Archive for the ‘Relapse’ Category

Bibliotherapy: More Addiction Memoirs

If I Die Before I Wake, by Barbara Rogers

Anyone struggling with addiction to drugs including alcohol can get something out of this book. The author describes what her addiction was like, what happened to get her into recovery, and what it’s like now. And she went further than that. She described the trials she faced while in recovery, and how she applied the spiritual principles of the twelve steps as she went through these trials. This book is like going to a really good speaker meeting. It will resonate with both newcomers and old-timers in recovery. I will be recommending it to my patients.

Pill Head, by Joshua Lyons

I was envious as I read the book, because he did such a great job of writing an interesting, engaging book, while also educating the reader with (mostly) accurate facts about the disease of opioid addiction. It’s more interesting than my own book, Pain Pill Addiction, though I have more science in mine. Anyway, the author shows the dividedness of many addicts. He wants to be in recovery, and hates the negative consequences that are occurring as a result of his addiction, but he still wants to use pain pills. I don’t think people newly in recovery should read it because it may trigger cravings in the places he describes drug euphoria. His story isn’t one of hope, and I wish he’d waited until he was further into recovery to write the book.

 

Loaded, by Jill Talbot

            Ugh. I didn’t like this book. It was false advertising, for one thing. It was more about her unhappy love life than it was about her alcohol addiction. For the first two-thirds of the book, she laments about how dating married men made her lonely. Duh. Then toward the end she does talk of some sticky situations due to alcohol, and describes her fellow patients at a drug rehab. But then she is vague about her relapse back to drinking, and if she was able to do controlled drinking, or if she went back to her former state.

Wired: the life and Fast Times of Jim Belushi, by Bob Woodward

            It could have been cut in half and been a much better book. The renowned author put in a great many details of the days and nights during the years leading up to the star’s death from drug overdose, and it felt like too much after a few chapters. We get it. He was a wild and crazy guy. He did outrageous things and was tremendously talented and deeply flawed. Maybe knowing the ending made it sad from the start. Another big talent obliterated by addiction.

Broken, by William Cope Myers

            He’s the son of the famous journalist William Myers, and now a spokesman for Hazelden recovery center in Minnesota. This memoir is one of the better ones. He does a good job of describing the guilt that comes after a drug binge, and about his family’s disappointment in him. With a famous father, the press of expectations was an added stress that may have pushed his addiction further.

Go Ask Alice, by Anonymous

I came across a paperback copy in a bargain bin at a thrift store, and bought it to re-read. I read it as a teen, and at that time suspected it was written by an adult to scare kids away from drugs. I wondered if I’d think differently reading it as an adult. I didn’t. I certainly didn’t sound like it was written by a fifteen year old. It’s a fair book, but probably fictional.

Can’t Find My Way Home, by Martin Torgoff

I’ll re-read this one. It’s a comprehensive history of drug addiction in the U.S. from 1945 until 2000. Focused on the various political movements and popular trends of different years, it puts drug use into cultural context. It also gives some specifics behind some famous drug users and drug legalization proponents. It was fascinating. At the end, the author unexpectedly described his own recovery. Anyone wanting to read more about the 1960’s and 70’s drug culture should read this book.

“The End of My Addiction,” by Dr. Oliver Amiesen

            I only got this book because a few patients mentioned it. I pre-judged this book, thinking the author must be a pompous doctor, hater of Alcoholics Anonymous, who wrote a lame book on a half-baked theory about addiction treatment, just for his self-glorification. I was completely wrong. The author writes about his own addiction with self-awareness and humility. He doesn’t claim to have all the answers, but presents a credible treatment that may benefit alcoholics. He started himself on high-dose baclofen, a muscle relaxant that’s been around for years. It quenched his thirst for alcohol. He presents a good enough argument to justify a large randomized controlled trial to test the theory that high-dose baclofen suppresses alcohol cravings. The book is well-written and interesting. Dr. Amiesen describes his own travails with addiction in some detail.

