http://youtu.be/MRCNHJG4UyY

Best,
Lynna

Remember to use your own instincts about “any” advisements. Use of words such as “stupid” under the guise of “support and help” should raise a red flag about it’s merit as a sourceof ‘actual’ help and support. There simply is no excuse for stigma-inducing terms and language in the arena of recovery. Our society is evolving past the days of using terms like “addict”, “drunk”, “junky” “dry drunk” etc.. We are moving with increasing momentum in the recognition of neurobiological and psychological evidence-based, best practices in recovery. Thank God for that.
Recovery happens…all the time. “God helps those who help themselves”. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we can not see” Hebrews 11:1

Remember “Menu of Options”. One size does not fit all. http://smartrecovery.org/

By the time I was in my second year of my Ph.D. I had published/presented 54 medical papers, published 6 peer reviewed medical papers, was contributing author on one book, owned and operated my own consulting company in respiratory medicine, developed a patent for respiratory devices, and was progressing successfully in my Ph.D. I was 31 years old and I was proud of my accomplishments and my continuing success in respiratory medicine. But, that was all about to change. Addiction would enter my life and take away from me my possessions, my profession, my loved ones, and my sanity.

My pathway to addiction started when I made an appointment to see Dr. Cary Suter, M.D. for migraine headaches. I put great trust in him due to the fact that he was the medical schools doctor and was responsible for taking care of the students enrolled in the medical school programs. In a timeframe of 8 months I was prescribed 6,647 controlled substance pills. I had pills to help me stay awake and study, pills for helping me sleep, pills for anxiety, and pills for pain. I knew about addiction but I thought I was too intelligent to become addicted. Anyway, these pills were provided to me by the schools doctor who said he had taken pills when he was in medical school to help him succeed. My ignorance would cause me to lose almost a decade of my life and would bring me close to death many times as a result of my severe drug addiction.

Although Dr. Suter lost his medical license for over prescribing controlled substances and not monitoring that prescribing, it was too late for me. I had to drop out of my Ph.D. program due to my addiction. Dr. Suter lost his license 3 months after I dropped out of the program. At this point in my life, I had to confront and accept some very disturbing facts: I no longer was pursuing the goal I had been following for the past 15 years, I was severely addicted to prescription drugs, the doctor who had been prescribing me the drugs had his medical license revoked, and the main focus of my life was to obtain drugs. I was, in essence, trapped in the severity of my addiction. For the first time I had lost complete control over my life.

My first of numerous addiction related detrimental events came when I was presenting a medical paper at a conference in Atlanta, Georgia. Before my lecture I forged a prescription on my computer and proceeded to the pharmacy to have it filled. Since the prescription was for Demerol, the pharmacy called the doctor and verified the prescription was forged. The police were waiting for me (at the conference lecture hall) to finish my lecture and when I did they handcuffed and arrested me. I was taken out in front of all my colleagues and conference members and taken to jail. Needless to say I was immediately fired from my job as a senior aerosol scientist for a prominent German company established in the United States.

For many years I was doctor shopping. I would acquire my drugs in many ways: the internet, hospital emergency rooms, forged prescriptions, clinics, private doctors, and in other countries. I would stay employed by various companies because of my experience in respiratory medicine. But, I would ultimately get fired when my drug addiction interfered with the quality of my work. Eventually, word of my addiction became known to my colleagues and the respiratory medicine industry. From that point on, I was not called upon to lecture, to consult, or in any way work in the respiratory medicine industry. I was, for all intents and purposes, “blackballed” from my profession.

Shunned from my profession, disenchanted from my family and friends, and homeless, I fell into a deep depression. It was at this time that I wrote a suicide note and attempted to commit suicide. Over the next 9 years I would attempt suicide 1 more time, have 35 toxic overdoses, and 45 seizures. All of which brought me close to death each time.

During the 9 years of my addiction, I would periodically give the rehabilitations a try. Nine times I made a serious effort to get sober. But, every time I would relapse within weeks of being discharged. After 9 years of being an addict, I completely surrendered to my disease and came to the understanding that my addiction was not going to be successfully addressed in weeks or even in a couple months of treatment. I realized that my recovery would require at least a year in a long term residential program where I could work on my addiction issues every day with no distractions. I found that in a year-long cognitive/behavioral rehabilitation program. This program not only worked on my addiction issues but also worked on my cognitive/behavioral issues that caused me to seek out the drugs.

Currently, my life is finally in a direction I can be proud of. I graduated from a year-long in-patient residential cognitive/behavioral rehabilitation facility. My sobriety restored my clarity of thought and determination. Two attributes which were essential for completing my memoir. I believe I can inspire and educate others about addiction and recovery with my memoir.

My future is completely open with possibilities. I do know that I am very thrilled and inspired living life as a sober individual since December 25, 2007. And, for the first the first time in over 9 years I have a sense of self-confidence and respect for myself. This confidence reminds me that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. For this reason, I have enrolled and been accepted to complete my doctorate in public health education.

It has been a long, arduous, and self-revealing journey through my 9 years of addiction to recovery. Unfortunately along the way I became deceitful, dishonest, unreliable, and untrustworthy. On the other hand I can proclaim that through my suffering and adversity came great rewards and prosperity. Today, I will continue to advocate for those affected by this disease of addiction. It is a passion and a pathway that I will pursue for the rest of my life.

david_loffert@live.com

I can’t avoid dealing with him because my parents still want to deal with him and he’s always there when they’re there. If it wouldn’t be for my parents, I would stay clear of him all together. What do I do about his drinking and his child-like behavior?

