My Life

It all started on August 24,1961 @ 11:34 am. It was a Sunday. When I started to grow as all babies do, my parents noticed that I had a problem with my feet. It was downhill from there. My parents found out through the March of Dimes that the condition that I had was correctable through bar-shoes. My mom & dad knew what they were doing, they helped me to walk properly with good strong feet. Now I'm going to fast forward a few years to when I was four or five years old. I tried my first cigarette I remember I thought I was going to die from all the coughing. It was many years before I tried that again.  But at the same time in my life I always had to go grocery shopping with my parents. One day I pleaded with them to stay home with my brother. What a mistake that was. My brother forced me to preform oral sex on him. He said that if I loved him I would do this for him. I diddn't know just how sick this was but I felt dirty and very much ashamed of what I had done. Sadly I never told anyone about this until just a few years ago. I kept it inside. As time passed I learned how to keep stuff inside, that was only the beginning of a long hard road that I was soon walking down. By the time is was six or seven I was stealing beers from my father out of the refrigerator. My brother took the blame, I kept my mouth shut. By the time I was eight I was hanging out with the older kids, my brother was soon to be gone on his way down the road, thinking that nobody loved him which was only partly true, I hadn't learned that I really hated my brother because of what he forced me to do. As time went by I turned nine years old, and by then I was reading books and not just looking at the pictures. One night I was sent to bed early by my sisters because they were tired of me. Well I got the idea of creating my own light with a small fire inside an old shoe. Needless to say that my room was destroyed by the fire. Fortunately there was room for me elsewhere in the house or I would surely have died in the fire.1

When I was eleven I experienced my first drunk. I was at a family wedding and my cousin thought it would be funny to spike the non-alcoholic punch.Needless to say I got drunk just like everybody else. I thought it was fun. I diddn't realize however that I was drunk. In the meantime my feelings of no self worth continued to get worse. I diddn't know that I was caught in the grips of active addiction.
As time went by I eventually regained the trust of my family. By the time I was thirteen my family took a vacation to sunny California. It was during that summer that I got involved with drugs. My life changed for the worse at that point. I was introduced to pot and I was smoking cigarettes just like I had been for years, no choking or hacking as I inhaled the smoke.2

I stayed high all through high school. When I started in high I had a B average and it was relatively easy to get good grades. For me all I had to do was turn in my home work and do the assignments in class. As I drew closer to graduation, my addiction was getting progressively getting worse. I was missing classes, staying home to get high, or was too high to get out of bed.. I dropped from that B average to a d average. I believe now however that my teachers passed me just to get me out, because I was even stealing from them to support my habit. 3

As the years passed my addiction continued to get worse. At one point I checked myself into a rehab, and tried to learn how to live drug free. I stayed clean for three or four months, and was soon back out there using. My parents told me that I couldn't stay in their house. Which is understandable because they couldn't live in fear for their lives, or their home. I had nowhere to go so I left and started living on the streets. That lasted for about three months and then my brother took me in with his wife. I could stay there so long as I diddn't use in their house, and I found a job. I stayed with them for about three months and as time went by I screwed that up as well. I wound up back out in the street. I tried to get clean again and went into treatment and stayed there for a short time before I took myself out and wound up on the streets again. Then I went to the Salvation Army and stayed there for five or six months. Then I left there and ran all the way too California. But I soon realized that no matter where I was, my problems would be there as well. I then decided to come back home. It took me about a week to thumb back here. When I got back I checked back into the Salvation Army where I stayed for maybe two months. I then walked out and went to Brockport for five or six months then had nowhere to go, got depressed and started thinking about suicide. At that point I checked myself into Rochester Psych. Hospital where I stayed for four months voluntary, was discharged, and then three months later was admitted 2P.C. which means I was admitted against my will. My first doctor initially said that my only problem was drugs and alcohol. He knew only part of the truth. Deep down inside I wanted to die. This time around I stayed in the hospital for six months. During that time I was awarded S.S.I-S.S.D. I then left the hospital and moved into a group home. All that time I had stayed clean for maybe three or four months. But as soon as I was given privileges I was right back where I started from getting high. After a short time I once again made myself homeless, and things got worse. My counselor at that time helped me get into housing at the Volunteers of America, where I stayed for five or six months, and then moved out and into a relationship that lasted five years. 4

While I was in this relationship after the first year we were married; what a mistake that was. I was too immature and too heavily into my addiction. I kept telling her that I loved her but I never showed her the love that I felt for her. I don't think I knew what it was to love another human being. The only thing that I knew is that I loved was my pot, my L.S.D., and my cocaine. After four long years of being married I was finally divorced. At the time of the divorce I lost my S.S.I.-S.S.D. and then became homeless again.5

I wandered around for a year or so after losing everything except my desire to get high and die. After awhile that's all that I thought about, wanting to die. One day I was at a drug house and I asked if I might use the phone and I was told sure. I then called my father and told him that I needed help, and asked him if he would help me find some help. Two or three days later he picked me up and we started searching for some place that would help me. After looking around the city we ended up at St.Marys. They told me that they could help me. I thought to myself thank you God now the fun starts. My first counselor there helped me get into the Salvation Army emergency housing. From there I went to a place called Cornerstone where I stayed for maybe five months using everyday just to be normal. After a little while I was finally given D.S.S.( welfare) and then things began to change for the better. I wound up in a M.I.C.A. program that needed me to abstain from all drugs. This I could not do. No matter what I did I could not stop even for just one day. My therapist at that time said I want you in treatment. I diddn't like the idea one little bit but after a short time I had enough. I wanted to stop using but I knew that I couldn't. My therapist then found a rehab that would help me learn how to stay clean just for one day at a time. 6

After twenty seven days of inpatient rehab I was sent home. I was afraid that I might relapse so I started going to meetings that would help me stay clean. After two years of learning how to stay clean "One Day At A Time" I went back to work as a maintenance mechanic at a high rise apt. complex. I stayed there for four years. Then I lost my father to cancer, and a short time after that I quit my job. I drifted from job to job for a couple of years then wound up in the hospital very depressed and highly suicidal after an attempt at college which I failed.A short time after that I was told by my doctor to apply for Social Security Disability which I was awarded as a result of my depression. Through the past eleven years I have had plenty of excuses to get high but never one good reason. So I maintain each day sometimes for just one moment sometimes I don't even think about getting high. Those are the days that I feel really blessed just to be alive and clean 7

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