I don't worry about anyone else.

I have love in my heart for all of them and I do want them to stay clean but I won't go down with any of them. I am not strong enough yet to pick myself back up.

We have a meeting.

Whenever you get 2 or more Alcoholics together you can have a meeting. You can get that healing going on.

Sounds very familiar to me.

"Whenever two or more are gathered...."

We stay for a while and then head out. We take Curtis back to his parents house and tell him to stay in touch. Bryce and I drive back to Corvallis. We stay at his parents house and shoot pool and play video games into the wee hours of the morning. He and I are brothers. I have a connection with him that I can't ever explain.

and I don't need to.

His family has opened their arms and home to me like I was a son. They see that Cozmo and I are good for each other. Positive influence.

We spend a great weekend hanging out.

He rides me like no other about Lacey. All in good fun.

We both are happy.

Right where we wanted to be.

Chapter 55

2006-01-06T11:05:00.000-08:00

I wake up and start my first clean and sober birthday in as long as I can remember.

It is Thursday morning and I unfortunately have to go to work. I have been fighting my insurance company all week because they haven't completely paid my rehab bill like they were suppose to. Nothing in the world can be more challenging then trying to get money out of an insurance company.

I take it in stride. I am sober and right now. The money means nothing to me.

I don't tell a soul at work that it is my birthday. I just enjoy the fact I am taking care of business. I am doing what I set out to do and I feel like I can actually do this long term. That doesn't change the fact that it is one day at a time. I know that if I stop doing the things that have kept me sober I will go right back into my old ways.

If I drink or use again I might as well put a gun to my head. I know that I am choosing death over life.

I get many phone calls today. My parents both call to tell me Happy Birthday. My brother calls and so does my sister. I also get calls from my nephews that bring tears to my eyes. I don't know what exactly it is about being clean that makes me cry at the drop of a hat. My emotions are all over the place.

It's like I am really feeling things for the very first time.

I have always been a very sensitive kid. I have always felt like I was in touch with my feelings. Somewhere along the way I started to suppress those feelings. I started acting the way others wanted me to act. A worldly man.

I now feel like I want to just be me. Be the guy that God made me to be. If that means I cry then so be it.

The mixture of emotions that come with each day is what is hard to deal with early in my recovery. One moment I can be so thankful and the next I can be so angry that I can't have a drink. The next moment I think about my family and how they have all stuck with me through thick and thin and I cry.

I have tremendous feelings of being unworthy.

I feel as if I have done nothing in my life but take. I was given this life by God and I haven't done anything in return but be a drunk in a Christian band. I am sure He loves that.

My parents want to take me to dinner tonight. My brother is going to be there and so is my nephew Matt. I tell them I would love that but it will have to be after my meeting.

Near the end of my day I get the email.

My Happy Birthday email from Krista.

I see it and my heart starts racing. I haven't talked to her since I got out of rehab. The email says she misses me and that she loves me.

I am thankful that my meeting is in an hour.

****************************************

The meeting is a good one.

No matter what there is always something that I hear in the meetings that keeps me coming back. The main thing is I get to see that people can maintain long term sobriety. It can be done. It requires work, they all say, but it can be done.

The main thing I hear from the people that have time in the program is a reliance on God. In A.A. and N.A. they call it a "Higher Power" or a "God of your own understanding". At first I want to fight this but I know in my heart who the "God of my understanding" is. Right now it is all about me. I can't do anything for anyone else.

I can't give away what I don't have.

Steve, do you want to come up and talk?

Every time I start daydreaming a little this happens.

I walk to the podium.

My name is Steve and I am an alcoholic.

Hi Steve

It's my belly button birthday today.

Clap Clap. Woo Hoo. Happy birthday Steve

It is weird. I have never had a real sober birthday. I never would have guessed that I would be spending one in an A.A. meeting. I guess I just want to say that I am happy to be clean and sober today. I use to think that I knew a whole lot about a lot of things and now I realize that the only thing I really know is I am an alcoholic and a drug addict. I finally know that. Well, I have always known it I guess I just never could admit it. I don't have any words about sobriety because I am only 50 some days sober. I am thankful. I am going to give this my all and I think God gave me a great sponsor to do that with.

I walk away from the podium and go grab another cup of wonderfully delicious A.A. coffee. I just stand in the back of the room for a bit.

It feels good to talk in meetings. They are raw and for the most part are very real. People in pain and people who are finally out of pain. People there to help each other out. I haven't ever been in a situation like this before. The thing that amazes me beyond belief is the fact there are people here that would never associate with each other anywhere else. I know more homeless people then I have ever known and I am realizing how judgmental of a guy I have been in my life. The only difference between me and some of these guys is a roof.

They weren't always homeless.

Alcohol and drugs took everything. With nothing they come and fight this disease side by side with me.

I have so much to learn.

********************************************

When I walk into the Olive Garden I see Matt.

He has his Seattle Mariners cap on his head and he smiles from ear to ear when he sees me. I haven't seen him since I got out and I am trying so hard not to break him as I scoop him off the ground and hold him to my chest.

I start to tear up.

I haven't cried in an Olive Garden before.

Well, at least that I can remember.

The waitress comes and asks us if she can get us all a beer or some wine. Somehow this is funny to all of us. I order a diet coke and give my Dad a wink.

The meal is great. Spending time with my family is awesome and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. In the past it has been hard because I was always trying to hide the fact I had my "swerve on". I would be around all of them high or drunk. I got good at hiding it. Now they were getting see the real me.

I guess I am too.

I say some serious prayers that night. I am very thankful for what is happening. I thank God for my first sober Birthday.

For the life of me I can't get that email out of my head.

Chapter 54

2006-01-04T14:18:00.000-08:00

April is usually a pretty good month for me.

I have always considered myself an April fool. Almost every year I have played April fool's jokes on my Mom. Every year she says she won't fall for it and every year I have found new and very creative ways to get her.

I have called on 12:05 A.M., I have called at 11:55 P.M.

I get her all the time.

I don't even mess with it this year. The thought of me calling and going with the obvious trick just doesn't sound like the best thing in the world to do this year. I call her instead and actually let her know that I am letting her off the hook.

I was hoping you weren't going to do that this year.

I love you Mom.

Keep it up Steve. We are so proud of you.

Now if I was my Mother I would have thrown in the "April Fools" after this comment just for a laugh. I know they are proud though. I know that it is there, just under the concern, every time I see them.

I can only imagine the worry that they are still going through.

I sit out on the porch and eat my very healthy breakfast and healthy shake and smoke my very unhealthy cigarette and come to the realization that I can't hide anymore. Everyone pretty much knows I am a drug addict and alcoholic. I know that all eyes will be on me for quite some time.

and that's perfectly ok with me.

I am going to be going back to work and I am not looking forward to it. I have a lot of history in many ways there. People will always see me as the party guy. No matter what that will always be with them.

The guy that got loaded at company functions.

I just don't want to be that guy any longer.

I have a feeling that it will be a weird transition but I know, just like everything else, I just have to face it and deal with it.

I have been having more and more using dreams. They suck. Every time it is the same thing. I wake up and I am sweating and I feel like I am waking up from a hangover. I can't tell if I drank or drugged the night before. It is terrifying.

I talk to Jeff about it and he tells me that it is pretty normal for people in recovery to have these dreams for quite some time.

Super.

I don't sleep very well at all. These first months out of rehab have been very challenging. I have actually gotten to the point where I go to the gym at all hours. I go at 2 A.M. I go at 4 A.M. I jog 5 or 6 miles at 4 A.M. just to get out of my own head for a while. There is just such an uncomfortableness about waking up and staring at the ceiling for an hour and having your body tell you that a drink would put you right to sleep. My mind is still trying to kill me.

It hasn't given up the fight that easily.

24 hour fitness is a very interesting place at four in the morning. I was completely shocked to actually find other people in the gym. I want to run up to them and ask them if they are having drug dreams also but for some reason I feel like this isn't such a smart thing to do.

The treadmill and my headphones.

My mind can slow down as my body works through it all.

In the 2 months since I went to rehab I have lost close to twenty pounds. I have been working out everyday. Most days I am in the gym more than once. It is a safe place for me and it is open 24 hours a day. If they had meetings at 4 A.M. I would be there.

Some days my workouts are short. An hour run and I am done. Some days it is an hour run, 45 minutes on the stair machine and then at least an hour lifting weights. Each minute I spend in the gym is a minute I don't have to worry about using drugs or drinking.

I feel like I broke myself down and now I am slowly rebuilding. I am taking back what drugs and alcohol took from me.

My mind.

My body.

My soul.

I am slowly becoming a new man. As I stand in front of one of the million vanity mirrors they have inside 24 hour fitness I look at my own reflection.

I look different. I look alive and not so tired. My eyes have life.

As I curl the weight to my shoulders that man in the mirror smiles ever so slightly back at me.

******************************************

My first day back at work.

I walk in the door and am greeted by the security guard. My security badge isn't working so they have to call one of my bosses to let me in.

Walking towards my desk the building seems so big to me right now. I really don't want to be here. I am scared. Really scared. What if these thousand people see me fail. What if I don't stay sober.

What if.

I have to gain some composure before I see everyone. Eyes again are on me as I walk to my desk. My group is a smaller group within the building. It is a good group of people that I really enjoy working with.

They welcome me back with open arms.

I don't really know how to act. I am pretty quiet and just let people know that it is good to be back. Some people want to know what I have been doing and what I have been going through. Others just tell me that I look good and they are happy I am back. I just want to stand on my desk and tell all of them that I have changed. That old guy that they knew wasn't coming back.

My own experience has taught me that talk is really cheap. I just hope that I can start living this new life that is building inside of me. I hope that people can just see that I have changed.

There has been quite a few changes since I've been gone. People aren't too happy about some of the changes but I could care less.

Change is my new middle name.

Chapter 53

2006-01-04T11:46:00.000-08:00

I said that I was going to do everything that they told me to do in rehab. I was going to take every last bit of advice.

Looks like I am going to be taking most of the advice.

Adam had told me so many times that I should not be starting any new relationships for at least the first year of sobriety. Nothing can take an addict or alcoholic down like a broken heart or relationship stress. I understand what he meant but I really want to date Lacey. I sit and justify it in my head and the decision is made.

I double check this with my sponsor Jeff. He also tells me that it isn't the best idea to be starting a new relationship.

What do these people know.

My mind is made up. I was just hoping that Jeff might tell me its ok and give me just a little more justification in my decision.

I start spending lots of time with Lacey. We go to meetings together and we just hang out. I don't let her get in the way of my meetings or my workouts. I stick to my game plan. It works.

There is a Sunday night meeting that we go to in Lake Oswego. I meet up with Lacey and we stand outside and smoke with the rest of the folks. It is amazing to me how many recovering alcoholics and addicts I now know. They are everywhere.

We go inside and take our seats against the wall. Just before the meeting begins a guy my age walks in. As he walks by he looks down at me. Both of us are blown away. It is one of my best friends from my youth. Ryan and I played soccer together for at least 8 years. We were on several teams together and we competed against each other at rival High Schools. The last time I saw him was at one of my shows at the Gemini Pub in downtown Lake Oswego. My Christian band played there. The Gemini was a place I frequented when I was drinking and using. When I lived with my brother I was pretty much there nightly.

Ryan was there the night I played. It was great to see him. He was completely wasted.
He and I use to get high together back in the day. We would get high and listen to Iron Maiden and Pink Floyd. He was the only other friend of mine at the time that shared my love of Floyd. He also loved to listen to punk music. We would crank up old Suicidal Tendencies, Dead Kennedys, DRI and Black Flag.

You knew we were gonna end up in here.

I smile at him as he says it.

No doubt man. How long have you been sober Ryan?

Just over a year.

Sweet. That is awesome. I just got out of rehab and am working on my second month.

The meeting starts and throughout the whole meeting we just keep looking at each other and shaking out heads in disbelief. I think it is the coolest thing in the world. One of my oldest friends is in the program also.

After the meeting Ryan and I exchange numbers and go our separate ways. Lacey and I go to her house for the first time. I haven't met her parents or her son before. I have never been one to date a woman that has children but I really think that Lacey could be different for me. I think that she will understand me more than most.

I have never been a guy that has had a problem meeting parents either. I am comfortable with all people and my Father really taught me how to be a gentleman. I always give a firm handshake and I always make eye contact. I think that her parents like me from the start.

Her son is adorable. I love kids so I am just drawn to him. In that moment I realize that I am on dangerous ground. This is a little boy who doesn't, from what she has told me, have a strong Father figure beside Lacey's Dad in his life.

I have to be careful. I don't want to be a bad notch in this kids life.

Here today, gone tomorrow.

**********************************************

On Thursday nights I go to outpatient aftercare.

This is at the same location I did my original intake interview with Joe. I haven't been here since and walking up the flight of stairs brings back the memory of that day. I walk in and I see Joe almost immediately. He recognizes me and tells me I look good. I tell him that I feel really good.

Do you have a sponsor?

I have a great sponsor.

He winks at me and says that's good.

There are three different groups you can be in. There is an all male group, an all female group (ok, two groups i can be in), and there is a mixed group. Based on Adam's recommendation I am put in an all male group. He thinks that I really haven't come to terms with the fact I was an abused husband.

He couldn't be more correct.

I love groups. I love meetings. I love the whole process of really talking about stuff. My group consists of guys that have been in and guys that haven't. The guys that have actually been IN rehab tend to understand the process a little more then those that haven't. The guys that haven't remind me of the guys in my diversion program. They really don't believe they have a problem.

I meet some incredible new guys.

I have a female counselor.

We are required to go to outside meetings. That isn't a problem with me at all. I hit meetings everyday without fail. Seven days a week. My sponsor told me to go to 90 meetings in 90 days and I plan on doing more than that. This is one thing I promised myself I would stick to. Meetings are my lifeline right now and I am not ready to cut that off for anything.

Tattoo Eric is in my group.

I am really happy to see him. He just got out today and he is looking good.

We exchange phone numbers. In fact, all of us exchange phone numbers. I carry a list of numbers in my wallet. A list of people I can call if I start falling apart. Jeff's number is at the top. He said I can call him at any hour of any day on one condition. I call him BEFORE I take the first drink because he said he can't do a damn thing for me after that.

There are guys in my group that I can tell I will get along with perfectly and there are a couple that I know I will clash with. There is one for sure. He is a pharmacist that liked to fill his own prescriptions. He lost his license and the only reason he is here is to try and get it back.

He blames everyone else but himself.

Wow that sounds familiar.

I can tell that this group is going to be good and challenging for me.

There is also a family night that allows members of your family to come in and all sit in a group setting. An addiction counselor talks to them about what we go through and they can ask questions. I think this is great. My parents both go to this and I know that it helps them to see a small piece of the hell I have been in.

Lacey is in another group on the same night. It's all a little like rehab with only one exception.

I get to go home and sleep in my own bed.

Chapter 52

2006-01-04T09:53:00.000-08:00

Having Lacey at my house is amazing.

It is, in a single word, normal. I think that we both could use a dose of normalcy in our lives. We sat at a real dinner table and ate marinated flank steak, Caesar salad and garlic mashed potatoes.

How is your steak?

She just looks up at me and she smiles.

It's SO good. It's perfect.

I think to myself that, yeah, this is pretty dang good. Nice meal, beautiful woman and for the first time in a long time I am sober.

When is it all going to come crashing down around me...

That is the hardest part for me to get over. I have self-destructed so many times in my life that I constantly live in fear of messing it all up again. I know that this is one of the main things I want to work on in my life. I don't want to continue living in fear of failure.

Especially not tonight.

After I have cleared all of the dinner plates I am in a mood for a night time stroll in Northwest Portland. Starbucks is calling. Lacey is game and we head out into the night.

It is a clear night and it isn't too cold at all. It isn't raining and for late March that is a miracle in Portland. We decide to sit on my front porch steps and have a smoke first. We talk about rehab and how weird it is to be out. Lacey has only been out for one day. I can't get over how great it feels to be talking and laughing with her outside of the comedy courtyard. Her laugh warms my broken heart and in a million years I could never see her as a heroin addict.

Beautiful. She is beautiful.

How 'bout some coffee? Some REAL coffee.

That smile tells me she is right there with me.

We take the walk down Everett to 23rd. I walk on the street side because my Dad taught me that is what a gentleman always does. I feel like a 12 year old when I cautiously reach down to hold her hand.

It fits.

Her small little hand just seems to fit inside mine.

We walk in silence, holding hands. It is a slow stroll but inside my mind our arms are swinging and we are skipping down 23rd like 6th graders who are "going together". Starbucks comes upon us far too quickly. I could walk like this for hours.

I open the door for Lacey and we enter Starbucks, both of us pausing to take in the fragrance of real coffee. My life is starting to be all about the little things.

We order heavily caffeinated beverages and walk outside. Nothing like another cigarette to go with fresh coffee. We sit outside and laugh at the bikers that come to this Starbucks. It is a mix of biker types. The Harley riders are fine by me. It is the crotch rocket guys that make me laugh like it's going out of style. Guys that wear leather jumpsuits that match the color of their bikes.

That means guys in banana yellow leather.

I don't know what it is about this Starbucks on 23rd but it draws them in. All their bikes lined up in a row.

The Fast and the Furiously caffeinated.

We finish our smokes and I want to go and pick up some desserts at Papa Haydn. This place is amazing. As far as dessert goes, there is no better place I know. I just love the fact the place is named after an 18th century composer named Joseph Haydn from Vienna.

I always try and support music any way that I can and dessert is no exception to the rule.

There is always a crowd outside of this place. It has a wonderful atmosphere and I have always told myself I will actually have dinner here at some point. I always just come in for the dessert. There just is no better feeling than standing in front of the glass case at Papa Haydn.

The desserts are works of art.

We get three of them to go.

I choose the Boccone Dolce. Simply put this Swiss meringue is heavenly. The name in Italian means "Sweet Mouthful". In Stevetalian it means "Stuff your face with this".
Lacey gets a Raspberry Gateau and I have to also get some Chocolate Mousse to make the evening complete.

We head back to the house and I just am thinking that this has been such a great night already. I haven't really been on a date for a long time. I had been through the Krista wringer for so many years that I forgot how exciting a first date can be.

I start a fire back at the house and we sit and eat these wonderful desserts in the warmth of each others company. It is nice. Lacey has wanted to hear me play and I have really wanted to let her, so I break out my guitar and sing.

It is a very nice evening.

Lacey is living at her parents house until she gets back on her feet. Her and her son. She doesn't stay too late because she has to get home before her parents worry. We put our parents through hell.

That is one thing that I understand now.

I walk her to the door and we say our goodbye.

I smile as she gets in her car and drives away.

The house is once again silent and I only wish that she could stay longer. I sit down alone by the fire and pick up my guitar. I sit and I play and the melody fills the house and fills my soul.

Chapter 51

2006-01-03T10:34:00.000-08:00

I have some bike riding experience.

I rode my bike everywhere as a kid. It was my first taste of true freedom. My own set of wheels that could take me as far as my legs could pedal.

My first bike was beautiful.

and orange.

The chain guard was emblazoned with the toughest name a bike could ever have.

"The Orange Peeler"

I lived in Aberdeen Washington and for two whole days the neighborhood was graced by the glorious vision of young Steve and his Orange Peeler. I rode proud and when I wasn't ferociously pedaling my metallic orange steed it was prominently displayed upon its kickstand out front of my house.

It took two whole days before the Orange Peeler was stolen and my dreams of a world tour crushed.

I was in kindergarten and this was my first experience that taught me that the world isn't all sunshine. Not everyone understands the joy that happens when a young boy rides his very first bike, especially the person that stole mine. Like all children a piece of my innocence was stolen when the Orange Peeler went away.

My bike riding continued with a new found vengeance. I became an outlaw biker.

Hell on wheels.

My best friend at the time rode with me. Me and John John. A kid so tough you had to say his first name twice. On a borrowed bike I rode alongside my compadre until a challenge was issued. John John had called me out.

He said he was faster.

I couldn't have disagreed more.

The stage was set for the biggest bike race Aberdeen Washington had ever seen. My Dad and brother were the track officials on that fine Saturday afternoon. We lived mid-block on Chilton Road and the track officials decided that we would head opposite directions and make one full loop around the block.

I was to head North on Chilton while John John had the uphill leg South on Chilton to Purkey Avenue. Both of us would then turn onto lengthy Bel Aire Avenue and let our legs do the talking. The finish line was our driveway.

1817 Chilton Road.

We sat upon our bikes, poised and waiting for the officials countdown. Anticipation hung in the air as I glanced at young John John.

A slight head nod and curling of the lip, eyes fixated upon the competition.

The familiar "Ready Set Go" and adrenaline surged my bike forward. The greatest bike race of all time had begun.

I felt strong that day. Almost unstoppable. I turned left onto Bel Aire and turned on the juice. The beautiful thing about a race like this is getting to see your competition heading towards you. As I saw John John in the distance I knew that he had brought his "A" game. He pedaled with a fury I had never seen in a kindergartener.

Charlie Hole's house was directly behind ours and I knew this was the halfway mark. We crossed his driveway almost simultaneously and I screamed "I GOT YOU!" as I passed. I know that John John yelled something back but the speed of the wind created by my pedaling was too great to make hearing possible.

My Father tells me later in life that he has never been involved in a greater race then the "Saturday Slaughter on Chilton". He retells the story with equal enthusiasm.
Standing at the finish line in eager anticipation, he waits.

He waits for what must seem like a lifetime.

Both John John and I reach opposite ends of Chilton road at the same time. Both of us have downhill runs to greatness and future bragging rights.

With legs burning and John John in my sights, I pedal.

Time slows. I have to beat John John.

There is no second place. I have to beat him to the driveway.

My Father says that he knew there was going to be trouble as soon as he saw the look in both our eyes. Determined looks of men in battles to the death. He knew the outcome as soon as we both turned onto Chilton Road.

He says the crash was something legends are made out of.

John John and I, both unwilling to yield or take second, met head on at the entrance of that driveway on 1817 Chilton Road and collectively launched our tired bodies skyward.

The sound of children hitting the pavement sent a hush over Chilton road and the echoes of screaming Mothers filled the Saturday afternoon air.

As my Father made the first step towards what has to be a crippled or at least seriously disfigured Son, I rose. John John did also.

Like true champions both of us at the same time jumped to our feet and screamed,

"I WON!"

The argument had begun.

Having no instant replay back in 1976 there was no solid proof to the true victor of the great race. I tried to make the point that my bent front wheel proved that John John's wheel struck mine making me the winner by inches.

My Father declared us both Champions.

My head had a massive welt on it and we both were bloodied from the crash.

Although the pain was immense I had found great satisfaction in riding that day.

Today is a much, much different day.

The pain I feel upon this stationary beast is like none I have ever felt and John John is nowhere to be found.

I am absolutely convinced that my personal trainer is a beast straight from the very bowels of Hell. Why I ever thought that "Spinning" seemed like something I would enjoy escapes me.

I try and relive the glory of the great race as my legs burn to the techno music that adds extreme insult to injury. I am in spandex hell.

There is no doubt in my mind that I might see my breakfast make a surprise visit on the floor of 24 hour fitness.

With the hell finally over I lay flat on my back, arms above my head. I can't tell if I am actually dead or not. I open my eyes and she is standing above me.