Deep in Denial:

I had been doing better. Not a drop since Labor Day. The family had their hopes up again.
My wife and oldest child were witnesses to my diligent efforts not to drink; to “do better”. They were optimistic about Thanksgiving, but my youngest, away at college, remained the family skeptic.

“How’s Dad doing?” , I heard her ask her mother on the telephone.
“Better”, my wife assured her.
“Yeah right”
“No really ….Better… really. Sweetie, please come home. Its going to be a great weekend. You can see your friends. ”

***********
Together, my wife and I decided to go through with the family’s usual Thanksgiving plans. A big dinner was arranged at our house. Family friends were invited. The kids invited their friends too. It was one of our favorite rituals. In years past, before my “problem drinking” had become an un-welcomed holiday guest, we had enjoyed many Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays that came right off of Hallmark cards. These were the holidays before the glasses and bottles started showing up in odd places and before the phone was off limits to Dad after 8:00p.m. These were holidays now several years past, but still remembered like they were yesterday.

The Thanksgivings of years past were such precious memories that none of us could let them go. Especially me. This year, I was “doing better”. I was trying my best. I knew my footing was dubious, but I also knew I might be spending my last Thanksgiving with the family. Drinking or sober, I inwardly knew I was “toast”. Alcoholism had me in its silent strangle hold and I knew it. My loyal loving wife, a real fighter, had not yet faced the undeniable fact of alcoholism in our lives. I was sincerely trying to be the father and husband my family had once known. She was still trying to hold our lives together, even though I was broken. I was still insanely claiming my persistent efforts would overcome my obsession with alcohol. But, in my soul, I knew wasn’t “winning”.

Cooking the turkey was my job. Probably, it was never as good as I thought, still the family remained happy to let Dad have his way. The kids were busy with their friends. My wife, a self admitted holiday addict, was busy with the many preparations. I was left alone for the bulk of the day with no responsibility other than cooking a turkey and watching Thanksgiving football. This day, I was grateful. Newly sober, I believed we were on our way to another wonderful Thanksgiving.

After many years, as you might expect, the family stuffing and the turkey gravy that accompanied the meal had to be just so. It was important to all of us; part of the ritual. Our stuffing recipe was elaborate. It included apples, raisins, pecans, onions and celery all caramelized in butter with a touch of chicken broth and cooking sherry. This concoction was added to the stuffing and puréed in the gravy and I’m telling you it was good…. really good. It was my annual contribution the family festivities. In my alcoholic mind it was, in fact, too good to change. Even under the circumstances, I told myself this “important” part of the family ritual needn’t change just because I had a “drinking problem” and the same held true of the cocktails we always offered our holiday guests and the light white wine we always served with Thanksgiving dinner. My wife and children agreed with my assessment. This Thanksgiving could, and should, be just like old times.

I don’t know when I decided to taste the cooking sherry. It was a good while before the best football game started. I know, the bird went in the oven by 10:00 a.m. because both of the turkeys in the house were thoroughly “cooked” when the guests arrived. I’m not sure when I went to the store to get the replacement bottle of cooking sherry. It had to be before noon because the grocery closed at noon on Thanksgiving. This means I drove after drinking; something I had promised myself I would never do again. I have a vague recollection of stealing one of the bottles of dinner wine, opening it and stowing it away for myself. Since I couldn’t drink at the party, my perfected ritual was to put a bottle away in a secret place to gulp in stolen trips. In short recesses away from the company of my friends and family, alone and literally closeted by my addiction, I would gulp my Thanksgiving dinner from a plastic cup.

As the guests arrived, I know I embarrassed both of my children terribly in front of their friends. I know I made such a travesty of the Thanksgiving prayer that I was invited in the kitchen for a scolding by my disgusted wife. Shortly after dinner I remember I was sent directly to bed like the ill behaved child I had become. I can still vividly see the saddened faces of our guests as I made my pathetic exit. On this regrettable Thanksgiving day, I unnecessarily inflicted pain upon my wife and children. I am intensely aware of the incision I made in the consciousness of my family and friends that day. These are facts of my life that I choose never to forget; valuable memories of the poison alcohol becomes when I drink it.

This is the story of the Thanksgiving I didn’t go to rehab. Still held hostage by four of the greatest enemies of the alcoholic or addict that needs help, I sabotaged yet another holiday for my family and friends. The delusion of “impending wellness” which I was trying to perpetuate was actually the product of a mind filled with denial, rationalization, justification and minimization. I didn’t know how truly defective my thinking was at the time. At the time, giving the holidays a valiant try seemed like the best thing for the family. In the name of trying to recapture the days when my life was manageable , when I was “ a good Dad”, I made yet another bad decision to resist the truth that I was an alcoholic and my life was especially unmanageable in the holidays. As it says in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous , I was really “whistling past the graveyard”.

Given a chance to do it over again, I would get on with it. I would go to rehab for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I would admit personal defeat and get the entire family much needed help. Alcoholics and addicts like me, don’t want to self destruct in the holidays. We don’t want to hurt the people we love. Yet there is an undeniable angst to the holidays for many of us. Sometimes the revelry of the holidays is more than those of us who are willing to become sober, but not yet able to maintain sobriety, can take. With time, usually a good deal of time, most of us can carefully return to some degree of holiday normalcy, but early on, especially if we are still fighting the obsession of alcoholism or drug addiction, the holidays need to be approached with caution. If taken too lightly, the holiday’s can be filled with peril.

J Thomas- 11/19/11

Are you between the age of 21 & 65 and regularly use Cocaine or Crack?
Do you have difficulty paying attention, concentrating, remembering, or thinking?
Is this affecting your daily life?

If so, you may be eligible for a FREE confidential research treatment study.
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