"I" couldn't (can't) fix me.
The word "I", the shortest word in the English dictionary, was my greatest obstacle to recovery!!!
There is no addiction in my family or trauma in my childhood.. Great parents, siblings and anything I could have wanted, I had. I was the baby and definitely the black sheep as my older brother and sister both graduated Notre Dame and University of Michigan Law School "Summa Cum Laude."
Almost immediately when I left for Michigan State University in the fall of 1983 at the age of 17, "I" decided that I liked my personality better in social scenes under the heavy influence of alcohol then I did sober. This is where my alcoholism began. By 1994 I had 4 DUI's and the next one was going to be a felony and probably a year in jail. While in college, I had experimented with cocaine, pain killers, and other drugs. "I" had another brain storm, I'll stick to pain killers and quit drinking for a while. It worked, I substituted them just fine. I went from vicodan, to vicodan ES, to ES's and soma's, to methadone occasionally and ultimately fentanyl patches we would tear open. It didn't take long and when the pills or patches couldn't be found, "I" decided to start snorting heroin, later "I" decided to shoot heroin. WTF. Craziest of all, "I" still thought I could figure this addiction thing out and handle it.
Well, "I" created this addict.
"I" told me it was a good idea to steal from my mother's purse."I" chose poison over food when I only had $20. I thought it was a good idea to stick a needle in my arm. I left my children behind to find dope. In 2006, I overdosed on the expressway, woke up in the ER and walked right to my impounded van as soon as I got out of jail in the morning to do some more dope I just overdosed on. Up to this point in my life, for the past 23 years, every time, "I", started a sentence, what followed was a disaster.
7 days after I overdosed I entered my 4th rehab and stayed 28 days, got a great sponsor, "George", shut up and went to meetings. The first thing he had to beat into my head was for me not to trust me. Ain't that a bitch. George simply explained that nobody else in this or any world wanted me to f^ck up my life but me, nobody. "I" was the only one that decided being a dope fiend / junkie was a good idea. If I could deceive myself so simply, how could I ever be helped? Had I done too much damage to my brain? He handed me a small stack of 3×5 cards with 3 or 4 words on each one and instructed me anytime I needed to make a decision I would have to ask at least three people with 2 or more years in recovery a question beginning off those cards. The cards read, "how did you?", "what would you?", "how would you?"
Even now, "I" have to ask for help with many facets of my life from my friends in recovery, George and, of course, God. I can't explain the positive impact another's point of view can have on my decision making process. I don't always take advice, I'm human, but I do ask for it.