So how did you like your first day of spinning?

Wow is she perky.

I look her dead in the eye and say,

Don't you mean my last?

******************************************

I meet up with Jeff at the 5:30 meeting. I sit next to him at the meeting and listen to a couple people talk about service work. I ask Jeff about that and he really seems to like the idea of doing some sort of service work. He tells me that I need to go to the monthly group meeting where they decide how the group is run and make decisions on changes and whatnot.

After the meeting Jeff and I sit in his car and I go over my list that he asked me to make. He just listens to what I have to say and when I am finished he looks at me and says, "sounds good. Sounds like you are one of us."

He smiles as he says it.

He asks me if I think I am ready for step two. I say that I am. I feel that the whole rehab process was step one for me. I am really looking forward to getting on with this. One day at a time. One step at a time.

Step two-
Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity

God.

Restore me to sanity.

There is nothing more that I want in this world.

The question is do I really believe that God is the answer to all of my pain?

When I really start thinking about this I come to the conclusion that I don't need to have all the God answers right now. I just have to have a little faith.

That night I sit and read the second chapter in the 12 and 12 and I love what it has to say. I love it because it makes so much sense. Alcoholics, in general, are defiant people.

Defiant to authority and defiant to even God.

At times we feel that because of the disease, God has left us and has failed us.

How could God do this to us? I asked you to get rid of this pain and you didn't!

I re-read the next part over and over again.

"When we encountered A.A., the fallacy of our defiance was revealed. At no time had we asked what God's will was for us; instead we had been telling Him what it ought to be. No man, we saw, could believe in God and defy Him, too. Belief meant reliance, not defiance.

Reliance, not defiance.

Today was the day that I came to believe.

It is all about Following God's will.

Chapter 50

2005-12-30T12:26:00.000-08:00

She is crying on the other end of the phone.

I love hearing her voice but hearing her cry makes me feel a little helpless. I can't really do anything for her but listen. I can picture her sitting alone in those phonebooths at the bottom of the stairs.

We talk for a long time. I am very happy that I was home when the phone rang and she tells me that she is glad I was there to answer. She gets out next week and I tell her that I want to cook her dinner.

You can cook?

Dang straight I can cook woman!

I guess we'll see.

There is a nice hint of flirtation in this that makes me smile and for the first time I think that maybe Lacey and I have a little something brewing.

She has to get going and I reluctantly let her.

Once again it is night and once again I am alone with myself. I sit down with my Big Book and another book that Jeff told me to get called Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. He referred to it as "The 12 and 12".

I know that I am willing to do whatever he tells me to do. I barely know him but for some reason I trust him.

I read the first chapter in the 12 and 12. It outlines what step one is all about. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable. It all comes down to one word for me.

Humility.

This first step is all about humbling myself.

For the first time in my life I really have to admit that I don't have everything under complete control. I am hopeless when it comes to alcohol and drugs.

They own me.

I take out a piece of paper and I fold it in half lengthwise. On the top of the left side I write the word "Powerless" and on the top of the right side I write "Unmanageable".

The numbers one through ten line the left outside edge.

It doesn't take me long at all to make the list. My disease has left me with enough personal scars to make a couple of these. I don't just write this out to get it done or because Jeff told me to.

I am doing this because I believe the only way to get real sobriety is to do the work. To become honest enough with myself that I can admit I am weak. I know that to some this admission wouldn't be hard at all. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do.

I know that there is only one way to go through fire.

You walk a straight line right through it.

**************************************************

I am uncomfortable in my own skin.

I am shaking quite a bit.

My stomach is in complete knots and that familiar calling is ringing in my head. It is like it controls me and it knows exactly how to get to me. I hate this feeling more than anything else in the world.

This one won't let up.

Sweat begins to form on my forehead and the palms of my hands.

I have to feed this.

If it is the last thing I do I have to feed this.

I am downstairs in no time at all and I am rummaging through every cupboard. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My insides are screaming.

I am literally clearing out the cupboards with sweeps of my arms. Glasses are falling to the kitchen floor and breaking at my feet.

I could care less.

I have one thing on my mind and the rest just doesn't matter. Nothing matters at all to me when I am chasing my high or my drink.

Nothing.

I can't think of anything else. It doesn't matter what I just went through.

I find the half a fifth of Jack above the fridge and I don't even hesitate. I tilt the bottle to my lips and I swallow mouthfuls. The bottle is drained in two swigs.

More.

I have to have more. I crossed the line and now it is pointless to turn back. I want more. I want blackness. I want death.

What I am doing finally sinks in.

All of the work and all of my time is gone.

The hatred rises in me.

How could I let myself do this?

I run into the bathroom and I stand over the toilet and force my finger into the back of my throat. If I can get this poison out of my body maybe it will be alright. I throw up nothing but blood.

I splatter blood all over the toilet and the floor.

Rage.

I look and see my reflection in the mirror.

I scream at the top of my lungs as my fist shatters the mirror.

I realize that I am sitting straight up in my bed and I am crying hysterically. I know that I actually screamed during my dream because I awaken to it still reverberating off the walls of my room.

I am drenched in sweat and for almost a minute I have to try and convince myself that all of that really didn't happen.

I can't stop crying.

The dream was so real that I can still taste the Jack Daniels on my lips.

Chapter 49

2005-12-28T10:23:00.000-08:00

My second full day outside of rehab.

I am so out of sorts. My cravings are about ten times worse as they were while I was in. I actually wake up at 5:30 AM. I go for a walk and I end up at the Alano House and they have a sunrise meeting called the Dawn Patrol. It is like a Godsend.

I drink a few cups of AA coffee and I listen. After my first experience with meetings after rehab I think it is best that I just listen to what others with some experience have to say.

What I really like is the friendly faces. There is men and women here that have some serious sober time. I know that they have to be doing something right. One of the last things that my counselor Adam told me was to stick with the winners.

Stick with those that have time in the program.

I promised myself and my family that I would listen to what I learned in rehab. I know how easy it would be for me to go right back into my old life.

The meeting is just what I needed. I know now that at least there is an early morning meeting that I can hit when I can't sleep. I walk down the back stairs to the parking lot and I see the pay phone on the wall. I don't even hesitate to dial the number.

It is 7:30 AM and everyone should be going to breakfast.

The payphone rings for a while. It usually takes some time for someone to pick it up.

Serenity Lane, who you looking for?

It is Jerrod. Perfect.

Hey Jerrod it's Steve. What's up man?

Dude we miss you. Things are a little quieter around here without you. How is your first couple days out?

I just got out of a meeting and its like 7 AM if that tells you anything.

I hear him laugh and it makes me smile. I actually would love to be back there right now going to breakfast with Cozmo and the boys but I am out now and I vow never to go back as a patient. Ever.

So you missed us already and had to call, huh.

Sorta like that. Is Lacey around?

After taking a serious amount of crap he tells me he will go look. Five minutes pass and I hear the phone booth door open again and my heart beats a little faster.

Couldn't find her but I will make sure I tell her you called.

Don't mess with me J. Make sure you tell her to call me and make sure to tell everyone hey for me. I miss you guys.

We miss you too man. I will call you soon if that cool.

Fine by me. Much love man. Peace.

The click of the phone brings me back to Portland and back to the day ahead. I really would have liked to have talked to Lacey but it is rare that you actually connect on incoming rehab calls.

I am sure that Jerrod put the message on the chalkboard. I can only imagine how happy Aaron is to see it.

********************************

At 11 I have my first personal training session. I am as ready as I will ever be to start this. I get to the gym early because I have to get my nutrition schedule. I am getting put on a strict 2000 calorie diet. I have four meals a day and several options each day to choose from. I have never been one to have any sort of eating restrictions. Smoke enough pot and you will eat anything. I have a Ben and Jerry's ice cream store right across the street from my house. It is 43 steps from my front door to theirs. I only know this because you do stupid things when you are high. It is like pot smokers nirvana to have a Ben and Jerry's so close. They know me almost as well as the liquor store lady.

I have been wondering if she thinks I am dead. This is the longest time she has been without me. The brief thought of visiting her is interrupted by a little 5 foot tall girl in spandex.

Hi Steve!

Wow is she perky.

I am Amy and I am going to be your personal trainer!

Wow is she perky.

I can't believe that this tiny little girl is going to be any challenge for me at all.

An hour later I feel like I have never been more wrong in my life.

The amount of hell that can be packed into such a small body amazes me. She worked me like a minimum wage job, brutal and unsatisfying. I have discovered that there are muscles I didn't even know about. Every one of them is mad at me and asking why I couldn't have just left them sleeping.

My little aerobics instructor from hell asks me to join her for her spinning class tomorrow. I have no clue at all what a spinning class is so I say yes.

Seriously, how hard can it be.

As I leave the gym I really wish that I had driven my car the 11 blocks from my house because the way my butt is fighting my legs is driving me crazy.

I make the slow walk home. I take a shower and once again am faced with nothing but time. I can tell this is going to be my biggest enemy. Boredom. I know that I am going to have to keep busy. Meetings. I need meetings.

I have a little schedule of every meeting in the Portland area and I sit down and figure out where they all are.

6:30 AM everyday at The Alano club. They also have a surrender at noon meeting and the 5:30 New Alternatives group where I met my sponsor. At 11 PM they have the Night Owls meeting. There are four meetings at least everyday that I can get to with in walking distance of my house.

I thank God right then and there.

It is the in between times that are going to be tough.

I take a trip to the grocery store to purchase all of my new diet foods. I haven't had a shopping cart full of the four food groups since I was actually sitting in the front of it staring at my Mom pushing the dang cart.

Out with the bad and in with the good.

I get home and make a fabulous lunch and I sit out on my front porch and eat. I smoke a couple cigarettes and decide it has been way too long since I had a talk with my best friend.

She feels good in my hands.

I haven't held her in over a month.

The sound of my guitar soothes my soul. I sit on my front porch and I play for three hours straight. My fingers couldn't be happier.

I finally get to hear what "Tired of Getting High" sounds like on a real guitar. It changes a bit more than I expected but it sure sounds a heck of a lot better than it did playing it on the wooden bar in rehab.

**************************************

I meet my new sponsor Jeff at the 5:30. He asks me how my day has been and I tell him all about my new aerobics instructor from hell. I tell him that I am doing something called spinning tomorrow.

He just smiles at me and says, good luck with that.

We sit through the meeting and I have to say that I really feel at home with these people. I hear stories that I can relate to and I know what people are talking about.

After the meeting Jeff asks me if I am ready to start working the program. I tell him that I am very ready and that I will do whatever it takes.

Step 1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.

What I want you to do, Steve, is go home and write down 10 ways how you are powerless over alcohol and 10 ways your life has become unmanageable.

I can do that.

Have you eaten yet?

I can always eat.

Let go get some food and talk some more.

Walking down the street to 23rd I am just amazed at how willing this guy is to help me. This is really only the second time we have met and we are going to get dinner. It is so funny how we connect. I really do feel like I have known him for a while.

We go to Santa Fe's and get big ole burrittos.

We talk about my story. Where I came from and how I drank and drugged. He told me all about his. So many similarities that it is spooky.

We talk about music.

I tell him how bad I feel about being in a Christian band and being the way that I am.

You didn't tell me your band was a Christian band?

Yeah.

I think that is awesome. My little brother is a guitarist in a Christian hardcore band.

Are you a Christian Jeff?

I sure am.

I sit and eat and all the while I am thinking that God is just putting everything into place. I can think of only one word right now.

Surrender.

Chapter 48

2005-12-27T10:31:00.000-08:00

My first night home and I really didn't sleep. It actually feels foreign to be home. I wake up and know that there is no bacon waiting for me. No glorious mound of bacon next to heaping trays of hashbrowns and eggs.

I just might starve.

I take a long shower and try and put together my day in my head. I don't have one thing planned and right now that is a bad thing. I know that I am dangerous when I don't have something to do. My anxiety level is through the roof. I just know I have to get out of the house.

What I really miss is my mornings at the YMCA.

I decide to take a walk instead. I live in Northwest Portland which is always hopping with a tireless stream of Urban Hipsters and shopaholics. I light up my morning smoke and head down 23rd.

It is a crisp morning. I love mornings like this in the Northwest, especially when I am waking up to them and not going to sleep to them.

I say "Good morning" to every single person I pass. I don't do the walk with the head down thing. I look people in the eye and say good morning and the great thing about the Northwest is most people say it back and mean it.

As I walked I tried to think of what my days were going to be like.

I know one thing. I am not going back to work for at least a month. I just can't go back there right now. I need to get better. I really need to go in and talk to everyone and let them know that I am not the same guy anymore.

At least I think I'm not the same guy.

Maybe that's what I will do later today. I know that I have a paycheck at work so that always makes a trip worthwhile. I know that I don't need the money right now because I am sitting on a big chunk of change from my Saturday night before rehab gig.

I would just really like to see Sam, my Christian brother from work, and tell him thanks for being there for me when I needed him. I know that he and his wife prayed for me while I was in rehab and I know that it helped.

I walked. I smoked. I saw the most glorious vision in front of me, calling me. I realized I was going to be entering into an amazing love affair with this new beauty in my life.

Starbucks.

Real coffee. Legal juice.

I felt no shame as I entered into this haven from the cold. The smell of Sumatra, Sulawesi, Guatemala Antiqua and the "hissss" of frothing milk makes me close my eyes briefly as I slowly take the air into my nostrils.

What can I get for you?

Her voice pulls me from my trance.

Without hesitation I proudly announce my hearts desire.

Quad Venti Mocha.

Would you like whipped cream?

Did she just ask if I wanted whipped cream? Hell yes I want whipped cream! Does a fat dog fart?

Yes please.

I walk out once again into my new life aided by a warm and heavily caffeinated beverage. I light yet another cigarette and decide I need to take care of the other thing that is missing.

I walk down into the Pearl District because I know that there is a 24 hour Fitness there. By the time I get there I have finished my coffee and two cigarettes. I have never been a gym rat so I feel a little out of my element in here. I decide that I need to get a membership. I sit down and talk with a girl who is a little more muscular than me about the different programs they have. I decide to actually put a good amount of my Saturday night funds to work. I get a three year membership and also get myself a personal trainer and a nutritionist.

I laugh at the fact I now am a guy with a personal trainer and nutritionist.

We aren't in Kansas anymore Toto.

I leave with a vast array of supplements and vitamins. I mean, if I am going to do this I should go all out. I have never been one to go halfway.

I walk home and unload my vast array of pills, healthy pills for once and I get in my car and take a sober drive to work. Pulling into the parking lot makes me nervous. I don't really know what it is going to be like to see all these people right now. I walk to the front door and decide that I will stand out front and smoke a little first. I see a couple folks that know me and they ask me how I am. I tell them I am great, never been better.

You look good.

I feel good.

I finish my smoke and head into the building. I turn left once again to see my boss, this time without the tears. He is sitting behind his desk and he gets a big smile when he sees me.

Hey Dude! Wow, good to see you!

We talk for a while and I ask him if it is ok if I take a month off work. He tells me to take as much time as I need. I try and tell him Thank you without crying and I just can't. He just tells me how proud he is that I took these steps.

I leave his office and walk to the other side of the building. I can feel so many people looking at me. I didn't leave without telling all of my co-workers what was happening. The last thing I wanted was rumors when I was gone. I told them all straight up, face to face.

My reception was a warm one.

Lots of hugs and lots of "you look good". I had lost a ton of weight and I can only imagine that I had some life back in my eyes.

I loved seeing my two best friends at work, Sam and Scott. Sam just smiled ear to ear. A warm smile that really made me happy. He gave me a hug and said it was great to see me. He said that he and his wife had been praying for me.

I told him that I knew.

It worked.

We all talked for a while and I let them all know I would be back after a month or so. Everyone offered any help they could give.

I haven't sat at my desk for a while. I know that my top drawer has several prescription bottles in it. I open the drawer and see the empty bottles. I grab them all and throw them in the trash.

I have enough reminders already.

Chapter 47

2005-12-22T11:50:00.000-08:00

I can't say that I slept well.

I am leaving. I am leaving my comfort zone and going to be heading home. I hit breakfast with Cozmo and Curtis. The Three Lushketeers. These are my boys, Bryce especially.

They both live outside of Portland but not that far away at all. I know that we will be in touch.

This bacon. All this bacon. Oh how I will miss the sight of a huge mound of bacon.
I actually heard my heart say "You Bastard" as I grabbed a bakers dozen. Today we shall eat like Kings!

We absolutely ate ourselves stupid.

and we laughed. We laughed like brothers. The three of us really bonded in here and I am thankful for both of them.

I have to be out of here by noon. I have all my stuff packed and have done all of my checkouts. I have been given my car keys back.

and my hair gel. I laugh at this. They now trust me with hair gel that has alcohol in it. Baby steps.

I go around and say my goodbyes to everyone. I wish Adam the best of luck with his family. I tell Jerrod to remember to put God first. This is his second time here and I hope it sticks in him like I pray it sticks in me. I tell both of the Erics goodbye. I know that I will see tattoo Eric up in outpatient in Portland.

So many people. So many broken lives. I know in my heart that this will be the last time I see most of them. That's just how it is. We are in each others lives for sometimes only a moment and now I realize that it is the moments that count.

Lots of hugs and lots of "love you man". This has been my home for a month and these people have been my family.

I will miss them.

Cozmo helps me grab my stuff and load it into my car.

Keep it real Cozmo. Stay strong.

The shoulder to shoulder tap ensues.

I love you and I will see you on the outside.

For sure. Peace.

I stand for a while by my car. It has been parked the whole month right behind the back wall of the courtyard. I am having trouble actually getting in it right now so I just stand. I figure another smoke won't hurt.

As I light my Camel I see her walk out into the courtyard. I can tell she is looking for me and that feels good.

YO!

Lacey looks over and smiles.

Join me for a last smoke?

She does.

The girl makes me smile and that is a cool feeling. I know that I would love to get to know her outside of these walls and who knows, I just might. Right now it's goodbye.

We smoke and we talk. I tell her that I will call her so be looking for my name on the chalkboard. She gives me a big hug and walks away.

One deep sigh and I get behind the wheel.

Here we go.

I pull out of the back alley and before I pull out on the main street I open my ashtray. One last thing to do before I leave.

As I pull away I leave the glass pipe shattered on the pavement behind me.

*************************************

It is so good to have music again.

My stereo is blaring as I cruise North on Interstate 5. I am listening to the album I bought on the way down here. The rebirth of Kirk Franklin.

The lyrics just make me wanna sing.

Every time I look back
And every time I think back
On all the stuff I've been through
I've prayed through I cried through
And then I tried you and just
When I was about to fall
Your love caught me when your name I called
Jesus you keep on lookin' out for me

Remember when the doctor said
He said he couldn't help you and
Remember when the money was gettin' low
You're hurtin' now your feeling low and just
When you thought the night would never end
The sun came out now you can smile again
Jesus you keep on lookin' out for me

You keep on lookin' out for me
In spite of all I've done
Jesus you keep on lookin' out for me

I shouldn't be here today
And when I look back on all my mistakes
If it hadn't been for your grace
I don't know where I'd be where I'd go
Who can love me like you do
And who can hold me when I'm going through
Jesus you keep on lookin' out for me

I have an entire gospel choir in my backseat the whole way home.

A funny thing happens the closer I get to Portland. I start feeling anxious and scared. I don't really want to go home yet. I decide to waste time shopping for some new kicks. Anything to keep my mind busy.

I go shopping. Couple new pairs of kicks later I am back in my car and the feeling really hasn't gone away.

I know that I need to get to a meeting or something.

There is a house in NW Portland. It is six blocks from where I live. It is a house that has recovery meetings in it pretty much all day. I have never been but I know it is there. I pull into the parking lot and find out there is a meeting in the basement in 20 minutes.

Perfect.

I grab a cup of coffee. A cup of CAFFEINATED coffee and take a seat. There is a guy there that is asking if someone wants to chair the meeting. Meaning, sit up front and run the thing. I don't know why but I say I will.

I know how meetings run. They have a laminated sheet that tells me how this one does.

Welcome to the New Alternatives group of Alcoholics Anonymous. My name is Steve and I am an alcoholic.

HI STEVE.

A whole room full of people.

The meeting starts with the reading of the chapter "How it works" from the big book. After that I pick the topic. I have no idea what I am going to say. I just tell them that I literally just got out of rehab and needed a meeting and I was 30 days sober.

Now some people think this is great and others think I shouldn't even be sitting up in front of them. How can a guy 30 days sober have anything to offer. I really don't. I am on a bit of a rehab high and these guys have been pounding it out in the real world.

I understand.

After I talk I get to just call on people. I don't know anyone so I just start randomly picking people.

The first is a sweet lady who has 16 years. She spits truth. I love it.

She finishes and I look around the room for the next person. Sitting in the middle of the room I see this guy that for some reason just looks different from the rest. He has a dress shirt and tie on and is looking right at me.

I call on him.

He walks up and stands behind the podium.

It's great to have you here. Welcome home. My name is Jeff and I am an alcoholic.

Hi Jeff.

From the first words out of his mouth I felt like I knew this guy. He spoke like he was reading my soul. He had been sober for many years. He was a lush and a cokehead. I hung on his every word.

The meeting finished and I went outside to smoke.

I saw Jeff standing with some other folks and I walked over to thank him for what he shared. We talked for a while and he asked me what I did. I told him I worked for a bank dealing with mortgages and I also played music.

He laughed.

That's funny. I am a Mortgage Broker and I also am a musician.

Perfect. I asked him right then if he would consider being a sponsor.

He didn't even think about it before he said yes. We exchanged numbers and I left.

I headed home for the first time in over a month. I was out of rehab and I had already been to a meeting and I got a sponsor. Things were looking up.

I parked my car and walked to my front door. I hadn't told my roommate I was coming home. I opened the door and he and another friend of ours was there with two girls. They were happy to see me. I was happy to see them also.

They were all sitting around drinking beers.

Reality.

They weren't drunk or anything. They didn't drink the same way I did. They were just drinking like some folks can. I felt my whole body shake. None of this is going to be easy at all.

I took my stuff upstairs to my room.

I stayed behind a shut door for the rest of the night.

Chapter 46

2005-12-22T11:10:00.000-08:00

I sit under the shelter on one of the tables and listen to the rain fall on the pavement of the courtyard. It is really hard to just grasp that tomorrow I will be driving back to Portland.

So much has happened in the last month. I have had a huge fog lifted from my head. My body has started to heal and I feel so much better. I was amazed that I still had high levels of THC in my body after not smoking pot for a month.

No one is outside right now. It is just me and the rain.

I think of the broken man that walked in here, angry and stoned. I think of those first couple days in detox and still being able to hear the desperate yells of addicts without their fuel.

I can't ever forget this.

That one thought just runs through my head.

I can't ever forget this.

I am scared but I am really happy. I have a new feeling inside of me that I haven't felt for I don't know how long.

Pride.

I a proud of what I have done. It is so different from the arrogance I have felt in the past. This pride is filled with a new sense of gratitude and acknowledgement that God is doing for me what I could not do for myself.

I can feel my own tears run down my face and I know that for once they aren't because of pain.

