Four Years: Reflections On Hell and Freedom.

I’d wake up at noon, foggy with sunken eyes, with one thing on my mind and one thing only: the next one.

Rolling over and peering at my cracked iPhone screen, unwrapping the charging cord I had placed just right to bypass the wonky charging port, I always hoped there would be a few missed calls or text messages that would assist me in my pursuit for the day. My pursuit? Drive my 2001 Nissan Altima somewhere along Lafayette Street in Paterson, New Jersey to cop a few bundles of dope and make it back home without getting robbed, arrested, or worse. There were times I had little to no money, so when the opportunity arose to be the middleman, I often seized it. Not everyone had a solid connect and a lot of people were not willing to drive into the heroin and crack underbelly of North Jersey to get what their bodies, minds, and darkened hearts desired. Not me though, that ship had sailed. Every day was a chemically dependent suicidal mission of self-destruction masked by the false promises and comforts of narcotics.

That was my life once upon a time.

I remember when I first went to rehab for pills during the summer of 2011. It was right after Camp Bisco. The first of many “last hurrahs”. My dad had said to me, “I hope you get this now because if you and your friends continue down this path, the pills will disappear and you’ll start doing dope, and then your friends will start dying.” I can recall how blasphemous that sounded at the time. Heroin!? Not me, NEVER. He grew up in New York in the seventies, he lost friends, he had the wisdom of lived experience; he was dead on, and he knew it.

There is a notion in recovery when looking back at active addiction: your “nevers” will come true. I’d never do heroin. I’d never steal from my mother. I’d never be running around the hood. I’d never overdose. I’d never lose jobs, relationships, or drop out of school as a result of my use. A lot of my “nevers” came true.

It took me multiple rehabs, detoxes, outpatient programs, medication assisted treatment, therapists, and psychiatrists before I was finally ready to accept that I cannot use drugs and alcohol successfully. Before I was finally able to surrender and admit my life was totally unmanageable. Before I wholeheartedly asked God to release the obsession and restore me to sanity.

I had such a deeply toxic love affair with substances because they filled a void for me. They served a purpose. They solved all my problems. They alleviated all my fears and insecurities. They were there for me when nobody else was. But it was all a lie constructed upon manufactured euphoria. I was plagued by the need to escape my reality and each and every drink, blunt, pill, line, hit, shot got the job done… until it didn’t. Until the drugs stopped doing what they once did and the pain of being alive fused with unbearable demoralization and shame. I tried to shield that scared little boy who felt a piece of himself was missing, but strayed too far from the righteous path and ended up lost in the woods with no way to get back home.

There was a way out and I took it on September 18th, 2021. It was the greatest decision I’ve ever made. I sought help with newfound honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness. What better time of year than the transition from summer to autumn to intentionally work toward a transformative chapter of lasting change. I just wanted to break free from the vicious cycle of highs and lows. For a long time, I thought I’d die in my twenties, but at twenty-eight years old, I realized it was time to choose life.

I was told that if I followed a few simple suggestions, I would eventually be able to live a life beyond my wildest dreams. The message was hope and the promise was freedom. I believed these people because they were authentically themselves, unafraid to show you the jagged edges of their character defects. And they were right. God has poured so many blessings onto my life. Are some days more challenging than others? Yes, but the journey has taught me a lot about myself and life itself. There is tremendous human redemption within the process of recovery. We strip down the facades, peel back the layers, and learn to swim with the currents of spiritual growth; for so long we were unable to accept the tides of life, we no longer fight against the waves.

There is somebody out there who is struggling with something. A substance. A behavior. A vice. And they want to stop because they’ve realized the negative impact that it has on their mind, body, spirit, finances, and relationships. They feel darkness weighing down their spirit. They feel hopeless and afraid and unsure of their next steps. If you’re reading this and you identify with any of the above, I’d like to sincerely inform you that there is a way out and the grass on the other side is actually greener than the turf of your current existence - it is real. Take it from me. Somebody who spent many years as a drug-fueled junkie running through the hellish streets of Paterson, New Jersey. Give yourself a break and ask for help. God is waiting.