The Gateway to Despair

The Journey Begins

A Glimpse into My Childhood

Growing up in a loving, middle-class family, my childhood was filled with laughter, sports, and unforgettable memories. Our home, situated on a beautiful lake, served as the perfect playground for a young and adventurous spirit like mine. From sunrise to sunset, my days were spent exploring the outdoors, swimming, fishing, and boating. My parents provided me with every opportunity to develop my interests and pursue my passions, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

As a child, I was eager to try out every sport available in my hometown. From football to baseball, karate, and hockey, I was determined to find my true passion. Eventually, it was hockey that captured my heart, and it became my sole focus throughout my childhood years.

The most pivotal person in my life during those formative years was undoubtedly my mother, Robyn. She was my biggest supporter, always standing up for me, even when she knew I was in the wrong. I recall one particular instance when I was caught playing with matches in the woods near our house. When confronted by a neighbor kid, my mother swiftly came to my defense, imparting a valuable lesson about loyalty and trust. This is just one of the countless examples of her unwavering love and support.

My mother was also instrumental in instilling a strong sense of faith and spirituality in our lives. She ensured that my brother and I attended our Catholic faith formation classes and ultimately received the sacrament of Confirmation. To me, my mother is nothing short of a saint – the best woman I have ever known.

As I reflect on my childhood, I realize how these early experiences have shaped the person I am today. The love and guidance of my family, my passion for sports, and my strong sense of faith have all played a significant role in my journey. In the chapters that follow, I will delve deeper into my story, exploring the challenges and triumphs that have led me to where I am today. Join me as I share my experiences, insights, and lessons learned along the way.

One of my earliest childhood memories dates back to when I was just three years old, and it’s a memory that has stayed with me throughout my life. At that time, I had developed a peculiar habit of shoplifting – specifically, stealing packs of gum from the local grocery store. My first transgression was met with a firm spanking from my dad, which, to my surprise, didn’t have the intended effect on me. Instead of learning my lesson, I found myself caught in the act again just a week later.

Recognizing that a different approach was needed, my mom took matters into her own hands. With tears streaming down my face and cries of “I don’t want to go to jail,” she drove me to the police station. My heart raced as we entered the building, unsure of what lay ahead.

Inside the station, I was led to a police officer who took the time to sit down with me and discuss the importance of honesty and the consequences of stealing. He explained why stealing was wrong and the potential repercussions of continuing down that path. As a young child, this experience was both humbling and frightening. It was a stark reminder of the potential consequences of my actions.

Remarkably, that visit to the police station marked the end of my brief foray into kleptomania. The lesson I learned that day, coupled with my mother’s unwavering support and guidance, left an indelible mark on me. Looking back, I can appreciate how this early childhood memory helped shape my character and instill a strong sense of right and wrong in me.

Growing up, I began to think that yelling was just a normal way to communicate, and that anger was an inherent part of life. This belief seeped into various aspects of my childhood, affecting my behavior and relationships with others. It wasn’t until much later in life that I understood how deeply this had impacted me.

As I continue my journey into the past, I want to introduce you to my father, a man with a great sense of humor and a caring heart, even if he didn’t always know how to express it. My dad was a unique character, someone who always seemed to be angry and yelling, often without reason. My mom bore the brunt of his outbursts, and I believe that many times, she intentionally took the heat to shield my brother and me from his wrath.

My father’s affection and validation were often tied to our achievements and successes. Good grades in school, excelling in sports, or any other accomplishment became the currency of his approval. For my brother and me, this set the stage for a highly competitive and aggressive attitude. We constantly strove to perform well in order to feel valued by our father, which sometimes resulted in a relentless pursuit of perfection.

Growing up, my dad would take my older brother and me on hunting trips to a piece of property he owned about an hour north of our house. Every year in November, my brother and I would often be allowed to skip school for a couple of days to go deer hunting. It was always a competition between us; my brother was well known for missing deer and being a little trigger happy, which led to many laughter-filled conversations at his expense.

One particular year, while hunting with my dad, I shot a wall-mounting 10-point white-tail buck, a memory that remains one of my favorites. My deer stand was situated along the railroad tracks bordering an old, unused farmer’s pasture. The stand was positioned on the edge of the pasture, between a small patch of woods and a soybean field on the other side.

As the sky began to darken during the evening hunt, I spotted a huge buck about 200 yards out, walking into the soybean field from the edge of the neighboring trees. Though the deer was on someone else’s property, it was a weekday, and nobody was hunting there. My dad had already given me the green light to take the shot if any big deer came out behind my stand, and this buck surely counted.

I propped my .308 pump-action Winchester rifle on my knee, lifting one leg onto the bench as I took aim. Through the scope, I could see the buck’s impressive rack, which made me incredibly excited. I might have missed the shot if it weren’t for the fact that I initially forgot to take off the safety. This near-miss forced me to take a deep breath and calm down enough to properly aim behind the buck’s shoulder, adjusting for the distance as it stood broadside to me.

With an exhale, I squeezed the trigger and in all reality, I was shaky and freaking out, but I like to imagine the scene as something cool and cinematic, like a sniper scene from Saving Private Ryan. After I took the shot and the smoke cleared, I saw the deer drop immediately. I couldn’t help but scream out loud with excitement, using some rather colorful expressions.

I called my dad while he was in his own deer stand across the railroad tracks. Normally, I was supposed to wait until dark, but he had heard my shouting, and we decided to call an end to the hunt. My dad was even more excited than I was, and to this day, that experience remains one of my favorite memories from my childhood.

Looking back, I can see that my father’s behavior and communication style shaped me in both positive and negative ways. It fostered a strong work ethic and a drive to succeed, but it also instilled a sense of never being good enough. As I delve deeper into my past and the roots of my addiction, I hope to shed light on how these early influences set the stage for the challenges I would later face in life. In sharing my story, I hope to provide a better understanding of how childhood experiences can shape and mold us into the people we become, and how, by recognizing and confronting these influences, we can break free from the chains that hold us back.

As a child, my relationship with my brother Junior was far from perfect. Junior who was four years older than me, had a more serious and quieter demeanor compared to my outgoing and lively personality. Our differences often led to conflicts and misunderstandings, creating a tense atmosphere in our household.

I believe that Junior sometimes held resentment towards me because I received a lot of attention from our family. Achievements in sports and academics earned me praise from our parents, and I think Junior may have felt that I had taken some of their love away from him when I was born.

Despite the constant bickering and arguments between us, there was an unspoken rule that we never punched each other in the face. Our fights typically involved punches to the arm or leg, and since Junior was always much bigger than me, I relied on stealth and speed to retaliate. For the most part, we couldn't stand being around each other, and he absolutely despised it when I tried to hang out with his friends. I was rarely allowed to tag along when he spent time with his buddies.

As a child, my relationship with my brother Junior was far from perfect. Junior who was four years older than me, had a more serious and quieter demeanor compared to my outgoing and lively personality. Our differences often led to conflicts and misunderstandings, creating a tense atmosphere in our household.

I believe that Junior sometimes held resentment towards me because I received a lot of attention from our family. Achievements in sports and academics earned me praise from our parents, and I think Junior may have felt that I had taken some of their love away from him when I was born.