I have spent so long in the darkness that I have forgotten what it feels like to be in the Light. I know that the road ahead of me is going to be so long but I also know that I am stupid to think that it isn't just as long for everybody. All of us have felt this separation in one way or another. In me it manifests itself into addiction. I am not special in that sense. I know that if I start thinking that way again I will be at the bottom of the bottle and bong in no time at all.

I have to be real. I know that God called me a long long time ago and I know that I hid. I think of how I got on my knees and begged Him to get me out of the hell I was in and He did. Then He put Joe, Mark and Ariel in my life.

Here is your chance.

Sing for me.

I failed. I took it and I used it all for myself. I took the gift and I ran with it. A little spoiled kid who won't share.

I remember the last conversation I had with Mark before I drove down here. I know that he is so angry with me. I know that I hurt more people than just myself. He wished me luck and said he would pray for me. I told him that we were going to move mountains when I get out of here.

For the first time I really believe that through God all things are possible. There is no way I can explain being sober 30 days any other way.

Thank you Lord. Thank you God. I love you.

I pull my hoodie over my head and walk out into the downpour. I stretch my arms out and tilt my head to the heavens.

With my eyes closed I let God's rain wash my tears away.

Chapter 45

2005-12-21T12:25:00.000-08:00

People are actually signing other people's AA Books.

It is exactly like signing High School yearbooks. It is the weirdest thing ever. I understand that people want to keep in touch but the reality of it is that we probably won't.

People brand new to sobriety really can't help each other out that much. I know that support is good but I have to find people that are farther along the path then I am. I do want to keep in touch with them and I do wish them ALL the best but I know that most just are not going to make it. I know that is a dangerous place for me. I know that I could get sucked right back into where I was.

I am taking ever last bit of advice given to me by my counselor Adam. I am going to get a sponsor as fast as I can when I leave here. I need a Mentor to guide me through the steps of recovery. As far as I am concerned I have only completed step one of the 12 step program.

We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol- that our lives had become unmanageable.

I still have 11 more to go and there is no way to do this alone.

My book gets marked up by all of my fellow addicts that I have had the pleasure of being around.

I look at what some people write and I realize that all of them write about the same thing in my book. My love for God.

I think that is when it hits me that I have allowed a small piece of God to break the surface.

Steve,

you don't know what a positive impact you have had on my life. Thank you for your prayers. Stay in touch.

Adam

Thanks for the prayers

Mike

Steve thank you for sharing the Lord and yourself with me.

Cathy

Steve, you wont ever know what you have done for me. I love your inner spirit for God it picks me up when I am down. Pick up the phone and share your joy and happiness with me. Please. I love you Brother.

Bill

Steve,

Thank you for everything. I really hope we continue to be a part of each others lives. Call me anytime and get your ass back to where your heart is... music!
I love you.

Jerrod

Dearest Steve,

I cannot begin to express and words cannot begin to describe how much your words have meant to me. In my many times of feeling so alone and frightened you always knew what to say. Your utter devotion to your spirituality is awe inspiring. I pray to find my own. The passion you have for sobriety leaves no doubt of your success. You have a kind and tender heart and I know you will have everlasting peace and happiness. God bless and keep you ALWAYS.

Thank you

Susan

Dear Brother Steve,

Thank you for being there and praying with me and believing in me. You don't know what that means to me. You are a good man and the Lord will fill your life with blessings. Keep in touch. We all need brotherly love on this journey through life.

Hawaii Eric

Steve,

you are going to carry the message that He asks each one of us to do. You will always remain close to me.

Mike D.

Steve,

I've truly enjoyed getting to know you. You are an incredible person with so much love to give. Take care of yourself out there- be good!

Love Lacey

I read each one of these and I feel completely unworthy. In my mind I am still a worthless addict with not much to offer. The man that I am reading about in my book isn't me.

Exactly.

It isn't me.

********************************

I wake up on my last full day in rehab on the floor outside of my room. I have a new roommate and I have never heard snoring like this guy puts out. I actually feared for my life at one point during the evening so I grabbed my big fluffy pillow and slept outside. The rumble could still be felt.

I can't believe that I am 30 days clean and sober. My first true milestone in sobriety. I feel good.

I feel really good.

Cozmo and I hit the YMCA in the morning for the last time. We play hoops with Curtis and have a great time. They both have a few more days. I will leave in the morning. It is all a little surreal to me right now. I am actually scared to death.

We hit breakfast and I eat about two pigs worth of bacon. I am really going to miss morning breakfast here. Eggs and bacon and french toast. The food was awesome. Eating so well and working out twice a day has made a serious impact on me. I have lost about 15 pounds and It feels fantastic. I have more energy than I know what to do with.

In our all-facility morning meeting I get to say my goodbyes to everyone. After that I meet up with Adam to talk about what comes next. He tells me again to get a sponsor and really work this program. He thinks I have as good a shot at it as anyone.

I tell him I feel the same way.

I spend most of the day talking to people and wishing them well. I know that A few of them from the Portland area will actually be in my year long after care group that will meet weekly.

Lacey and I talk quite a bit today. I am going to miss this girl.

******************************************

My last off site AA meeting.

John behind the wheel of the Druggie Buggie. Cozmo and I once again laughing at the fact we never killed ourselves drinking and driving but still may die anyways in a treatment center econo-van.

The meeting is at a church that we haven't been to before.

We walk in and I can't help but smile when I see Dale sitting around the circle. Dale, the old man that cried and made me realize that I want what he has. The reason that the words "Never Forget Dale and tears of joy" are written on the inside cover of my AA book.

I thank God right then and there that this man is at my final meeting down here.

It is a great meeting. There is a man there that is celebrating 57 years. I have 30 days today and this man has 57 years. The beauty of AA.

When the floor is opened up I raise my hand.

I looked at Dale and I told him how much his tears had meant to me. I told him that I was so scared and when I felt how much gratitude he had it changed something in me. It was very emotional for me. He looked at me and like he couldn't believe what I was saying.

I just wanted to tell him thank you.

He just nodded at me and I could see that he was fighting back tears.

If something I said touched you in such a way I can only tell you it wasn't me. It was God. I am just an old drunk who is willing to be thankful.

and that's all I gotta say about that.

The came to the point in the meeting where they asked if anyone was celebrating time. I raised my hand.

My name is Steve and I am an alcoholic. I have 30 days.

Dale stood up and grabbed the 30 day coin and he was the one that gave it to me. He walked over and he gave it to me and he hugged me. This old man who I didn't really even know gave me the best hug.

All of it started to make a little more sense. Not just the program but life. Here I was thinking that Dale had done so much for me and at that moment I know he was feeling like I had done so much for him.

I saw something in that old man.

A willingness to serve.

I knew that I wanted to hold on to this lesson very tight.

Chapter 44

2005-12-21T11:40:00.000-08:00

Fishbowl.

Today is the day that I have been dreading. Second to last day here and it is fishbowl day. I guess this is a right of passage.

Fishbowl consists of the addict, his or her family and the other addicts and family members that are leaving the facility that week. There is also a counselor in the room.

Each addict gets to take his or her turn sitting in front of family members and hearing them tell you exactly how your addictions has made them feel. How it has hurt them.

Feelings.

I have seen people come out of this room before and it isn't pretty. So much pain and built up anger. There has been explosions in these meetings. This is perhaps the only time the family of an addict has had the opportunity to release what they have felt. It is intense and it is a humbling experience.

Cozmo and I get to do it together. This is the one thing that makes me feel like I can do this. Our brother Curtis is also in the room with his Mom and Dad and the three of us have been trying to imagine what all of this is going to be like. I know that my parents aren't here to punish me and tell me what a bad Son I have been, in fact it is the opposite. They are here because they support me. That is huge in this whole process. Cozmo has his entire family, little brother included, sitting with him and so does Curtis.

Listening to the pain and fear in the voices of family is tough. This is real emotion. Curtis sits and listens to his Mom and Dad tell him about the pain his addiction has caused. Cozmo does the same. Family members take turns talking about whatever they want and the addict just has to listen and not say a word. After they are finished you can say your peace. Then anyone in the room can talk about what they see or what they have seen.

The thing that is also tough to see is the other addicts that are in the room that didn't have any family show up at all. The chick with the roots is in the room and she is alone. She doesn't say a word the whole time.

Listening to my Mom and Dad talk about the effects of my addiction on them tore a hole in me. My Father is a strong man. A retired Naval Commander. To hear his voice crack makes my stomach turn.

So many sleepless nights wondering if they were going to get the call. All the car wrecks and all the time spent hiding from my family.

My Mom just wants her son back.

She just wants her baby boy.

Most of all they just want me to be happy once again. The truth is they want the very best for me and they always have. My Dad tells me that he really hopes this sticks. That I don't take the easy way out and I really put my heart into this.

I can only get out a few words.

I will. I am so sorry.

*******************************************

All three of us have to take a little break away from the families after the experience. Cigarettes were smoked as if they were the very things sustaining life in us.

We just smoked in silence, occasionally glancing at each other and shaking our heads as we exhaled huge clouds of smoke.

There just really isn't much more to say after you have gone through that. We just all listened to years worth of pain wrapped into about an hour and half. I know that I don't ever want to put the people I love into a situation like that again.

After a couple smokes we head back in for lunch. I don't think any of us had a stomach for eating.

On the way in I see Lacey.

So you got to go through the fishbowl.

Ohhh yeah.

How was it?

It was just as tough as they said it was going to be. I am pretty drained from it.

We sat and talked for quite a while. She is sunshine to me in here. We have gotten to know each other pretty well and I really want to keep in touch when I get out of here. She will be in for another three weeks or so.

As always, Aaron comes walking through the courtyard and joins in our conversation.

This guy is killing me.

Chapter 43

2005-12-20T12:36:00.000-08:00

I am getting pretty anxious.

In three short days I will be leaving. I will be back out in the real world with the same temptations. I know that the world I left to come in here hasn't changed one bit. I have become a master of the "Serenity Prayer" during these moments. The moments where I feel so helpless.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference"

I don't know what it is about this prayer but it connects with me. It is so pure and filled with truth. The serenity or the peace inside to just accept all the crap of the world. I can't change other people. I can't always have things go MY way. The courage to change the things I can. That means my reactions to the world, my way of thinking, who I put my trust in. This is the "me" stuff. I have to change "me", not all the others around me to fit my own selfish needs.

...and the wisdom to know the difference

To actually know the difference between the two.

So here I am having yet another anxiety attack about getting out of here and I am repeating this over and over in my head until it sticks. I am scared about getting out and I am scared about failing. When it comes to not drinking and using, "forever" seems like an impossibility. I have been sober 29 days and it has been the biggest challenge of my life. There hasn't been one day at all that has been easy. In meetings you hear the phrase "One Day at a Time" and that is the truth. If I start future trippin' I will drive myself crazy.

I have spent way too much time already in my life worrying about stuff that never happened. I wasted so much time on future thoughts and never lived for right now. That is the one thing I tell myself I am going to do when I leave here. Live in the moment. Don't be so worried about what might happen in the future because my experience has shown that most of it never comes to fruition.

I have been thinking so much about God lately. It is hard for me to think He isn't at least slightly mad at me. All these gifts He trusted me with and I just go and mess it all up.

I stood up in front of people as a "Christian" singer and I played under the influence of drugs and alcohol.

Guilt.

The one thing that I know is going to take serious work.

Some days I just feel like I am clothed in it.

******************************************

We actually have a spirituality class today. There is a woman who leads this class and she is actually the pastor here. I don't even know if she is a pastor. I just like to think of her as "Godly" and that seems to be enough for now.

I know her from a meeting we had one on one. I needed to really talk to her about my divorce. I have really been bothered by the fact that I have been married and failed.

I just keep thinking that God hates divorce. I think of the simple marriage vows.

Until death do you part.

In talking with her she really made me feel a little better. First and foremost she told me that divorce WAS a sin and shouldn't be thought of any differently.

A sin is a sin.

Our relationship was never centered on God. Not even close. She told me to focus on the love of God and his ability to forgive sin. Until death do us part. The moment she laid a hand on me was the moment the death of any love we had died.

Really, the feelings we had weren't "love" as God intended. True "Love" is focused and centered in God. I see what she is talking about but realize I have a long way to go. I just know it feels good to look for the answers in the right place for once.

A sin is a sin.

He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone

I know that God and I are going to be having quite a few talks in the near future.

So we are all sitting in the TV room and talking about God and the power of prayer. Well, we are talking about a "higher power" that some of us choose to call "God" and the power of prayer. This is the "politically correct" way of dealing with the disease.

One of the new guys is putting up a huge God fight. He claims to be an atheist and says that no God exists.

Explain to me then how prayer works. How can you prove to me that it does? How does it work?

I loved how she approached this guy with a gentleness.

I can't.

That's because it's all bullshit!

She looks at him and asks a simple question.

Can you tell me exactly how that TV works? Every time you go and press the on button do you think about "how it works" or do you just know and trust that it will?

Silence.

Do you need to have the knowledge of how that TV works to turn it on? No, you don't. You only need to trust that every time you press that button it works.

Prayer is the same way.

It only requires that you have a small amount of trust.

I just smile a little bit.

I am going to miss this place.

Chapter 42

2005-12-19T10:07:00.000-08:00

I am coming to the realization that rehab isn't going to "cure" me. I see a lot of the people in here who I know just aren't going to make it.

It saddens me but I have to almost ignore it.

In all honesty I am here for me. Only me.

I believe that is the only way this is going to work for me. If I start trying to get sober for my family, for my friends, for a woman or whatever other reason I can think of I know it won't work.

I have to do this for myself. I have to do it because "I" want it. I can't let other people dictate the way I am going to live my life anymore. I am terrified at this fact because I don't know where the road leads after I leave here.

Word gets around when people fail. Rehab is no different then school or work. People still love to gossip about other people's business.

More like, people LOVE to gossip about other people's pain.

That's really what it breaks down to. People love to talk about the failures of others so that their own failures can be minimalized or justified in one way or another. It isn't any different in here. People sit in the courtyard and talk about those that got out a week ago and hardly made it past the first convenience store.

Addicts can talk.

Addicts can justified ANYTHING. I often laugh at my thought process. How my mind can work overtime to convince me that I don't have to actually "quit" drinking and drugging. I just need to "control" it. I can't even explain how many times a day this gets tossed back and forth in my head.

Today I just sit alone and smoke.

I am tired. Really tired.

My time is almost done here and I am tired. I feel like my mind just needs a rest. All of this that I am facing, I am facing for the first time without drinking or using drugs. Just me. Just me and God.

What has all of it meant.

Why am I still here.

What does God want from me.

Who am I going to be when I leave.

That is the big one for me. Who am I. Really, who am I? Up to this point in my life I have made a few people smile and I have done a great deal of entertaining but all of that really hasn't brought me joy. In truth, it has brought me pain.

I know that there is so much more to me. I have so much more I could give if I just knew how to get myself out of the way. Get my ego out of the picture. Take what others think out of the picture.

As I watch the smoke rise in the brisk March air I want to scream.

The weight of these thoughts are just so heavy on me. I can't do this on my own.

I can't do it all alone. I will fail.

I will fail because I always have.

By the time I light my third cigarette I have company. Her name is Susan and she is maybe 40 years old. She is a housewife with 2 kids and she is an alcoholic. She cries almost every time I see her.

Tears, man, all these tears.

I met her family on family day. Her husband and her son and daughter. Her son was 10 or so and I could tell he was a kid after my own heart. He loved heavy music and loved skateboarding and the whole "extreme sports" gig. I instantly liked the kid and he liked me.

Susan has been just kicking the crap out of herself over her kids, and rightly so. She hasn't been a good Mom. She has been a drunk. It isn't the disease that makes her the bad Mom, it is the fact that she didn't get help sooner.

This is the same thing that makes me a bad Son. We both are lucky enough to have a second chance and make things right.

We talk about her family and we talk about God. She is scared just like I am about getting out and falling right back into the same patterns that defined us in the outside world. We prayed about it.

She cried.

She doesn't know what to do about her son because he, in her words, "hates my guts".
I don't know why but I asked her if I could write him a letter. She said she would love that. She told me that he thought I was "cool". He liked that I played music and liked the same things he did.

She was smiling when she walked away.

I went back to my room and grabbed a pen and paper and headed back out to the courtyard.

I wrote a letter to this 10 year old boy and told him that I understood why he was mad. I told him that he should be. I told him that right now I wasn't the best guy to look up to. I let him know that I started making really bad choices at his age and that he was going to have to make the same choices at some point.

The most important thing I told him was that his Mom loves him. She has been sick but is trying to get better.

I hate this disease.

Chapter 41

2005-12-15T09:58:00.000-08:00

Saturdays in rehab.

Less meetings more arts and crafts.

In one hand I have a pair of scissors and in the other a glue stick. I look at Cozmo and we have to just laugh. A pair of grown men with scissors and glue sticks looking through magazines for images to cut out.

Now I have been in situations like this a million times. Having to do something that I don't want to do or don't feel like is worthwhile for me to be doing. I know that I have a choice here. I can bitch and moan or I can just suck it up and partake in a little Arts and Crafts.

What the hell, it's not like I am going to get the chance to do this very often. I mean, I am a musician, an artist. This shit is my forte!

Others in our Saturday Arts and Crafts group are not agreeing with my "Hey lets be kids again" outlook. There is the smell of revolt in the air.

It comes in the form of a blonde girl. Fake blonde, but blonde just the same.

The chick with the roots is straight up trouble.

There is no absolute proof but most of us, in our hearts, feel that she is the one responsible for the Anti-Jew comments in Fred's Big Book. She puts up a fight with everything in here.

The food sucks.

The people suck.

You suck.

On and on. I don't let it phase me because at this point I could really care less. What she does to others in here is not my business.

This is so fucking stupid! What, are we like three year olds?

With arms crossed she makes her stand.

Why don't you just try to put together your collage and see what you come up with?

The guy leading our Arts and Crafts is a new counselor. I only see him on Saturdays. He lead us last weekend in meditation. What fun that was!

All of us in a room laying on the floor listening to Yanni.

There are some moments in here that are just priceless. Meditation day ranks up there.

Chick with the roots fought him on this day also. No big shocker.

The best part about it is the amount of snoring that goes on during meditation time. People tend to get real comfortable. There is nothing more spiritual then snoring during meditation.

Last week the snoring guy next to me actually farted.

As if the Yanni didn't stink enough.

It is really tough to get back to your happy place after something like that happens.

So here he is again with a room of addicts and alcoholics trying to get us to make collages that describe ourselves. I can tell that this isn't exactly what he had pictured in his mind as he was going to school to get his masters.

Things aren't always what they are made out to be.

I am not fucking doing this!

She is a woman that is trying to get attention in any way that she can. Not one of us in the room gives a damn if she joins us or not and we let her know. Almost in unison we give her the "Who cares" or "just SHUT UP". It makes us laugh.

We all just ignore the "Fuck You" that follows. You get real use to this phrase. When you take away whatever it is we are addicted to we can get pretty nasty. Everyone in here has gotten ugly at one point or another.

Some admit to it and try and get better and others just fight everything and you know that the second they leave they will be right back at it.

The chick with the roots is going to be right back at it. She is a bar chick. She is that girl that spends all of her time getting free drinks off men and treating them like they might have a chance at gettin' lucky. I always laughed at these girls in bars. They are the ones that think they get sexier the more they drink. To me there just isn't anything sexier then a woman that slurs. Get these girls in a group and you can have a whole night of entertainment just watching them. These are the same girls that end up crying and not being able to walk at the end of the night.

I laugh about it but her pain is the same as mine. I still sit here in rehab and judge her.

I'm no better.

I just shut her out for now.

Arts and Crafts is fun as fun gets in rehab. I thumb through magazines and cut out words and pictures and compare mine with Cozmo's. I don't really want to be doing this and really don't see how it is going to help, but I am not here to argue.

I am here to listen and learn.

Learn about myself.

Chapter 40

2005-12-14T10:43:00.000-08:00

It's been really nice to get into a routine for once. I love going to the gym and working out. It has taken the edge off quite a bit. Being sober for 3 weeks hasn't taken that knot in my stomach away at all.

I still think about drinking every day. Every hour. Sometimes it feels like every minute. Keeping focused is the only way that it goes away or feels manageable. I can already tell that this choice that I have made is going to be one of the most difficult.

Cozmo and I talk about it every night while playing cribbage. How we are gonna do this when we actually get out of here.

In here it's almost easy.

I wake up and go workout. I come back and have a hot meal just waiting for me. I eat my fill and go smoke a couple cigarettes with my fellow junkies and lushes. I spend some time talking with the beautiful Lacy, which has been a highlight as of late. Then it is a day full of groups. Small group, men's group, morning group, one on one, night meetings, off campus meetings, on site meetings, more working out, more eating, more smoking and it is like that every day.

All right in front of me.

In here though, someone is telling me what to do and when to do it. When I leave it is entirely up to me.

Just me.

me.

That is the thought that makes me sweat at night and lose sleep. See, I know myself. I know my track record when it comes to difficult things. I can run when it gets tough.

The problem is I know where I will end up if I decide to drink or drug again. It isn't hard for me to play that tape back in my head.

I am not like other people. I don't think about having a drink.

A drink, as in ONE drink.

I think of it in terms of a bottle and what that will do to me. What it will kill. What it will shut down inside my mind. The second alcohol enters my body all bets are off. I can't tell you where I will end up or what I will do. It is one giant game of Russian roulette and just as life threatening.

Non-alcoholics just don't understand this and I really can't blame them because it sounds so crazy. Why the hell can't you just stop?

I can't because I have a disease. This is what they tell me here. I have a disease. One that has been acknowledged by the medical community as a real and tangible disease that will kill me if left untreated.

The hell that comes with it is what drives me crazy. The complete loss of control even when I try my hardest to control it. It owns me. It has my soul.

I know that if I put my hand on the stove it will burn me. I know without a doubt that is what will happen. I can see in front of me the red hot coils of the stovetop. I can feel the heat as my hand gets closer.

I can't stop myself from putting my hand directly on it. I just can't. Even as I smell my own flesh burning and feel the pain that this action causes me every single time, I just can't stop.

That is addiction.

Sometimes the stove isn't as hot and it takes a while for the pain to reach me. In my experience, though, it always will reach me. I always end up in the same place sooner or later.

Looking at myself in the mirror and hating the person that I see.

Chapter 39

2005-12-13T11:51:00.000-08:00

I know who is at my door before I even open it.

The timid knock tells me that Tattoo Eric is paying me a visit. I love Eric. He is one of those guys that you just can't judge by his outward appearance.

Full sleeves of tattoos. Skinhead. Not an ounce of fat on him. I bet that outside of these walls some people would avoid him. The beautiful thing about rehab is the diversity of people. All of us here for the same reason and forced to all be together.

The truth is it works. Take away all of the outside world crap and we are all the same. In here we aren't judged by our color, our social status, our high paying jobs or where we are from. We are all broken.

Every last one of us.

In here we get to know each other. We get to walk through hell.

I invite Eric in.

He has this different look on his face. I can't really place what it means. It is a look that is a little confused, a little amazed, almost in awe.

What's up Eric?

I just wanted to come and thank you for what you did, for that praying.

Any time Bro. We are in this together.

Eric looks me straight in the eye.

He is going to make it. He is going to live.