Advertisements

The Narcotic Farm: A Bit of History

We don’t have to keep re-inventing the wheel.

We can investigate the success rates of addiction treatment methods used over the past century, see what worked, and what didn’t work. We can use programs of proven benefit or we can continue to spend money on programs repeatedly shown to have little benefit.

From 1935 until 1962, drug addicts were treated at a unique facility, part jail and part treatment hospital. Initially named the United States Narcotic Farm, it was later changed to the U.S. Public Health Service Narcotics Hospital. Even after this name change, most people still called it the Narcotic Farm.

This facility was located on twelve acres of Kentucky farmland. The facility was created by the Public Health Service and the Bureau of Prisons, meant to serve a dual purpose. It was a treatment hospital, where drug addicts could voluntarily be admitted for treatment of their addiction, and it was also a federal prison, where drug offenders were sent to serve their sentences. About two thirds of the inpatients were prisoners and the other third were addicts, voluntarily seeking help for opioid addiction. Both types of patients were treated side by side. For over forty years, it was the main drug addiction treatment center in the United States, along with a similar facility in Ft. Worth, Texas, which opened in 1937.

            The Narcotic Farm was a massive institution for its time. It had fifteen-hundred beds, and housed tens of thousands of patients over its forty years of operation. It was located in a rural area of Kentucky, which gave it space for numerous operations to engage the prisoners – now called patients – in all types of job training. (1)

             The Narcotic Farm really was a farm. Besides growing many types of vegetables, there was a working dairy, and livestock including pigs and chickens. These operations provided food for the patients and staff of the facility and provided work for the patients. The patients provided the labor to keep the farm going and it was hoped they would simultaneously learn useful trades. In addition to farming, they learned skills in sewing, auto repair, carpentry, and other trades. Besides teaching new job skills, it was hoped that fresh air, sunshine, and wholesome work would be beneficial to the addicts. (1)

            For its time, the Narcotic Farm was surprisingly progressive in its willingness to try multiple new treatments. For the forty years it operated, many different treatments were tried for opioid addicts. It offered individual and group talk therapies, job training, psychiatric analysis, treatment for physical medical issues, Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, art therapy, shock therapy, music therapy, and even hydrotherapy, with flow baths to soothe the nerves. Despite these options, the Farm apparently retained many of the characteristics of a prison, with barred windows and strict security procedures. (1)

             The Narcotic Farm had its own research division, the Addiction Research Center (ARC), which became the forerunner of today’s National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA). The Narcotic Farm did pioneering work, using methadone to assist patients through withdrawal, and helped establish the doses used to treat opioid addiction. Methadone was used only short term, for the management of withdrawal symptoms, and not for maintenance dosing at the Narcotic Farm. The Farm also trained a dedicated group of doctors and nurses, who were pioneers in the field of addiction treatment. It provided new information on the nature of addiction.

             Admission to the Narcotic Farm allowed an opioid addict some time to go through opioid withdrawal, eat regular meals, work in one of the farm’s many industries, and have some form of counseling. However, after leaving the hospital, the addicts were entirely released from care and supervision, with no assistance to help re-enter their communities. Most times, they returned to their same living situation and old circumstances encouraged relapse back to drug use and addiction. As a result, two follow up studies of the addicts treated at the Narcotic Farm showed a ninety-three percent and ninety-seven percent relapse rate within six months, with most of the relapses occurring almost immediately upon returning home. Many addicts cycled through the Public Health Hospital multiple times. (1)       

            The Narcotic Farm was eventually turned over to the Bureau of Prisons in 1974, as the treatment for addiction was de-centralized. Since the studies found high relapse rates for addicts returning to their previous communities, it was hoped by moving treatment centers into communities, these addicts could have ongoing support after they left inpatient treatment.