Despite the constant bickering and arguments between us, there was an unspoken rule that we never punched each other in the face. Our fights typically involved punches to the arm or leg, and since Junior was always much bigger than me, I relied on stealth and speed to retaliate. For the most part, we couldn't stand being around each other, and he absolutely despised it when I tried to hang out with his friends. I was rarely allowed to tag along when he spent time with his buddies.

It seems that no matter how hard my parents tried, they were constantly disciplining me for one reason or another. Whether it was getting into fights at school or with my brother, or refusing to do my homework or even bring it home, I was a handful to say the least.

Looking back, our tumultuous relationship as children has shaped who we are today. We've learned to navigate our differences and appreciate the unique traits that each of us brings to the table. Although our bond was strained in our younger years, it has grown stronger with time, and we've come to understand that family is a priceless treasure we must always cherish.

One particular story that stands out is the time I tried to exact revenge on my brother by taping a thumbtack to the toilet seat. Unfortunately, my plan didn't go as expected; instead of my brother being the victim, it was my father who fell prey to the prank. I was scolded and grounded, but over the years, this incident became one of the more humorous memories that my family loves to recount.

My rebellious spirit seemed to be a part of my very nature, and my childhood was filled with these moments of mischief and defiance. In retrospect, these events may have been challenging for my parents, but they also provided invaluable lessons and helped shape the person I am today. As I continue to share my journey in this blog, I hope to explore how these experiences influenced not only my formative years but also my later struggles with addiction and the path to recovery.

As I stepped into junior high, it marked a pivotal moment in my life, igniting a period of transformation and self-discovery. Junior high school presented a whole new world, where I skillfully navigated the trials of adolescence while carving out my own identity. It was during this phase that I delved deeper into my strengths and weaknesses, and unearthed a newfound passion: boxing.

At the age of twelve, I successfully convinced my parents to allow me to join a boxing gym. Fueled by the inspiration from the Rocky movies, I harbored dreams of ascending to the ranks of a world champion boxer. With a natural inclination towards aggression as a child, boxing provided the ideal avenue to unleash and channel my energy and fighting spirit. It was during this time that I forged a strong link between the affection and attention I received from others and my performance, both inside and outside the ring.

Training at the boxing gym, I started to develop my skills and eventually entered competition bouts.

My dedication to the sport only grew stronger as I saw progress in my abilities. This newfound passion had a significant impact on my relationships, particularly with my father. Everywhere we went, he would proudly introduce me as his son, the boxer. His pride in my achievements filled me with a sense of accomplishment and validation.

As I continued through junior high, the lessons I learned from boxing began to shape other aspects of my life. It taught me discipline, perseverance, and the importance of setting goals. These lessons not only helped me excel in boxing but also contributed to my personal growth during those critical years of adolescence. The boxing ring became my sanctuary, where I learned to face my fears and push beyond my limits.

When looking through the lense of all that I know now, its easy to see how essential that period was in setting me down the path that led to the struggles to come but also got me through them and to where I am today. It was during those years that I discovered my passion for boxing and competition and experienced the joy of earning the pride and affection of my family and friends as they supported me through my competitions. As I grew older, I continued to carry these lessons with me good and bad, shaping my character and guiding me through the challenges of life that still occur for me often.

It's worth Mentioning that Boxing runs in my blood and has a history on my Dads' side, My Great-Great Grandmother, on his side moved the the US in the early 1900's From Catanzaro, Calabria at the Southern Tip of Italy. One of my uncles used to explain where Calabria is by saying that it's the tip of the boot that kicks the Sicilians in the ass. 4 of my Great-Uncles were Boxers and one of them was the Upper Midwest Golden Gloves Champion in 1939.

Life as a boxer brought with it a sense of accomplishment and the thrill of becoming good at something. Every training session, every bruise, and every bead of sweat contributed to my growth as a fighter. The boxing gym became my second home, and my fellow boxers, my extended family. Boxing tournaments became a weekend vacation for the family, one year we all stayed at a Resort up near one of the Native American Reservations close to the tournament I was competing in for the MN State Junior

Olympic State Championship in 2001.

I vividly recall a day, not too long after My Dad first started bringing me to the gym when he challenged me to make the other boy cry in the ring. It seemed like an odd request, but the promise of Dairy Queen ice cream every day for a week was too tempting to resist. That evening, as I faced my opponent in the ring, I mustered all my strength and determination. I pushed myself harder than ever before, landing powerful punches and relentlessly attacking.

In the second round, the other boy's defenses began to crumble, and he finally broke down in tears. I remember the triumphant look on my dad's face as he laughed and cheered for me. That night, we went to Dairy Queen, and my dad's laughter continued to echo in my ears.

As the years went by, that story became a favorite of my dad's, something he would recount with great amusement. Though it may have seemed like just another anecdote, for me, it marked a turning point in my life as a boxer. It was the moment I truly realized I had become good at something, and the powerful feeling of accomplishment that came with it fueled my passion that summer to keep getting better, it drove me to keep improving and move on to compete with some of the greatest teenage athletes in the country.

As my journey continued, I began to see the impact of my dedication and hard work on my relationships and social life. The more I competed and won fights, the more positive attention I received from my friends and peers at school and family friends. It was exhilarating, the feeling that my success in the ring brought a newfound sense of respect and admiration from those around me was a feeling I began to fight for. (No Pun intended)

By the time I was in eighth grade, I had won the Junior Olympic State title two years in a row, a feat that was proudly featured in the local newspaper. My achievements in Ring not only bolstered my confidence but also earned me a reputation even outside of school as the tough kid that won the State Championship at the MN Junior Olympics—the one nobody wanted to mess with. I soaked it all in and it would't be too long before I learned one of the best ways to find humility. A Good Ass Whooping!

his newfound status drew the attention of what I considered "the cool crowd." These were the kids who had an air of confidence and charisma, and they seemed to be the epicenter of all things happening at school in our small suburban universe. Being invited to parties was always something I looked forward to and I took a lot of joy in being included to make plans with alot of the guys I played Hockey with as well as a group of us that had been going to school together for years. If I had to classify our click in those years, it was the Stoners, before they started smoking Weed.

During grades 7-9th which was considered Jr High back then, I continued to play hockey as well as train at the Boxing gym and found a really good group of guys on my Hockey team that I would play with all the way through high school. One of my fondest memories from that period was a tournament that my team participated in, where I was fortunate enough to play some of the best games of my life.

That weekend, I truly felt like I was on top of the world. We took home the first-place championship that year, and I managed to pull off two shutouts, meaning that during two whole games, I didn't allow the opposing team to score any goals. As the captain of my team, I felt immense pride as I skated out to collect our trophy.

I can still vividly recall the song "We Are the Champions" by Queen blaring across the ice from a hockey mom who had brought a boombox to the event. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and as we got off the ice that day, I received my first-ever standing ovation from the people in our section of the crowd.

The attention I received that day reinforced my belief that when I performed well, people liked me. My identity was becoming increasingly intertwined with this notion that as long as I excelled at things, I would be accepted by others. Looking back, I now recognize that this mindset was not entirely healthy, as it led me to place a significant amount of pressure on myself to constantly succeed.