He is talking about his little cousin. The kid that was shot in the head and not expected to live. The kid we all prayed about.

The Doctors don't know how he pulled through.

In Eric's mind there wasn't a doubt as to what did it.

*************************************************

I have about a week left in rehab and to tell you the truth I am scared to death to leave. I feel strong in here. I am with people that understand what I am going through.

Temptation is not in my face.

I have been talking to my counselor Adam about staying for a month longer. Going into the extended program with Erroll.

I can't believe that I am actually thinking about doing this. I hated this guy when I first met him but I actually see the truth behind his ways. He cares enough to not take any shit.

They tell us that only 10 percent actually achieve long term sobriety.

Ten percent. I can't believe they actually admit to this. I think about this figure in terms of the people in here.

In my small group that means only one of us. Out of all the people here I would say that less then ten of us are going to be clean and sober in the future.

This is the reason why I want to stay longer. I need a fighting chance at this. I tell myself that I am not going to come this far and through this much pain to fail and go through it all again.

Failing after all this would hurt worse than anything.

I see guys in here that are on their third or fourth time through. Tattoo Eric is one of them.

I tell myself that I am going to do whatever it takes to stay clean and sober. I will listen to whatever they tell me to do in here.

I start saying the same prayer at the start of every day.

Father God, please give me the strength to stay clean and sober today.

short and sweet.

At night I say Thank you.

Thank you God for one more day free from the hell I have been in.

Amen.

With all my heart, Amen.

Chapter 38

2005-12-12T10:42:00.000-08:00

People look at a New Year as a fresh start, a time of new hope. A new year holds dreams yet attained, love yet to be discovered and life yet to be lived.

A new year for me is 365 more days of hurt.

The reality, the true reality, that I can't stop drinking and doing drugs is something that is with me every hour of every day. I know that it is just a matter of time before I find myself without hope.

Maybe hell eternal isn't as far away as I think.

My drinking is no longer killing any pain. I can't blackout fast enough. I know that I have lost control.

Some mornings I actually find myself behind the wheel on my way to work and I don't actually remember waking up. I know that I am not going to get any better. I know that sooner or later by my own hand or the hand of fate I am going to die.

There isn't a single doubt in my mind.

The worst part about it is I really don't care. I hate myself. I live a life full of lies. I try my best to put up the front that I have my shit together. I did this when I was married. I wanted everyone to think that I had the best marriage in the world. I want everyone to think that it must be so much fun to be me. You can fool people for a long, long time.

I know in my heart that I haven't fooled God. I know that He has always seen through me. I have felt Him my whole life and for the most part I have denied Him. I have taken and never given.

Serving God was just never popular enough to gain my attention.

After all, what the hell was in it for me.

*************************************************

If ever there was a Holiday I hated with a passion it would be Valentines Day. A Holiday designed to make people feel like shit.

I know that this year is going to be no exception for me. All this hell I have been through with Krista just weighs on my heart. It is Monday the 11th of February and Thursday looms like a death sentence.

I am so sick and fucking tired of feeling so empty, so alone. I am tired of the hate, tired of the pain, tired of this life that I live.

I often wonder what goes through the head of the lady that works in the liquor store by my house. She knows my name.

The liquor store lady knows my name.

She sees me more than all of my family combined. She sells me the very thing that is killing me and I can't imagine that she doesn't know it.

Not her problem.

I know this feeling well. It isn't my problem. The shit I am going through is a result of the cards I have been dealt.

It's not my fault.

There comes a time when you have to look at yourself. Just you. Not the broken relationships. Not the heartache. Not the people that you feel have wronged you.

Just

you.

What do you see?

All I see is powerless. I am powerless over my own damn life. I have looked in every dark corner for happiness. I have tried everything the world can offer.

Sex drugs and rock and roll.

What bullshit.

I sit with that bottle of Jack Daniels and I drink. I drink because I don't know any other way of living. I drink because my body screams for it. I drink because I hate myself. I hate myself for not being stronger.

I drink until my world goes black.

*****************************************************

Warm.

The water flowed over my body and mixed with the bile in my mouth. Naked and curled on the shower floor, I once again tried to piece together exactly where I was.

Who I was.

I vomited again and tasted the familiar mix of Jack Daniels and my own stomach acid.

Welcome to Tuesday.

Chapter 37

2005-12-09T09:42:00.000-08:00

I have come to the conclusion that I am too much of a addict and alcoholic to want to live but too much of a candy-ass to die.

Stuck in between. Not a fun place to be at all.

It is Christmas time once again and I just want to hibernate through it. Everyone is so cheerful and in the Holiday spirit and I just want to slap them. I want them to feel what I am feeling. The utter hopelessness. The pain.

I know that I want out of this feeling but I don't know where to even begin.

I am lost.

I get phone calls from my parents because they haven't heard from me in a month. They get so worried when I don't talk to them. It isn't that I don't want to talk to them at all. In fact I miss feeling like I was part of the family.

I am just ashamed of myself. I don't feel like I have anything at all to offer anyone.

All I can do lately is sit at home and drink and smoke weed.

The state diversion program had done wonders for me. I was in it for 9 months and I drank all the way through it. I really didn't even give the counselor a chance to reach me. I filled a chair.

All I needed to do was get through it.

The hardest part was not being able to smoke weed. The day I graduated from the program I smoked up a storm. I never let up.

The scary part was having to be in a diversion program for drinking and driving and actually drinking and driving right after I would finish for the week. The class was on a Wednesday night. That means I can't drink on Tuesday.

Well, at least not too much.

After class got out on Wednesday I would stop at the store and get a 40 or two and start drinking during the ride home.

There just comes a point where no matter how hard you try you can't stop. Your own power will never be enough.

Ever.

Your power may get you through a weekend or a month but sooner or later the Devil finds the kink in your armor.

Every time.

***************************************

Christmas comes and goes.

Like always it is great to see my family but it also hurts. My brother and sister both have families of their own. They have kids and are building their own traditions.

I don't have that.

The only tradition I have is the tradition of a morning hangover. I am not so sick that I don't realize how blessed I am to have a family at Christmas. I know that there are those that don't or have so much family angst that the Holidays are hell.

My addictions don't stop the fact that I love my family. It really makes it hard that I love them so much because I mound so much guilt on top of myself because I feel like I let all of them down.

My mind and my addictions will tell me anything to keep me in bondage.

*************************************

The clock strikes midnight.

I am alone in a dark house on New Years Eve. I am alone by choice.

I just don't have the energy to be around people. Especially people that are having a good time. I no longer have the energy to fake it.

I call her.

I make sure the message lets her know how miserable I am. I make sure she knows its her fault.

In my mind I can blame so much of my pain on my failed relationships.

In truth I am just an addict and alcoholic trapped inside a disease that I have no control over.

I drink myself to sleep.

I wake up face down on the kitchen floor.

Chapter 36

2005-12-08T12:19:00.000-08:00

The next memory is seeing my Dad.

Sitting next to me is my Dad and he looks very concerned. I can't really imagine what it is like to get a message from your son saying that he is in the emergency room and that the doctors need to stop his heart.

I don't think about things like this.

At all.

The nurse comes in and asks me if there is anything she can get me.

For some reason I start in with the movie quotes from "Fletch".

Yeah I will take a steak sandwich and a steak sandwich. Put it on the Underhill's bill.

It goes way over her head. She actually gets me a steak sandwich and I think that is the greatest thing in the world.

The Doctors can't tell us why my heart did what it did. I know that it was my body's way of saying "enough is enough".

The worst part about it is I don't stop doing what I am doing at all. I am home that night drinking and doing drugs. I don't even question it.

Four days later my heart goes south on me again.

I am in the emergency room once again.

I end up being put on heart meds and blood thinners. The doctors don't want my blood to clot on me and cause a stroke or heart attack. I have to get blood work done quite a bit.

I live in this state of feeling like my heart could just go at any moment.

I am still playing music with my band and we are still playing a ton of shows but we are growing farther and farther apart. I feel completely hopeless. I don't care about a damn thing at all anymore.

Something has to give and It isn't me. I can't stop what I am doing.

No matter how much I hurt I have reached a point that I feel like I deserve the pain. This is my penance. My price.

My fate.

*********************************

We meet at a Shari's restaurant. The whole band for a dinner and a talk. My attitude and my pain has taken its toll on everyone and they think the best thing to do is take a break.

All I hear is "break". As in "Break up".

The thing right now that is my only source of happiness is gone. I went directly from a failed abusive marriage into this band. For the last 3 years of my life I have been doing this. Now I have nothing.

My depression hits a point I never want to see again.

I am tormented inside. I try my best to put a happy front up for the outside world. There is no way I can let people know how much I hurt. I just don't think anyone at all would ever understand.

I come home from work and I sit in front of the TV and I just drink. I sit emotionless for hours on end. I don't want to do anything at all but drink and kill the pain. After a while the drinking and drugs stop killing the pain.

Nothing kills my pain.

Nothing.

Broken and alone I sit in the dark with the gun in my lap. I just cry. I am a wasted life. I am a failure. I have nothing to offer anyone at all. I am an addict and an alcoholic and I hate myself for what I am.

what I have become.

I have never felt true hopelessness before. The moment that you cross over into thinking death would be better than life. Easier to give up than fight. I am afraid to live.

To really live. I am a broken soul filled with so much sin that the guilt weighs down on me every breath I take.

The gun feels hard against my head.

Solid and ungiving.

I am an asshole. A selfish fucking prick. A fucking worthless drug addict who is going to take the easy way out and leave all the wreckage for others to try and figure out.

The why.

Forever the "Why".

The tears flow. I am at the end. One squeeze and its over. The pain ends right now.

Somehow a calm passes through me. A peace. One single thought enters my mind.

The thought of hell eternal.

No chance ever of escaping. I had professed that I believed in God many times in my life. My life did not reflect that belief. Nothing I did reflected that belief. To tell you the truth I don't know what I believed.

Without a single doubt in my mind at the moment I believed that hell was the most real it had ever been.

I could feel the fire.

I don't know how I am going to do it, but I have to give myself a chance.
As I set that gun down I come to the realization that I have to live.

Really live.

Chapter 35

2005-12-08T10:39:00.000-08:00

I once again caught her in a lie. A big one.

Once again it involved her "Ex-boyfriend". Each lie cuts me to the core and allows me to sink lower and lower into depression and anger. No matter how badly I have caught her in this lie she still won't admit it. She makes me feel like I am the crazy one.

I question myself. I think that I might be losing my mind. I start shutting off everyone around me. I drink with a vengeance.

Spite is my new best friend.

I can't shake the pain of the heartbreak. She knows what I went through with my ex-wife. She knows how hard it was for me to trust her. I can't understand how she could lie to me. She says she isn't.

I don't know what to believe anymore.

It is an everyday struggle. I show up to work so hungover everyday. There are so many times that I have to go to the bathroom and throw up.

I sit at my desk and people can feel the anger coming from me. I go outside for breaks and smoke pot and go to the liquor store across the street and buy small bottles of Jack. I am a mess.

A complete and total mess.

My body decides it has had enough and tries to fight back. My body tries to get my attention the only it way it can.

I don't even know what to say to the client I have on the phone.

Oh my God. I have to hang up. I think I am having a heart attack.

My heart felt like it was trying to jump out of my chest. My pulse races and then feels like it just stops. At times my heart feels like it isn't beating at all and then it races like it is trying to make up for the lost beats.

I thought this was it. I thought it was a heart attack. A heart attack before my 30th birthday.

I went to my manager and told her I needed to go to the emergency room and she looked at me like I was crazy.

My heart is coming out of my chest.

Let me call the paramedics.

Working in a call center I have seen the paramedics come. At least once a month they show up to cart out one of the "heavier set" employees who has become short of breath. There is no way in hell I am getting wheeled out of this joint. I tell them I am driving myself.

They try and stop me to no avail.

The drive to the emergency room is horrid. I am reaching a severe state of panic which isn't making my heart any better at all. I don't even know what to say when I get there.

I think my heart is giving out.

They check my heart rate and sure enough it is all over the map. It races then it dies. It is completely out of rhythm. They put me in a room by myself. I am terrified. I don't know what is going on and all I can think is I want my Mom.

I want my Mom.

The female doctor comes in and she sits down next to me. I have no idea what to expect. What she tells me makes tears fall almost instantaneously.

We are going to have to stop your heart and try and get it back on track.

What the fuck?

I need a phone.

I call everyone and I can't get a hold of anyone at all. I am terrified and I am alone.

They are going to hook me up to a defibleration machine and shock my heart into submission. Stop it and then get it going again. The doctor informs me this is the only way to get it back on track. She assures me that it is all going to be alright.

I call work and tell them I won't be coming back today.

Chapter 34

2005-12-06T11:57:00.000-08:00

Cozmo and I meet up in the lobby for our morning workout. It sucks to have to get up so early but it's the only way to get exercise in. It is also one of the only ways to escape the walls of the facility.

We walk down the street in a big group. It feels a lot like a grade school field trip.

The rehab facility is located right in the middle of a college town. Right in the middle of the University district. There are apartments that house students all around the center. At night in the courtyard you can hear them partying.

I always wonder how many of them might end up here.

The morning walks to the YMCA are always a bit brisk. I have gotten into the habit of picking of trash along the way. It is just something that I feel like I should start doing. It is like my good deed for the day.

I am really trying to force myself to start being of service.

any way that I can.

There are a few choices at the YMCA. We play a good pick up game of hoops on most days. There is a full weight room and swimming pool. There is also racquet ball. When we aren't playing hoops I am lifting weights. Something about the weights makes me burn a lot of the tension I have.

Cozmo and I are competitive boys.

We play serious trash talk hoops. I love it. He is an athlete. Quarterback.

He is gifted like that.

He and I have become the best of friends. We hang together all the time and we talk things out. We talk about what is going on inside of our heads. The other guy that hangs with us is a kid named Curtis. He is 19 years old and the nicest kid in the world. Cozmo and I big brother him. I think it is great that he is getting on with this so young. I only wish that I had done so and not gone through another 10 years of hell.

Nothing I can do about that now.

Curtis plays hoops with us everyday also. He comes from a small town and all of his friends drink and do meth. All of them. I just keep thinking that he is going to have a hard time staying away from that when he gets out. Tough to run away when you come from a small town.

After our game we head back to get breakfast.

We are going to have visitors today.

Most of us are pretty anxious.

********************************************

My brother showed up on time which is amazing for him. That actually meant the world to me because it showed how much he really wanted to see me.

He walked in the door and I could see that he wasn't going to be able to hold back any emotion at all. He was already in tears.

I can only imagine how hard it is for my family to see me like this.

In rehab for drug and alcohol addiction.

My brother gave me a hug and we cried for a bit.

Tears always seem to flow within these walls. They fall without hesitation and judgment. Most are tears that haven't had the chance to fall elsewhere.

I'm proud of you

I understand what he means but it is a hard phrase to hear when you are in rehab. Tough to feel like you deserve praise.

I show my brother around. It isn't the greatest tourist attraction in the world but it does give him an idea of what I do every day.

He lets me know that my pillow is out in the car.

I couldn't be happier.

*******************************************

I can tell from Cozmo's body language that he is pissed off that some people are asking for his Dad's autograph.

Damn, let them have some family time. This is hard enough as it is.

His Mom and Dad have both come and it is a pleasure to meet them. His Mom gives me a very warm hug and I just think she is the greatest woman. His Dad is a great guy also and is taking the autographs and stares in stride.

I can't imagine that this is the most comfortable situation in the world for any of them.

I just put my arm around Byrce and tell him its cool.

Fuck, I wish they would just leave it alone. It's rehab man, not autograph time.

Take it in stride. You forget we are in a land of sick people.

I wink at him.

Ain't that the truth.

**************************************************

My brother came back from his car with my pillow. I was so happy.

I can't wait to go sleep tonight.

He also brought me a big picture that my nephew had drawn for me. They of course didn't tell him where I was. I am thankful for that.

In time he and I will have a talk.

The picture is of his family. Dad, Mom and two sisters.

Giant headed stick figures that only a 4 year old can draw.

Then I see the two figures holding hands.

One little one and one big one. Under them are our names.

My little angel. My precious nephew. I can think that if there is only one reason to stay clean and sober in the world, it would be him.

I am his Uncle.

I just sit and stare at drawing in silence.

My brother puts his arm around me and I try not to get any tears on my nephews masterpiece.

*************************************

All of us meet for lunch. We sit and eat and talk about safe subjects.

None of the visitors really knows what to ask or how to act. It can be a little uncomfortable. It is an amazing dynamic in the dining hall because of the visitors. There are husbands and wives, Mom and Dads, sons and daughters and also people eating alone with no visitors at all.

You can read the tension on faces. You can feel the anger on others. You can see the hurt and see the questions and fear.

Does it all end here.

Finally.

Is the hell finally over?

I see Adam with his two kids. They are so sweet. He is just holding his boy and he looks really happy. It is good to see.

After lunch we hit the courtyard.

Cozmo elbows me.

Check it out.

He nods his head in the direction of a very good looking lady. Standing with her is the guy with the one flew over the cuckoos nest scar. It is his wife.

Who woulda thunk it.

How in the hell did he do that?

We just laugh.

When you get packages at rehab they announce your first name and last initial over the loudspeaker. Cozmo's name gets called as we are all standing around.

He walks to the front desk where John works. There is a ton of people in the lobby checking in still.

When you get packages they have to look through them to make sure people aren't sending you drugs or anything that you aren't allowed to have.

With Cozmo standing right there, John opens the care package.

The package is from a girl.

The first item is a teddy bear. How precious. I am giving him shit for this for sure. The next is a bunch of pictures.

John reaches in and pulls out a bundle of cloth.

What do we have here?

As he opens up his find his eyes get huge behind his glasses.

I swear that they actually fogged up a little.

A pair of women's underwear. A nice pair of thong underwear held up just long enough for all to see.

The reality of what he was actually holding hit John and he shoved them back in the box and gave it to Cozmo.

Everything looks ok there.

Both of them are bright red.

Cozmo tries to get this package back to his room as fast as he can.

I follow close behind him laughing my ass off.

HEY BRYCE, WHATCHA GOT IN THE BOX? WHAT'S IN THERE?? HEY DID YOU SHOW YOUR MOM WHAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND SENT YOU?

I berate him all the way through the courtyard.

A courtyard full of family.

Through his laughter I hear him say,

I hate you.

Chapter 33

2005-12-06T10:16:00.000-08:00

I am going nuts Cozmo!

We are playing our tenth game of cribbage and he finally has the hang of the game.

Why you nuts?

Because man, this is the longest period of time I haven't played my guitar in probably ten years. It is killing me. I can't believe they wouldn't let me bring it into rehab.

Yeah. That sucks.

We continue to play. Tomorrow is a visiting day and my big brother is coming to visit me. I talked to him briefly when I was first out of detox but I was in that Librium haze and don't remember most of it. All I know is that he is bringing me a big, soft pillow. My Mom asked me if there was anything that I needed and all I could think about was a big, soft pillow.

One comfortable nights sleep.

No nightmares. No tears. No waking up ten times.

A big, soft pillow.

***********************************************

I sit up in my room and listen to Hawaii Eric snore.

I have been trying to write songs without my guitar and it has been a challenge. I have taken the bar that the clothes hang on out of the closet and it is now my "air guitar". It gives me a way to envision what a song might feel like.

The shapes of my left hand against the wood bar trigger auditory memories in my head. I have heard the sounds of each string long enough to be able to "hear" the guitar in my head. I play every night.

I have been working on a song for a few nights now.

I call it "Tired of Getting High"

I sit and strum my imaginary guitar and write the melody in my head.

I'm so tired of getting high
and always coming down
so many places I have looked
and yet have never found
I've never found what it is I need
to bring me from despair
now I open up my eyes
and I see that You are there

Very mellow and melodic. A soft confessional. I can hear the guitar part and I can feel the melody forming in my head. I can get lost in the music of my mind. All of it just takes me away. I imagine a bigger, fuller sound...

Oh I've stoned myself to death
and I've drowned myself in sin
but Lord having You around
makes me as high

High as I have been

What I would give right now to have my guitar. Have my band again. Start over with them and do it right. Put God first and really play for Him. I know that is a long ways off. I am not even twenty days clean and sober.

I am in rehab strumming part of a closet.

I'm so tired of waking up
in this pile of past mistakes
always waking up to what I've lost
from blindly tempting fate
all I want is to see a smile
to feel a heart touching mine
to make amends within myself
how could I have been so blind

Chapter 32

2005-12-05T14:00:00.000-08:00

Reality sets in when you find yourself in a Police station.

I have to take a breathalyzer. We have definitely established that I am drunk. In fact there is no question in my mind and I am sure there is none in the arresting officers mind how this test is going to turn out.

I haven't had a drink now in probably 2 hours.

I blow twice the legal limit.

I am sure I was in the .20 range when I was behind the wheel.

Seeing this I just start crying.

I tell the cop how sorry I am. I can only imagine how many times he has heard this before. I am no longer in any mood to joke around.

I don't have to spend the night in jail.

I am allowed to take a cab home. I stumble into my kitchen when I get home and hope that I have beer in the fridge.

********************************************

How do you plead?

Guilty your Honor.

The judge says that they will give me one chance to complete a diversion program. My License is going to be suspended for a full year.

I am happy to take that sentence.

I need to be able to drive so I get a hardship permit. This basically allows me to drive a set path to and from work and to and from my diversion program. I can drive once a week to get groceries and that's it.

If I get pulled over any other time I am screwed.

********************************************

Diversion is an interesting program.

You are required to go to AA meetings every week. You check in every week before your diversion group and they will tell you if they are going to give you a UA or not. You aren't allowed to drink or use drugs for a year.

I can't fail a UA. This isn't like a scheduled UA you take for a job. You know when you take these so you can do the necessary "studying" so can pass. I am amazed at how easy it is to pass a UA when you know when you are getting it.

A surprise urinalysis can ruin your day.

Everyone that is in the diversion program has been caught drinking and driving. Every single one of them, including myself will say that they are not alcoholics. It is seriously one big joke.

I drink every day except the day before diversion. Alcohol doesn't stay in your system long enough to be positive in a UA. On the first day of diversion they tested me to see where all my other levels were. My every day pot smoking had left me with plenty of THC in my system. They advised me that it better be decreased the next test or I was going back to the judge.

Going back to a judge with a failed diversion is not a good thing.

I hate diversion. I hate going to it. I sign my sheet every week that says I have attended my mandatory AA meeting.

I lie every week.

I don't go to one.

I don't think anyone does.

I am still convinced that I might be able to control my drinking. I have tried so many times to stop but I just got a DUI and that HAS to make me change my ways.

It has to.

Doesn't it?

Chapter 31

2005-12-05T12:06:00.000-08:00

There was one guy at work who saw the good in me. He was the head of the home equity department and he liked me. When others thought that I was a little too obnoxious he saw the personality.

He gave me a shot and promoted me. He put me in his equity relations group and my income tripled. I worked hard for him because he gave me the chance. I loved the new job and I loved the new paycheck.

I had forgiven Krista for the Mexico lie and we were again talking and emailing and planning visits. In my heart I could feel that there was something wrong but I was so in love with her that it really didn't matter.

