Addiction & Recovery

“Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right.”

— Scarlet Begonias, The Grateful Dead

“The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.” 

— John 1:5 (NASB)

Addiction can happen to anyone—as can grace. Believe me.

I grew up in a safe, comfortable, quiet New England town. My parents were hardworking people who loved me a great deal, as did my younger sister. There was no tragedy, no abuse. My home life was stable, and I always felt unconditional love. My aunts and uncles lived nearby, and we spent a lot of time with our extended family. The summer and holidays were always spent visiting family and friends. I lacked for nothing. It was as close to Eden as childhood gets.

Right down to the creeping presence of darkness.

Hell, wrote Sartre, is other people, and that’s pretty much how I felt as a child. I was a friendly kid, eager to love and be loved, but fidgety and anxious, so I had a lot of trouble making friends. I was extremely sensitive. I’d think and worry about things more than most kids my age, taking the cruelties of childhood very hard, which made me especially fun to tease. Whatever nervousness or anxiety I had become worse as I so desperately tried to fit in. But no matter what I tried, I couldn’t make close friends. Instead, I was often made fun of.

One time, I was unexpectedly invited to play outside with the neighborhood kids. I ran out, delighted to finally be part of the crowd, only to find out they had written horrible things about me in chalk on the street. They’d only invited me outside so they could laugh at me. The pain was excruciating. Unable to make friends with kids my age, I spent Friday nights eating fish and chips with my dad. Try as I could, I could not connect with other people, or with God.

My family was like most, I guess, when it came to God—lukewarm overall. This wasn’t enough, despite their best intentions, to keep my darkness at bay. My mother believed in God, my dad did not (though I would not find this out until years later). So, we rarely attended church. The only real talk of God was at my parochial school. I made my confirmation in eighth grade, but I had no idea what it meant. I just remember being asked to “reject Satan and all his works,” which made sense to me. I was taught some basics about God and the Bible but, being inquisitive, had more questions than they had answers, which were mostly, “You must simply have faith.” 

For me, that wasn’t good enough. Not even close. What kind of God would permit the vicious bullying I endured, and the other cruelties in the world? No answers came. So, I began to doubt the very existence of a loving God, doubts that only worsened in high school.

When I left my small private school for high school, I encountered a whole new level of bullying. There were lots of fights and as a small town, nervous kid, I was often a target. Once, a kid picked me up over his shoulders while another ran toward us and knocked me backwards onto the hard school floor. Lying on the ground in pain, trying to catch my breath, I looked up to see dozens of kids in the hall, laughing. It took all my strength to not cry.

And so, I set about creating a deliberately tragic life for myself. I became restless, detached and arrogant. Since there is no God, I thought, the best we can do is increase pleasure and minimize pain. I was simply living for the moment, and life became a joke and everything in it a target for my humor. Not only did the humor provide a welcome defense but this cynical attitude made me popular! If they were laughing at your jokes then maybe, for the moment, you seemed to fit in. 

Before long, the careless, flippant attitude that won me laughter and applause from the crowd turned into utter disrespect for all authority. I became defiant toward everyone. When my teachers told me I could improve my grades if I applied myself, I would just smile and blow them off. To me it seemed pointless. Why bother? In a world without God, it’s not about grades but fun in the moment. Thoughts of the future only brought frustration and worry so I didn’t think about it. My parents never stopped loving me unconditionally, but to a jaded high school junior, it was a lot more fun to be out with friends, so I blew off my Friday fish and chips with my dad. My dad has been gone for over seven years now and I’d give anything for one more dinner with him. But back then? Life was a non-stop party, and I had no time for hanging around with my parents or looking for a nonexistent God.

Once I got my license, I had it all figured out. Yes, I was going to hell in a bucket, as Bob Weir put it. But at least I was enjoying the ride.

Far from heeding the constant warnings and advice from those who loved me, I dove headfirst with my buddies into the bad choices that shaped and defined the next 15 years of my life. We were a bunch of kids simply looking to make life more enjoyable, living by our own set of rules, and there weren’t many. If it felt good, we did it and for a while it seemed to be working fine. In reality, the consequences were already piling up, though it took me a long time to see them.

Sad to say, I was not a good influence on my sister or anyone else around me. It was quite the opposite. I was the one who’d encourage people to drink more, try new drugs, stay out later and tell lies to their parents. Sadly, there were many kids who used their first drug with me. 