However, despite the challenges that this mindset posed, I am grateful for the experiences and memories that my junior high school years provided. The lessons I learned during that time have stayed with me throughout my life, reminding me of the importance of perseverance, hard work, and self-belief.

It was around this time that I discovered alcohol and began getting drunk with my friends. I didn't realize it back then, but looking back now, I can see that even at that young age, I was beginning to develop habits that would grow into something much more serious in the years to follow.

As I navigated the complexities of dating and relationships, I found that alcohol provided a temporary escape from the pressures and insecurities I faced. What started as innocent teenage fun and experimentation soon began to evolve into a coping mechanism for dealing with the challenges of adolescence.

In hindsight, I wish I had recognized the warning signs of my unhealthy habits and sought help or guidance from someone I trusted. The combination of alcohol and the pressure to maintain my popularity made it difficult for me to develop healthy relationships and make responsible choices during my teenage years.

I recall a memory from the summer after my eighth-grade year when my friend Benny and I decided to push our limits with alcohol. It was a night that would teach us a harsh lesson about the consequences of our actions.

I had stolen a liter of Windsor Canadian whiskey from my parents' liquor cabinet, and we waited until they went to sleep before pouring ourselves two large glasses mixed with a splash of soda. Within ten minutes, we had finished our drinks and sat down in the living room to watch a movie, unaware of how the alcohol would soon overwhelm us.

When my brother came home about a half-hour later, he immediately sensed that something was wrong. As I tried to deny our intoxication, Benny suddenly began to vomit all over himself and the couch. He slurred his words and drifted in and out of consciousness.

My brother, realizing the severity of the situation, ran to wake up our parents. They were completely unprepared for the scene that awaited them in the living room. As Benny choked on his vomit and I struggled to function, my dad instructed my mom to call 9-1-1. I finally admitted that we had drunk the Windsor whiskey from the cabinet.

The look of horror on my dad's face as he saw the nearly empty bottle, which had been full and unopened just hours before, is something I will never forget. That night changed my perspective on alcohol and made me realize the potential dangers of pushing the limits. It was a wake-up call and a lesson that has stayed with me to this day.

That night was a pivitol moment for both Benny and I and it was also a turning point in my life. As I looked around our house, it was swarming with paramedics, first responders, and police officers. They were all there because of the dangerous situation we had created for ourselves.

I was escorted to the bathroom and told to sit by the toilet while the EMTs worked on stabilizing Benny in the living room. I can still hear his screams as they tried to insert a tube into his trachea, ultimately using a paralyzing agent to keep him from struggling and to ensure he continued breathing. We were both rushed to the hospital in separate ambulances, and Benny had to have his stomach pumped.

For the rest of that summer, I wasn't allowed to leave the house, and it took months before Benny and I could hang out again. Just weeks after the incident, I developed shingles on half of my face. The doctors attributed the outbreak to the trauma and stress from that fateful night. The pain was unbearable, and my face felt like it was on fire.

At the time, I thought I was being punished by God for getting drunk and that I deserved the pain. Looking back, I don't believe that was the case. However, I do think that God was trying to warn me about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. Unfortunately, I didn't learn from that hard-earned lesson.

I often wonder how different my life could have been if I had never touch

In my teenage years, I experienced the harsh consequences of multiple head injuries and a couple of major concussions from boxing. The emotional, mental, and physical effects of these injuries were significant. I began to feel the toll of boxing on my body and mind. Every day, my father would push me to go to the gym, and I would come home with a pounding migraine headache from the beatings I endured.

It's worth Mentioning that Boxing runs in my blood and has a history on my Dads' side, My Great-Great Grandmother, on his side moved the the US in the early 1900's From Catanzaro, Calabria at the Southern Tip of Italy. One of my uncles used to explain where Calabria is by saying that it's the tip of the boot that kicks the Sicilians in the ass. 4 of my Great-Uncles were Boxers and one of them was the Upper Midwest Golden Gloves Champion in 1939.

As the pain and exhaustion increased, my passion for boxing and confidence in my abilities started to decline. I couldn't help but wonder who I was without boxing. What would my life be like without it? I feared losing all my friends and the social status I had gained through my success in the ring.

Brody was the kind of boxer who wanted everyone in the gym to know just how good he was, which made sparring with him an unpleasant experience. My worst concussion happened during a match with him. At that time, I was better than ever before, but Brody's skill and experience still far surpassed mine. One day, I landed a hard punch on him, which seemed to infuriate him. In response, he unleashed his fury and beat me mercilessly. I can't recall if I left the ring before the bell rang or if one of the coaches stopped the match, but I stumbled to the back of the gym, my head pounding and eyes barely open.

Eventually, my dad realized that my distress was more than just the disappointment of losing. He rushed me to the ER for a brain scan. Sitting in the waiting room, I felt nauseous, and every heave into the garbage can intensified the excruciating pain in my head. My vision was also affected, with spots appearing wherever I focused my eyes. When I tried to read the paperwork I had to complete, I discovered that I couldn't identify the words even though they looked familiar. The gap in my vision prevented me from processing the letters into coherent words. That was a terrifying moment for me, as I didn't know if I would be stuck with these symptoms permanently or if they would have long-lasting effects on my life.

After a CT scan, the doctors informed me and my parents that I had "contusions on my brain," which essentially meant bruising and scar tissue from prolonged trauma to my head. That was when my mom stepped in and told my dad that he couldn't force me to go to the boxing gym anymore. That was the turning point in my life. From then on, I chose to chase popularity and partying as a high schooler, leaving my boxing days behind. For a little while anyway.......

Identity Crisis

My confidence was utterly shattered after that last beating at the boxing gym. I felt humiliated every time someone asked me when my next boxing match would be, as if I had completely lost my identity. I struggled to regain my sense of self during the last years of junior high, trying to find a new passion that could fill the void left by boxing.

When I turned 16, my parents helped me buy my first car, a 1989 Lincoln Town Car. With its leather seats and blue rag top, I thought I was the epitome of cool. Being one of the few people in my group of friends with their own vehicle, I found myself gravitating towards a new crowd - the "stoners." Smoking weed became a daily habit for me, as I sought to fit in and regain the sense of identity that I had lost.

I would pick up some of my friends in my car, and we would drive around for hours, smoking and feeling free from the pressures of our teenage lives. Little did I know that this new lifestyle would not only fail to replace the confidence and self-worth I had found in boxing, but it would also lead me down a path filled with its own unique set of challenges and struggles.

As I reflect on these pivotal moments in my life, I realize the importance of finding a healthy and sustainable way to build one's identity and self-worth. While boxing brought me recognition and popularity, it also took a toll on my physical and emotional health. On the other hand, my newfound lifestyle of chasing popularity through partying and substance use only served to further erode my sense of self. In the end, I learned that true identity and confidence come from within, and that it's crucial to find a balance between our passions and the desire for external validation.

High School Years - New Friends and New Experiences

As I entered into High School I found myself meeting new people and building a new social circle where I wanted to feel accepted and valued. As I began my sophomore year, I was eager to make new friends and create new experiences, and I had a very ambitious and energetic outlook about my life. I got along well with most groups of people around school, never getting into may fights, mostly my boxing reputation from Junior High helped keep people wary of starting fights with me. Smoking Weed became more and more common in my daily life as I began to become friends with others that also smoked and like to party.