It is always the people that we love that hurt us the most.

I began my love affair with pain medication. I had been diagnosed with arthritis. It started a few years earlier but I really didn't take notice or visit a doctor until my fingers started swelling. By the time I actually went in to the doctor I could barely move the thumb on my left hand.

I started taking Methotrexate for the arthritis and it worked but only marginally. The swelling started in my feet also and made me pretty uncomfortable for a while.

God punishes I would laugh to myself.

The good thing for me was the pain meds for the arthritis. I would take them at work all the time and not feel so guilty for it.

After all, they WERE a prescription.

************************************

We were downtown celebrating a birthday for the new office assistant. The new "Fax Bitch". We couldn't actually use that name anymore because it was a female and that just wouldn't be as funny anymore.

We all went to see a DJ spin and enjoy some dancing. I did my usual bartender trick. At the start of the evening I would order my tall jack and coke and tell him/her to "lean into it". I would pay for the first drink with a twenty and tell them to keep the change but remember me.

Every drink after that would always be leaned into, more jack and less coke.

Perfect.

We all got hammered. We danced and we drank and we drank some more. I got cut off which is a very rare occasion. This pissed me off beyond belief. I hate getting cut off.

Who are YOU to tell me how much I can or cannot drink.

The group kept me under control which was a good thing but it didn't stop me from wanting to leave. They didn't want me to drive so they kept me dancing for an hour or so longer.

After an hour I just left.

**************************************

I don't know how long he had been following me with his lights on.

I can't really remember it very well. I was on the other side of town though and I had no idea why. I was going home which was on the same side of the river as the club and only about a five or ten minute drive.

I hate when I can't remember how I got where I was.

I didn't roll my window down more than an inch. When the cop walked up to my window I was already in my glove compartment looking for my proof of insurance. I couldn't for the life of me read anything. I couldn't focus.

You been drinking tonight.

The flashlight is directly in my face and I can't stand it.

Why are your eyes so red?

I look into the mirror.

Empty.

My eyes were empty.

Blood red and empty.

I know that there isn't a chance in hell that I am getting out of this one.

Step out of the car.

I try and step out and am very thankful that the side of the Jeep breaks my fall.

Handcuffs.

again with the handcuffs.

Chapter 30

2005-12-05T10:00:00.000-08:00

I didn't make much money as the "Fax Bitch". I really didn't care at that point in my life. The great thing about the job was it wasn't difficult at all and it gave me a chance to continually promote my band "I Am".

We were playing all the time and we had a pretty decent fan base. We had a tremendous amount of original material and we loved to play. If given the chance we would play hours on end.

For a "Christian" band we rocked pretty hard. The music was dark and moody. The lyrics spoke from a heart very much in pain. I had turned the band into my own personal journey.

I made it about "me".

How can I follow in your footsteps
will you teach me to be free?
How can I be the one to make amends
and not ignore you as you bleed?
Every day I drink my pains fill
and every night I'm losing sleep
Empty bottles of depression
reminding me of what I reap

Pages and pages of lyrics that scream out in pain yet I can't talk about it. I write to release and I sing to release but I can't share my pain with my band mates, my best friends, because I feel like they won't understand.

I don't want to let them down.

I write lyrics daily. I write about this pain that I can't cure. We put the pain to music. We put the searching to music.

I start drinking before shows. I start smoking weed before shows.

I don't even think twice about the other guys in the band.

it is all about me.

The one with the microphone.

There are times when all of us are as close as brothers. They are amazing guys that love on me so much. They help me get through the pain of the divorce but only as much as I let them. Part of me is kept locked away.

The fear. The emptiness.

I want to stop drinking and I want to stop doing drugs but I can't. I can't stop no matter how hard I try, no matter what lyrics I write, no matter how much I know I am going against God's will in my life.

Through all of it I keep going back to what I think makes me happy.

Krista.

**********************************************

We record a great album.

The CD is called "The Light and the Dark". I think it really speaks volumes about where I am at in life. I know that God is calling me but I am stuck in the darkness of addiction.

The recording process was awesome. We were in the studio for hours on end. We were complete perfectionists and so was our producer/Engineer John. He was a complete Floyd-head also and loved the fact we mixed so much mood in our music.

It was a beautiful time for the band. It is so exciting creating music. It is one of the only things in life that has ever really made me happy.

Lost inside the music. Shut the world out.

We create a 70+ minute CD with 13 songs. The CD is more dark than light. The song titles speak for themselves.

Feel Alone. Nobody's Touch. Pain Inside. Forever Waiting. When Will I.

All of these songs just are filled with searching but they have no resolve. I want to find the answer to all my pain.

I know the answer.

I do.

I just don't feel like I am worthy of God's love.

After all, I am the guy that is getting high and trying to talk to people about how wonderful He is.

Chapter 29

2005-12-02T10:59:00.000-08:00

Do you want to talk about that?

Adam just stood over me and he had a little bit of a smirk on his face. He has this way of calming you. I feel like he really knows what I am going through.

Why did you get in his face, Steve? I know that he said some stupid shit but come on. He is not even all there.

I don't know. I guess it has all just been building up inside of me. I just exploded.

Yeah, no shit. That can't happen again.

It won't.

Just make sure that when you get out of here you find a sponsor and you really work this program. Work it. I want to get a call from you in a year and hear that you are clean and sober.

I can tell he really means that. As he walks away I hear him laugh a little. I have to ask him.

What's so funny man?

He just keeps walking and laughing. Shaking his head, I hear him faintly say, "Tough guy."

I have a good laugh at my own expense.

*************************************

Most of my small group is smoking up a storm in the courtyard when I walk out. Most all of them laugh at me.

Damn Dude, I thought you were gonna kill him!

With each comment I feel worse for what I did. I feel that guilt build in me. That familiar "Man I wish I hadn't done that" feeling. I am so use to just suppressing that guilt with chemicals. Have to find another way.

I see him and I know that I have to tell him I am sorry.

He is sitting at one of the picnic tables.

Alone.

Hey man, I am really sorry for that shit I just pulled.

I didn't mean to say that. I just didn't think.

It's cool. I just hate talking about what I went through and when you laughed I just snapped.

Sorry.

So am I.

We talk for a while and he tells me he is a pill junkie. He is here to get detoxed and do a 28 day run before he has to do some time in jail for B and E on a drug store. When they caught him coming out of the pharmacy he had a pillowcase full of pills. Most of us had already heard this story second hand. I am amazed that it is actually true.

Addiction makes you do crazy things.

Like every single one of us, he is just scared. Scared to be here. Scared about what the future holds.

Scared of what we have become.

***********************************

It is lunch time when I walk past the phones.

I check the chalkboard and I see my name.

Steve S. Krista called

I want to call her back. I really do. Right now lunch sure seems like it is a whole lot healthier for me.

I check my mail and I have letters. I have gotten cards and letters from all of my family. Every Aunt, Every Uncle... everyone. There is so many people in here that have lost everything, family included.

Mine has rallied around me. It is what keeps me going right now.

I put the letters in my pocket. I save the reading until I get back to my room because every one of them makes me cry. They all say how much I am loved. They all tell me how wonderful they think I am.

Sometimes it's a little tough to swallow.

*********************************************

We have an AA meeting in rehab tonight. It is a big mandatory meeting with everyone attending.

Cozmo and I have been playing cribbage. This is one of my favorite games and he had never played before. With so much going on inside of you it is a nice distraction. We play every night.

We are a little late for the meeting and the only place to sit is right up front. We have to do the walk of shame and pretty much interrupt the meeting.

Erroll gives us both "the look".

Rehab Natzi.

The meeting is a speaker meeting. A speaker meeting isn't a regular meeting. There is someone there to tell you their story.

Experience, strength and hope.

Tonight it was multiple speakers. Three of them.

We sit and listen to the first two and they have good stories. The first guy has about five years sober time. He talks about lost jobs and lost love, staples in the lush community.

The next speaker is a woman. She tells her story as a drunk stay at home Mom. She has been sober seven years.

The last speaker is a man named Dale.

He is a little old man in is 70's. He opts to stay seated while he tells his story.
Something about Dale just draws me in. I want to know his story.

When he says that he has been sober for over 40 years I just can't believe it. My first thought is what the hell are you still doing in an AA meeting?

Dale tells his story of being a drunk, an honest to goodness drunk. His story is painful. His story is beautiful. A part of myself is in that same story.

He is a soft spoken man.

He talks about his first meeting of Alcoholic's Anonymous and the first sponsor he ever had. The fact that someone wanted to help out a drunk like him and wanted nothing at all in return.

and then Dale cried.

He cried because he was thankful.

After 40 years, this story still made him cry.

I was more overwhelmed at that moment than any other. It hit me.

I want what this guy has. I want to be able to cry 40 years down the line when I think about how thankful I am to have been given a shot at living clean and sober. Dale has been going to meetings for 40 years and sharing his life, his heartbreak, his triumph.

His experience.

His strength.

His hope.

He finished by thanking God. He thanked God for accepting a drunk like himself.

He wipes his tears and says

and that's all I gotta say about that.

The room was in tears. It was the most powerful thing I had seen.

The meeting ended and we all just walked outside to smoke in silence. Cozmo just looked at me and shook his head like he couldn't even come up with words to explain what he felt.

He didn't have to.

The power of God working through someone to touch the lives of others.

To touch all of us.

To touch me.

Jerrod walked up to me in complete tears.

Please pray with me. Please...

at that moment I can't think of anything else in the world I would rather do.

Chapter 28

2005-11-30T11:38:00.000-08:00

No matter what the negative consequences are, we just keep doing the same shit over and over.

We all have the same stories. The location is different and the characters aren't the same, but it all comes back to the same truth. We keep doing the same things over and over and each time we keep expecting a different result.

The true definition of insanity.

Our counselor Adam is reading one of his favorite stories out of the Big Book in our small group today. The book can be very humorous at times because it was written so long ago. Adam tells us you just have to look past that and "feel" the message.

The story is about a Jaywalker. This guy walks across the street one day and gets nailed by a car. Just a couple bruises the first time. The next day he jaywalks again and I'll be damned if he doesn't get hit again. This time his injuries are more serious. He recovers a couple days later and jaywalks again. A car breaks bones this time and he goes to the hospital. After a long period of recovery he walks out of the hospital and does it again.

He is hit and is killed.

What a fucking idiot, I hear the Hippie mumble.

He is finally out of his drooling stage and has resorted to mumbling. I feel for him though. I heard that his detox from heroin was almost fatal, at least that's what the rumor was.

I can't say that I don't agree with him.

The guy IS an idiot. If I keep getting hit by cars I am going to use the damn crosswalk.

Aren't I?

Then what the hell am I doing in here?

We sit around and talk about this insanity. This disease. Every one of us has a story. Every one of us has MANY stories about the insanity. We know the hell that addiction has caused but we STILL pick up that drink, that drug, that woman.... What ever it is. We can't stop by our own power.

Powerless.

We are ALL powerless.

It sucks to be powerless.

I am talking about the progression of abuse in my relationship with my ex-wife. I have talked about the subject a few times in group but it still burns inside of me. It has been a few YEARS since it all happened but some days it feels like it was just yesterday. I use to hate looking in the mirror because of the scar under my eye where she kicked me.

I hate looking at my scars.

All of them.

When I talk about this in group I can still feel the underlying rage I have. That suppressed rage that I released while drinking and using. Now I have taken both of those outlets away. Sometimes I just feel like one big timebomb waiting for the little hand to make its final tick.

My release today would come in the form of the new guy, Bill. He showed up much like the Hippie, drugged beyond belief. Half of his head is shaved and there is a fresh horseshoe scar on the side of his head.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is all I can think about.

Damn, what the hell did they do to this guy?

He sat for most of our group in silence. I was talking about my ex-wife and the punches and kicks and how helpless I felt.

He laughs.

He fucking laughs.

Sound like she could have been a hell of a boxer.

Silence.

Tick

I am out of my seat and in his face faster than I know how it happened.

SHE STOMPED ON MY FUCKING FACE YOU ASSHOLE!

I slam my foot into the floor as hard as I can for effect.

I don't know who is terrified more, him or me. A couple guys grab me and pull me away.

What the fuck was that all about?

Adam just stares at me.

Steve, what the fuck? Go cool off.

I walk into the back room and I am literally hyperventilating. I feel trapped inside my own body. I can't escape. I just slump against the wall and bury my face into my hands.

I cry.

I hurt.

I realize that this road that I am starting down isn't some quick fix. I don't say some magic prayer or go to a meeting or spend all this time in rehab and suddenly become a new man.

I want to run again.

I just want to kill this feeling with anything I can get my hands on. I want the blackness. I want to open a bottle of Jack and swallow as much of it as I can until I can feel the skin peeling off the back of my throat. I want to blur it all.

Shut down.

Turn off the pain.

It has been close to four years and it feels like it was yesterday.

I am outside bleeding in the dark.

tears.

Chapter 27

2005-11-29T12:33:00.000-08:00

Every morning was the same thing.

I would poke my head over her cube and in my best Joey voice give her the
"How You Dooin?"

This would make her smile from ear to ear and that made my day. Every day. We started talking more and more each day and it was refreshing. I had gotten out of the worst relationship in the world and had a bit of a woman chip on my shoulder. She seemed like the all-American girl next door and the answer to a whole lot of my pain.

The only problem was she was moving in a month to Colorado. Once again I would have to make the decision of letting go or holding on. I held on.

She did move and I was crushed. I really felt like we had an amazing connection.

The emails back and forth started the week after she left. Then the phone calls. We had so much fun talking and laughing. I hadn't laughed with a woman for so long I had forgotten how great it felt.

I made the decision to take a trip to Colorado to see her. I was completely head over heels and it was refreshing.

Word got around our office about us. One of the project managers that she worked with came up to me one day.

What's the story with you and Krista?

I just told her like it was. We were planning on seeing each other soon. I was happy.

What happened to her boyfriend?

My heart sank for the first of many times.

I was on the phone about ten minutes later.

**********************************************

She assured me over and over that her and her boyfriend had broken up and that was one of the main reasons she needed a change in location. She told me that she was totally in love with me and that I had nothing at all to worry about.

I was fine with that. I had no reason at all to think anything different. She could have told me the world was flat and I would have believed her.

We continued our phone conversations and emails for the next month and a half. I fly to Denver to spend five days with her.

We had the most incredible time together. We went to a Rockies baseball game and just really enjoyed being around each other. We went out at night and just had so much fun shooting pool and drinking beer. She was everything that I would want in a woman.

Everything.

I hated flying home. It was heartbreaking. She said that she would fly back to see me for Christmas. That was perfect.

****************************************

We had been playing in our practice pad for close to a year. Writing amazing amounts of music and getting a great sound together. It was time to play a show.

I started contacting clubs in Portland. Our first gig was going to be a Sunday night show.

Great night for a band!

The booking agent basically wanted to see if we could play and if we could bring a crowd. I worked in a call center with 1500 people. I think we would be able to bring some folks.

I walked all around the call center and delivered stuff. It was great. I wore headphones all day and just made people laugh. During my breaks I would got to my car and smoke some weed, put in some Clear Eyes and get on with my day.

I was well liked at this place. They called me the "Fax Bitch". I thought it was funny as hell.

Our guitar player, Mark, was a graphic designer and made some of the coolest flyers for our show. I handed out hundreds of them.

The Sunday that we played was great. It was a decent turn out and the soundman at the Club really dug our sound. The booking agent asked if we would like a Friday night gig.

What do you think?

They booked us for the next Friday night. Word spread about our band around my workplace.

That Friday night they had to turn people away at the door. It was the biggest turnout this place had ever had. You could see people outside hanging by the windows listening to us. It was not bad for a second gig. It felt so good to be on a stage again. It had been so many years.

The way we approached the Christian aspect of our music was not like a typical Christian band. We never came right out and said we were "Christian".

I guess "I" never came out and said it.

We were always a band of Christians and not a Christian band. Mark and Joe had amazing vision as to where they saw us fitting in. I just wanted to be singing and playing and feeling good once again.

I was still drinking.

I was still using drugs.

In my heart I knew that God wasn't going to be blessing this at all.

*******************************************

By the time Krista came back to visit we were playing every week. It was great.

It was so good to see her again. We had lots planned for Christmas and New Years. She was my girlfriend. Really one of the only true girlfriends I have ever had. I didn't really date at all in High School and had one girlfriend in college. She was great.

We sat in my room and she shared pictures that she had taken when I was in Colorado and pictures of her nephew at Thanksgiving.

The picture she forgot to take out was one of her and Mike on the beaches of Hawaii.

Heart to the floor once again.

She tried to tell me it was an old picture but I am not a ignorant man. In the stack of photos was a proof page that showed the order of the pictures catching her in a heartbreaking lie.

It was a friends wedding. A mutual friend. We were both invited. I didn't want you to get worried so I didn't tell you he might be there.

The world is flat...

The world is flat...

flat.

Chapter 26

2005-11-28T12:09:00.000-08:00

Living at my brother's house has been a good thing for me. It has given me a chance to get away from the hell I was in and collect my thoughts. I know that this is a huge change for me and I really don't know how to handle it.

I decide that the best thing for me to do is channel every bit of energy into the new band. Thinking about that allows me to not think about the rest of my life.

We practice quite a bit which is awesome.

I have really given up on my yellow page job. I rarely show up for work. I just can't get myself to go out and talk to people about business when I am hurting so bad. I show up in the morning and then usually leave and go to a movie or go and smoke weed and play pinball at the nickel arcade.

I have been living in my brothers home office. It has a glass door so my nieces have been calling me the boy in the plastic bubble. I know that at some point I have to move.

Luckily for me my best friend Tom asked if I wanted to get a place with him. He was living elsewhere but he stepped up to help me out. He is a true friend.

We get a condo and it feels good to be back in the mix with my friends. I spent so much time away from everyone because of my ex-wife. She just didn't want me hanging around my friends.

I actually get to have a nightlife once again and I jump all over it.

I start living this double life.

One part of me is out drinking and partying and the other is the lead singer of a Christian band. It was difficult. I don't let my bandmates in on that side of my life. I hide it from them. I lie.

Guilt.

Here are these guys that have opened their hearts and homes and I can't be completely honest with them. I can't tell them how bad I am hurting. I don't want them to see how weak I actually am. I can't show weakness.

I just can't.

So it just continues. We practice for the better part of a year and write an enormous amount of songs. We are all perfectionists and want to have a perfect sound before we start playing live.

I decide that the yellow page business isn't for me. I just walk out of a meeting one day and I never return.

Probably not the greatest idea.

I start working as a painter for a guy that painted my brothers house. It is a perfect job for me at the time. I get to smoke weed, have a couple beers and just think.

My life slows while I paint. It is soothing. I loved it.

Unfortunately it didn't last for long. The painter decided to move on without me. I was without a job.

I got a temp job as an office assistant at a call center for a major bank. I delivered faxes and basically do busy work. It is perfect.

It was at this job that I found the absolute love of my life.

From the first moment I saw her I seriously fell in love.

I just wish I had never met her.

Chapter 25

2005-11-28T11:00:00.000-08:00

Something about that meeting just allowed me to turn a corner.

That feeling. That honest feeling.

His power.

HIS and not mine.

It was cold in the courtyard that night. I had a huge chew in and was smoking a cigarette. I am painfully aware of the irony of my nicotine addiction while I am in rehab for my "other" addictions.

Baby steps. I think this in my head and I laugh a little.

Eric comes out and walks up to me.

He just says Thank you and that was that. He walks away. He didn't cry at all. I don't think I will see tears from him at any point during our stay.

It was a good night in the courtyard. So many people talking about how good it felt to pray for someone. How the room felt when we all did it. When we sought God with our hearts.

As addicts and alcoholics most of our prayers were of the 911 variety...

Oh please God, if you just get me outta this mess I will be good. Please God don't let him find the pipe. Oh please God if you could just loosen these handcuffs a little...

Most of us have been so self-absorbed for so long we don't even know what it feels like to pray for others. I just know that for myself, when I started praying with others, something changed inside me. I opened some part of me that I had never felt before.

The one thing I know is it felt good.

Healing.

I continue smoking and thinking about all of it. I have talks with Jerrod and Adam. All of us have this unique bond. It's survival mode.

I see Lacey come out to smoke and suddenly that unique bond that is holding me to these guys is like wet scotch tape.

Oh, I see how it is!

I just smile at Jerrod as I walk away.

He laughs. I am starting to like this guy. We all put up fronts for protection and his is finally starting to come down. He came into treatment very cocky and arrogant. He acted like he knew everything. It really bothered me. It took me a while to figure out that it bothered me because it was a trait that I have that I hate.

Funny how that works.

Lacey and I have been talking quite a bit the last days. It is just nice to have female conversation. Really nice.

She tells me about her son and how she just wants to get clean for him. Talking to her makes me realize how thankful I am that I never had children with my ex-wife.
Lacey is a wonderful girl to talk to. She is funny and has an amazingly infectious laugh. I talk to her about my relationship history and the couple women that I have actually dated for extended periods.

She listens.

It's nice.

I talk a little about my ex-wife and the abuse stuff. It is a little awkward to be telling this to another woman but I do anyways.

She asks me about any current ladies in my life.

This is a question that takes me a little off guard. I really don't want to talk about the last couple years and what I have been going through.

It just makes my heart hurt.

Chapter 24

2005-11-27T20:02:00.000-08:00

There is a knock on my door.

Very quiet. Almost apprehensive.

I open the door to see Tattoo Eric standing with his head down.

I need to ask you something Steve.

I let him in my room and we sit down. He tells me that his little cousin has been in an accident. He doesn't have much detail at all. He is scared.

He has been shot in the head.

I don't know what to do, man. I am in here and my Mom is telling me that the doctors don't think he is going to make it. He was with a friend and somehow he got shot in the face.

I am silent. I just don't have the words.

We have an NA meeting in the dining room tonight and I was wondering if you could, I don't know... say something. I can't talk very well in front of people and I know that you and Bryce like to pray a lot. I just don't know what else to do.

Yeah Eric, I would do that. I will see if we can just all pray together.

He just nodded and walked to the door.

*******************************************

The meetings that come to the treatment facility are not open meetings. There are usually two or three people that come in and run them. Tonight's meeting is a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and there are three people running the show. Two guys and one girl. They are all in their 20's and all three are heroin addicts.

They all tell their stories and we all sit in a circle and listen. This meeting isn't like the one we went to at the church. These guys are here basically to share with us what NA is all about.

Some of us know, some of us don't so it's fine by me.

It is a big group of us.

At the end of the meeting we all stand and recite the Serenity Prayer.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

This prayer is like our handshake. Everyone knows it. I think it is beautiful.

The visitors thank us and I decide that it is time for me to say something about Eric's cousin.

Hey, before we all leave I was asked by a person in this room to say a prayer for their little cousin.

It wasn't but 3 seconds after I said this that one of the male visitors looked at me almost like he was insulted.

We don't use our meetings for that.

The comment took me completely off guard but I knew that I was asked to do something and there wasn't anything that was going to hold me back from doing it.

I looked him dead in the eye and said,

I wasn't asking.

I looked over at Eric and he was just nodding his head at me.

That gave me strength.