  1. Nancy P. Campbell, The Narcotic Farm: The rise and fall of America’s first prison for drug addicts, (New York, Abrams, 2008)

 

This is an excerpt from my new book, “Pain Pill Addiction: Prescription for Hope.” 

Available at http://prescriptionforhope.com

 and on Amazon and Ebay

and many bookstores

Interview with a Methadone Counselor

I met a skilled drug addiction counselor, previously addicted to heroin, who became abstinent from all drugs, by going to meetings of Narcotics Anonymous. She had been a patient of methadone clinics off and on for many years, prior to getting clean. I met her after she had more than ten years of completely abstinent recovery, yet she happily works at a methadone clinic, helping opioid addicts. I interviewed her because of her personal experience and her striking open-mindedness to different approaches to the treatment of addiction. Here is what she had to say about her experiences with methadone, and her perspective:

JB: Can you please tell me your personal experience of opioid addiction?
RJ: Well, my personal experience began at the age of…probably eighteen….and I was introduced by some people I was hanging out with. I was basically very ignorant about those kinds of things. I wasn’t aware of that kind of stuff going on, ‘cause I was raised in this real small town and just didn’t know this kind of stuff happened.
My first experience was with a Dilaudid. Somebody said we had to go somewhere else to do it, and I really didn’t understand that, because I certainly didn’t know that it would be injected. That was my first experience with a narcotic, with opiates, and….I fell in love!
I loved it. I injected it, and the feeling was…..like none I had ever felt. And even though I did get sick, I thought it was what I was looking for. It was the best feeling in the world.
Obviously, they didn’t tell me about getting sick, [meaning opioid withdrawal] and that after doing it for some days consecutively, when you didn’t have any, you’d get sick. I never will forget the first time I was sick from not having any.
And that lead to a habit that lasted twenty-some years. My experience and my path led me down many roads… with addiction, going back and forth to prison, because I obviously didn’t make enough money to purchase these drugs that I needed to have in my body, to keep from being sick. This lasted for twenty four years. I ended up doing heroin and I liked it, because it tended to be stronger. Morphine I liked a lot, but it wasn’t easily accessible, so I switched over to heroin at some point. Which I liked a lot.
JB: What role did methadone play in your recovery?
RJ: I’ve been in numerous methadone clinics. I typically would get on methadone when I got a charge [meaning legal problems] and I wanted to call myself being in treatment. I never ever got on methadone with any expectations, hopes, or thoughts of changing my life. I got on because it kept me from being sick. And it kept me off the street for a period of time. If I had a charge, I was in treatment and I always thought that would help me in my journeys with the legal systems. That was the part methadone played in my life, it was just to help me get through it.
JB: Did it help you?
RJ: At the time, it did. My problem with methadone was, when I would get on methadone, I would tend to do cocaine, because I could feel the cocaine, and I wasn’t about changing anything. I just wanted temporary fixes in my life. I’d switch to cocaine while I was on methadone. And it [methadone] worked for a time. I never got any take homes, because I continued to test positive for other substances while I was on methadone, but I thought I was doing better, ‘cause I was not doing narcotics. In that aspect it did help.
JB: And you’ve been in recovery from addiction now for how long?
RJ: It will be fifteen years in June.
JB: Wonderful!
KS: Yes, it is wonderful.
JB: And tell me where you work now.
RJ: I work at a methadone treatment facility.
JB: How long have you been working there?
RJ: I’ve been there for almost fourteen years and in this [satellite] clinic for a little over two years, and I’ve been in methadone [as a counselor] for five years.
JB: How do you feel about methadone and what role it should play in the treatment of opioid addiction?
RJ: I believe in methadone. Our [her clinic’s] philosophy certainly is not harm reduction but I believe that’s what it’s about. And I do believe that those people on methadone, and are doing well, have a home, have a life, I think that’s all they aspire to. For them that’s enough, you know, they’re not out ripping and running the roads, they’re not looking for drugs on a daily basis. They come and get their methadone, they go to work, they have a life, they have a family, they have a home, and for them that’s good enough.
JB: Do you think it keeps them from getting completely clean [I purposely chose to use her language to differentiate being in recovery on methadone from being in recovery and completely off all opioids]?
RJ: No. I think they know they have a choice.
JB: OK
RJ: I really believe that a lot of them don’t think that they can ever do anything differently, and I know from personal experience that can be very true. I think that you just get so bogged down in your disease that you don’t see any way out. I think if you can find a place where you can get something legally and you’re not using the street drugs, and you’re not out copping [buying drugs] and you’re working and basically having a life, then that becomes OK, and that becomes good enough.
