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On this day, five years ago, I chewed up my last handful of Oxycontin & Morphine tablets. I wasn’t sure if I could ever really get off of the painkillers that had torn me to shreds, but it was time for one last shot at it. Everything was bad. I had lost my mind, I couldn’t sleep anymore, and no matter how much I either drank, popped or snorted I couldn’t get high. I was moving all of the things out of my house to make way for someone renting it out. I wasn’t sure if I could even keep it. My business was in ruins, but worse than that, I was in ruins.

I had no idea that I would not sleep for the next 44 days. I remember vividly, that I made a deal with myself to commit suicide if I didn’t get any sleep by day 50. So, I went the entire month of March, 2007 without sleep. I would talk to myself, and my skin constantly hurt from the withdrawals and detox. I was engaged to a girl at the time, and in hindsight I ask myself, “Who would want to be engaged to a man as sick as me?” I can recall hearing her sound asleep, as I had returned home from the rehab facility after 23 days of being hospitalized. Never have I wanted something so bad, and I am not talking about sex, I am talking about sleeping soundly. I would have traded in my right arm for a deep night slumber.

I would shuffle from room to room in the house, and think to myself, “Maybe I will get some sleep here if I just get in the right position.” So, would get into a comfortable position, and moments later say, “This is so fucked. How will I ever feel human again? My skin fucking crawls, like little insects that I cannot see. I can’t stop shaking, this is not normal. Will I ever feel normal? But then again, how the hell would I know what normal is? I have been popping, chewing, and snorting these pills for almost seventeen years. How in the hell do I even know what normal is?”

My legs were really weak, as much of my muscle had atrophied from lack of activity, so I wasn’t really walking, I was shuffling. Dragging my feet to recovery meetings twice at least, but generally three times a day in my first six months of “sobriety.” But I don’t think I felt physically sober for at least a year, maybe more like sixteen months. Dr. Headrick (my treating doctor at the rehab facility) told me, “Your detox will probably last at least 12 to 18 months.” He was right. I remember my right hand and right leg shook constantly in my first nine months. I recently met with Dr. Headrick, and he commented upon the shaking of my right side, “Medically speaking your body was close to, and contemplating a stroke.” He had no idea I shook for so long, and he knew my detox was bad, but the symptoms I had were far from normal .

In looking back I ask myself often how I am alive, because I honestly do not know. If life were fair I would for sure be dead. I will have five years of clean and sober time tomorrow so long as I hit the pillow tonight without getting loaded. To have a little bit of hope today, where there was none five years ago is a beautiful thing. The very best thing I can possibly do today is to help another addict understand that he or she can get well. I know that I never said to myself, “Yes, I can do this, no problem. I can handle this disease on my own.” The fact is, I cannot stay clean and sober on my own today. I have stay attached to my recovery by sponsoring others, going to a lot of meetings, speaking about addiction, and visiting detox centers, as well as continuing to work the twelve steps of recovery.

When I do all of those things I have an amazing life. The bottom line is, if you are sick and addicted, but willing to surrender, you CAN get well. If there was any message I could ever share with another addict it is, “You can get well…I know this because I have been given a new life through a structured program in recovery.”

“I am lighting a candle right now for my friend Rachel from Indiana. Just a few days ago she lost her life to prescription painkillers. It was just a month ago she corresponded with me to share she was happy and embracing a new life in recovery. For whatever reason the disease got a hold of her again, and my heart breaks for the people she has left behind. Having lost my own father due to alcohol related suicide I can relate on so many levels. What it reminds me of is that unnecessarily, addiction kills and robs us of people we care about and love so much.

I had just got off the phone with my mom, telling her how excited I was to see her this weekend for Christmas, and how much I love taking her to the movies and holding her hand. Within minutes of hanging up, I received the news of Rachel losing the war, against a tiny pill that was too much for her. My heart breaks right now, but like my father, there is a sense of peace in knowing that she is no longer suffering.

What it tells me is exactly what can happen in the event I choose to return to the life I used to live…well; actually it wasn’t really a life I lived. I was just an empty suit of skin with a shallow pulse, with no capacity for joy or love because I simply couldn’t stand myself.