A good friend of mine here approached me today because one of their family members is in the hospital. This persons younger cousin was shot in the head today and they don't think that he is going to make it. I just wanted to say this with all of us here because I know that there is power in prayer. I just want us all to pray together for this kid. I just want us to join hands and pray.

There wasn't one complaint.

We joined hands and I said a prayer to God. After I was finished I just asked that we all pray silently in our own way. Pray for this little boy.

So many of us just cried.

I know that there couldn't have been one person in that room, in that circle, that didn't feel what I felt. It was overwhelming.

Amen.

Chapter 23

2005-11-22T10:42:00.000-08:00

"I Am" is the name of the band.

The name is taken from the Bible verse John 8:12

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

I Am. The Great "I AM".

It is a beautiful name and a great idea. I have been in darkness for so long that I could really use a little of the light of life. I want so badly to be free from the pain that I am feeling inside of me. I want to be free.

I don't know how.

Being a Christian is something that is foreign to me. Knowing that God is there isn't, but the whole following God and following the Bible thing?

No clue.

I have looked at Christians as really naive people that have never really lived. They go to church and they read the bible and they have really boring lives. I am an action man. I always have to have something going on. I have to find a way to make this work.

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

I am the light of the world.

I Am. The great "I AM"

Man, to me right now all I hear is I yam what I yam and that's all I yam.

I can't get Popeye out of my head.

I am now in a Christian band and my world is still very dark.

*****************************************

My sanity comes in the form of a one year old boy.

He is the joy in my life. He is my happiness. He is everything to me.

I spend so much time with my nephew. He heals me in a way. I get to live through him and get to see him experience new things each day. There is just something in his little eyes when he looks at me. He doesn't see the surface. He doesn't see the addict. His eyes penetrate to the truth.

He is the only one that sees the real me. He sees what I don't.

I don't think I have ever felt so in love with anything or anyone in my life.

He and I have a special bond. I can't explain it. He just sees the real me.

I am Uncle Steve and for some reason I bring this little guy a tremendous amount of joy. Inside I feel worthless and alone and here is a little guy who sees me and his entire face lights up.

I just hold him. I hold him every chance I get.

At night I put him into his crib and he lays there, looking at me through the little wooden bars as I softly sing him to sleep.

He doesn't cry.

Ever.

He just stares at his Uncle Steve and ever so slowly his eyes close and he drifts off into the beautiful dreams that only a child can have.

Chapter 22

2005-11-21T13:25:00.000-08:00

I actually laughed when I saw that someone had broken into my truck and stolen my stereo and all my speakers. How much more perfect could it get.

The night I asked her to marry me in Seattle the same thing happened. My truck was broken into and the stereo and speakers were stolen.

Apparently things have come full circle.

I drive home and I call my Mom. It is past midnight and I wake her up. I break down and just weep. I tell her the hell that I have been in. I tell her about the abuse.

She tells me to come home.

Home.

I don't even remember what that word is.

I get to my parents house and my Mom and Dad just hold me. I feel comforted for the first time in as long as I can remember. This is my family. This is my home.

I am safe.

*********************************

It is my nephews birthday the very next day. My entire family is showing up for it. My Aunts and Uncles and cousins.

Everyone.

It is too much.

I hide in the garage and I cry. I huddle in the corner of the garage and I cry. My big brother shows up and finds me and he is crying just as hard for me. He feels my hurt. My whole family feels my hurt.

Family. I found new meaning to this word that day.

They loved me and they surrounded me. They welcomed me home.

My brother told me that I could move in with his family for as long as I needed. My nephew Matt just turned a year old when we became roommates.

I left my wife on a Friday.

Monday my brother and I went and got all my clothes while she was at work. I took my clothes, the TV and my playstation. I left the rest.

I Had started a new job selling yellow page advertising about a month prior to this. I decided that I would go to work on Monday. I was in no shape to do so but I did anyways.

I went to our regular morning meeting and we had a new boss in our office.
His name was Brian and he was also a Pastor.

Looks like God took my offer pretty seriously.

He found me crying outside later in the day. Crying and smoking. I told him everything. He invited me out to his church that Sunday.

I couldn't say no.

***************************************

Sunday morning came and I traveled out to Hillsboro Oregon to a small church. They were just trying to start it up and there was maybe 30 people. I sat in the back and I cried the whole time. I had held so much pain inside of myself that it was coming out and I couldn't stop it.

They all prayed for me. They surrounded me and they prayed. Brian told me there was someone he wanted me to meet.

There was a guy there that was a few years younger than me who was playing bass for the small worship band. His name was Joe. Brian introduced us and told him that I was a musician and singer. Joe and I got to talking.

Turns out that he was in a Christian band with two other guys. They had been praying for a lead singer for this band. Someone who had been through the fire and come out the other side.

He asked if I was interested in coming out to sing and play with them later in the week.

More than you'll ever know.

I brought my guitar out later that week and met them all at Joes house where they practiced. I met the other guys in the band.

The drummer was a guy named Ariel and the guitarists name was Mark.

I opened my guitar case and I pulled out my guitar and played them a song I had written called "Nobody's Touch". They liked it.

They played some of their music and I decided to try and sing with Mark. The moment he and I sang together I realized that we had something.

They realized also.

I was excited when I left. I had found a band. God had directed me to them. It was amazing.

As I lit my joint for the drive home, I smiled.

Chapter 21

2005-11-21T12:47:00.000-08:00

Going through this for the first time is taking its toll on me.

I am alone in my room in rehab and I am writing all of this out and I see it on paper for the first time and realize I have this hate inside of me that I haven't been able to kill. I haven't been able to get rid of the extreme hate that I feel towards my ex-wife.

All I can write is the highlights. Am I actually calling them "highlights" in my head?

I know that I somehow have to get past this.

I know that I have to release it and to tell you the truth I don't really know how to. I know that the pain of being an abused husband and hiding and lying about it to everyone had taken its toll on me.

Having to go to work with black eyes and explain that I got elbowed playing basketball. Have I used this one yet? I avoid my family. I can't spend time with my family alone without her freaking out.

I go to a baseball game with my Dad in Seattle. She knows that we have planned this. When I get home she screams at me for leaving her alone. I am at a loss. I have no idea what the next thing is that will set her off. I think she is cheating on me.

I don't care.

I think there is a point that we reach where we have had enough. Where the pain gets so great that a decision has to be made.

I finally make mine.

We are out at a club and she is pissed off at me again. She is yelling at me and degrading me in front of other people. She is dancing with other men to piss me off. She is saying things to my face in front of them that I won't ever repeat.

I snap.

I go into the bathroom and I am in tears. I can't do this anymore. Something inside of me is screaming out for something new. Something is calling to me and telling me that it will be ok.

I feel God for the first time in as long as I can remember. It is overwhelming.

I feel Him call to me in a way that I have never felt.

I drop to my knees in tears. I drop to my knees on the floor of a bathroom in a crowded club. I call out to God.

If you can hear me. If you can give me enough strength to walk out of this right now and never look back I will serve you for the rest of my life.

That was my prayer.

I found my wife and I looked her in the eye and said that I was leaving and she would never see me again.

Fuck you. You'll be back.

Not this time.

I turned and walked away and I haven't seen her since.

Chapter 20

2005-11-21T11:26:00.000-08:00

The one thing that we have in common is drinking.

In fact, that is all we do together. We go out and we drink.

She moves in with me at my brothers house. I know my brother doesn't like her at all and I can feel that from the very start. She also bad mouths my brother whenever she can. The same brother that is allowing her to live in his house for free.

We decide that we need to get our own place.

I get a job working for Nike downtown. It is a decent job that doesn't pay very good at all. When I interviewed the first time for the job I didn't get it. I think it is because I have hair halfway down my back. I decide to chop it all off and I get another interview. I get the job.

We move into an apartment. We drink daily.

We are terrible together.

*********************************

Sitting in rehab and writing out all of this and talking about it is the first time I have faced the pain of being with her. I never talked about it for the four years after I left.

I just stuffed it away and I drank to suppress the pain.

I know I have to go through all of this. I have to go through the hell to get better. I could write pages on the amount of fights that we get into. They are nasty hateful fights that I can't even believe I am a part of.

I decide that I should just focus on the big events. The Wedding. The arrests. Jail. The hospital.

The day that I prayed to God to set me free.

********************************

It rained on my wedding day. I think that really should have been the first indication that God was trying to tell me something. It was an outdoor wedding and the ceremony itself lasted about 5 minutes. I think the Devil himself cut it that short so I wouldn't come to my senses.

I didn't get married for love. I did not love this woman. I can't really place my finger completely on it. Inside of me I felt like this was what I deserved for being an alcoholic and addict. I also felt like somehow I could save this woman from the pain of her past as an abused child. Somehow I thought if I could do that I would be cured.

Sick thinking from a sick man. You can't change anyone. That is something that only happens with Divine help.

My wife told me horrible stories about being abused by her mother. They were stories that I had a hard time believing. I had met her mother on a couple of occasions and to tell you the truth I couldn't see the evil that she had told me about. To this day I don't know what the truth is. I just know it doesn't matter what I believe.

We get married and we get drunk.

I smoke the last cigarette and don't leave my beautiful new bride a smoke. She screams at me on our wedding night and calls me an asshole. We end up sleeping on opposite sides of the bed.

Memories.

The next year is filled with some of the worst moments of my life. She hates my family. She hates the fact they want to actually see me. She hates the fact that I play music and she won't let me play out in front of people. She tells me the only reason I do it is to have other women want me. If I do go out and play all hell breaks loose when I get home.

The verbal abuse turns to physical abuse. She starts slapping me whenever and wherever she feels I deserve it. At home.

In public.

I don't hit her back. Instead I punch walls. I drink with a furry.

My fun with police begins.

******************************

I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU ARE A WORTHLESS ASSHOLE!!

We are in downtown Portland and she is just screaming at me on a street corner. We are both drunk. We are always both drunk. She is hysterical. The police are called.
She takes off and leaves me standing on a street corner baffled once again at how we got to that moment.

The police show up and I don't want to talk with them. All I want to do is find my wife. I tell them this. They don't care. I try and walk away and they don't let me.

I push one of the officers.

My first lesson of what not to do to a police officer.

I am taken to the ground and three police officers beat the absolute crap out of me. I get taken to Hooper detox and spend the night locked up. Bruised and passed out on the concrete floor.

****************************************

I know that I am not at all blameless in this relationship. I press her buttons all the time. When she gets verbal with me I don't back down anymore. I let her know how she makes me feel.

Our fights get really ugly. I just don't know what to do anymore.

The first time she made me bleed was the worst.

I decided I didn't want to listen to her any more and I went to sleep on the couch. I had just fallen asleep when she came downstairs.

She stood above me and stomped on my face with her Steve Madden pumps. I thank God that the couch had some give to it. The amount of blood that came out of my face was amazing. I went outside and I just stood in the dark and cried.

I cried and I bled.

By the time she came out to get me my shirt was covered in blood. She was very sweet when she came out to get me.

Let me clean you up. Let me clean you up.

That is all she said.

I told her I needed to go to the hospital and she didn't agree.

I drove myself to the emergency room to get seven stitches while she went back to sleep.

*********************************

MOMMY!

She has me by the throat and she has actually called me "Mommy".

I have two black eyes because she has punched me in the face about six times. I could have just taken one to the face but after she hit me once something inside me snapped.

Is that all you have Bitch?

The answer was "No"

Hell no.

She now had me by the throat and she had the look in her eyes. The look that says she wasn't there anymore. She had checked out and whatever evil darkness that lurked within was now in charge.

I remember going backwards down the flight of stairs.

The next thing I remember is being handcuffed by the police.

She had called the police on me and said I was trying to kill her. They handcuff me. I am bruised and bloody and she has no marks at all on her and they handcuff me.

She comes downstairs and gets right in my face.

See what happens when you fuck with me?

The cops decide to take her also. They handcuff her and it makes me smile.

The young happy couple.

***********************************************

Fingerprinted.

The Mugshot.

I am behind bars.

I wake up the next day. They serve us turkey.

It is Thanksgiving day and I am in jail with two black eyes.

There isn't one thing in the world that I can think of at this very moment that I am even close to thankful for.

Chapter 19

2005-11-21T10:16:00.000-08:00

Two new guys in our small group today.

The Hippie and the Hypocrite.

The Hippie is so whacked out on detox meds for his heroine addiction that it is actually funny to watch him nod off in his chair. He is currently in his own world.

The Hypocrite is around 50 years old and his body language tells all of us to just not talk to him. He informs everyone as he sits down that we are all pussies who can't handle drinking.

This is so funny to me.

What do you mean? What about you?

What about me?

He says this to me with extreme anger. So much anger that our counselor Adam steps in to stop the exchange. Rehab can get ugly. We are ugly people with ugly issues that we haven't come to terms with.

We know how to destroy.

Take it easy you guys. We aren't going to have a pissing contest on your first day in group.

Whatever. He is a pussy.

I don't let it bother me. I have been here for a bit now and I know he just isn't happy to be sitting in a small group in rehab. I really think the issue is all of our ages. We are all 30 and under, Adam included.

This is his tenth rehab facility.

His tenth attempt. I should really say it is his families tenth attempt because you can already tell he isn't going to be anything but trouble.

The tension in the room is finally broken by the Hippie. Out of nowhere he just grabs Adams keys that are on the floor.

I will go. I will go and that will be that.

We all just look at him and laugh.

What did you just say?

He looks at Adam blankly.

Can I have my keys?

They keys drop to the floor and he nods off again. He is clueless to his surroundings. Adam asks if a couple of us will take the Hippie back up to the detox wing. He just isn't ready to be a contributing member of small group.

No shit.

***********************************

I sign up for my first meeting outside of the rehab facility. It is a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and I am interested to see how all of these outside meetings work. After dinner we all board the druggie buggie and head off.

We pull up to the church and there is ten or so people out front smoking. It is an interesting mix of people. Biker to businessman, homeless to hottie. Apparently drugs just don't care.

The meeting is a large one. The chairs are a huge circle and I find an open one. I have no idea what to expect.

The meeting has a chairperson that basically gets things rolling. Some things are read that are read at every meeting. The chairperson then talks about whatever topic they want to talk about. Its like drug story time. That person finishes their story and calls on someone else. I learn later that there are different kinds of meetings that operate different ways.

The stories are great. I mean great because I can relate to them. It is a weird dynamic. Someone is talking about how they are completely suicidal and wanting to kill the next person they see and there are actually people nodding theirs heads in agreeance.

Lets see that happen in a PTA meeting.

Some people cry when they talk and others are there just because they love to hear themselves talk. I actually feel at home in this meeting. I feel like I "get" these people.

There is a point in the meeting where they acknowledge time in recovery.

Is anyone here for their first meeting.

That's me.

I just kind of raise my hand not knowing what else to do. She asks me to come up and get a key chain. She gives me a hug and says keep coming back.

People clap.

The key chain reads Just For Today

That is how I am going to have to live my life from now on. Just For Today.

One day at a time. One moment at a time.

After the meeting we go outside and smoke. There is so many people that come up to us newcomers that got our first key chain. They shake our hands. They hug us. They welcome us "Home".

Seeing a newcomer to the program reminds them of where they have come from.

Some journeys are longer than others

************************************

He is sitting on the front steps of the treatment facility when we return.

He is wasted.

Who knows how much he has had to drink already but the two fifths that sit with him tell me he isn't even close to done.

HI PUSSIES! ANYONE WANT A DRINK?

He is taunting us. Someone please join me in my pain.

It is painful to see. It is the truth about addiction right before all of our eyes. He made it through detox and one day in small group. He got sober enough to realize he didn't want to feel.

We all learn to kill pain in one way or another.

As I walk by him I feel like I have to say something.

You don't have to do this man. You can get sober.

The hypocrite just stares forward into the night.

I could, but I just don't fucking care.

and that was that. I walked inside the doors to the treatment facility and left him and his pain on the front steps. He wasn't even here long enough to know his name.

Sad but true.

Chapter 18

2005-11-18T12:47:00.000-08:00

I agree to look for help.

I do an intake interview at a treatment facility. They want me to sign up. I just want to get my parents off my back. I know I am sick but I feel like somehow I can handle it. I feel like I am not going to let someone else tell me how to live.

I agree to go to AA meetings with Joel.

I attend my first meeting and I admit for the first time that I am an alcoholic. I cry. I can't even believe I am crying. I want no part of this. I have got to move out of my parents house.

I am 24.

I end up living with my brother. He isn't home a lot so I can hide how bad I am.

Perfect.

********************************************

The first time I see her in the restaurant bar I know I want to get to know her. She is a brunette and beautiful.

I start talking with her each time she comes in. Her name is Rachael. She tells me she is moving to San Diego in a month. Instead of just letting it go I pursue her. We spend a lot of time together before she leaves.

Looking back on it I realize how much I was just trying to fill the emptiness inside my soul. I was a cocaine addict and I just thought that maybe a woman would cure me.

I don't think I could have ever been more wrong in my life.

She ends up moving to California and I visit her shortly after. I tell her to come back. She says she will think about it.

I come back to find that I have lost my job.

Drinking.

It was the Friday night before I went to California. I was upstairs before my shift started. The margarita gun was still on in the service bar upstairs. 4 or 5 of us decided to have a few before work.

This is nothing new. I am in NO fear of losing my job. I have snorted coke in the managers office. I have drank with all of them. People love me.

Bulletproof.

The evening starts off just fine. Lots of playing and lots of singing. There is a couple large parties in the restaurant that want me to hang with them. I do. One of them keeps ordering extra shots for me to join in. I just can't say no to that.

I am wasted. I am actually walking up to tables and letting them know that I might not sound so hot because of the amount of drinks in me.

They laugh. Must all be part of the act.

Near the end of the evening the large party downstairs is good and rowdy. There is a guy there that is in a wife beater and has a tattoo of a sun on his left shoulder. I advise him that he is a candy ass and that the sun tattoo I have is 5 times that size. They want to see it.

So I show them. It covers all of my left thigh. I drop my pants to my ankles and show them. They cheer. Classic.

Two ladies in the corner thought otherwise.

The corporate office got called. I got fired.

I blame everyone else but myself.

******************************************

I get a job waiting tables at another Mexican restaurant in Portland. It is located in Chinatown. Lots of drugs dealt out of this bar. One of the bartenders is a Meth Addict.

Perfect.

I start snorting meth with him before shifts. I hate meth. It is poor mans cocaine. It is a white trash drug and I am so above that.

I am making so much less money then I am use to. I start stealing money from the restaurant to help pay for my habits. I start stealing alcohol from stores. Anything I can do to help pay the bills, so to speak.

I end up getting fired from this job for stealing.

Again, I blame everyone else.

I am miserable.

Then I get the phone call that she is moving back.

Chapter 17

2005-11-18T11:52:00.000-08:00

I just wish they would have let me bring my guitar.

I begged.

I talked with Joe in Portland on the phone a few times about this and the answer was always no. I play every day and I can't imagine going a month without playing. I understand why they won't.

I would do nothing else.

********************************

I started playing at age 12. I have always loved to sing and I felt like I needed something to go along with that. A piano is a little hard to carry around so guitar was the best option.

I didn't get serious about it until I got to college.

Guitar, not drugs.

I met a guy in college named Joel who was the most brilliant musician I had ever met. He could play guitar better than anyone I had ever heard. He could write amazing music. He was a Pastors Kid, a "PK". He was an addict. I think we were drawn to each other like a moth to flame.

We started playing in a band together. We started doing a lot of drugs together. I have an amazing amount of memories with Joel. He had a VW bus that we took on a cross country road trip. We had so much acid and weed. We traveled ten states in ten days.

We tripped hard in the Grand Canyon.

We hiked into the Grand Canyon really high on acid and the walls of the canyons were like waterfalls.

Joel got clean and sober out of college. Our band ceased to exist. I moved back my parents house while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life and for a short period Joel lived with us.

He was heavily involved in AA. I would attend my first meeting with him.

********************************************

I started playing guitar in a Mexican restaurant after college. It was a party restaurant and I was the "Captain", the guy who was responsible for all the music and the entertainment. Part of the job was always being full of energy. Cocaine made this possible.

There was a couple different cooks and busboys that were dealers. It was so easy. I was making so much money in tips that it made a daily Coke habit possible.

I cut more lines in that place then I care to remember. Half of the staff were addicts or alcoholics. It comes with the business.

After work we would all go out drinking.

One big party. Every night.

I was living with my parents and they were getting progressively worried about me. I don't think they really knew how bad it was but they knew I was drinking a lot. I had to get out of that house.

I crashed my truck a couple of times. Wasted.

The first time was something I will never forget. Haunts me in my dreams. Late night drinking with the crew. I get in my truck as I always do. I am a drinking and driving nightmare. You can't pry my keys away from me.

I am bulletproof.

I don't remember exactly what happened. I am driving. Fast. Blurred. I don't even hit the brakes when I see the red light I just feel the impact.

I slammed that car all the way through the intersection. They were sitting at the red light and I slammed them all the way through the intersection.

I didn't see them.

I drove away.

I check the paper for weeks after to see if I killed them. To see if I ruined someone's life. I find nothing. My mind runs too many scenarios to count.

How do I ever make amends for this?

The guilt is overwhelming.

It doesn't stop me.

I crash my car again a month later. I was at an outdoor concert. Handfuls of mushrooms, acid, Jagermeister... The whole bottle.

I passed out a mile away from my parents home and drive my truck off a hairpin corner. The impact is enough to break my axles. No seatbelt.

Not a scratch.

Divine Intervention.

I run home and wake my parents. My father drives me to my truck and takes one look at it and just says "Oh my God."

No police.

Slack.

He wakes me the next morning and wants to know if I am on drugs. He is terrified. My Naval Commander Father is terrified. I tell him that I am.

For the first time in my life I see my Father cry.

Chapter 16

2005-11-18T10:31:00.000-08:00

Adam, the tall kid in my small group, is waiting for me when we get back.

We go to the dining area because there is always sandwiches at night. It's like they know addicts so well. Sandwiches and cereal. I haven't eaten this well forever and my body is loving it.

Adam and I just sit at table and enjoy the food for a while.

So what's up?

He looks at me and says that I look different.

I laugh.

Yeah, I cut off all my hair and shaved.

Looks good.

We talk about nothing for a while longer and I can sense that there is something he really wants to talk about. He finally just looks me dead in the eye.

I don't know how to pray and wanted to know if you would pray with me.

I started tell him about how my prayers started in here.

Jesus please... Jesus please...

I make it clear to him that I am not an expert at all. I just feel like the prayers are helping me. I feel like something is happening that is so much bigger than me. I have to make this clear to him. I have to make this clear to myself.

I don't know anything about God. I just know that He is calling to me. I have always felt it. I just never acknowledged Him.

I can bet that everyone feels that in their life.

That is how we are designed.

So Adam and I sit in the dining room at the table and we pray. He prays with me out loud. He prays for his kids and I can feel the weight of the prayer. So much guilt for being a drunk Daddy.

********************************

Fred the Jewish lawyer comes into the dining room and he is pissed beyond belief. He is holding his Big book and he is pissed.

He slams it down on a table and all eyes are on him.

I WANNA KNOW WHO THE FUCK WROTE THIS!

Silence.

IN MY BOOK! MY BIBLE!

Silence.

