shydawg
01-27-2009, 01:43 AM
What I've learned
My story of recovery began on 15 June 1972. That was the day I hit the finish line with drugs. It was also the day I started my new life in recovery.
I came from a dysfunctional family where alcohol was the main drug. However, I was always certain that I wouldn't be like my father, the alcoholic. Naturally, I didn't know about my genetic makeup and addictive personality.
After college I secured a really nice teaching job in a small school. Several years later I found a doctor who gave me some drugs that really made me feel better than I had ever felt before. Since the pills were from a doctor, it didn't seem wrong that I got high when I took them. The drugs worked for me. They worked very well for me.
Well, a few months later—while high—I was driving to work and came upon a very bad curve in the road. My using had gone much further than I ever could have imagined. I decided to pray to God for some insight. My prayer went something like this: "Dear God, just get out of my life and let me alone for a year. Then I'll do what you want me to do." After thinking about what I had asked for, I added as PS: "Don't let me get hurt too badly."
I thought I would never become an addict. Well, I did. It took a very short time to cop a high, and I began to enjoy them more and more. For some reason, I believed that drugs made me into the real person I had always wanted to be. The drugs gave me energy to burn—day and night.
I remember that I planned to write a fifth grade science book, get rich, and have a "real life." Well, like all the other things I started, I never finished that one. The book never got to the publisher. Instead, I burned the draft one day while I was high and in despair. That was something that began happening more and more often. Instead of feeling good when I was high, I often ended up feeling bad.
From time to time I even wondered if I might not be an addict. Naturally, I knew that I couldn't possibly be like my father (I was in denial still), but things in my life were getting increasingly out of hand, and the changes were making little chinks in my wall of denial.
One day I found myself without a teaching job. In addition to this little employment problem, my wife was pregnant with our second son. I decided that God wanted me to be a youth director in a church. I tried many times to get such a job, but each time the answer was "no." I remember one Sunday, after receiving another "no," telling my wife that it was really bad when even God didn't want you.
I always felt a tremendous urge to be needed and wanted. Don't we all!
It was at about this time that I began to see the same patterns emerging in my life that had been present in my dad's life. At that point, though, with my wife pregnant and no job, all I could do was keep using in order to feel better.
To this day, I remember every detail of the events in 1967 on the day our son was born. I called my mother and started crying. I was so stoned. But I remember our conversation word for word.
I told my mom that I didn't know what was wrong with me. Mom, however, knew the problem. And she let me know in no uncertain terms! She said, "Bill, it's those **** drugs!" And "****" was a serious curse word for my mother.
Well, since my mom knew about my using, I decided it was time to quit. Time to quit before I became an addict. I sorta knew otherwise, but no one better tell me I'm an addict.
So I quit. But I didn't go to any meetings. In fact, I had no knowledge of the NA program. In my mind, I thought I simply wouldn't need any help—if I just never used again.
In the period of time between 1967 and 1970, I managed to get eighteen months clean. I also landed a job at a state hospital as an alcohol and drug counselor. At the time, I was secure in the knowledge that now I had the job that God really wanted me to have.
One day, early in 1972, I started using some muscle relaxants from one of the units where I worked. The nurse who gave them to me was a good friend and assumed she was doing me a favor. Unfortunately, I began to use them—and some other drugs—on a serious basis. I even remember one fishing trip when I used drugs to keep moving at night. During the next three months, I used drugs on a part-time basis. I began to have problems when I worked with my patients. I remember telling myself that they needed to do what I said, not what I did.
Today, I still go to NA on a regular basis because the steps give me a happy life to live. The steps and the people of NA have given me a number of insights and suggestions for recovery that I would like very much to share:
Love yourself. Love others.
Find a mentor. Be a mentor.
I don't care how much you know until you know how much I care.
Belief in someone is exactly what we need to become the people we want to be.
No one can give you anything in the program, but they can help you find out how to get the things you need: God, love, respect, and friends.
Recovery is a journey, not a destination.
The greatest need is to be needed.
Love the person. Hate the disease.
To love another human being is to see and feel the presence of God.
Do not look at what someone is like. Look at what he or she can become.
Recovery can be a journey made together by an entire family.
Recovery is a "God thing."
Thank you, God, for giving me the recovering people in NA. It really works. Most of all, I want to thank you for allowing me to be a part of the family of recovery.