And addicts by nature are scared of change, and they get in that role and they get comfortable and that’s good enough for them. So I don’t believe they think that they can do any better.
JB: What percentages of your patients have already used street methadone by the time they get to the clinic?
RJ: I’d say seventy-five percent. Very rarely do I do an assessment [on a new patient] that somebody hasn’t already used methadone on the street. Very rarely.
JB: What are your biggest challenges where you work?
RJ: Actually my biggest challenges where I work are internal challenges. Fighting that uphill battle of no consequences for clients. There’s no consequences. We allow them to do basically what they want to do. [She is speaking of her methadone clinic’s style of interaction with patients].
JB: Do you think patients did better when there were a few consequences?
RJ: Oh yeah. Yeah. I mean, when certain clients can continue to have the same behaviors, like use benzos [meaning benzodiazepines like Valium and Xanax] and there are no consequences, certainly they are going to continue doing those behaviors. And those are the things that are challenges now, for us, for me.
I can’t enforce any consequences because we’re not allowed to, because it’s called punishment. The powers that be, they see it as punishment, where I work. Being that I come from living a life of doing the wrong thing always, I’m a big believer in consequences. And I believe that if you don’t have any, you continue to do those things. That’s the kind of stuff, the inadequacies where I work at.
JB: What do you like most about your job?
RJ: (pause) The light…. in somebody’s eyes every now and again. It might not happen much, but now and again the light comes on, and you have that “ah ha” moment. They have it, and you’re like, yes! Or when somebody comes and tells you they have that little spark of hope. Yep. That’s what I like most about my job.
JB: If you could make changes in how opioid addiction is treated, what would you do? If you could tell the people who make the drug laws, what would you recommend? How would you change the system, or would you?
RJ: I don’t know that I would change the system. I think the system works. I think it’s individual facilities that don’t work sometimes. Yeah. I think – methadone’s been around a long time – I mean, obviously it’s worked for a lot of years or it wouldn’t still be in existence. I think methadone maintenance programs work, but each individual facility maybe needs to make changes. You know, that’s just my opinion.
JB: If you were the boss of a methadone treatment center, how would you handle benzodiazepine use by patients?
RJ: They wouldn’t be tolerated. At all.
JB: Why is that?
RJ: Because I think they kill people. I know they kill people.
JB: How about alcohol?
RJ: Alcohol wouldn’t be tolerated either. I mean, obviously you would be given a chance to straighten it and rectify it and clean it up, with help, if you need it. But that would be it. You would get that opportunity and then [if the patient couldn’t stop using alcohol] you would be detoxed from that program. I believe that’s the route to go. We’ve had too many deaths. And there’s nothing to say that it’s not going to continue to happen…so, yeah, if I had a facility it would not be tolerated. There would be zero tolerance, period. There just wouldn’t be any.
JB: What do you say to people that say that’s keeping people out of treatment?
RJ: There are other types of treatment; maybe you need a different level of care. Maybe methadone’s not the answer.
JB: So you don’t think methadone’s the answer for every opioid addict?
RJ: No. No I don’t.
JB: What do you think about people on methadone coming to Narcotics Anonymous?
RJ: I think they have a right to come to Narcotics Anonymous.
JB: Do you think they should share?
RJ: I wish they could share, but I know, there again from personal experience, how methadone is viewed by people in Narcotics Anonymous. And I think that if that person does share [that they are on methadone], they are treated differently.
JB: Do you tell your patients to go to NA?
RJ: I do.
JB: What do you tell them about picking up chips?
RJ: That’s their personal call, because I feel like it is. But then I don’t view methadone as using. See, I look at it as treatment, and somebody taking medication because they’re sick, and trying to get better. So I don’t view that as getting up and doing dope. Therefore if I were on methadone and going to meetings, I’d pick up chips.
JB: Can you think of anything else [you’d like to say]?
RJ: I believe in methadone. I really do. I just believe that it works. I know people who have been on our program for twenty years, and granted, those people will never get off methadone, but they have a life today. And twenty years ago they didn’t have one. They’re not perfect but I’m not either, you know, just ‘cause I don’t use dope any more. But they’re still suffering addicts, just like I am. So I just believe that methadone works, and if you want to make changes in your life, that there are people at every facility who are willing to help you make those changes.

