by Paul Churchill | Jan 12, 2017 | Alcohol Relapse, Blog, Early Sobriety, The Bottom
First, I want to say thanks for the podcast. It’s been a huge help on my road to recovery – it’s been 53 days! I’ve been listening to RE since I decided to get sober and only felt compelled to write you after listening to the last episode about cognitive dissonance because it really hit home for me.
My journey has been somewhat interesting (as is everyone’s I’m sure). To start, I’m 29, I live in Weehawken, NJ and commute into Manhattan for work everyday. I live with my girlfriend of two years and our awesome Pomsky puppy named Mylo.
I started drinking when I was about 13, casually stealing beers, wine coolers or whatever I can get my hands on, and started binge drinking around 15. The progression was somewhat slow, but the writing was definitely on the wall – even at a young age. For all intents and purposes I had a great childhood. Loving family, great friends, great high school experience – things were good. I loved sports – especially golf – and played religiously. This allowed me to earn a Division 1 scholarship to Seton Hall University in NJ.
My freshman year of college was unique I’d say. One of my teammates recognized himself as a born again Christian and I grew close to him. I’ve always had a strong faith in God and the question of “why are we here?” is something that burns in me everyday – probably more than most – which has definitely been a driver of my drug and alcohol use. I was attending bible study with other athletes, going to church regularly, reading St. Thomas Aquinas and Augustine in the library on Friday nights, and made the decision to not got drunk anymore – which is an interesting and tough choice for a college freshman. That lasted the entire year until my one teammate from England was graduating and heading back home. I got drunk that night and it was off to the races.
The next 3 years of college consisted of heavy drinking, blacking out, waking up and doing it all over again. Since I hung out with athletes we got access to painkillers on a regular basis so I’d dabble with them every once and awhile and occasionally smoke some weed, but nothing too serious because we got drug tested. I lost interest in golf and built this persona for myself around my group of friends – life of the party. And I liked it and fed into it. At this time, thoughts of being an alcoholic would creep into my mind, but I quickly made them disappear. “I have a 3.7 GPA, I’m a Division 1 college athlete, I never get in trouble, I’m not hurting anyone. Everything’s fine!” – I’d tell myself.
Once I graduated, I had plans to backpack across Europe with one of my teammates. It was 2010 and the job market kind of sucked, and I was in no hurry to go sit behind a desk. Him and I decided to caddy all summer, save up and hit the road. On my second day, I caddied for a man who worked on Wall Street – he offered me a job a week later, and I took it. To this day, it’s one of my biggest regrets.
I fell into “Wall Street life”, and I fell hard. I was 22 at the time. It didn’t take long before cocaine became my drug of choice, and it went hand in hand with the liquor. I’d spend every dollar I made and live paycheck to paycheck just so I can party as much as possible. 4-5 nights a week I was out, but I was young and living the life (so I thought). The cocaine slowly led into pretty much whatever I can get my hands on (Molly, pills, K, whatever). Anything to take me out of reality and into some other stratosphere. I’d ride that high into oblivion – whatever it took. My friends started to slow down and I just hit the gas harder. I switched jobs 4 times during the last 7 years… constantly searching for some change or something to make a difference. Little did I know that it was ME that was the issue.
Things really got out of hand during the summer when I was 27 years old. Looking back, I’m just happy I came out of it alive. I got deep into gambling, won A LOT of money and then lost A LOT of money, didn’t go to work for days at a time, took a trip to Vegas, and it finally culminated with me getting arrested outside of a nightclub in NYC for possession of cocaine. I spent the night in central booking. A fitting end I suppose – since I was simply playing Russian roulette every time I went out. My family found out and led somewhat of an intervention. I decided to go see a therapist and a few months later I met my wonderful girlfriend who filled a huge void in my life. I never had any meaningful relationships. I was guarded, walled off. I’d go from girl to girl never getting close enough to get hurt.
However, all of this was still not enough to quit. I continued to drink and use, however, the incidents grew farther and farther apart, but when I’d go off the rails it would wreak havoc on my life. Finally, on November 12, I had enough. I went out for lunch Friday afternoon (the 11th) and came home the next day at 8am. I missed my niece’s baptism class, my girlfriend and my dog were gone when I got home, and I just sat on my bed and cried. I finally couldn’t take it anymore.
