July 28, 2006 was the 19th anniversary of my first day clean and sober. On July 27, 1987, ten days out of treatment, I relapsed in the parking lot of the old State Theater in
In the past I have celebrated anniversaries many different ways. From just going to a meeting and getting a chip, to a party with my non-recovery friends, to spending a quiet dinner with loved ones I have always done something to mark the occasion. Every year I reflect on how the hell I got to this point.
In the beginning I would think that I was hot shit for reaching 1, 2, or 3 years sober. I was young and I thought that I was great and the main reason for reaching each milestone. In the subsequent years as my spirituality deepened I began to give credit to god and other people for helping me reach each anniversary. The longer I stayed sober my perception changed on how I did it. In the beginning I thought that I had a great deal to do with my success. As I matured in recovery I realized that other people, things, and deities had a hand in my recovery. My ego shrunk and I began to more accurately see the world as it is.
Today I think that it is mostly luck that brought me to this point. I know that I did a lot of hard work to get to this point. The numerous meetings, personal inventories, late night
What makes me different? I have no idea. I guess that I just hit the sobriety lottery and have been able to keep it together so far. That is why on each anniversary day I look back and try to remember all of the people that I have come in contact with that did not make it. I realize that I am standing on a lot of bones and wasted lives and that I am really lucky. The sad part is that none of these people made a “sacrifice” to keep me sober. They did not surrender to their addiction just so that I could stay on the straight and narrow. Theirs was not a noble act, their lives were wasted in a life (and sometimes death) of addiction and pain.
There is a saying in recovery programs when you hear that someone has relapsed and is using again. The wise old farts in the back of the room say, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Sounds very elegant. The young punks in the front of the room have their own twist on it, they say “Better you than me pal.”
Here is the list of people that I think about every year and why.
Brian Hall – One of my first using buddies. We would get high in the old neighborhood until I moved. Brian was shot and killed in a coke deal that went wrong in the early nineties.
Charlie Mullen – Charlie was my best buddy after Brian and the guy I relapsed with when I got out of treatment. I tried to get Charlie into the program by informing his folks about what exactly we were up to. They sent him to treatment 3 months after I got out. It didn’t take. Last I heard he was married to a stripper and had a kid. He was following the Grateful Dead with his wife. They would arrive in town and she would strip for cash for food, shelter, drugs, and transport. That was in the mid-nineties. I have no idea if he is alive or dead.
John New – We ran in the same crowd. John was shot and killed by his step-father after he found that John had stolen his crack stash. He was shot in the back.
Jimmy/Joey Fisher - We ran in the same crowd. I can’t remember which one this happened to, they are identical twins and I could never keep them straight. Anyway, one of them was stealing a case of beer from a 7-11. He was shot and killed while fleeing the scene. He was shot by an off duty cop who was walking in the store.
Joe Deariso – Joe was actually one of my older brother’s best friends when we were growing up. I ran into Joe at the Alano club in the summer of 1991. We played on the Alano club softball team together. Joe was not much of an athlete but he was early in his recovery and was trying to surround himself with sober people. Later that year I heard that Joe had relapsed. One night he was drinking at Great Falls park outside of DC. He was climbing on a trail and fell off because he was wasted. Joe fell 10 feet and hit his head on a rock. Joe is not dead in the clinical sense but he is not very alive either. Last I heard he was home and his parents had to change his diapers.
Greg McDaniel - We ran in the same crowd. In fact, Greg and I went to school together before we ran into each other at the Alano club. Greg was buddies with Joe Deariso and played softball with us. Greg had a year and some change clean when he went out and used again that next winter. The next time I saw Greg was at a meeting. He had come back and sobered up. The problem was that the reason he had sobered up is because he was in a coma for a year. Greg was shot in the back of the head during a drug deal. When he came out of the coma he had permanent brain damage. He walked with a limp because his did not have complete control of his right side. That part of his brain was gone. I asked Greg to exchange phone numbers so I could give him rides to meetings if he needed. He obviously could not drive a car with the damage that he sustained. When I asked Greg to tell me his phone number he had to right it down. Greg could not verbalize numbers, that part of his brain was gone.
Uncle Kevin – My mother’s brother was drunk and high when he was fleeing the police in 1989. He crashed his car into a brick was during the pursuit. Kevin became a quadriplegic as a result of the accident and had to live the rest of his life with a full time attendant or in a nursing home. Kevin died a couple of years ago.
Jeff Kirkpatrick – I managed a family restaurant and brew pub for a few years in my recovery. Jeff was in recovery when his bother Joe brought him to me for a job as a bar back. I talked with Jeff and asked him what his status in recovery was and what I should do with him if he started drinking again. He said that I should fire him if he relapsed. I said OK. Jeff started drinking after a few months and I did nothing. During the summer of 1996 he was hospitalized with a blood alcohol level of 0.45 and almost died. I still did nothing. Thanksgiving weekend 1996 Jeff was found dead in his shitty apartment from an overdose of heroin. He was snorting it. I don’t know what I could have done to make things different but I do regret not trying.
Anonymous guy (Richmond VA) – There was a man who was very popular in the recovery scene in Richmond while I was in college. He did not use but he did kill himself one night. Apparently he could not take living with drugs or living without them. I’m sorry that I cannot remember his name. I try not to forget his lesson.
Will Phaup – Childhood friend. Will and I were best friends in elementary school. In High School we shared a gym locker for all four years which is remarkable because I was using the first three and Will was straight as an arrow. He was the valedictorian of my high school class and spoke at graduation. Will watched me descend into addiction right before his eyes and he saw me start to climb into recovery during me senior year. Will applied to MIT, Johns Hopkins, and the University of Virginia. UVA was his safety school. After he was declined from MIT and waitlisted at Hopkins will thought about not going to college even though he was accepted at Virginia. We talked about it and I told him that he was nuts to throw his academic career away because he didn’t get into the REALLY prestigious schools. Will came to his own decision and enrolled at UVA in the fall of 1989.
As I said earlier Will gave the valedictorian address at my high school graduation. That was officially his high water mark. At beach week he decided to start experimenting with all kinds of drugs. Apparently he liked what he found because Will was off and running in his career as an addict. I ran into him in the fall of 1991 at the Virginia-Maryland football game in Charlottesville. Will was wasted. He said that he had failed out of school and had decided to live in his fraternity house (TKE) and do odd jobs in Charlottesville. That was the last time I talked to him. The following spring he was climbing on the second story of the TKE house where he was living. Apparently Will was trying to get into the house because it was locked and he did not have a key. Will was drunk and fell off the house and landed on his head. He did not die, but he now lives with his parents because of severe brain damage. He has the intelligence and maturity of a first grader.
