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.