I will watch the candle burn tonight…and remember how powerful the disease of addiction really is…God bless you Rachel, and thank you for being a part of my life…tz

“I am out in Las Vegas right now where my mother lives. I can remember in 2006 being blasted out of my mind, in such a hurry to take her to dinner, and get her home so I could run off and do all the things I had to do. All along I knew what I was doing was wrong, yet I couldn’t change the person I was. I had to keep using, I had to say sick, while simply hating the person I had become. I would hide out in these casinos playing two or three slot machines at a time, while drinking and chewing up Oxy’s like they were M&M’s. I would think to myself, “When will this cycle ever end? When will I just be able to just walk away from the drugs? When will I be able to just be present with my mom and enjoy her company without being under the influence?”

A lot of stuff had to happen in order to finally cave in and ask for help. Not only did the drugs have to stop working for me, but I had to get to that fork in the road that said, “take a left and maybe you will live” or “take a right, and keep using, where you will certainly die sooner than later”. That’s what it came down to for me, no bullshit.

I am smiling right now while sitting at Starbuck’s sipping on a coffee. Yesterday, Mom and I went to the movies to see “Marilyn”…and the wonderful part of it was I could hold her hand and walk her up and down the stairs, keeping an eye on her so she doesn’t fall and injure her bad knee. After a trip to Whole Foods we had dinner together, where we actually talked with no interruption for two hours, and I didn’t have to run off to some shitty casino, and I can actually recall the things we discussed.

This afternoon we are going to do it all over again, she wants to see “The Descendants” with George Clooney. As for me, I could care less what movie we are seeing, because I get to hold my mom’s hand at the
movie theater again today….it’s going to be a really good day…..tz

“I recently spoke at a high school in northern California, in front of about 220 students. It was an amazing group of young people that asked some questions that struck me like a bullet between the eyes. The honesty they expressed, while holding nothing back was at times mind blowing. I like it when people tell it like it is, good, bad, or indifferent. I have taken plenty of blows and bullshit from some people…we will always have critics, and the fact is I have zero say as to what somebody thinks about me. Recognizing that is key, but accepting it is at times a challenge…and it’s something I need to work at constantly.

One of the kids asked me, “How come you aren’t in prison? You just admitted you forged prescriptions!” I loved this 15 year old immediately. I calmly responded, “Thank goodness the statute of limitations has expired on that.” The boy then responded, “What’s that mean?” I smiled at him and said, “It means that I am not going to prison…but if life were fair I would be dead or in jail.”

The kids looked at me and you could hear a pin drop. It was dead quiet. A girl then cried uncontrollably, having amazing courage to share in front of the entire student body that she sees her brother struggling in his addiction to Oxycontin, and she said, “I have no idea why he does it…and he has no idea how much it’s hurting our family.” Her friends reached for her as the tears moved down her cheeks, and I was simply speechless. I had to take a step back, try to breathe, and feel the hurt that this sweet young girl was feeling. I said, “Deep down inside…I am pretty sure your brother is not liking what is happening…none of us as drug addicts will ever admit we are miserable until we are ready to do something about our problem.”

After the speaking was finished, and a series of questions were answered I was surrounded by a group of about twenty students. All of them asking questions that were smart, and brutally honest. At the tail end, I was getting my stuff together, and this precious, innocent 15 year old girl was weeping, unable to hold back her pain, she said, “I can’t stop taking the pills.”

I turned to stone, and thought to myself, “This is someone’s beautiful little girl…people love her…and she just can’t stop taking those pain pills.” I then reached out to embrace her, letting go I looked at her, and said, “I understand…I really do…I have been there…and I know you can get well…”

She couldn’t believe that it could happen, but felt at that moment the most important feeling that us as human beings need to all cling to at some point in our lives, and that is “Hope”…I left the school drained, emotionally and physically…but smiled most of my way back to the Sacramento airport, and all I could think of was that 15 year old girl who said “I just can’t stop.”…..I drove on and said aloud, “I totally related to every bit of what you are going through…and I only hope and pray for your recovery.”… TZ