As I go through my journey, I’m trying to understand my addiction and how/why I ended up here. While I definitely believe there are some genetic factors (my aunt is 10 years sober and my grandfather was an alcoholic) I firmly believe it has a lot to do with emotional connection. While I had a ton of friends my whole life and was always around people – I felt completely alone. My first girlfriend cheated on me at a young age, my great-grandmother died when I was 20, my grandfather committed suicide when I was 23, my uncle died unexpectedly when I was 25, and my Dad suddenly passed away this August. As each event happened, I walled myself off as much as humanely possible. If I never felt vulnerable then I can never get hurt. I’m realizing now that the secrets, the hiding, the lack of vulnerability, the inability to show any emotion, and my thoughts on working/life have been a very significant driver in my drug and alcohol use – along with the genetic dispositions of course.
Addiction is complicated for sure, but I also find it fascinating. I’m excited about being sober and present for the first time in 15 years. I’m currently going to individual therapy, attending a 12 week outpatient program, attending AA, reading, listening to RE and Sober Guy podcast and learning/talking to other sober people as much as possible. Don’t get me wrong – it hasn’t been easy, but I’ve finally let go and told my family, girlfriend, and friends my history and it feels like a million pound boulder has been lifted off of me. I’ve got a great support system around me, and I’m grateful for that.
Sorry if this was long! Haha – it’s actually been quite therapeutic. It’s the first time I’ve written all this down. Once again, thanks for what you’re doing. It’s changing lives.
-James
by Paul Churchill | Sep 25, 2016 | Early Sobriety, Expectations
“I wish there was a Tinder style app for finding a sponsor.” I exclaimed with frustration to my roommate last week.
“It’s genius! Each person would have their photos, a short recovery bio, their daily routine and a list of hobbies. You could swipe right (to say yes) on the ones that seem like a good fit, left (to opt out) on the ones that obviously aren’t. Then, after some texting, see it it’s worth meeting up to work on the steps!”
It felt silly to stack recovery up against the popular dating phone app. But I was getting desperate.
To my surprise, my roommate recoiled at the thought. “That’s too easy. Half the growth comes from overcoming that fear of asking someone in person. I’m sure it’s just the first of many awkward steps you have to go through in early recovery.”
Dammit. She was right.
And she wasn’t even in recovery. Just a wise soul capable of looking right through my BS.
The fact of the matter was, I was in need of a sponsor. I had been in need of a sponsor. However, I felt as though I was facing an impenetrable wall of both external and internal obstacles. No women in my AA group. An insanely busy schedule. My upcoming move to a new city.
But the most daunting obstacle was overcoming my sense of self-worth, or lack thereof.
I’ve always been one of those oh-I’m-sorry-to-bother-you types, often going out of my way to avoid being a nuisance to others. It’s a quality I generally mask behind ostensible independence. I act like I have it all under control without the need for anyone’s help when, really, I’m simply grappling with an overwhelming sense of unworthiness.
So, of course, the thought of having to approach someone I barely knew and ask them to help me navigate the darkest, ugliest, most shameful parts of my psyche left me feeling vulnerable. I didn’t feel ready to spiritually disrobe in front of a stranger. What would they think of my soul’s lumps, wrinkles, and cellulite?
Early recovery is like being a teenager again. We’re all just a couple of pimply-faced kids awkwardly wandering through the school halls of life. Asking someone to be our sponsor is basically the equivalent of asking someone to the prom. What if they say no? What if it gets weird? What I fart during the first meeting?
And then there’s figuring out how to go about asking.
Maybe I’ll do it like I’m asking someone to prom. How about I craft a sign that says “Will you be my sponsor” in rose petals , and hold it up in front of the seemingly wisest woman in the room. Too much?
At the end of the day, there’s really no right or wrong way to go about it. The lesson here is stepping outside of our comfort zone and learning how to ask for help.
It didn’t take long after I decided to stop stressing about finding a sponsor that one came to me. I decided I would do what was in my control, and leave the rest up to the universe.
Whenever I got selected to speak, I would casually mention I was looking for a sponsor. I would chat people up after meetings, even when I didn’t know what the ‘eff to say (usually a “Oh hey, I really like what you said about blah blah blah” makes a great ice-breaker.)
Anyways, I found a sponsor. Yep. It happened. After my last meeting, a lovely young woman floated over to me and casually said, “Hey! You really need a sponsor? I really need a sponsee!”
What? You really need a sponsee?
And then it dawned on me. When it comes to sponsors, we are just as much a part of their recovery as they are to ours. And all this time I was worried about being a burden to someone, when it turns out, that someone needed me just as much as I needed them. All my fears, my doubts, my weirdness evaporated at the realization.
It was match!
by Paul Churchill | Aug 2, 2016 | Early Sobriety, Expectations
So when I think about my mind, I imagine myself paddling a canoe, with the water beneath me as my thoughts. Sometimes it’s a pleasant current underneath a warm sun. Other days, it’s a bit rainy, maybe a few waves, but manageable.