It was during this time that a group of four men, three in their mid-twenties and one in his thirties, moved into my neighborhood, right across the street from my parents' house. Their names were Randall, Kevin, Fred, and Mitch; Randall owned a Window and Door Installation Company, and the rest of the guys all lived with him in the house across the street and worked for his construction company. They worked together, lived together, and partied together. It was the ultimate bachelor lifestyle to my adolescent eyes.

One night, they threw a huge party, and I decided to go over and introduce myself. To my delight, I discovered that they all smoked weed too. They welcomed me with open arms, and before long, I found myself hanging out at their house, smoking weed every day after school. They treated me like an adult, and I reveled in the sense of acceptance and camaraderie that I found among them and their friends. There were many nights where I would walk across the street to go hang out and gamble in one of the Cash Poker games that we used to have every weekend; it was a good feeling to feel accepted by an older group of Men that had what I perceived to be "Cool" qualities at the time.

Every weekend seemed to be filled with parties, attractive girls, and good times. This new social circle provided me with the sense of belonging and validation that I had been craving since leaving boxing behind. It felt like I had finally found my place, a group of people who accepted me for who I was, and with whom I could enjoy life without the pressures of being a young, competitive athlete.

However, as I continued to spend more time with this new crowd, I soon realized that there were risks and consequences to this new lifestyle. But for the moment, I was just grateful to have found a place where I felt like I belonged.

Dancing with addiction

As I grew closer to my neighbors, I felt a sense of pride in being accepted as an adult among them. Over time, I earned their trust, and our bond grew stronger. They began to share some of their hidden workings with me, and I felt increasingly involved in their lives.

Pretty soon, I discovered that they were drug dealers, primarily dealing in weed. Surprisingly, this revelation didn't deter me; instead, it piqued my interest. As I continued to hang out with them, they began to give me weed on the front, which I would then take to school and sell to my group of friends.

Before I knew it, I had gained a reputation as "The Plug." I reveled in my newfound status as a teenage drug dealer, in hindsight I was not smuggling kilos across the border and I was not as one might say a "Big Fish".  But to me, it was a thrill all the same.  The attention I would get from people seeking me out to buy a bag of weed seemed to help me cope with my own Ego and the Shame in hanging up the gloves and feeling like I let everyone down.  The first thing I became addicted to was that excitement and the idea of still having a reputation and being able to continue feeling like I was "Popular" .  This also came along with a small sense of power and importance that was a form of intoxication of itself.  I thought that often the only reason people wanted to hang out with me was to party because I had connections, and this further fed my low self-esteem as well as my pride and ego.

Nicholas Patrick on Left   Circa 2005

As I continued to sell bags of weed and associate with my neighbors, I became more and more entrenched in this dangerous lifestyle; selling higher quantities, getting product on the "Front" before it was fully paid for and therefore leaving me responsible.  Back then I didn't think about the different things that could happen, I didnt ever stop to question if what I was doing was wrong.  I knew it was wrong but its clear that even at an early age, my ability to justify, excuse and pursue illegal activity despite knowing the consequences was a cause for concern that would not be seen fully until the years progressed.

In the end, my pursuit of acceptance and validation would lead me down a path fraught with risks and challenges. My life had taken an unexpected turn after leaving boxing, and now I was navigating uncharted territory. The choices I made during this time would shape the person I would become and ultimately determine the course of my future.

As my reputation selling weed and being a tough guy not to mess with Me grew, I felt the pressure to maintain this facade. I became more aggressive, getting involved in street fights to assert my dominance and gain even more attention. I had already been in several fist fights during childhood and late teens, it was something that I grew up doing mostly when someone else threw the first punch but unfortunately that was not always the case.  I had a twisted sense of entitlement and my Ego was displayed itself in certain circumstances as aggressive, Like it was my job to teach someone a lesson if they Disrespect me.  

I've often admitted openly, I used to watch Goodfella's too much ; but before I get into the next section of my Blog with all humor aside, as I go into some of these further accounts, I must warn you that there will be violence and subject matter and content not suitable for young children or those otherwise easily distressed by graphic descriptions of violence, drugs, sex and dark, heart breaking confessions from some of the worst things that I have ever done.

I was so caught up in the image I had created for myself that I couldn't see the danger I was putting myself in.

One particular fight stands out in my memory, and I'm incredibly lucky that it didn't land me in legal trouble. At the time, I was pursuing a girl named Ashley, whom I had known since junior high and had been crushing on for years. We rode the school bus together, and our friendship had grown over time to the point where we would were talking to each other daily.

This was before the time of social media and teenagers with camera phones and facetime. When a boy liked a girl he had to do more than creep on her social media and like a certain amount of pictures or send witty messages to a DM in hopes of a reply. It was hours talking on the phone and sitting together on the school bus, it was notes passed in between classes and at the end of the day. Things were a lot simpler then...Sigh.

However, one of her ex-boyfriends and his friend didn't take kindly to my interest in Ashley. Her Ex-boyfriend's friend was at a party in front of a bunch of people and was drunk saying that I was a punk, and he wasn’t scared of me.  He proceeded to pull out his phone and put it on speaker and called my phone number and left me a very colorful message insulting my sexuality, manliness, manhood all of the above, but the words that stuck out in my mind and rung in my ears was the phrase "You're just a little Bitch".

This occurred in front of a large crowd of people, some of which I sold drugs to and wanted to maintain my popularity with.  I eventually tracked him down to a dairy queen that incidentally Ashley worked at and was there that night. I hopped in Titanic (My car) with a couple of my friends and a few cars following.  In my mind I had a reputation to maintain, and I could not suffer this affront to my name, and I was fighting to maintain respect from everyone around me.  

In Hindsight, I was accustomed to allowing other people to put a steering wheel on my back because it was how I got attention and what I perceived as respect.  It wasn't really respect though, it was adolescent excitement and lack of care for the consequences because after all, they were not the ones throwing the punches.  I would learn a hard lesson later on in life the seriousness of assaulting another person as well as the risks but that's going to probably be in part 3 of this series.

It is not my intention by any means to glorify street fighting or violence in general so please do not mistake the account of my past as a reflection on my tolerance of violence or harm to others because I do not promote or encourage assault or other criminal behavior in any way.

In the aftermath of that brawl, I continued to bask in my tough-guy image, unaware of the potential consequences of my actions. The incident only served to fuel my ego and solidify my reputation among my peers. Little did I know, these dangerous behaviors would only lead me further down a path of destruction and heartache.

"It was clear from the very beginning that the other kid did not want to fight me.  He apologized and said that he was just kidding around, and He never meant for things to turn into a fight.  I told him that he could not expect me to just forget about the things that he said.   After I explained that to him, I just started punching him, and before I knew it, he was covered in blood, and I was kneeing him in the face and finally people pulled me off of him.  I was able to construct a very craft lie that placed me there before the other kid and as the story went, I was attacked first and defending myself against the older boy that was in his twenties, and I was only 16.  I got a few of my friends to back up my story and say that they all saw him start the fight and me defend myself.  The charges were dropped within a couple of weeks, and I went on with my life feeling like I was invincible. " Nicholas Patrick - High School Journal - April 11th, 2005

As I continued to navigate the world of selling weed, Partying, occasionally fighting for the rush and adrenaline.  Its clear as I look back now I can see the early roots of low self-esteem despite the facade of confidence I always wore in my youth.  I cared too much about what other people thought of me and their opinions mattered too much.   I began to lose sight of who I truly was. My identity had become so wrapped up in this persona that I had forgotten the person I used to be – the teenage boxer who once dreamt of greatness. And as I moved further away from that person, I found myself facing a life filled with uncertainty and regret.