I manipulated people into getting me whatever I wanted regardless of the effects on them. I’d convince people to call in sick to work or skip classes simply because I didn’t want the party to end, ever. People would crash at my house almost every night, blowing off responsibilities and relationships, all because I never wanted to be left alone with my thoughts.

I would do anything and take anything to avoid the nagging feelings of emptiness, keeping myself sufficiently distracted so I had no awareness of the other lives I was helping ruin. I had turned my back completely on God. 

Though I had forgotten about God, He hadn’t forgotten me. Into my dark, hopeless life crept the most amazing light I’d ever seen, a true gift from God. Though it took me a long time to comprehend it, it was the woman who’d one day save my life, my future wife, Rebecca.

Towards the end of my senior year of high school, I met Bek, and everything started to change. She was a Christian, but I didn’t know what that meant and didn’t care. All I knew was she was fun and gorgeous and sweet, and that’s all that mattered—at first. But as I got to know her, I realized she was selfless and kind and helpful, a very positive person. She’d encourage me to make better choices without making me feel like a loser. She’d come to my house when I would still be sleeping at 3 pm and with a big smile, open the blinds letting the light in. 

To me, that’s what she was: light. 

I was struck by how incredibly mature she was. She seemed to exist above all the nonsense that made up those years. While most of us were busy with superficial pursuits and criticizing one another, she never took part. I felt she was a much better person than I was. I began to want to be like her, and to believe that was possible, because she believed it. She gave me hope. I fell deeply, forever in love with her. I realize now that by sending her and others like her to me, God, on whom I’d turned my back, was turning His face to me.

But I wasn’t ready to let my party life go and turn my face to God. Instead, I separated myself into two lives, one light, and one dark. I’d party with my friends on the weekends, but when I was with my new girlfriend during the week, I was… different. In short, I tried to serve two masters—with predictable results.

A few months after meeting Rebecca, I graduated high school (barely) and began to attend a local community college off and on. My pattern of heavy drug use continued, as did my lack of interest and effort in anything but partying. My friend’s dad owned a bar and we had the keys. Needless to say, this increased our appetite for partying and the arrogant attitude that we were different. We knew all the right people and had all the right connections to easily get us out of any trouble. 

This undeserved entitlement enabled me to roar down a path of destruction that hurt not just me, but everyone who loved me. I’d spend every paycheck at the bar and on cigarettes and drugs. Why think about the future? Live for today! Never planning, never stopping to look around, life became a blur of meaningless work, erratically attended classes, hardcore partying and trying to slow down a little to spend time with the girl who represented the hope of a better life.

On occasion, I felt guilty. I cared little for myself, but surely, light was creeping in. But when it did—when those guilty thoughts and feelings grew—I did what addicts always do. I found a way to rationalize and justify my drug use. I was in school and worked with mentally challenged adults. I was doing great!

It’s funny the warped morality that exists in our lives. All I did regularly was smoke marijuana. The other drugs I did occasionally—cocaine, mescaline, LSD—I could take or leave. Then there were months that I didn’t use drugs at all. Yes, in those months, I drank heavily. But… You get the picture. I was simply deceiving myself, or trying to, into believing that my dark, ugly, destructive life was actually something good and bright. The reality? From the age of 17 until I was 34, I never went longer than 30 days without some drug or alcohol. And my addiction harmed everyone I loved. Issues were piling up too high to ignore.

To start with, I was miserable. My “If it feels good, do it” plan was a big failure because, before long, nothing felt good. I was utterly unfulfilled by anything that I thought should fill me. The only spark of brightness was Rebecca. I began stepping deeper into that other world—the world of hope, and light. I began trying harder to do the right thing. I wasn’t sure how or what that was, I just knew that when I was with Bek, I was happy and I was hopeful. I wanted to become more and more like that. But, as with everything, I’d done by that point, I was going to do it on my terms. I was still convinced that I, and only I, was in control of my universe. Not God. Not drugs. Me.

I decided moderation was the key. If I did well during the week—made good money, avoided drinking and drugs, hung out with my girlfriend and was faithful—I not only could, but deserved to spend the weekends as a blackout drunk. Again, with my warped morality, but it seemed like a great way of life, pursued by many people I knew. (Talk about the blind leading the blind!)