Treatment professionals can also make the mistake of dismissing non-medication treatment of opioid addiction as ineffective, when clearly this is not true. Though treatment with methadone and buprenorphine can provide enormous benefit, so can the other medication-free forms of treatment. And as we have seen, methadone can cause great harm when used inappropriately, and some opioid addicts don’t do well on methadone.
There’s no one best treatment path for every addict. Every evidence-based treatment helps some addicts.

Is Your Recovery Portable?

Today I listened to a friend talk about the difficulties of keeping her recovery program going after she moved to a new area.

 From what my patients tell me, this is a common problem. Last week I had yet another patient say that her relapse started when she moved to this area from another state. She had more than eight years of good recovery, but when she moved to North Carolina, she stopped doing all the things that previously made up her recovery program: 12-step meetings, calling a sponsor, and helping other addicts. Gradually, staying clean off alcohol and other drugs lost its priority, and addiction was a distant memory. She listened to the old lie of addiction: she could use drugs now, and it would be different. Her disease told her she’d been clean so long, she knew how to keep from going back to active addiction.

 This was, of course, not true. I saw this patient shortly after she lost her job because of intravenous opioid addiction.

 Why does moving to a new area seem to begin a downward slide toward relapse for some people?

 My friend in recovery who just moved was able to describe it to me. She says it’s a starting over process, and she feels like she’s on the outside. She feels like she did when she was a newcomer to meetings. She misses the feeling of being at home in meetings, surrounded by people she knows who love her. She says getting involved in meetings in a new area is the hardest thing she’s ever done, more difficult than coming to meetings for the first time.

 She says, “I’ve done this before, and I think to myself this should be easy. It took me by surprise. The loneliness is super-dangerous. I have these dangerous feelings, like I don’t belong. It’s just like my first few months of recovery, except now I keep thinking that it should be easier, and I shouldn’t be having these feelings. In early recovery, I had that gift of desperation. I was acutely aware that the drugs brought me to that point and I had to come to meetings to stay clean. I had willingness to do whatever it took. Now I don’t feel that desperate, and have a hard time making myself go to meetings. It’s hard as hell.”

 “Plus, I don’t know who in these new meetings is working a program of recovery, and whose life is just full of drama. I don’t know who the winners are. And the formats are different, though I like them. They have topic meetings and everyone who shares stays on the topic!”

 My friend seems to be doing better than she’s feeling. The last I saw her, she was surrounding by laughter and hugs. She says she’s getting through this difficult time by sharing about her feelings, and listening to the experience of other recovering people who have moved to a new area and new meetings. She stays in touch with her old friends from previous meetings, and travels the four hours to visit these friends once or twice per month during her transition.

 I think my friend will be fine, so long as she continues to do what she needs to. Going to new meetings is difficult and staying at home would be easier, but not in the long run. Given the havoc addiction has caused in her life, she’s not willing to risk a relapse with all the heartache it brings.

