Hi there, and welcome to my blog! This blog is about my journey towards sobriety and healthier life style. Not to say that this is going to turn into some type of fitness blog, ’cause I’m really not about that life. Just the real raw story of my day to day struggles on my journey to sobriety. Who knows how many people will read any of this. I’m not sure I really care if people read it. Maybe at some point I will get all self-conscious about it and not release it. Either way I’m writing this for myself as a way to express my feelings and vent, and sort of a way to hold my self accountable with my sobriety.
I suppose the best way to start this out would be to introduce myself. *Clears throat* “My name is Ryan and I’m an addict and alcoholic”. I couldn’t really put my finger on a particular drug of choice. I just really, really enjoy being fucked up. But let’s just chalk it up to cocaine, as this is the drug that has caused me most of my problems and reached and stemmed into my alcoholism. The two just worked so well together. Getting drunk? Lets get some blow! Twacked out of my mind and need to come down? Let’s get shit faced!
I started partying at a pretty young age. The first time I smoked pot was in the 6th grade, and I got drunk for the first time shortly after that. A big bottle of stolen wine that a few friends and my self shared on a Friday night. I didn’t really care for it too much, but then again I can hardly remember the night. I don’t think I actually got drunk, drunk; if that makes any sense at all.
I was an outcast, a rebel, and very stupid. I wore JNCO jeans and had a chain wallet with a chain that weighed about ten pounds. I was constantly getting into trouble at school, home, and with the law. It took a long time to realize how big of a selfish brat I was, but now that I’m older I can easily say that was just that. Attention seeking spoiled brat.
This general attitude followed me for years. Even after my mother sent me to live with my father because I was so bad she just couldn’t deal with it any more. By the time I was 17 I had been kicked out of high school, served a little time in juvenile detention center, was in in-patient rehab 3 times, and had gotten kicked out of Job Corps.
I was on a path toward being sent to a military school, because at this point my father had enough of my shit attitude and was out of options. Believe me, he tried so many different things to get me on the right track. He was the one that made me do the rehab stays, and it was him that put me on the Youth at Risk program when I had to serve time in juvenile detention. Just like every other thing he tried to do to help me out, I had other plans in mind. There was no way that I was going to military school, so while visiting my mom for summer break I got a job and my first apartment.
Looking back at it I realize that my dad was literally trying to save me from a life of hardships, and all I did was hold it against him as if he was ruining my life. I realized that he was trying to help me in my early twenties and we had an emotional conversation about how sorry I was for being such a piece of shit child. You would think that at this point I would have straightened out my life and got my shit together. I didn’t.
This weird feeling that I would be missing out on something fun if I wasn’t getting fucked up followed me for years. I binged a lot, and I definitely had a lot of fun. Fun times that are incredibly blurry with patches of lost memories. I hardly worked and would rely on help from my parents to get by for the most part. When I couldn’t fall back on them I would find other ways to get money so I could party. I’m not necessarily proud of what I’ve done to people in the past, and I cant particularly remember all the people that I’ve fucked over on my way either.
How’d we get here though? I’ll spare you the details of the multiple ways that I’ve fucked things up, on top of fucking things up. We don’t really need to get into the ways I’ve spiraled my self and my family into debt. It’s the shit that happens when a person is fucked up.
I haven’t done cocaine in over a year, and I’m pretty proud of that. I don’t have any urges to do it even after my old plug started texting me a week ago, so that’s cool. I couldn’t tell you what pushed me to stop doing blow over a year ago, other than I was just tired of it. But the deeper I look into it, that’s when my journey of sobriety really started. I told myself that I wanted to be a better person, and I believed. It’s just for some reason I didn’t think that alcohol was a problem.
It probably wasn’t until I stumbled into work at 6 o’clock in the morning still drunk from the night before, and working ten hours with the worst hang over ever for the 100th time that I realized I needed to stop drinking. I finally realized that feeling like I needed to get fucked up or I’d miss out on good times, was in-turn making me miss out on good times with my family. Then I thought about all the time that I’ve missed, the occasions that I forgot about because I was fucked up that I could never get back. THAT FUCKING BROKE ME.
As of today I haven’t had a drink for 6 days, and if I make it to tomorrow that will be a full week with out drinking. It’s huge for me, because if I make it a week it will be the longest time that I haven’t drank for at least the last 5 years. I’m done starting this week over. No more making excuses for myself. That’s how I got here, so tomorrow I can look at this blog post and say that I made it.
Posted in: Journey