Today, on the other hand, I was getting tossed around tumultuous stormwaters. Lightening was striking, thunder was booming, and my paddles were flailing about in feeble attempt to steer my lurching vessel. It was exhausting.
And, in typical alcoholic fashion, my first instinct was to crawl into a hole. I yearned for isolation. I wanted to be far away from ANYBODY. You know, alone, with all those amazing, self-defeating thoughts of mine!
BUT that was simply not an option tonight! Because for my business I had to be present at one of the biggest community music events and be social. I was dreading it. UGH! MY LIFE, IN SHAMBLES, BECAUSE I HAVE TO BE BUBBLY! WOE IS ME.
So I went. And I saw that wine, and I thought…”Oh, I’ll just start again tomorrow. What’s another Day 1? I’ve already had a rough day and I’ve eaten tons of sugar and I want to feel social.. etc etc excuse excuse.” There I was, wanting to ENHANCE with booze.
But I let the thought come, and then I let it go. I was DETERMINED to PROVE to myself that, yes, I CAN have a BLAST sober.
And guess what? I totally did. It was awesome. Shared some great laughs with old friends. Came to a very profound realization that being present for and connecting with others really helps pull me away from myself (AH-HAH, so THAT’S how AA works!).
After it was all said and done, I drove home, set my stuff on the counter, poured myself a drink of water, went into my room, looked around, and that’s when I realized….
The water beneath my canoe was calm. I could practically see the full moon reflection shimmering on the water’s surface. Couple of frog chirps, even.
I had made it through the storm. I wasn’t sideways anymore. Everything is fine.
Sometimes we just have to trust that this, too, shall pass.
by Paul Churchill | Jun 27, 2016 | Early Sobriety, Expectations, The first Year
I have returned after a long absence! Things are proceeding along for me, and I’m over five months sober–157 days.
My neighborhood is surrounded by a major construction project, one of many throughout our fair city. I have determined this to be more than the usual “construction season” work typical for Minnesota in the warm months, in preparation to host the Superbowl in 2018. This is a huge time of transition for the city, and I only hope its effects are lastingly beneficial to the citizens.
What truly astounds me is that for only being a few blocks away, my home is still calm, peaceful, and amazingly quiet.
It’s easy to draw the connection, here. As I continue to reconstruct my life through this process of recovery, it can get loud. Obnoxious, sometimes. The inner turmoil of being under construction can be exhausting. Sometimes people close to me have to dodge and duck from mishandled rebar and concrete. I’m not a practiced worker, yet. Sometimes I knock out walls that are meant to be load-bearing with a flick of the wrist while helming a wrecking ball, when all I needed was a hammer. Really all I needed was a level (head).
But my head isn’t always level, and that’s where my Higher Power comes in, when I remember to ask for it. My HP is the site supervisor. It’s what props those walls back up, shuts things down when they overheat, and offers the right tools for the tasks at hand.
And when I’m really paying attention, my HP provides peace, tranquility, and serenity in the middle of a million noisy construction projects. My HP is what keeps the grass green and the trees blooming in the Edens at the eyes of the storms.
And my HP allows me to do a little damage sometimes, make mistakes and try things I’m not fully trained to do, because making those choices will ultimately teach me so much more. So I can grow like the gardens and the parks, live free and wild and always changing.
I hope I’m always a little bit under construction: constantly improving but never perfectly complete.
About the Author: Sarje Haynes is a grateful recovering alcoholic from Minneapolis, Minnesota. Learn more about her journey in sobriety at: https://nowbehere.org/about/
by Paul Churchill | Jan 30, 2016 | Alcohol Relapse, Blog, Diet & Fitness, Early Sobriety, The Bottom
On January 16, at 18 days sober, I got up before dawn and drove 50 miles outside of the city to toe the line for a 25K trail race. I had no competitive goals; I just wanted to enjoy racing again. And…I did. It was invigorating, challenging, and at times even euphoric. It was all the things my addiction has robbed from me over and over again in the past two years. Trail racing is more exhausting than road racing because your brain is perpetually engaged. You’re constantly judging, calculating, balancing. As I ran through the woods, dodging roots and fallen branches and sliding through the mud, I felt more alive than I had in weeks. Maybe I can really kick this, I thought. For real this time.
Two and a half hours later, I finished, covered in dirt and full of joy. Later I discovered I was 6th female, which was a nice bonus, but it wasn’t why I was out there. I left fairly quickly, because there was an after-party for the normal people (the ones who can have a few, call it a day and go about their business) and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle that. Smart decision, right? Yes…but it sucked.
Because in my post-collegiate running career, I’ve learned that I could not only run well enough to sometimes win races, sometimes even win money, but that I could also reward myself with a drink or two after a race or a hard training run.