Interview with a Recovering Addict, Part 2

…continued…

I had regular correspondence with friends, who sent me recovery literature. There was a “black market” step working guide. I used it and that’s the first time I did a “fearless and searching moral inventory” of myself. I didn’t have anyone to do my fifth step with [this is the step where the addict admits to God, himself, and another human being the exact nature of his wrongs].

At this point, I was in the county jail, about to go to state prison. This guy from Minnesota was in jail for thirty days for old warrants. It turns out he had a few years of recovery. He heard my fifth step and guided me through step seven. He mentioned his dad got [was sentenced to] forty years for murder. In the late 1970’s, when I was bringing cocaine out of Miami, the guy who set me up with the Columbians was named “Z”. I would meet him in a field [to exchange drugs] and he had a young boy with him. The guy who heard my fifth step was his son!

I’d been going in the front door of this state prison for six years, as an NA member, bringing meetings to the prisoners. Now I was in that prison. I progressed on through the steps, and experienced a change in my being…a real deep change that I can’t put into words. I recognized it was the beginning of a change that would continue to occur over a lifetime.

I relapsed once more, after nearly ten years clean. I got away from people in recovery, quit doing all the things I’d done on a regular basis, like prayer and meditation, meetings, contact with people in recovery. That relapse lasted a year. I was rescued by the Macon County Sheriff’s Office. I knew I was going to die. I was waiting for the overdose, the gunshot, whatever. I had no hope.

An addict always has the potential for relapse. I don’t care who they are, where they are, how long they’ve been clean or whatever. But once I experienced change on a deep level, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and then used drugs again…you’re not the same addict. You don’t have the hustle. You can’t be as thoughtless, selfish, and solely self-focused as you were, before you experienced that change. I knew I couldn’t use drugs successfully, and I knew it was going to kill me. But when I lost that support, when I pushed away that foundation, that God of my understanding…That allows self-deception. It might be only momentarily, but you forget. You forget who you are, and if you’re where substances are available, you’re deceived.

JB: How’s your recovery now?

ML: Awesome. If you’d asked me in 1999 how I’d be doing now, I wouldn’t have gotten close. My life today is better than it’s ever been. I’m extremely blessed and grateful to be where I’m at today. I’m blessed to have the work, the people, a wonderful fiancée … I’m blessed to be able to share my life with the people I have in my life.

JB: What kind of work do you do?

ML: I work as a counselor. I work in a jail’s substance abuse treatment program. Looking at what they have available in jails now…fully staffed treatment programs, right in the county jail! From having to pay a candy bar to hold a meeting to where they have whole dorms in the county jail to treat addiction…the change has been awesome to see.

            This addict, ML, now has over ten years of continuous abstinence from drugs, but has been in and out of recovery for twenty-seven years. He described how his recovery progressed over time, and how he had setbacks and relapses. Obviously, given the morbidity and mortality of active addiction, treatment professionals and addicts prefer relapse-free recovery, but for many, relapse is part of the recovery process. Many fortunate addicts are able to get back into recovery, before catastrophe occurs.

ML is also a good example of how 12-step recovery meetings can help. Addiction treatment professionals should always inform addicts seeking recovery about these meetings, and encourage addicts to go to at least a half-dozen meetings, before deciding if 12-step recovery is right for them or not.

There are many recovering opioid addicts who used 12-step resources or other counseling to become completely opioid free and were able to get through both the acute physical opioid withdrawal and the more prolonged post-acute opioid withdrawal. Therefore, it does appear that drug-free recovery may be a reasonable goal for some opioid addicts who are motivated to do the work of recovery. For addicts who find the spiritual theme of 12-step recovery unacceptable, secular recovery groups are available.

            12-step recovery is free, widely available, and proven to work. It’s still the best deal in town.

Interview with a Recovering Addict, Part 1

Following is an interview with a recovering addict. His history demonstrates how NA can help an addict, and illustrates some of the main tenants of 12-step recovery.