A Downward Spiral

As the weeks turned into months, I became more deeply entrenched in the world of drugs and partying with my neighbors. Our weekends were a blur of booze, weed, and an ever-expanding variety of substances. I began experimenting with ecstasy and cocaine, finding new ways to chase the high I craved. My drug dealing operation grew as well, reaching more people at school and around my hometown.

One fateful day, I found myself with a prescription for Vicodin from a doctor. I had seen my neighbors popping painkillers to enhance their buzz, so I decided to give it a try. The high I experienced from opiates was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was a warm, happy sensation that made everything in life enjoyable. I quickly became enamored with this new drug and started to abuse my prescription.

Life without the pills just wasn't the same anymore. I craved the feeling of euphoria and contentment they provided, and it wasn't long before my prescription ran out. Desperate for more, I turned to my neighbors for help. They had a contact who worked at a pharmacy and could supply almost any prescription pill I wanted.

As the weeks turned into months, I became more deeply entrenched in the world of drugs and partying with my neighbors. Our weekends were a blur of booze, weed, and an ever-expanding variety of substances. I began experimenting with ecstasy and cocaine, finding new ways to chase the high I craved. My drug dealing operation grew as well, reaching more people at school and around my hometown.

One fateful day, I found myself with a prescription for Vicodin from a doctor. I had seen my neighbors popping painkillers to enhance their buzz, so I decided to give it a try. The high I experienced from opiates was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was a warm, happy sensation that made everything in life enjoyable. I quickly became enamored with this new drug and started to abuse my prescription.

Life without the pills just wasn't the same anymore. I craved the feeling of euphoria and contentment they provided, and it wasn't long before my prescription ran out. Desperate for more, I turned to my neighbors for help. They had a contact who worked at a pharmacy and could supply almost any prescription pill I wanted.

My addiction to opiates spiraled out of control. I became increasingly dependent on the pills, and my life began to revolve around them. I was willing to do whatever it took to get my hands on more – even if it meant engaging in risky behaviors or associating with dangerous people.

As I continued down this dark path, I lost sight of the person I once was. The teenage boxer with dreams of greatness was long gone, replaced by a drug-addled, desperate version of myself. My priorities shifted from friends, family, and school to scoring my next fix and maintaining my drug-fueled lifestyle.

This was a turning point in my life – a moment where I could have chosen to seek help and change my ways. But instead, I continued to chase the high, blind to the consequences that awaited me. And as my addiction grew stronger, so too did the darkness that threatened to consume me entirely.

Introduction to Oxycontin

Just when I thought I had experienced the full extent of my addiction, I was introduced to Oxycontin. My friends would crush the pills, turning them into lines that they would snort. Intrigued by their enthusiasm, I decided to give it a try.

The effects were unlike anything I had experienced before. Snorting Oxycontin delivered a faster, more intense high that left me wanting more. It wasn't long before I was spending sixty to a hundred dollars a day on the pills, with my expenses only increasing over time.

In those early years of my addiction, I managed to keep my drug use a complete secret. No one, aside from my neighbors, knew that I was using and abusing prescription pills on a daily basis. I continued attending school and maintained a semblance of a normal life, but deep down, I knew that I was losing control.

My days became consumed by the pursuit of my next high. Every decision I made revolved around my addiction, and I grew increasingly detached from my former life. My relationships with friends and family suffered as I prioritized my drug use above all else.

As my addiction to Oxycontin deepened, the consequences began to manifest. My once-promising academic performance declined, and my dreams for the future faded into the background. I became a shadow of my former self, lost in the haze of addiction.

But even as I spiraled further into the darkness, I couldn't see the full extent of the damage I was causing. I refused to acknowledge the reality of my situation and convinced myself that I was in control. It would take a wake-up call of the highest magnitude to break through the fog of denial and force me to confront the truth about my addiction.

Despite my growing addiction, I managed to maintain a low profile throughout my senior year. I kept up appearances with my teachers and stayed out of trouble with law enforcement. I even graduated early with a 3.4 GPA, which seemed like a victory considering the extent of my drug use.

After graduating, I started working with my neighbors as a laborer for their window installation company. The job provided me with a steady income, which only served to fuel my addiction further.

First Love

Around six months before graduation, I began dating Ashley. We were practically inseparable and she fit seamlessly into my lifestyle of partying, smoking weed, and popping pills. Yet, she remained blissfully unaware of the extent to which I was abusing Oxycontin, and I was determined to keep it that way.

I became adept at hiding my addiction from Ashley, as well as from others around me. I would sneak off to use Oxycontin, making sure to cover my tracks and maintain the facade of normalcy. Our relationship continued to grow, but there was always a looming shadow of deceit and secrecy.

As time went on, the pressure of keeping up appearances began to take its toll on me. I struggled to balance my addiction with the responsibilities in life and my relationship with Ashley. I knew that I couldn't keep up the charade forever, but the thought of coming clean and admitting my addiction to those I loved was too terrifying to consider.

Ultimately, the weight of my secrets and the intensity of my addiction would push me to a breaking point. I was on a collision course with disaster, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came crashing down around me.

Success and Deception

The summer after my high school graduation, I turned 18 and began working at a collection agency as a debt collector for credit cards. I quickly discovered that my verbal persuasion and communication skills translated well to this line of work. My success on the phone with clients allowed me to excel in my new role.

Within four months, I was promoted to assistant manager and became close to my supervisor, who, as it turned out, also smoked a lot of weed. This connection made it easier for me to continue my daily routine of smoking and snorting pills without raising suspicion.

As I began making more money in my first year at the collection agency, my addiction to weed and Oxycontin persisted. I convinced myself that my job performance was better when I was high, so I made sure to keep it that way. For a long time, I managed to maintain the illusion of control, but deep down, I knew that I was walking a dangerous tightrope.

With increased success at work, I continued to hide my addiction from everyone around me, including Ashley. My life became a carefully constructed facade, a constant juggling act between my professional accomplishments and my growing dependence on drugs.

I was living a double life – a successful young professional by day and a drug addict by night. I knew that I couldn't keep up this duality forever, but the fear of losing everything I had worked so hard for kept me locked in a cycle of deception and addiction.

As the months passed, the strain of maintaining this facade grew heavier, and it was only a matter of time before the cracks in my carefully crafted illusion would begin to show. The more successful I became, the more difficult it was to keep my two worlds from colliding, and the day of reckoning loomed ever closer.

The Illusion of Stability

As Ashley and I grew more serious, we began building a life together. After she graduated high school, she joined me at the collection agency and quickly proved herself to be just as skilled in the field. We made a great team, both at work and in our personal lives.

