The Long Way Home
I grew up in a very traditional household. Family values were important. I was raised to believe in God and the importance of living a good life which allowed no room for error. My parents made it clear that God would punish me if I did not adhere. As a child, I was consumed with fear. The horror instilled in my innocence would control my decision-making throughout my lifetime eventually driving me to the darkest corners of existence.
I had my first drink at seventeen. I can still remember how it made me feel like the fear I had been living in for the sixteen years prior was suddenly swept away. This pattern of behavior followed me into my adult life. I would drink and blackout and promise myself that I would never drink again. However, the fear I continued to repress just couldn’t keep its promise.
When I finished college, I was offered a job in Philadelphia and figured that relocating my life to a new city was the solution to a fresh new start where no one knew me. At first, I was so very hopeful, but that didn’t last long. What I failed to realize over and again throughout active alcoholism was that after I had the first one, all bets were off.
Eventually, I began dating. Alcohol helped soothe that fear because I was so insecure. Then, I got her pregnant. Alcohol soothed that fear too, since I was even more terrified to be a father. The more responsibilities that came with being an adult, the more afraid I became. The more my children needed their father by their side, the more I abandoned them. When I couldn’t get enough booze in me, I started using cocaine. My blackouts became so frequent I’d leave to get milk and bread and not come home for days. When I would go on benders my family would panic, never knowing if I was alive or dead. I never once thought about them, only about myself.
The endless birthdays I’ve missed while my little girl’s heart broke into pieces never stopped my unbearable alcoholism. I’d barely make it to Christmas and just take the funds that were intended for presents and use it to try and smoke the shame and humiliation of being a horrible father and husband out of me. Eventually, I had to return home and face the responsibilities I continued to neglect. Sometimes my children would wait for me after school to pick them up knowing that there was no one else to get them but me. Still, with no second thought, I’d just leave them there to wonder where I was. In the end, I became so powerless over my disease, that I tried to commit suicide.
I was admitted into rehab, but I didn’t stay sober for long after I was discharged. A couple more DUIs, losing my license and ninety days in jail was a much better technique to open a stubborn set of eyes like mine. In jail, I had a moment of clarity and finally accepted that if I kept up this behavior any longer that I was going to end up dead, or even worse have to live. During my sentence, I was given time to reflect. For the first time I realized that if I just followed some simple direction not only did I never have to live this way again, my wife and children never had to live this way again as well. Now, four years into living sober one day at a time, I can honestly say that the greatest day of my life was the day I was arrested and sent to jail. The most humiliating moment of my life was a blessing in disguise.
Today, I don’t take for granted that I am sober. This gift I wake up to each morning I acknowledge by attending a meeting at seven in the morning, seven days a week. I have come to appreciate having a day of sobriety. Tomorrow is irrelevant and yesterday’s mistakes have become learning curves to becoming a present father to the children I deserted for so many years. I go out of my way to pick up others seeking sobriety who cannot drive as others did for me when I wasn’t allowed behind the wheel of my own car. I share honestly from the floor and practice humility so that I can allow those around me to help guide me as I learn how to cope with life. Still, regardless of the situation, and under any and all circumstances, I do not drink, no matter how much life hurts sometimes. It might be a bit inconvenient when I’m on the road avoiding driving through places I have no business being near. Nevertheless, I can honestly say that after surviving what should have killed me years ago, I’ll just be grateful for all the wonderful gifts sobriety has given me and take the long way home.