None of us have a clue of what he is talking about at all. Curiosity gets the best of all of us in the room and we walk over to him.

He is so angry that tears are starting to show.

What are you talking about Fred? What's up?

He says nothing and just opens up his Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. On the inside of the front cover is scrawled

Go home you Jew Kyke Bastard

It is scrawled in pencil.

We are speechless.

I can't even believe it. Here is a guy that is in rehab trying to get better and has to deal with some racist bastard who can only feel better about themselves by degrading others.

Addiction is fueled differently in each of us.

Just scratch it out.

It's pencil. Erase it.

Fred just looks up at us.

I can't erase this...

Chapter 15

2005-11-18T09:49:00.000-08:00

I keep seeing her in the courtyard. The same girl from the phone booth.

She is adorable. Part of me really wants to talk with her and the other part says just to stay focused.

The first part usually wins every time.

Her name is Lacey.

Twenty-one year old heroin addict. She is in the extended program.

I talk to her for quite some time and it is completely refreshing. I meet a couple of her friends. Aaron is the one that I get the vibe from. He sends me that male territorial vibe. I know immediately that he likes this girl. I don't let it phase me.

Are you going to the store tonight?

What do you mean?

She tells me about the sign up sheet at the front desk. The first 8 who sign up can go to Drug Emporium. I laugh at the fact we would be going to "Drug Emporium". The irony sometimes is too much.

I run inside.

I actually run.

I want to get out of here for a little bit. Truth of the matter is we could be going to the dentist and I would still sign up. I just want to be around this girl for a little while. I have always loved being around beautiful women. Usually the wrong ones.

****************************

It is raining that night.

We all meet in the front lobby and find out that John, the front desk guy with huge glasses, is going to be our driver for the evening.

We all pile in the "Druggie Buggie" and we are off.

The Druggie Buggie is a big Ford Econo-van that is used to take all of us to outside meetings. We get to go to outside AA and NA meetings during the week if we want. One way or another you are going to meetings. Either at the center or outside of it.

I have control issues.

I don't like being a passenger in ANY vehicle whether it be a van, car, plane or tank. I just don't like the feeling of having someone else control my destiny. I am beginning to understand how this relates to my addictions and how it relates to God. I havent been able to trust God. I haven't been able to let Him take the wheel.

Let go. Let God

John looks like Mr. Magoo with his glasses. Those glasses tell me that he has trouble seeing.

It is raining.

Thank God I have Lacey to distract me. We laugh and tell stories and start counting how many signs advertising alcohol we see. It is amazing to me. I can't believe how many there are. Neon signs everywhere. Billboards. I never noticed before.

Now that I have spent 10 days sober they seem to be everywhere.

Advertising pain.

I am deep in thought over this when I hear her voice. Very soft and casual at first.

John... John... John.. JOHN! JOHN! JOHN!

I look up and we are fast approaching a red light and John doesn't see it at all. He finally does and slams on the breaks. We skid. We stop. Its all good.

Sorry.

Its Ok John just watch where you are going.

Nervous laughter from all of us.

************************************

The Drug Emporium has a barber shop in it and also a pet store. I go into the pet store first and just want to hold a puppy.

I spend about ten minutes letting this little guy just lick my face.

Puppy breath.

Beautiful puppy breath.

I decide that I want nothing more than to cut off all of my colored hair. It is copper colored and spiked. Cozmo has been calling me "Thunder Cat" all damn week. I have a nasty long goatee and unshaven face. I just want to feel clean.

I get a very short haircut and I get rid of the beard and goatee.

I can feel my Mom smiling already.

Chapter 14

2005-11-17T14:19:00.000-08:00

We both see him.

New. Fresh out of detox.

Skin head. Full sleeves of tattoos. Combat boots. Black Harley shirt. Scowl

Cozmo and I just look at each other and smile. Perfect.

Hey man how you doing?

I really expected anger to come spewing forth. I expected a FUCK YOU! I expected an evil eye. Something.

What I got was what I expected least.

Shy.

My name is Steve and this is Bryce.

Eric...

We want to pray with you.

Wow did this take him completely off guard. So much so that he put his hands in his pockets and put his head down.

He looked at us through the top of his eye lids, eyes darting back and forth between Cozmo and I.

and then he just said "Ok".

We each put a hand on one of his shoulders and we prayed.

We asked God for the same things we had just prayed for out in the courtyard.

Peace and freedom. Sobriety.

I could feel the tension in his shoulders release. I could feel him relaxing.

We prayed.

Amen.

He looked at both of us and just said thanks and he walked away.

That's how it all started.

It wasn't that we thought we were some sort of spiritual kingpins or thought we were better. It was actually far from it. When God reaches you there is just a place inside you that just wants to grow and branch out to others. That is just the way He designed us.

When you live in darkness for so long a touch of Light is the most beautiful thing in the world.

Hope.

*********************************

By the time we get to dinner that night we have prayed with quite a few people. Standing in line for dinner before the prayer is said I feel a tap on my arm. I turn around and see a cute little old lady, the little old lady that I saw in the Detox wing screaming at her children. She looked different.

I heard you sing in a Christian band.

We broke up but, yeah, I did for a number of years.

Would you sing "Amazing Grace" for me before supper?

So I did.

I sang for all of us. Especially for her.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now I'm found
was blind but now I see

That's all I could do. Short and sweet. Enough to bring some tears of hope to a little old lady in rehab.

Its never too late.

The hour I first believed...

Chapter 13

2005-11-17T11:45:00.000-08:00

I have never spend so much time with myself.

I hate it.

I am 31 years old and I have always lived with someone. Never could stand being alone. I am realizing that I am so uncomfortable in my own skin. I have so much built up crap inside of me that is haunting me. It fuels my drinking. Fuels my self hate.

So many things. So much shame.

I was in my Junior year of college. We went on a weekend acid adventure. It was my friend Perry and his brother and another guy that I don't even remember. We went to a Hippie festival up in the hills near Twisp Washington. Four day weekend. We were also going to hit up the apple blossom festival in Wenatchee.

Mostly we were just gonna trip.

The Twisp festival is a blur. Huge bonfire. Drums. Pagan paradise. I just remember the gatorade being passed around that had so many tabs of acid floating in it.

Big swigs.

The door swings wide.

We danced and the drums became the beat of my heart. The drums take on a life of their own. Hours and hours of this. At times it is the most beautiful thing you can imagine. Altered reality. Everything just melting into everything else.

To actually touch sound. To taste it.

I can't ever explain acid.

Acid can also bring demons. Often called "bad trips". I can never explain the terror. The moment you feel like you are stuck inside the trip. That you may NEVER regain reality again. When you feel the hands pulling you into the bowls of hell. When you see them.

Never ending screams inside of your head.

Unexplainable terror.

Godless void.

************************************

We were up For three days straight. No sleep. That in itself does wonders to a person. My face feels cold. I hum. The inside of my head hums. We have been driving for most of the morning. We are out of drugs and that isn't a great thing at this moment.

Perry's brother says he knows a guy in Snoqualmie.

We get to this guys house some time early Monday morning. He lets us in. He is there with his wife. He breaks out the bong and we get to smoke some weed. At this point it does nothing at all to me. There is a certain point that you can never get to again.

It will never be that again.

We sit for a while and the wife offers us some speed. I am crashing hard and I just don't want anything right now but my bed. I am in a weird state of confusion. Halfway between reality and dream. I am on the floor trying to hold it together and I turn to see them at the table eating breakfast.

A little boy and a little girl.

Eating cereal and staring at me.

Breakfast before school.

Elementary school.

What the fuck am I doing?

******************************

The rest of my group sits and listens to me retell the story. All of us share our shame in one way or another. It is all different but also the same.

I need a cigarette so bad after group.

I also feel like there is something else. Something more important.

Prayer.

I feel like praying. I feel like I need to pray. My soul has been feeling so empty that it is crying out to be fed.

I see Cozmo in the courtyard sitting at one of the tables.

I need to pray man. We need to start praying.

I just sat next to my brother and I placed my arm around him and we prayed. We prayed for strength and we prayed for freedom from all of this. All the guilt and all the shame.

It felt good.

Really good.

Cozmo looks at me and says the same.

That felt good.

I smile at him.

Lets go get someone else

Chapter 12

2005-11-17T10:35:00.000-08:00

Where did it really start getting bad?

When did I realize I wanted out?

When did I realize no matter how hard I tried I couldn't?

Christian College.

I could drink up a storm and no one would care. I could do whatever I wanted. I didn't have to answer to anyone.

The question of why I chose a Christian College is one I have been thinking about while I am here in treatment. The program seems to rely so heavily on God and I have always believed in God.

I was in a youth group that traveled when I was in junior high and high school. I was a choir boy. I just remember how wonderful it felt to sing about God. I loved it. I loved to sing. Singing has been my escape for as long as I can remember and there was just something that happened to me when I sang about God.

I just never carried any of that outside of singing in the church youth choir.

Believe and follow are two completely different things.

I went to college to sing and play soccer. By my Junior year I was doing neither. I went to a Christian College and outside of being in choir for a while I didn't attend one church service.

Not one.

************************************

I got into quite a bit of trouble my freshman year at college. All of it because of the "No Alcohol on campus" rule. I actually get written up my first day. There is a threat of expulsion my first year.

Slack.

I start smoking pot every day. The day that I can't find any I scrape the resin from my pipes and smoke that.

I binge drink. Not everyday. When I do drink it is usually until I blackout. I lose big portions of evenings. The confusion of waking up and not knowing what I had done. Who I had done it with.

I sleep with girls that I don't even remember names.

or faces.

Most college guys wear these like badges of honor.

Each one for me is a tremendous guilt that builds like a giant wall around my soul. Brick by brick. All of it translates to guilt.

No outlet for my guilt. I drink to suppress it. I feel guilty for drinking.

Cycles.

I discover other drugs. Mushrooms. Acid. Cocaine. All of these I wish I had never taken. Guilt.

Acid is the one that still terrifies me. Some doors are shut for a reason.

All of this time I can feel God tugging at my heart.

Some doors we shut ourselves.

I am one giant party. College is one giant party. I am the guy that people love to party with. I don't have a stop button. I am funny. I am crazy. Inside I scream with more pain then I can handle and I don't let anyone know. I can't let anyone know.

I have to always appear to have a wonderful life. I need people to like me. I get a tremendous amount of satisfaction from the attention. I am who they want me to be. I am no self control.

To them I am free.

Chapter 11

2005-11-17T09:14:00.000-08:00

We stand in silence.

Anticipation.

I have felt this feeling a thousand times. The painful but exciting feeling of waiting for a dealer to hurry their ass up.

Craving.

Today there is five of us waiting. Who knows how many will be here tomorrow. I look around at the other four and wonder who it is that keeps telling people about the caffeinated coffee.

Only one pot.

I have to get here a little earlier tomorrow.

***********************************

Today in lecture we have a guy that actually is a stand up comic.

An Alcoholic stand up comic. It hits me as a little strange but what the hell. I get a little humor to start my day.

I sit with most of the guys in my small group.

Jerrod is a guy my age who has been to rehab before. He really is rubbing me the wrong way. He is one of those guys that you can see right through the act. He is a compulsive liar.

Aren't we all.

Adam is a tall kid that is very soft spoken. He has a wife and a couple of kids. To hear him talk about his kids is both heartbreaking and wonderful. Being an addict and alcoholic with kids around is a whole other ball game. I thank God that I never had kids when I was married.

Eric, my roommate is sitting with us. Then there is Bill. He has half of his head shaved and there is a big half circle of stitches on the side of his head. He is always out of it. Crazy. I think he has had some sort of brain surgery. He is doing his stint here and then going directly to jail for breaking into drugstores for pills. When the police caught him he had a pillow case full to the top. He is impossible to figure out. Mostly because they have him on so many detox drugs.

After the lecture we all go downstairs and head to the courtyard. I look at the chalkboard and see that my brother has called me. I wish someone would have gotten me out of the stand up show. I would have actually enjoyed the cry much more.

*******************************************

Group is always interesting. We talk a lot about ourselves and our fearless leader Adam calls us out on our bullshit. We each have certain things we have to read each day. One of us reads the little motto we have about anonymity.

First rule about Fight Club...

We don't talk to anyone else outside our group about what goes on or what is talked about. This helps people feel safe.

Someone then picks a passage out of the Big Book and we go around and talk about what it means to us or how it relates.

We alcoholics are men and women who have lost the ability to control our drinking. We know that no real alcoholic ever recovers control. All of us felt at times that we were regaining control, but such intervals- usually brief- were inevitably followed by still less control, which led in time to pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization. We are convinced to a man that alcoholics of our type are in the grip of a progressive illness. Over any considerable period we get worse, never better.

That is the pain of it. Right there. What Eric just read was the pain and confusion of every addict and alcoholic. We lost the CONTROL. I am trying to figure out if I ever HAD the control.

I have never really looked at the progression of my using. I know that I started young but it isn't like the day I tasted alcohol in 4th grade I just became a raging alcoholic. I didn't start packing a pint in my lunch box.

It was different.

It was a very slow progression for a long time. I was an athlete in High School. Team Captain of the soccer team. All American boy. I didn't want to lose that by getting caught drinking. So I didn't drink that much in High School. I smoked pot.

So much easier to hide. I learned early that drinking was a hard habit to hide.

I had an older brother that liked to drink in high school and I had to listen to him argue with my parents about it when he would come home. I didn't want to have to go through that.

I think I only really got caught once. I can't really remember.

I know that Andy and I stole a fifth of vodka from his parents and went to the high school. I was a freshman and he was still in 8th grade. It was a Friday night and there was a dance. We drank most of that fifth with a couple other guys and jumped around like idiots on the pole vault mat.

I decided to go to the dance.

I was more than a little drunk. My sister was there and she tried to tell me to go home.

Then I ran into our vice-principle. She KNEW I was drunk. She just told me to go home. She liked me. My brother had been a popular athlete that had just graduated, my sister a 4.0 student and member of the National Honor Society.

Slack.

Always cutting me slack.

This same vice principle would catch me smoking pot at school my Junior year and do absolutely nothing about it.

I wonder if things would be different for me now if I would have had more consequences.

Over any considerable period we get worse, never better

I stumbled home that night from the dance. I ended up walking into my closed garage door and making way too much noise for my parents not to know something was up. They sent me to bed.

Have to be more careful.

Have to stick to weed for now.

The one thing I do know is I need SOMETHING.

Chapter 10

2005-11-16T15:55:00.000-08:00

A man can only rise, conquer, and achieve by lifting up his thoughts. Man is made or unmade by himself.

I hear him speaking these words and I feel them.

By the right choice and true application of thought, man ascends to the Divine Perfection

I feel like saying "Amen". In fact I feel like shouting it Baptist style.

by the abuse and wrong application of thought, he descends below the level of the beast

Ain't that the truth.

Between these two extremes are all the grades of character, and man is their maker and master.

He speaks these words as if behind a pulpit. He is a massive black man with a powerful voice. He use to play pro ball and he is a recovering addict and alcoholic. He is the same man I met my first day here. He was the reason I didn't give my intake coordinator anymore attitude. He is huge.

His spirit spits truth.

He reads to us from a book called "As A Man Thinketh" by James Allen.

It is the first time I have heard of James Allen. His words penetrate the very core of my soul.

Hearing it read to me like the Gospel makes it all the more compelling.

This is men's group. All of us.

One giant circle of addicts and alcoholics that seem to hang on every word from his mouth. Such a gentle soul inside of a body that appears to be created for destruction and pain.

He is a gentle man. A thinker.

He talks to all of us about the power of our minds. How our thinking molds our actions. He speaks of a mind being like a garden. No matter what you do it WILL grow. If no good seeds are planted then it will run wild with weeds.

If cultivated it can produce more beauty then you can ever imagine.

I see the garden.

I smell the flowers.

I am having a moment. Sitting in a giant circle with criminals and addicts and lost souls, listening to a very large black man paint a beautiful picture with only words. I see his passion on his face. In his eyes.

I know he wants for all of us to have that garden.

Roses.

*****************************

Bryce and I sit in the courtyard and smoke. We talk about what we just heard. Both of us felt the same power.

Man did he spit knowledge or what?

Bryce gives me a look of complete and total agreement.

I want that peace. I want that garden.

We sat and smoked and we talked about our lives and what we really wanted. It all came back to the same words.

Happy.

Peace.

I talk to Bryce about my love for songwriting and music. He is a rapper like no other. He was the only white guy in a group of brothers that kicked it. They called him Cozmo.

Love it.

I call him Cozmo from now on.

What kind of music do you play?

I look at him and I pause.

I was in a Christian rock band for a number of years.

No shit. How did that work out?

I laugh.

Not so good. Tough to be in one the way I am. What about you? Do you believe in God?

Cozmo sits on that one for a while.

Yeah, I do.

I think that is our only hope. Faith...

I hear ya my brother, I hear ya.

******************************************

They were there that evening. Beautiful. They were an amazing contrast of color against the white walls of the nurses station.

Roses. Beautiful red roses.

They were sitting for all to see on the front counter.

The card was also still attached.

I am sorry for the names I called you guys. Please understand that guy wasn't me. With Love and so much Thanks, Steve

It was the start of my new garden

Chapter 9

2005-11-16T12:45:00.000-08:00

I stand in the rain.

Cleanse me.

Take away these layers of filth. Wash away this facade.

Take it all.

Everything.

*******************************************

I walk past the phone booths and I see her crying. She is beautiful in her pain. She is a welcome distraction to all of my thoughts.

Dangerous.

I walk past and am greeted by John at the front desk.

How are you this wonderful evening?

It is impossible not to feel John's tremendous love of life and people. He is a goofy looking son of a bitch and at this moment he makes me smile from ear to ear.

I'm Ok. I am feeling better.

GREAT news!

I walk past him and I realize that he really means that. He means GREAT news that I am feeling better. What a trip.

There is a hallway to the left as you pass the front desk from the phones. This is a back way out of the building and also a place where we can get mail. I check and I actually have mail. It looks like my Uncle Laddy, my Mom's brother, has sent me a letter. I shove it in my pocket and go to dinner.

**********************************

Dinner is uneventful. No drama.

You really start to get to know people at meal time. Today I meet a new guy named Fred. He is a very talkative Jewish man from Portland. When I say talkative I mean that he just can't or won't shut up. He is a lawyer. A Jewish Lawyer who can't shut up. Imagine that. I love him instantly.

People always want to know what your drug of choice is or why you are here. People want comparisons. They want to see where they match up with you or where you don't. It is weird as hell but you get really use to it.

Bryce and I sit and talk like we always do.

He is an athlete. A damn good athlete. He tells me all about his history and we laugh at how messed up we are. We compare DUI stories and jail stories. The funny thing about addiction is that a whole lot of it is fun as hell. Some stupid shit happens to you when you are wasted.

I tell him all about "Naked Beer Guy" and we laugh our asses off.

I was 21 years old and in my last year at a private Christian college. It was the first weekend of school starting and historically a great party weekend. A buddy of mine was having a party at his parents home on a lake.

The great part about the first weekend parties is all the new freshman that show up. They are a fun bunch to watch try and fit in.

I get hammered.

I decide that swimming in the lake is a great idea.

Off go the clothes.

I decide that clothing isn't going to be necessary for the remainder of the evening. I don't remember a whole lot of it but the stories sure went around.

Hey aren't you the naked beer guy?

Yep. I just walked around a party full of new Christian College freshman naked.

All night.

I can only imagine the phone calls home the next day.

Bryce and I just laugh at how stupid we are.

Funny.

**********************************

I decide against watching a movie.

I just want to be alone and think about the week.

This has been one big emotional roller coaster of a ride so far. I am finally off of the damn librium and I am starting to feel like a whole person. It still is so hard not to want a drink. So damn hard. So I smoke. I smoke cigarettes like they are going out of style.

I head back to my room. I am really feeling like I need some time to start reading more of the Big Book. I am really feeling like this guy Bill W. who wrote the thing is a pretty good dude.

Eric isn't in the room when I get there.

I remember the letter.

I open the envelope and let the fact that it is addressed in care of a treatment center sink in.

It is a single piece of paper from a small notepad.

"FROM THE DESK OF NEIL MORFITT" it reads across the top.

My Grandfather. My dead Grandfather.

Steve, this is from one of my Dad's note pads from his desk. I know that he is pulling for you right now as much as I am. Love Laddy

It is too much for me and I break. I break in a way I have never broken before. Every ounce of my body cries out. Every part of me hurts in a way I have never felt and never want to feel again.

I broke.

He was the only real Grandpa I knew. He was everything to me as a child.

My sweet Grandpa.

Every visit would be the same. I would say my hello and go straight to his bedroom. He would spread change all over his floor and say that he might have dropped it and was too old to pick it up. Anything I found was mine.

I loved this game... I love the memory now of his smile at watching his grandson come out of his room with pockets filled with change. I understand that smile now. As a child its just a smile. A smile from your Gramps. Now it is a novel. A lifetime of memories that explode in one single perfect moment.

I feel that same smile right now.

I feel my Grandpa's touch.

I break.

I hit the floor face down and for the next hour and a half repeat the same words over and over and over...

Jesus please...

Chapter 8

2005-11-16T12:06:00.000-08:00

I sat alone in the courtyard.

My body language pretty much kept those that wanted to say something at bay. Someone would approach and I would just look up and shake my head. They understood. They know that feeling.

Just leave me alone.

I am starting to feel like I need to make some serious changes. I have been here for almost a week. My head is clearing and I still am angry. I am angry for not fully understanding my disease.

It so easy for people to tell you that you drink too much. It so easy for people to say that you just need to stop drinking. It so easy for people to not understand the bondage and the confusion. How much I want to stop but can't. I am different then you. My chemical make-up, my genetic code or whatever it is that fuels this is different. If it was easy I would have done it a long time ago. My first car crash. My first blackout. My first broken heart.

Alcoholism and drug addiction is the only disease that people hate you for having.

Oh look at that guy. He is SUCH a fucking alcoholic...

I would love to see them say that shit to a cancer patient.

Steve would be such a great guy if he just wasn't so... so... CANCEROUS

The hard part for me is actually believing that it IS a disease. They keep telling me that here and I want to buy into that but I still want to have control over it. I want to be able to drink and not lose every bit of ability to stop. I know that under it all is deeper issues. I know that I am going to have to come to terms with all of it. My soul. My pain.

Me.

I sit here and smoke in the rain and I know that something has to change. I just don't want to admit that the something is "everything".

My exchange with Erroll this morning makes me realize that everything I hate about him is really everything I hate about me. I want attention. I will walk on people to get it.

I hate being alone.

When I am alone I have to face myself. I have to start thinking about how I am not doing anything of real importance in my life. I am drifting on a sea of Jack Daniels. I am searching for escape.

Escape from myself.

So much to think about. What am I going to do when I get out of here. I can't live the same way that I was. I can't be around the same people. The same places.

Everything has to change.

Tears.

Always the tears.

********************************

Chapter 7

2005-11-16T09:30:00.000-08:00

Every morning after breakfast is a lecture. The whole rehab center gets together to listen to someone speak. Usually its a graduate who is coming back to tell their story of redemption. To tell us all how great the world is on the outside without drugs and alcohol.

They talk a lot about meetings and they talk a lot about God.