In 2007, we made a big decision and purchased a home together, along with my brother Junior. It was a spacious four-bedroom house, and we even had a tenant renting one of the rooms. I couldn't believe my luck – I was paying just $500 a month for my share of the mortgage and was the first among my friends to become a homeowner.

On the surface, it seemed like everything was going well. I had a great job, a loving relationship, and a beautiful home. But beneath the facade of success, my addiction to Oxycontin and weed continued to fester, and I was still hiding this dark secret from Ashley and everyone else in my life.

As we settled into our new home, I tried to convince myself that I could maintain my drug-fueled lifestyle without any consequences. I believed that I could juggle my addiction and my responsibilities, but deep down, I knew that this delicate balance couldn't last forever.

As time went on, the pressure of keeping up appearances and hiding my addiction became increasingly difficult. I was walking a tightrope, and I couldn't shake the fear that it was only a matter of time before I would slip and lose everything, I had worked so hard to build.

New Season - Old Demons

Moving out of my parents’ house and into my own home is what became the catalyst for my initial fall. By the time that I was honest enough with myself to admit that I had a drug problem it seemed too late for me. I was too ashamed to tell anyone and did not know where to turn for help. I turned to my Journals to express what I was going through.

Moving into our own house marked the beginning of a new chapter for Ashley and me. It felt as if we were finally stepping into adulthood, and I couldn't have been happier. I soon proposed to Ashley, and she agreed to marry me. We decided on a long engagement, which allowed us to take our time in planning the wedding.

At first, everything seemed perfect. I started working at a new job for a financial firm, handling personal loans and mortgages. Our house quickly became the go-to place for our friends to gather and party on weekends. It was incredibly satisfying to see the envy in our friends' eyes, knowing that I was only 19 and had already achieved so much.

But beneath the surface, my old demons continued to haunt me. While my life appeared picture-perfect on the outside, my addiction was still lurking in the shadows. I continued to use drugs, believing that I could keep everything under control. But as time went on, my addiction began to take a toll on every aspect of my life.

My job performance started to suffer, and the financial pressures of homeownership and wedding planning began to weigh on me. I found myself relying more and more on drugs to escape the mounting stress. Ashley, still oblivious to the true extent of my addiction, was concerned but didn't know how to help.

As our relationship continued, the cracks in our seemingly perfect life began to show. The once-frequent parties at our house became less and less frequent, as our friends started to notice the change in my behavior. My relationship with Ashley grew strained as I became increasingly withdrawn and distant.

Things were not always as easy as I made them out to be, though. I was constantly using Oxys on a daily basis. It was a struggle to maintain the different masks I was wearing to ensure my secret life was safe from discovery by everyone around me. The more I continued to use, the more absent I became in reality. Life gradually started to become less important.

Ashley and I began struggling because she knew, to a small extent, that I was still using pills, but she had no idea how deeply my life had become dependent on them. She would occasionally take pills with me, so it was never a huge deal while I was getting high. One day, I came home from work and knew that something wasn't quite right with her, so I started questioning and grilling her about why she was acting so strange. It turned out that she had been having lunch with one of the managers she worked with and was cheating on me with him during their lunch breaks. I got so angry that I began throwing things things across the room and smashing up our living room.

We ended up breaking up for a couple of days, and she stayed at a friend's house, but eventually, I asked her to come back. I was committed to a mortgage and couldn't pay the bills without her. Not only that, I was a young man, and she was my first great love. At that point in my life, I couldn't imagine living an independent life without her. I was far too co-dependent on her, and I didn't know how to exist on my own, so I let her actions fade to the back of my mind as I drowned out my feelings with more pills.

This was around the time when I started to journal a lot of my emotions and used writing to help me cope with the things that I was going through. This is the point in my life where much of my early addiction and progression starts to be documented in my journals. I also gained a hindsight view of what my perception was back then and how ignorant and clueless I really was about life.

These are genuine accounts taken directly from my journal entries during this time in my life.  I was just entering into the phase of my addiction where I was learning firsthand the consequences of opiate withdrawal and living my own personal Hell.   At a certain point, any serious opiate addict gets to a point in their life where they are no longer getting high and functioning with the initial warm euphoria that first attracted them to the drug. 

It becomes a struggle to not be dope-sick, a fight against your body that wants the chemical like your thirst wants water, like your lungs want air or like a drowning man wants a lifeboat and he searches the horizon desperately treading water but there is nothing but a vast ocean of emptiness.  That is what it feels like to have a drug habit take complete control over your life, your behavior and your values, it consumes everything.

This is what it looks like for someone that has gotten themselves dug so deep into a hole that the only solution they have the strength to seek, is to numb the pain.

Waking up in Hell

"As I opened my eyes two hours before I needed to wake up for work this morning, I found myself unable to fall back asleep. My body was suffocating under the shivering anxiety that thumped frantically my chest.  Many mornings for the past few months have been greeted with similar afflictions.  My addiction has taken a horrible turn lately and I do not like the person that I am becoming.  Nearly every morning now for the last few weeks I have been waking up and running to the bathroom to vomit.  Often times it is difficult to even make it into work because of how sick I feel.I hear a voice in my mind giving me excuses on why I shouldn’t do normal things anymore; Things that I once used to enjoy.  I am scared, I looked into the mirror this morning and realized that I hate the person that I have become.  Somehow, I need to find the power to change.Recently I acquired a new hook-up on thirty MG tablets of morphine.  I get them for $5 a pill and can sell them for $15.  At first my intention was to just pass them on to a guy I know and let him get rid of and just give me the profits, but I did not have the self-control to do that for even a week.  I began taking two and three tablets a day.  On top of that, I am getting ninety Percocet's a month that I usually eat about half of and sell the rest to cover the cost of buying them.  So, for about roughly three weeks of every month I am constantly high on pills and whenever I run out my world turns into a living hellish nightmare.  Anxiety and depression cover those days like a fog of torment that follow me wherever I go. "

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - April 8th, 2008

At a Crossroad

A crossroad now stood in front of me, and the subsequent choices I made would affect my life for over a decade. I was developing the habit of using substances to mute out my emotions. One of my biggest mistakes in life was punching that kid and breaking his jaw. At the time, I had no idea how much that one decision and action would affect my life for years to come.

Suddenly, I was in a position where I had consequences up in the air, and all I knew was that I hurt that kid really bad and I was getting charged with a felony assault. This created a lot of anxiety for me, and through my journaling, I can see my usage and my addiction growing deeper roots. I believe that this event fueled my use of drugs into becoming a crutch. I would often play the tape forward in my mind and see myself getting sent to prison and losing everything I had. I would work myself up so bad that I wanted to puke. The only time I was calm and at peace was when I was high from popping Oxys.

I was completely clueless to the danger of my drug use. I was concerned, yes, but I was not surrendering to God or willing to get help and admit to myself that my substance use was beyond my ability to control. Physical withdrawal was becoming a firsthand lesson learned through pain and agonizing experience that I was not prepared for. Nobody ever explained to me just how powerful opiates were and the danger of the physical dependency. Little did I know the long years of darkness that lay ahead of me.