Bill B, Missour
My story of recovery began on 15 June 1972. That was the day I hit the finish line with drugs. It was also the day I started my new life in recovery.
I came from a dysfunctional family where alcohol was the main drug. However, I was always certain that I wouldn't be like my father, the alcoholic. Naturally, I didn't know about my genetic makeup and addictive personality.
After college I secured a really nice teaching job in a small school. Several years later I found a doctor who gave me some drugs that really made me feel better than I had ever felt before. Since the pills were from a doctor, it didn't seem wrong that I got high when I took them. The drugs worked for me. They worked very well for me.
Well, a few months later—while high—I was driving to work and came upon a very bad curve in the road. My using had gone much further than I ever could have imagined. I decided to pray to God for some insight. My prayer went something like this: "Dear God, just get out of my life and let me alone for a year. Then I'll do what you want me to do." After thinking about what I had asked for, I added as PS: "Don't let me get hurt too badly."
I thought I would never become an addict. Well, I did. It took a very short time to cop a high, and I began to enjoy them more and more. For some reason, I believed that drugs made me into the real person I had always wanted to be. The drugs gave me energy to burn—day and night.
I remember that I planned to write a fifth grade science book, get rich, and have a "real life." Well, like all the other things I started, I never finished that one. The book never got to the publisher. Instead, I burned the draft one day while I was high and in despair. That was something that began happening more and more often. Instead of feeling good when I was high, I often ended up feeling bad.
From time to time I even wondered if I might not be an addict. Naturally, I knew that I couldn't possibly be like my father (I was in denial still), but things in my life were getting increasingly out of hand, and the changes were making little chinks in my wall of denial.
One day I found myself without a teaching job. In addition to this little employment problem, my wife was pregnant with our second son. I decided that God wanted me to be a youth director in a church. I tried many times to get such a job, but each time the answer was "no." I remember one Sunday, after receiving another "no," telling my wife that it was really bad when even God didn't want you.
I always felt a tremendous urge to be needed and wanted. Don't we all!
It was at about this time that I began to see the same patterns emerging in my life that had been present in my dad's life. At that point, though, with my wife pregnant and no job, all I could do was keep using in order to feel better.
To this day, I remember every detail of the events in 1967 on the day our son was born. I called my mother and started crying. I was so stoned. But I remember our conversation word for word.
I told my mom that I didn't know what was wrong with me. Mom, however, knew the problem. And she let me know in no uncertain terms! She said, "Bill, it's those **** drugs!" And "****" was a serious curse word for my mother.
Well, since my mom knew about my using, I decided it was time to quit. Time to quit before I became an addict. I sorta knew otherwise, but no one better tell me I'm an addict.
So I quit. But I didn't go to any meetings. In fact, I had no knowledge of the NA program. In my mind, I thought I simply wouldn't need any help—if I just never used again.
In the period of time between 1967 and 1970, I managed to get eighteen months clean. I also landed a job at a state hospital as an alcohol and drug counselor. At the time, I was secure in the knowledge that now I had the job that God really wanted me to have.
One day, early in 1972, I started using some muscle relaxants from one of the units where I worked. The nurse who gave them to me was a good friend and assumed she was doing me a favor. Unfortunately, I began to use them—and some other drugs—on a serious basis. I even remember one fishing trip when I used drugs to keep moving at night. During the next three months, I used drugs on a part-time basis. I began to have problems when I worked with my patients. I remember telling myself that they needed to do what I said, not what I did.
Today, I still go to NA on a regular basis because the steps give me a happy life to live. The steps and the people of NA have given me a number of insights and suggestions for recovery that I would like very much to share:
Love yourself. Love others.
Find a mentor. Be a mentor.
I don't care how much you know until you know how much I care.
Belief in someone is exactly what we need to become the people we want to be.
No one can give you anything in the program, but they can help you find out how to get the things you need: God, love, respect, and friends.
Recovery is a journey, not a destination.
The greatest need is to be needed.
Love the person. Hate the disease.
To love another human being is to see and feel the presence of God.
Do not look at what someone is like. Look at what he or she can become.
Recovery can be a journey made together by an entire family.
Recovery is a "God thing."
Thank you, God, for giving me the recovering people in NA. It really works. Most of all, I want to thank you for allowing me to be a part of the family of recovery.
Bill B, Missour