I have decided that I will listen. I am here for a reason and I need to realize that my ego isn't serving me well.

Today is Erroll. I can't stand Erroll.

He is the head counselor for the extended program. The repeat offenders. The people who just don't get it the first or second time. He is a hard ass and he carries himself like his shit don't stink.

Why I am threatened by him, I'll never know.

He is the type of guy that will call you out in a roomful of people and try and make you feel small.

Today he is discussing how men have trouble expressing themselves. How society has taught men that we have to be macho. To me right now this guy is a walking talking contradiction.

I lean over to Bryce to tell him what I think about Erroll...

DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY?

I look up and his eyes are right on me.

Who? Me?

Yes YOU! Something really important?

No.

My eyes are fixed on his now. We began that fucking male bullshit dance that I have done a million times. It has now turned into something I know I won't back down from. How DARE this guy. Call ME out? Bring it.

Do you mind if I continue?

I don't care WHAT you do.

Thanks.

The amount of sarcasm on his "thanks" was as thick as pipe resin and almost as black.

I sit in my chair and I am fuming. Bryce elbows me and throws a low peace sign my way. It almost calms me.

So King Jackass is going on with his rants about men and how we are always trying to be dominant and society breeds this behavior. To tell you the truth I am not hearing any of it because I want to shove hate into his face in the form of my fists.

The irony of the situation escapes me.

He is saying something now about how men hug each other.

I am going to need a volunteer. Let's see...

I am already 100% sure that he is going to pick me. I also know a little bit about how men operate.

How about you?

He points at me with a smirk. The kind that says "see what happens when you fuck with me"

I stand up and walk to the front of the room.

I want you to hug me.

what?

I want you to hug me.

I know where he is going with this. He thinks that I won't give him a full hug. He thinks that I am the type of guy that might get scared that if I hug him too close our male parts might.actually.touch.

Think again.

I wrap my arms around him. I hold him close and I lean back and kiss him on the forehead.

I wink at him.

People laugh.

I showed him.

He pulls me back close to him and in my ear whispers:

You will never make it. You are going to be dead or in jail. Congratulations.

My victory suddenly feels very very shallow

Chapter 6

2005-11-15T15:32:00.000-08:00

There were two pay phones at the bottom of the stairs. They had the closing doors just like the old school ones on a street corner. Those were the only two phones. There was a chalk board to write incoming messages on the wall. This was torture. Either there was a message and you missed the call or there was no message because no one called.

There was a box of tissue in each booth.

There was hope.

There were lies.

This is the LAST time I put you through this...

Most of all there were tears.

I would bet that the floors to these booths had been painted in tears a thousand times over. Each time you would walk by there would be heartbreak. Each time a not so gentle reminder of how much it hurts to be an addict and alcoholic. The people you put through hell.

Being in the booth felt like being on display. People walking in from the comedy courtyard see you behind the glass. Exposed.

You get real use to baring your emotions in rehab.

The first time I called my parents was the worst. My mom tried to be strong but she just couldn't hold it together.

We love you.

It's going to be alright.

I lie and say I know. To be honest I don't know anything. All I know is I am in a treatment center because I can't live like a normal person in the outside world. I just want to be happy.

Happy.

I want to feel loved and I want to feel in control of my life.

I think about calling her. I want to call her. I know that the worst thing I could do to myself is call her.

I call my sister instead.

********************************

Night falls and tears flow.

That is just how it has been. I am getting so lonely at night and I don't know what else to do but just cry. I have a roommate now so I spend a great deal of time in the bathroom. I take showers at night so I can cry in peace.

I don't think I have ever cried so much in my life as I did the first week in rehab.

Sitting on the floor of a shower.

weeping.

My roommate is a guy named Eric and he is from Hawaii. He is also in my small group. Eric has the most eruptive and violent temper I have ever seen. When he gets mad you can see hell brewing in his eyes. Veins the size of my fingers protrude from his neck. He is an addict. He likes to smoke crack and do lots of meth. He ran with a gang that sold drugs in Hawaii and he told wonderful bedtime stories.

It's funny when you share a common pain with someone how attached you can become. Eric and I came from different upbringing but we were addicts and alcoholics. We were brothers in that shared hell.

Money, no money. Home, no home. Black white red whatever. In here we were all the same. Even if you didn't want to come to terms with that.

I started reading the Big Book of Alcoholic Anonymous. The Lushes Bible. Big Blue. I felt like it spoke to me. The "program" relies completely on the trust and faith in a "Higher Power". Without that it means nothing.

I had made a promise 4 years earlier.

A promise I had not kept.

A promise to God.

Man am I in trouble

Chapter 5

2005-11-15T11:53:00.000-08:00

I had just moved from a small town in California to Lake Oswego, Oregon. There could not be two more polar opposite places on earth.

I came from a town of under a thousand people. A lumber community. I came to Lake Oswego, Oregon. Lake Big Ego... Lake No Negro... whatever name you wanted to use it was all true.

I was half-way through the 4th grade.

In California my best friends were my 2 dogs and nature. We lived on a river, surrounded by nature. I played with my brother and sister and we were all very close. I loved it there. My Dad knew that it was a dead end for his kids as far as education was concerned.

My Dad.

Naval Commander.

Leader.

Heart of gold.

My favorite times were playing hide and seek with the dogs. Barney was a springer spaniel and Libby was a black lab. I would have them sit down by the river and command them to "stay". They would. My dad trained hunting dogs to listen and listen they did. I would run away and try and hide far away in the woods. I would whistle for them.

They always found me.

Happy.

I was really happy.

***************************

nice overalls!

what?

Nice overalls!

He laughed at me. I remember my next door neighbor laughing at me for wearing overalls.

Lake Oswego.

I never wore them again.

There was a good group of kids in my new neighborhood. Across the street was my best friend Brad. He would be the kid that I first drank with and had my first cigarette with.

It was a Saturday morning. We had screwdrivers. That was the first moment I can remember alcohol working its magic. It fascinated me.

Next door to me lived John and his older brother Bill. I can still hear his fathers voice screaming. I had never heard verbal or physical abuse. My parents never abused me. Never.

Never.

I remember that voice. I saw first hand what it does to a kid. What it did to John. He was the first kid I smoked pot with. I was in 4th grade.

4th grade.

He was in his backyard under his deck with another kid named Kevin from a few streets over. They had weed. I remember them showing it to me. They had it in tin foil. I had no idea what it was. I had never heard of drugs. Never. They put it in a pipe and smoked. I tried it.

Nice overalls...

I don't remember it doing much. What I do remember is the feeling that I was doing something terribly wrong and that feeling both excited and scared me at the same time.

At the very end of the street was Andy. After Brad and his family moved away, Andy was my best friend. We were brothers. He was a year younger than me. His Mom and step Dad smoked weed. They kept it under their bed and they had a bong in the closet. Andy had two much older brothers that showed us how to use that bong.

Mother Fuckers.

We smoked and got high. We slapped ice cubes around and laughed. My pilot light was lit.

Then I almost killed my best friend.

I was in 6th grade I think. He was in 5th. We had gotten into the next door neighbors house and raided their liquor cabinet.

Everclear.

Pure grain alcohol.

Whatever. I had no idea. I made Andy take a shot of it. I remember laughing at his reaction. It was like it was painful.

Ha Ha.

pain.

We locked Andy in the dog kennel and sprayed him with a hose. He was drunk. He was in 5th grade and he was drunk. We let him out and he was laughing. We walked around the house and there was a flight of concrete stairs. He fell.

face first.

He wasn't knocked out but he had a hole in his forehead. We panicked. We can't get in trouble for drinking. My parents would kill me.

We carried Andy to his house and left him shivering on his back porch.

wet and alone.

alone.

*********************************

My first day out of detox and in with the rest of the lushes and addicts was interesting. My new room was in the quads. Think about really crappy college dorm rooms and you are getting close. My day was structured. This was a first for me. In the mornings we had the opportunity to go to the local YMCA down the street. I jumped all over the chance to start lifting weights and shooting hoops.

Then breakfast.

If you got into breakfast early enough you could get a cup of caffeinated coffee. They made one pot per day. That's it. One pot. The only drug they allowed in this place was nicotine. Even if you weren't a smoker you became one. Take away an addiction and don't treat it and another will take its place.

Breakfast was so good. I hadn't had 3 square meals a day for as long as I could remember. Before each meal there was a "prayer wall" that had prayers that fellow addicts and lushes had written. Someone would pick one and read it.

Then we would eat.

I sat alone at a round table.

what's up? Mind if I sit here?

Not at all man.

His name was Bryce. Good looking kid. Tattoos. Sweats. Cool beanie. Nice shoes. Instantly my best friend. We sat and talked like we had known each other for years. He spoke my language. He knew my pain. I knew his.

His pops was famous. Tough road for a kid.

After breakfast was free time. Basically that meant everyone went out to the courtyard and smoked. We called the place the comedy courtyard because it was so damn funny to listen to people try and out "addict" that others.

So fucking what... I passed out with the needle still in my arm while driving...

Bitch that's nothin...

On and on. Its a little like real life on crack. Wait.. it IS on crack. Everyone trying to impress everyone else with who they are and what they have done. Look at how fucked up I am. I am way more fucked up then you.

I didn't go there.

I came here to get better.

I smoked my 3 cigarettes and it was off to my small group.

Now small group is where the action takes place. The blood and guts of rehab. I think my group had six guys at any one time.

My counselor was a crack addict named Adam. He was straight forward, No bull shit. Called it as he saw it. Our first assignment is to write out our addiction history. When were the first times you can remember getting loaded.

We left him shivering on his back porch...

*********************************

There was knock on my door at around 6 PM. I remember that my Grandma Anne was staying at our house and she answered the door.

Steven, the police are here and they want to talk to you.

6th grade.

I walked to the door and they asked me to come with them outside. They asked about Andy and what we had been doing. As I walked to the street I could see the lights of the ambulance.

What is happening? Is he ok?

We went down the street. The first person I see is his Mom. A moment later she sees me.

WHAT DID YOU DO YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE? WHAT DID YOU DO?

terrified.

Andy's step father had found him on the back porch.

wet and alone.

He had choked on his own vomit and was blue. My best friend was blue.

I don't know who was the one to save him but he lived. He spent some time in the hospital and he lived.

the first of so many close calls

Chapter 4

2005-11-15T10:07:00.000-08:00

The pen shook.

I wanted to write. I wanted to be able to capture all of it somehow so I could recall it all later. The smell. The feel. The hell.

The pen shook.

I had been in detox for over 24 hours. The librium cast an uncomfortable haze that I could not shake. I want out.

Run.

I was given a journal by a friend of mine at work, Beautiful and green. On the inside cover it read:

Steve,

I believe in you. I am praying for you. You have so much to offer. See you soon

I can't stop crying. Reality has not only crept in but it has set up shop inside my head. I want to feel good about what I am doing but all I can think about is WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING??

The pen shook.

I start to write. It will be my one and only journal entry during my stay.

So this is where my life is. I am in detox at my first and I pray only rehab facility. I am alone and I can't stop shaking. I can't stop crying and I know that I can't make it through one day without a drug or a drink. I hate myself. If I had the choice to live or die right now I honestly don't know which I would choose. Jesus, I am a mess. Help

I throw up. I could have grabbed my puke tray but for some reason I want to watch it splatter all over the floor. I am hate. I am alone

******************************

The next 2 days are a blur of Librium and cigarettes.

I have memories of swearing at the nurses. I know that I called them wonderful names and asked them nicely to GIVE ME SOMETHING! ANYTHING!

They asked me if I was up to going to a morning lecture. I wanted to be anywhere but this bed.

I was able to get out of my hospital gown and put sweats on. Trace of normalcy.

I entered a room that had 50 other people in it. I felt like every eye was on me. I felt ashamed. I sat in the back and to tell you the truth I went in and out of consciousness the whole time.

Librium.

It was a blur.

Blackness...

...holding onto your Higher power

Blackness...

...power greater than yourself can restore you to sanity...

I feel the nudge against my ribs.

It's over bro. How you liking the librium?

perfect.

He laughs.

It will get better once your head clears.

I hope so cause this just sucks.

Better than the alternative.

I want to say is it? but I decide I should shut the hell up for once and keep the smart ass inside at bay.

I walk back to my detox wing for more librium and sleep.

****************************

I get a transition room before I get a room in one of the quads. The nursing staff wants to make sure the entire detox goes smoothly. All I know is I want off the detox drugs. I am having what can only be described as hallucinations and I am not enjoying them. Not one bit. I somehow feel like I am losing my mind. I have been here for 3 days I think. I have smoked 2 packs of cigarettes and I am wondering how I get more. Nicotine is my new best friend.

I fall asleep and I have nightmares. I have using nightmares. I am filled with terror in these dreams. I don't want to use but I can't stop it. It is who I am. I wake up to discover I have shit all over my bed.

addiction.

lovely.

I have to get a nurse to help me. I am a grown man and I have to go to a nurses station to tell her I have shit my bed.

I cry as I tell her.

it has to get better.

Chapter 3

2005-11-14T22:27:00.000-08:00

Morning came. Was it all a dream? All of it? If only I could be so lucky.

February 18th, 2002

I packed a bag with everything I thought I might need and I went downstairs for a morning beer. I rolled the last of my weed into a formidable blunt for the 2 hour drive. If this was going to be my last day as an addict and lush I was going to do it right.

Shot of Jack. Beer chaser. Time to drive.

I left pretty early because I wanted to spend some of that cash I had won on Saturday. Somehow spending money makes me feel good. I guess its all part of the fucked up world I have found myself in. Just trying to kill the pain any way that I can.

My first stop is a 7-11 to get a few needed items. Can of chew. 2 packs of Camels. A forty. Laffy Taffy and sour patch kids. I crack the beer as soon as I get in the car. I look at myself in the rear view mirror.

I still hate you...

I figure I will need new "road music" and "rehab clothes" so I stop off at the mall to do some much needed shopping to try and get my mind off of what I was really doing today.

Foot Locker.

New sweats. Adidas.

2 new pairs of shoes. Adidas.

2 Beanies. Adidas.

I laugh at myself as I realize that I am actually accessorizing before going into rehab. Feels good to laugh.

Next stop is music. I need new music. I need angry angry music I tell myself. I start looking through the new music. I don't know why but angry music just really wasn't very appealing to me at this moment. I decided I would just grab a couple CDs of people I have never heard of.

The first pick was Kirk Franklin "The rebirth of Kirk Franklin". This was a far cry from angry. Something about the title of the CD grabbed me.

Rebirth.

The second CD was some guy I never heard of named Rufus Wainwright. The Cd is called "Poses" and for some reason I want to buy this because it has a song called "Cigarettes and Chocolate milk" and both sound really good to me. I would find out later that he wrote this album while going through addiction. Funny how shit works.

I hit the road once again. More beer. I light my monster blunt and I reach for numb. I start listening to this Rufus guy...

His lyrics just speak to me.

Who will keep
Keep me in this evening
Even though They are not here with me
I could be a great star
Still I'm far from happy
Finally Feel the world around me
Fighting through
fighting through the whiskey

I could be a great star
Still I'm far from happy
Out of these shadows
Comes the light
Shadows comes the light

I smoke. I drive. I try and sing along through the tears and sobs and for a moment I feel like Rufus is my friend. My friend

*******************************

I am feeling high as a kite by the time I get to my final destination. After I park my car I take a deep breath and walk in.

Can I help you?

His glasses where huge. I couldn't take my eyes off of these glasses and the magnified eyes behind them. His name was John. He had gotten sober here many years before and decided to work the front desk. He loved his job.

I am here to check in I guess...

After he got my name he walked me to an office door and walked me in. I sat down and he placed his hand on my shoulder and said "wait here".

A woman who's name I can't remember walks in and I just start feeling very uneasy. The walls feel like they are creeping ever so slowly towards me. Encasing me. Trapped.

She starts asking me questions.

I don't know why but I ignore her.

Are you high?

I find this question to somehow be insulting to me. Am I high? Am I fucking high? Hell yes I'm high!

I am a drug addict what do you think!

She asks me if she is going to need to bring someone else in the room. She is not comfortable. I feel the fire in my eyes. I feel the fear inside. Emotion. She brings in another man. A very very large man. She gets no more attitude.

They explain that I will be going up to the detox wing where I will be spending the next few days. They inform me that They will be going through all of my stuff and taking away anything that I am not allowed to have. No outside reading material. No hair gel because it contains alcohol. Like I am going to drink my hair gel...

addiction.

I meet the nurses. They take my picture. I ask if I could see it.

hideous. Copper spiked hair. unshaven. pale. Blood shot eyes. defeated

I started my mix of detox meds. Librium. Wonderful Librium. Librium is a benzodiazepine or a Benzo that is used for anxiety and is basically a central nervous system depressant. It isn't a drug I would take recreationally. It gels you. It is a staple drug for alcohol detox. Side effects are confusion and vomiting. I know both of these too well all ready.

They take blood and urine samples. They test the level of drugs in my system. They show me my bed. They tell me to sleep. Good luck

I need a cigarette. I need a drink. I need something.

I get up and go to the "smoking room". It is a room the size of a closet that has a big vent and fan. I think I lost a year of my life just being in the room. I stepped out of the room and I heard the screaming...

FUCK YOU! I HATE YOU!

calm down Mom. We love you...

FUCK YOU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!!

tears and heartbreak. Last hope.

I look in the room and saw a very frail woman. She must have been in her 70's. She was screaming at the top of her lungs at what appeared to be her daughter and son. They were crying and she was cursing them out.

As I passed the room her eyes caught mine...

HELP ME YOU FUCKER!

I'm right with ya. Help me.

I enter back into the detox wing just as another addict is walking out with the "Librium Stare"... blank. As he passes me I see he is covered in his own shit.

welcome home.

Chapter 2

2005-11-14T16:38:00.000-08:00

His office was cold.

Joe ran the Portland office of Serenity Lane and the outpatient portion of their treatment program. He was a gentle soft spoken man and I felt like I could trust him.

Is it alright if I ask you some questions, Steve?

Yeah...

The purpose of the questions is to figure out what treatment program will best suit your needs.

That's fine...

What is your drug of choice?

Alcohol mostly...

How often do you drink?

Every day...

How much?

I don't know... A pint.. A fifth.. Quite a bit

Do you ever blackout?

I laugh. Do I ever blackout? I blackout all the time. I usually drink until I do.

Do you do any other drugs?

Yes... I smoke a lot of weed. Coke. Pain pills. Ecstasy... Depends...

Depends on what?

What is in front of me. I don't do needles... (I say this proudly like it is some sort of accomplishment)

How much?

I smoke pot daily. Do coke quite a bit. Lots of pills when I can. I just do whatever...

The questions continue for what seems like forever. I answer them all honestly because I don't see how lying about it now is going to do anything for me. Inside it actually feels good to admit what I have been doing. I don't know if anyone else knows how bad it's gotten. So much pain. I feel as if I have been watching my life fall apart in slow motion and I can't stop it. So many times I woke up (blacked in?) saying that I would never get this messed up again. Ever. Then that beast inside of me starts clawing at my insides... Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. I would cave to that every time. Addiction.

Lovely

More questions. More answers. Joe sat back and looked at me sincerely.

Steve, I can have a bed for you tomorrow.

Reality has a way of slapping you in the face sometimes.

Tomorrow?

I really think that you need to get into in-patient treatment as soon as possible. It is obvious to me that you need it.

I really want to start but I have a gig on Saturday night. Can I start Monday?

You really have to decide what is important. I am fearful that you won't make it. That you will continue drinking and get into a car or change your mind. I think you should go as soon as you can.

The voices start. I still think I have control. I still think that I can choose what is best for me. I think that Monday is best. I want to play on Saturday... After all, I have been planning to play for a while...

Joe wasn't happy with my choice. My arrogance and sickness still let me believe that it was MY choice.

Steve, I want you to still continue to do what you have been doing. Don't stop drinking because there can be issues of trying to detox without proper medical attention. It can be dangerous or even fatal.

None of this even registers with me.

I sign up for in-patient treatment. Rehab. I can't believe I am going to rehab.

*********************************************

The next few days are business as usual. I drink. I smoke. I tell myself that this is my last hurrah... it sounds sick. It is sick. I am sick.

Friday night I drink a fifth of Jack. I am terrified that I am going to rehab. I haven't told my parents. I don't know what to say. I have a dinner date with them on Sunday. I guess I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

I wake up sometime during the night because I am nauseous. I blackout over the toilet bowl and wake up on the floor later. My head hurts. Must have hit it on the way down.

Can't wait to play.

That night was wonderful. I drank free beer and played to a pub full of people. Most everyone from my job knew I was going to rehab so they all showed up to send me off. A very weird vibe. Must have really been sick to watch me drink and play and drink and play. and drink. and drink. and drink.

Always the entertainer.

I finished playing and instead of talking with people I decided to play video poker. I ended up winning. And winning. and winning. By the end of the night I was drunk out of my mind and I had close to three grand in my pocket. I don't even want to try and decipher that one...

I told many people "Goodbye"... some of them cried... I just wanted to go home.

***********************************

I met my parents at a Chinese restaurant in downtown Portland. They knew that something was wrong and I could feel their fear. We ordered food and I just had to come right out with it.

I am going away for a while.

What?

I am going to get help. I am going to rehab.

My Mom cried.

My Naval Commander Father cried.

I felt like the worst son in the world.

They had so many questions and I just didn't want to answer any of them. I just wanted to tell them and just run. Run. I can always run.

We ate in silence. My Dad looked at me with tears in his eyes.

Steve, don't ever let anyone tell you that prayers don't work... I have been praying for this moment for a long, long time.

My heart broke.

We said our tearful goodbye and I told my parents to let the rest of the family know after I was gone. I can't go through this right now. It is just too much.

I just couldn't sit at home alone. I was going crazy. I called my friend Sam from work. Sam was a guy who sat behind me and was a very strong Christian and a man who always told me I was better than what I had become. I was drawn to him at this moment. I needed to feel a non-judgmental heart.

Sam and his wife sat with me on their couch. I asked if they had anything to drink. I was shaking. This is what I had become.

I cried.

I cried on Sam's shoulder for a long time and He just held me and said that everything was going to be alright.

We prayed

Chapter 1

2005-11-14T12:50:00.000-08:00

Every car I pass, every tree, every solid object becomes a daydream.

Just one quick turn of the wheel. No pain

The weed really hasn't helped the pounding in my head so a couple Vicadin should at least make the start of my work day bearable.

As I sat waiting for the light to turn green I didn't even notice the tears. Slowly at first they came. I had cried before but something was different today.

I couldn't stop.

"What are you going to do now?"

"WHAT are you going to do now?"

over and over in my head.

"FUCK!"

"What are you going to do now?"

I hate you...

Live.

Die.

I hate myself but I hate the pain even more.

I walk towards the front door, take a deep breath and walk inside. One more decision to make.

Take a right to my desk or turn left and walk into the office of my boss.

"What are you going to do now?"

over and over in my head.

I am a drug addict and an alcoholic and I need to get out of here.

I still can't believe I hear myself saying this.

"Are you serious?"

"I am going to die. I need help."

The fear and the tears must have been enough to convince him that I was serious. He was on the phone in a matter of seconds.

There is no turning back