When I made my first court appearance, I pled not guilty. This was when I started dragging out the conclusion with various court appearances and meetings with my attorney. This only led to more stress and anxiety, and soon I was diagnosed with depression, thus beginning my journey down into the depths of a chemically induced hell on earth.

Addiction and dependency were starting to consume my life. I had admitted to myself there was a problem, but I had not yet accepted that my life was unmanageable. Pride was a part of my character even back then. I thought that I could control my drug use, I could find a way out on my own without any help. How ignorant I truly was.

I tried to quit smoking weed and using pills, but I can remember chugging pocket bottles of Captain Morgan. I was living in denial, and at that point, had I stopped using pills, I probably would have become an alcoholic. Substance abuse was now a part of my life and changing who I was as a person. I had so much going on in life, and I think that I took on way too many responsibilities at once. I wanted to be a homeowner, a husband, a successful sales professional.

The pressure lay on my shoulder like I was Atlas holding up the world on my shoulders, and I was folding under that weight. I was still a boy inside, lost and treading the waters of uncertainty as I tried to control everything in my life. My addiction, my relationships, my financial status, the way people looked at me—these were all things that I thought I could control. I had a wardrobe full of masks that I would put on to satisfy my fear of rejection and help me with the façade I was using to look like everything was okay. These are the years where I began to lose who I was.

Those actions landed me a Felony level criminal case that took months and months and numerous court appearances as well as the uncertainty of what consequences awaited me when everything was said and done.  There was a mortgage to worry about, an amazing career ahead of me in Outside Sales and the threat of jail or even prison time.   The only thing that helped take away all of those worries and tormenting catastrophes that endlessly played forward through my mind was the Oxys.

It's clear from the journal entries during this time that I was consumed with anxiety, and I was too lost to see a way out aside from the drugs.  Thats the hardest part about this part of addiction, I've secluded myself so much in my secrecy and drug use that I could not see over the pile of lies that I had stacked up all around me.  I was covered in the guilt and shame and the last thing I wanted to do was admit to the world that I was losing control.

The truth is this, nobody deserves to have someone walk up on to their own property and punch them in the face in front of their significant other and their own Father.  It was brutal, violent and not the sort of thing that I am proud of and is not something that I wish to glorify or make light of.  A man got seriously hurt, he could have died and because of my choices he has to live the rest of his life with the traumatic memory of what happened that day along to go along with the scars.

When Street fighting stopped being "Cool"

There are a lot of moments in my life where I can look back and clearly admit that I made a poor choice but I could probably count on one hand the number of times I made mistakes on par with that of a 3rd Degree - Felony Assault - Substantial bodily harm.  When this event occured I was allowing myself to be fueled by a number of influences ; the drama with Ashley cheating on me with a Co-Worker, my friends with the steering wheel on my back and the expectation that I was going to beat someone up. 

"Today is the first time in about three weeks that I have not taken weed or pills, but what have I been doing in its place?  For the last couple of weeks my excuse for having a few drinks after work has turned into how many drinks does it take for me to get wasted and forget about my problems.  I have been drunk just about every night for the last couple of weeks.  It has been a struggle to handle my emotions in a sober environment and learn to cope with the problems in my life. 

It’s so hard to know what I want out of life anymore.  It seems that lately my emotions are always up and down.  I have been really stressed out and by the time I get home from work I make a drink of Rum and Coke and slam it before I do anything else.   Last week I proposed to Ashley, and she said yes.  She knows me better than anyone and has been watching me closely lately because she knows that I am struggling. 

Last night before I even started drinking she had a long note set out for me to read after she went to bed.  She wrote about how she knew that I was drinking to escape my problems and she described how I felt almost as if she could see life through my eyes.I know for her sake, I need to get sober.  Life is not going to be easy and it is going to take some time to get used to living a clean lifestyle. 

There is a Man inside me that I know God intended me to be.  I used to enjoy life for its simple pleasures and daily surprises.  I remember being young and innocent and having so much passion for living.  I never used to let anything stop me from doing what I wanted to do.  Now it seems like I don’t let anything stop me from using drugs and alcohol.I just want to have the same happiness and pleasure in life that I did when I was younger, before drugs and alcohol. 

I know I can do this but it’s so painful for me to handle stress and anxiety.  I am automatically drawn to substances to help me feel better about life.  I wish I could go back to the days when life was innocent and I didn’t have to worry about anything.  I pray that God will be there for me to keep me from flying out of control."

Journal Entry of Nicholas Patrick

April 18th, 2008

Running from my own Panic

"Things are still the same, and I am constantly running away from the anxieties of my life.  Next month I am going on trial for 3rd degree assault, I was already offered a plea deal for 68 days in jail that I refused.  I just started working at my dream job.  I got hired on as an outside sales representative making more money than ever before in my life.  The potential to make six figures is now in my grasp if I don’t go to jail and lose everything.   If that happens I will be stuck with a felony on my record and I will never be able to get a decent job ever again.  I feel like I am so close to losing everything that I have.  When I think about it makes me physically sick.  I want so badly to find the strength to stop using drugs and stop running from my problems.  This struggle is so hard; it is the hardest thing that I have ever battled with in my life.  I have also been using Psychoactive  Mushrooms with Benny for the past 3 weekends.  The escape and joy I found in tripping out on mushrooms was a surprise to me.  I wish I could find that same feeling of joy in my life without chemicals.  I hate this addiction, I am losing who I am and turning into someone that I do not even recognize.  I want to be free from this torture and I hope that I am found innocent and am able to start my life over.  I have so much to lose and I am completely lost."

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - October 5th, 2008

"Life did go on for me and I did face my criminal charges but it was down to the last minute the day that a jury was gathered that I chose to accept a plea deal for 30 Days of STS and a conviction as a Gross Misdemeanor offense rather than a Felony.  I took the deal and at last my long trials of anxiety and sleepless nights of uncertainty were over.  But the coping mechanisms that I used while going through lifes tribulations had taken firm root, my substance abuse was now part of my lifestyle.  Nobody was prepared for the levels I would sink during my addiction, especially myself. This is also the season of life where I find out that Ashley is pregnant and I was about to become a Father further adding to the things that I was not prepared for.

I'm Going be a FatherI am snorting over 120mg of Oxy a day and I cannot even work or function for more than a couple of hours without getting high.  Today I took six 5mg percocets and snorted 80mg in one line and I still craved more.  I am living in a constant state of intoxication.  Without the drugs I become a person filled with anger and anxiety and I treat everyone in my life horribly.  I am a very selfish person.I recently found out that Ashley is pregnant and I am about to become a Father. 

I don’t even know what it means to be a father, how can I take care of a child when I don’t even know how to take care of myself?  I need to get clean for the sake of this child now, its not about me anymore.  If there was ever a time for me to get sober it would be now.I don’t even deserve to be with Ashley, she thinks that I have been clean since I found out she was pregnant.  She is always asks me if I am on something or if I have taken anything and I look her right in the eye and lie to her face.  I feel horrible about all of these lies and I know that if I told her everything she would probably leave me.I am so stupid, I am risking anything. 

I am on probation now from my assault conviction and I could get drug tested.  I am risking everything and I could lose all that I love in a matter of seconds.  Nothing else matters to me as long as I can get my next high.I took my last Oxy today and tomorrow is going to be a battle.  I am already fighting myself to not pick up anymore.  My mind is always racing around in circles with endless reasons why I need to get high.  I hope that I can find the will to resist tomorrow.  I want to be ready to be a good Father."