JB: What kinds of drugs did you use?

ML: Everything. I shot cocaine, Dilaudids, heroin, quarter-grain morphine tablets, and always alcohol. Alcohol and marijuana were just a given. They were daily.

JB: Can opioid addicts get clean just using NA?

ML: Yeah. My sponsor did, and other people [have].

JB: What percentage of people in NA used opioids?

ML: Back in1982, when I entered recovery, it seemed like seventy-five percent of people in NA used opiates. Then in the 1980s, more people addicted to crack came into NA, so now I’d estimate about fifty percent or less. But there’s no numbers [statistics kept by NA].

JB: How else has NA changed?

ML: Back in the early days of NA, most addicts hit a low bottom, before coming to NA, but now, with the growth of treatment centers, drug courts, information on the internet…when my father told me I had to leave the house unless I got help, I looked in the phone book and there were only two numbers to call for help. I called the Council on Alcoholism and got directed to AA. There’s been such a growth in [addiction treatment resources]. Every family has had experience with some kind of addiction. There’s more acceptance and knowledge now. People get to NA before they hit the kind of bottom that I did. That’s a good thing.

JB: How effective is NA? Some people say that only two percent of people who go to a twelve step meeting stay clean. What do you say to that?

ML: (laughs) I’d like to know where they got their numbers.

A lot of people get their start in NA and find other means to recover…other fellowships, churchs,…it’s an individual thing. It depends on what kind of living situation the individual is in, how willing the individual is [to get clean], and what kind of recovery the people at those [NA] meetings have. It depends on how deeply they get involved in that fellowship [NA].

In my case, I went to meetings for more than a year, but I didn’t work any steps. But I stayed clean, by going to meetings and getting support from the people at the meetings. Then I moved away and didn’t have that support. It didn’t take long for me to relapse. I was around old friends I used with, old sights and sounds…It takes more than just going to meetings to be successful. There are always exceptions, though. Some people have stayed clean for years that way.

In my case, the seed was planted. I wasn’t at a point where I could honestly look at my situation. So after I skinned my ass up [experienced consequences from using drugs], I went to inpatient treatment and then a halfway house. Plus meetings [Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous]. I had a little more honesty, a little more willingness. But that second time, I didn’t work all the steps. I had three and a half years clean, got to the fourth step, and I relapsed. That relapse happened when my priorities shifted from going to meetings five or six times per week to relationships, working twelve hour days, hunting and fishing. Looking back, being surrounded by people in recovery was carrying me along.

It wasn’t long. I hadn’t experienced the change that comes from working all of the steps. It was only a matter of time before the self-deception set in. How in the hell could I talk myself into thinking I could sell dope, without using it? I was dissatisfied with my job, went traveling, and met “X.” He knew I’d hauled dope out of Florida in the past, for my brother in law. He asked about my connections and asked if I could help him move some kilos. I told him I still knew a few people, but I can’t be handling the stuff. I talked myself into believing I could sell that stuff and not use it. Insane.

That led to two and a half years in state prison. This put me in a controlled environment. I knew enough about recovery and the twelve steps and the change that can happen. I’d heard enough about it that I reached out and asked people I knew in NA to get me some [recovery reading] material. That was in 1988. They didn’t have as many 12-step meetings or substance abuse programs [in jail] then like they have now. I had to reach out and ask for help. I paid “Y” [an inmate] a candy bar so he would allow me to have an NA meeting in his cell, because it was the biggest. I paid a candy bar to him each meeting. He’d never been to a meeting in his life. This was in the county jail.

When we both got to state prison, they had NA meetings there. He got real involved. He got clean and is still clean today! He has twenty-one years in recovery, works in construction, and travels the world. I went to an AA meeting a few years ago, when I was visiting a town in Alabama, and it turned out he was speaking that night. He pointed to me and said, “That man is one of the reasons I’m here.” (At this point, ML tears up and takes a pause).

…continued tomorrow…