Imagine a five year old watching his parents drinking this liquid stuff from bottles and cans and thinking to himself, that looks like fun. This was my introduction to Alcohol; thinking it was fun, never knowing the roller coaster ride I would go on for the next 23 years of my life. Looking back on my life, I remember seeing the fights, arguments, cursing, and finally the separation of my parents. Alcohol was a normal occurrence in my young existence. The eyes take pictures; -- the mind remembers, and inside somewhere deep, addiction starts. I never knew when it happened, or how it really got started, but it did, and at the age of 11, I picked it up and the ride began.

It started with stealing drinks left after the parties my parents had at our house, to asking older guys to go to the store for my friends and I. I had no idea that I was setting the stage for broken relationships, homelessness, jail, psychological evaluations, over dose’s, divorce and the degradation that addictions brings. It all started as fun. At age 4 or 5, I was reading the Washington Post news paper, and doing other things that baffled my father, for a child my age. It would come to my mother’s attention that there was something special about her little drunk. I had an IQ that was off the chain. They ran several tests and found that I was a very talented kid, who learned to play the guitar at 11 years old, sang with my father, and could run through most books I read and could remember things that most folks had forgotten and had not yet been near a school. This was noticed at the early ages of 4-6 years.

Later in my teen’s I would drink and experience black outs in my early teen-age years, but still chalk it up to fun. Denial was setting itself up, and I was beginning to believe my own press. I am an only child and used to talk to myself on a regular basis. I know now I was very lonely. My mother was unable to have any other children because of a blood deficiency, so I made up extra family in my mind to talk and play with. Fantasy became my reality, and alcohol and drugs assisted in keeping the un-real, real for me. My behavior started to take a turn for the worse and I got into trouble several times for fighting, which by the way was something I really disliked, but I got involved because I wanted to be a part of the group I hung with. I was always afraid, but could not let the guys know, so I did what everybody else did, and paid a heavy price.

Mid teens brought on bigger crimes; stealing, selling drugs, robbing people, and at one point snatching purses from women. All of this under the influence of either alcohol or some other drugs. I began to ask myself questions when I was alone; “Butch. why are you doing these things?” My parents had their own set of problems, but they did not teach me to exercise my rights to be a fool. They both were alcoholics, as I came to realize much later and it took their lives at early ages; my father was 40 years old, when he passed; my mother was 53 years old; they both died from complications with cancer, which was caused by their drinking. I witnessed both of their deaths.

Inside me, I knew the drinking had a hand in this, but could not stop drinking and using drugs. My mother begged me before she died to take a look at what I was doing to myself, but I was already in the grips of my own addiction, and it would be several years later, before I would get the message. Love takes on many forms, but a mother’s love is the greatest of all. My father only saw me drunk once before he passed, and did not think much of it, but moms knew it was a problem. She and I were very close, and she did her best to warn me, but to no avail. See, one of the problems that caused this was moms and I drank together, so her information was good, but it fell on deaf ears. I knew she meant well, but I was in deep water and had no idea how to swim back to shore. Moms died April 2nd, 10:30 pm on a Thursday night. She had left me with a parting thought; she informed me about two months prior to her death, that God has spoke to her heart, and she knew I was going to be alright; I thought she was losing it, but little did I know, this would come to pass, but I first had to hit a few more bottoms. Oh, I forgot to mention, I was married to my first wife, we already had two daughters, I had a previous daughter from another relationship, and as time went on my wife had another daughter. I drank and drugged myself right out of the marriage, and had another daughter by another young lady. I was on a roll, and headed down hill as fast I could get there.

Somewhere in this process, I found myself standing by bus stops waiting for people to drop their unfinished cigarettes, because I had no money to support my habits. Drinking anything now, getting high when someone would let me, and selling everything to get dope. Homeless, lonely, and wondering why I could not just die; God said No, not yet. My youngest daughter’s granddad was in AA, and I use to be around him a lot, so he took a shot at me. I cursed him out on a number of occasions, but he did not let that bother him. He told me one time he was ready to give up on me, but his wife said, Sam, keep praying, he is ready, he just doesn’t know it yet. My bottom was near, and it came with the refusal of one of my daughters not allowing me to hug her; Kerri was 2 years old, and I went to see her one evening at my god sister’s house. She was playing near by on the floor, and I tried to pick her up, and she did not want any part of me. That was the straw that broke the camels back.

That was the worst feeling I had felt in a long time, and I knew in my heart, if I kept going I was not going to be in my children’s life. Lost the car I was sleeping in, and my youngest daughter’s mother allowed me to stay with her, and then the process started. A friend of mind named Chubby got sober behind my back, came to me and began to go over my miserable life with me; he got the same thing I gave Sam; cursed out, but he also ignored it and kept on talking. Somewhere in his conversation he started making sense. I knew I had heard this stuff before, but could not put my finger on it; then it hit like a ton of bricks; moms. She was talking through chubby and this time my heart heard her- not my head. As mad as I was, I realized I wanted out but did not know how to do it myself. Chubby made a phone call for me, because at the time we were at work, and I was about to lose that job also. EAP, a program through this job, saved my life. I spoke with a counselor and he told me he would help me if I just gave it a shot. I said, I would try.

I was 29 years old, beat up, and worn out. My thoughts were scattered, I felt like crawling in a hole somewhere, but relief was on the way. The counselor on the job, got me to start AA meetings at first, and I finally allowed Sam to help me in this process. He was glad I came back to him; he shared that he had almost given up on me, and told me what his wife had asked him to do with me; Give Butch to God and let go. He introduce me to the program and my first sponsor, who I shared with until he pass several years ago himself with 24 years sober. I was also with him when he died. One of the last things he said to me, was “I sure would like to be in a meeting right now.” This at first, seem odd for a man who was dying, but later I would understand. Brother Jack was his name, and a host of others join him in keeping me on the right track including a cousin who I use to use with that followed me into the program. He made a statement once that I still laugh about today; if anything could get me clean, he knew he could get clean. See, he felt like most of do at first, that someone else is always worse off than we are.

He and I both now have the same amount of clean time. I am 31 years clean this year. The twelve steps of the program help me un-ravel the mess I had made of my life, and I discovered who I was through this spiritual experience I was having with folk who were talking about life, pain and joy in a way that blew my mind. It was hard at first, to comprehend how talking could open doors that I felt were closed to me forever. The dark side of life began to show signs of light the more I shared with these people.

I went through a divorce and did not use. People died and I did not use. I was diagnosed with head and throat cancer in 1996 and almost died on three occasions, and did not use. Lost a home while clean and did not use. What I am saying is there is nothing in this world that cannot be worked out, if you just stay sober or clean, which ever you prefer. Along with pain; my blessings have out weighed them all. My higher power has proven that life is just what it is and it is to be experienced at its highest level. I read something once that the describes it best; We are not human beings sharing our spiritual Experience… WE are spiritual beings sharing our human Experience. Recovery has allowed me to experience my teenage dreams; I started back playing my guitar; I later got the opportunity to produce and host my own TV show on public TV through DC cable. I am also an addiction counselor, author of two books, and now produce and host a show on http://im4radio.com; internet radio through my Web Site www.streetmasters.com. All this came when I decided to try this new way of life. Giving my life to recovery has afforded me the love I thought I had lost, and the greatest love of all, is when I realized I love myself. Dreams do come true.

Butch J
Clinton MD