11.24.2014

There Seems To Be This Alternative...

I’m 17 years old today, for the second time. The first time I turned 17, I was probably a little bit stoned. Or anticipating the moment I would be so later that day. Today is my “clean-time birthday,” which is November 24, 1997. In 1997, November 24th fell on Thanksgiving Day. The day before Thanksgiving that year was the last time I used. That automatically makes Thanksgiving a very special day for me, a day when I might have just a bit more gratitude than most. I am alive and I probably shouldn’t be. I certainly did a lot of things that could have (and should have) killed me. Plenty of others who did the very things I did have died. I’ve known quite a few. I’ve been to more funerals than I care to count.

A beautiful young woman, Krista , died three days ago. I sat in meetings with her for the past year or so. She had this! She was making it. And then she wasn’t. She left a nine-year old little girl to navigate life without her. She left so many, many people behind, people who loved her and embraced her and supported her. So many broken hearts in Athens-area recovery circles right now.

Two and a half years ago, my friend, Posey, decided he couldn’t try any longer. He shot himself in the chest. I miss him terribly. He was a beautiful soul who tried as long as he could, until he couldn’t any longer. He was so persistent in his struggle to get this thing, to make it. I hate, hate, hate that he gave up. I wish he would have called me. I might not have been able to say anything to change his mind, but I still wish he would have called me – or someone, anyone. He called me so many times before that, when he was on that brink, but not that last time. I’ll always miss him.

Twelve years ago, in 2002, another good friend, someone I got clean with, someone who meant so much to my recovery, someone else I miss still today, Jeff, also took his own life. My heart still hurts remembering him. He was so talented (musician), so kind, so spiritual, so connected, so real. He touched my life and left his mark, forever. Not even death can take that away, fortunately.

There have been others. Angie. I hate this disease. Bo. It doesn’t discriminate. Jane. It waits patiently, always in the background. Christine. So many others, too many others…

None of these people died so that I could live, so that I would “get it,” to keep me from returning to what I once thought was the only way I would ever get through life. None of them died in order for me to stay clean, in order for me to go on. But, because they died as they did, because I saw them in both the throes of active addiction and in the light of recovery, I will honor their memory and continue to carry the message of recovery to those still-suffering addicts who truly believe there is no other way.


Today, as I have been for most of the past 6209 days, I am grateful to be alive.

I’m Maze. I’m an addict.









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