But slowly, deceptively, that drink became more than two. Eventually it became five or six or seven. Finally, it replaced running entirely, and I didn’t see it happening until it was too late. But I miss those post-race rewards. I still remember the days when that’s truly all they were.
And I haven’t fucking gotten over it.
You’re a freak. Just accept it. You never really grew up. You can’t drink like an adult because you’re just a piece of shit with no self-control, I thought as I drove home after slamming two sodas and saying awkward goodbyes to people.
The thought festered and smoldered in my mind for three days, getting more and more unbearable…but I kept quiet.
I should have told someone. I should have reached out for help. Instead, I buried the thought, ashamed of my inability to be like other people. And eventually I broke, telling myself that an impending snowstorm and the inevitable few days off work was a good reason. This, of course, is a perfectly good excuse for most people, but the reality is there is no excuse in my case. There’s only the ugly, sober truth: I can’t drink. What’s fine for most people is poison for me. It didn’t take long to sink into oblivion, and for nearly a week I became a virtual ghost, completely removed from reality. The aftermath, of course, is never pretty. A more accurate description would be “horrifying.” What I’ve experienced in the past few days is not a hangover. It’s sickness, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
I still have hope that I will run again- maybe even compete again, sooner than later. But deep down I know that the bigger problem is that this could eventually kill me, and I don’t want to die.
You can run all you want, but you can’t escape yourself.
by Paul Churchill | Nov 23, 2015 | Early Sobriety, The Bottom, The first Year
Good-bye alcohol. It’s just time to let you go. You’ve been a loyal friend for all these years, but our relationship is getting way too toxic. You were awesome in the beginning, steady in the middle, and unpredictable towards the end. But damn, in the last 8 months, you’ve been brutal. You’ve turned on me, or maybe I’ve turned on you. Either way, it’s time. Time to move on.
I’m not gonna say good-bye without a thank you. I appreciate all the confidence you gave me, especially during those college years. You took away tons of stress and even gave me some pretty cool dance moves. If I had a shitty day, you were the one thing I looked forward to. You were so loyal to me. Always there…ready to help me relax.
I’m gonna really miss our steak dinners together. Our Mexican restaurant fiestas. You were awesome as a margarita. I’ll never forget our days on the lake…at the reservoir. Our late nights with old friends. I’m gonna really miss you when I fire up the grill. I mean let’s be serious, water on the rocks ain’t the same. Not even close.
I have no idea how I’m ever gonna eat crawfish again. The beach may have lost its luster too. I went without you this year, and it sucked, especially since you were cheating on me with everyone else. You were definitely putting on a show at the beach, and if you can remember, you finally won me over. Yep, you joined me for the drive home. Of course, that was sorta scary. Over 200 miles of you and me on the road together. We seemed to have a lot of those kinda moments, especially towards the end.
This brings me to all those bad times. Too many to count. I mean, damn, I can barely remember all those late night documentaries we watched on Netflix. And you gave me a short fuse at my temper. Yep, you ignited that on way too many occasions. My wife and friends tell me about how intense I got, and the horrible things I said. It’s a disgusting feeling knowing I did those things and not being able to remember. Yep, these are some of those not-good moments we had together. Lots and lots of those.
Did you notice towards the end, how much we cried together. All those sad midnights looking in the mirror. I was totally ashamed of you. Embarrassed. We had become such closet companions towards the end. I became way too dependent on you. I seemed to need you for damn near everything. I take the blame for that. I totally abused our relationship.
To be honest, when it’s all said and done, I’m probably the one at fault here. I took advantage of you. I really think you just wanted to be my buddy in the beginning. My weekend friend with with the fellas. I’m the one that dragged you along into my adult days. You’re a loyal dude, so you had no problem with that.
I will say this though. When I tried to say good-bye a few months ago, you kept teasing me. You showed up every where. So please, don’t make this so damn hard. It’s just time to move on. I deserve a little separation. Let’s move on from this toxic relationship. We both need that.
Not to mention, one of the last memories of you was one of the worst. You were there with me when I pushed my father through a door, as he fell to the floor, while my son begged for me to stop. All this while my wife and mother screamed in the background. The sights and sounds of this will never be forgotten. Never.
So good-bye to you, Alcohol. Thank you for the good memories and I’ll try to forget the bad. It’s time for me to grow up. It’s time for me to focus on my family. It’s time for me to make things right. They deserve all of me. They deserve me without you tagging along. Again, thanks for the fun times. There were tons of those. I’m just sorry I abused our relationship. I’ll take the blame for that. And who knows, if I’m ever old and alone, we may meet again. Until then though, it’s time to move on. So this is it. Good-bye.