The reality was moderation was simply never a concept I was able to adopt. I was, from the very beginning, prone to excess and to self-destruction. Once, when I was talking about the need to take better care of myself, Rebecca remarked, “You have been slowly killing yourself since the day I met you. You just change the method from time to time.”

The long and short of it is, ANY plan to control your universe involves you (or anything other than God) at the helm is headed for colossal failure. Believe me, I’ve tried them all. Prestige. Popularity. Hedonism. Intellectualism. Even the white picket fence…

After a few years, Bek and I got married. We moved into a nice house, I worked with computers and got a job making good money, we had great kids. We went to a church and we served the youth. I believed that God existed but refused to give Him control of anything in my life. I still wanted to do it my way. I slowed down the partying and hardly ever drank, but when I did, I’d fall right back into the same old habits. I’d chain smoke cigarettes, marijuana or whatever else presented itself, get blackout drunk and wake up the next day to an upset wife, empty wallet and a bunch of regrets—and still, the nagging emptiness nothing was able to take away.

Why was the void still there? Nothing seemed to lift my… I could be in a crowded room surrounded by friends and feel all alone.

My years living on the edge had left me hollow and cold to the bone. If there is a tool of the devil more powerful than addiction, I don’t know what it is. All my control was gone, and it wasn’t God I had invited into that space. Darkness had overtaken me.

Before I knew it, five blurry years had passed. I’d been to detox four times, had spent over $150,000 and had lost a very good job. Everything I thought would never happen did. I overdosed in front of my wife and kids and ended up hospitalized. My life caused my family and the people I loved the most so much grief. I was not the husband nor the father they needed and deserved. I loved them all and was physically present in their lives, but I was emotionally and spiritually empty. I was living in chaos and confusion, and things were getting darker each day.

And those who loved me felt powerless to help me.

There wasn’t much left of me to surrender when my family finally called Teen Challenge. I certainly did not know it then, but God in His grace had a plan and it was a plan only He could carry out. I was brought to Adult and Teen Challenge Brockton in March of 2007 and to say my life has not been the same since is an understatement. When I entered ATC, my kids were too young to fully understand so I told them, “Daddy was going to a place to learn about God and ask Him to help me learn how to live a healthier life.” And that’s just what happened. But make no mistake, it was the most difficult thing I have ever done. I missed my wife and kids every day. I had to give up every bit of control over my life but…

For the first time in my life, I surrendered and gave God control.

That was over eight years ago. He is still in control today, and I am still a part of Teen Challenge! I remember hearing a pastor say once, when someone asked how long the program was, he said, “The rest of your life.”

I can tell you, I am a different man today. I have meaning and purpose and I am happy to be alive. I graduated from the program and completed Bible courses at Global University and received a certificate in Biblical Counseling. I also became a Licensed Minister. My professional experience with computers allowed me to become the Director of Technology for Teen Challenge New England, Inc. I am currently enrolled in a master’s program in seminary. I am able to preach and teach as well as counsel the students and the staff. As wonderful an opportunity as it has been to be a part of the Teen Challenge family and to help others, God did not stop there. For over five years, I have been the pastor of my church. That’s right, not two miles from where I used to lead others into darkness, I now lead them into the light and warmth of God’s love.

I am grateful for everything now. I can often be heard saying “No better life,” because that is my experience and my conclusion. I tried everything to fill the void, yet peace remained out of reach. That’s when some really good people began to shine the light of Christ in my life. It has made all of the difference. I tell people that life with Jesus can still be hard, but life without Jesus was much harder! 

My wife and I get along better than we ever have. I spend lots of time with my kids and my focus is on them and their lives. I am no longer distracted and inattentive. I remember the day that my daughter told me that even though she missed me when I was away at “God school,” she likes me a lot better now and she says, “God helped her daddy.”

Ephesians 3:20 says that God is able to do “Immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine.” I wouldn’t have believed that, except that I am living proof! I just needed to surrender. 

One of my favorite quotes by Fitzgerald used to be, “Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy”. But God showed me that with Him as our hero, there are always happy endings. I just needed to be willing to trust Him. 

He will use “…all things for good” Romans 8:28. Best of all, I no longer feel that void. I am filled, at peace and live a life most richly blessed.