February 11th, 2009

So lost without even knowing it

Reading this makes me realize just how detached from my morals and from reality I truly was even in what is considered to be my early addiction, before IV Heroin and Fentanyl. I was using constantly and hiding it from the whole world. There is something that happened to my soul, its like I lost it without even knowing it was missing. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and have a chat with my 20-year-old self, but I know that I would't listen, even if it was coming from a 34-year-old me.

"Today really sucked, I started my sentence to service program that I was ordered to do from the judge in my assault plea.  For 8 hours straight I had to go around a state park and cut down endless bushes of buckthorn.  I was getting high the whole time.  I did a 20mg line right away when I woke up this morning, another one in the car on my way to STS, more in the bathroom of the gas station the STS van stopped at before the park and I even did a line in the middle of the woods while I was cutting down brush.  

On the way home I picked up two more 40mg Oxys even though I want so desperately to stop.  Those were gone right before I began to journal this entry.My life is crashing down around me.  My finances are completely tapped out.  I have maxed out my direct deposit advance at $550 so when my next paycheck comes in that money is already gone and I don’t even get to see it.  I am desperate get clean so I am going to go cold turkey off of the Oxys and try to tough it through the withdrawals.  I am going to refill my prescription of Ativan to help me sleep and curb the anxiety. 

There is also something that I read online called the “Thomas Recipe”, it is a mix of different over the counter medicine and vitamins that are supposed to help assist in detoxing from opiates.  I don’t know who Thomas is but I hope it worked for him because I am running out of options.I have been trying to get on this medicine called suboxone, which is fairly new and only certain doctors are licensed to prescribe it. 

I have tried two different clinics and three doctors but none of them were able to prescribe any to me.  I was told that in order for me to get prescribed suboxone I would have to commit to a 90 day inpatient treatment program.  There is absolutely no way that I can afford to lose my job and take off 90 days.They treated me like I was a junkie and said that the only way I was going to get off the oxys was if I did some sort of inpatient program.  I will prove them wrong, I know that I am strong enough to do this, I know that I can get clean.Tomorrow I have to work and I plan on trying out this Thomas Recipe concoction that is supposed to ease the withdrawal symptoms and boost my energy level. 

I just need to make it through this next week.  I want so badly to move forward with my life and be normal.  I want to be free from these demons.There is a Child that is going to be needing me to be a good Father and Ashley is going to need me to be a good partner and soon to be husband.  The support of my family weighs heavily on my shoulders.God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.  The courage to change the things that I can and the wisdom to know the difference."

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - February 14th 2009

When reading over the experiences during this time in my addiction one of the big things that stick out is my denial, the clear sense that I was justified in my actions and therefore excused in whatever way I chose to handle the situations before me. It is a common theme in my character defects throughout my addiction and in a clinical and treatment setting is known as Cognitive dissonance. From my understanding of the term, we cannot consciously do something that we know is wrong without having an excuse for ourselves in our mind, a reason that we convince ourselves is justification for the course of action that we choose. Most criminals always have an excuse, any man or women that has spent time behind bars knows that for every orange jumpsuit there are a dozen excuses.

"I finally found a doctor willing to prescribe me Suboxone.  It was a very near thing, once he realized I wasn’t a pain clinic client and I was not taking drugs that were prescribed to me he was very weary about helping me.  I basically had to beg him and tell him that he was my last resort and I had nowhere else to go.  Under the agreement that I would enter in to some sort of rehab program he agreed to start me on suboxone.  Before my appointment I was in agony from withdrawals.  I woke up feeling absolutely horrible.  I was wide awake at 5am with shivering cold sweats with a heavy weight of anxiety in my chest, suffocating me.  I mustered up the strength to go into work but I was not productive at all.  The doctor started me off on an 8mg dose of subs and after letting it dissolve under my tongue I immediately felt better.  I felt almost warm but not quite high or euphoric.  The anxiety subsided and my emotions stabilized.   I am so glad that I finally have a solution to my withdrawal problems.This is the chance I have been waiting for.  Tomorrow I am going to stop drinking and smoking weed.  I want to be completely sober and get my life back on track."

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - February 17th, 2009

It is worth noting that this was back when Suboxone was still a very new medication and there was a lot less information available about it back then as far as side effects and long term effects but I thought that I had found the final solution when I found Subs, but it's just like any other narcotic medication, it can easily be abused and therefore also has value in a market for substances easily abused.

Same crutch different clutch

"Today is my third day on suboxone.  I have not felt this good without oxys in a very long time.  I feel normal and happy again and my energy level is back up.  I feel a lot more confident about work and I am ready to start working hard and being known as a hard worker again.  Most importantly, I am looking forward to being a father.  As long as I am clean, I know that I will be a great parent."

February 19th, 2009

"I can never seem to stay ahead. Anytime I start to get ahead in life something always seems to happen that knocks me back even further than when I started.  This weekend I showed up to do my STS service and found out that I have been terminated from the program because I had too many absences.  I called and talked to the STS program supervisor and told him that I had a doctors note. Apparently, a doctor's note does not even excuse me, and they ordered me to finish out my time in jail.  The supervisor was the most disrespectful and rude person that I have ever talked to, he did not care one bit that I was going to have to go to jail now.I explained to him that I would lose my job and that I have a family to support.  He basically said that it wasn’t his problem.  I am writing an appeal to the county regarding his decision and now I am waiting to see what happens next.  My anxiety is worse than ever before, and I cannot concentrate on anything.  All I keep thinking about is going to jail and the endless problems that would cause.  I am already dealing with financial problems, legal problems, as well as personal problems.I just want to give up and forget about everything, run away.  Today I was driving down the freeway and I thought about just letting go of the steering wheel.  It was way too serious of a consideration that tells me I am not right in the head.  What stopped me was the thought of my child growing up without a father and I just couldn’t do that.I always fall into making terrible choices.  I am angry and blaming the judicial system when really everything is my fault.  It was my choice to miss so many days of STS, it was my choice to go over to that kids house and punch him in the face, it all comes down to my own decisions.When the consequences of my actions come due I always turn to drugs to numb out all of my feelings."

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - July 19th, 2009

Fatherhood

"It has been a while since I have written in my journal.  Today is Sunday the 19th of July 2009.  I have been clean from oxys for over a month and my beautiful daughter Jazzlyn was born on July 10th.  She is my inspiration for everything, the reason to be a better person.  I need to be there for here in this cruel world, I was on the verge of losing myself, my daughter was losing her father before she was even born.  I was living in a life full of lying, manipulating and stealing every day.  I would beg with no sense of self-respect and my only thoughts were about getting high and staying high.  When I looked at myself in the mirror all I could see was fear, loneliness, depression, and helplessness.  The person that I was meant to be was being suppressed.  I was unable to become the man that God truly intended me to be.  I was losing my chance to do something great in this world.  The distance between myself and any deeds worthy of greatness are lightyears away, but I feel like I am slowly getting closer to finding my purpose.  I finally have a sense of where I am and the general direction of where I want to go.  From now on I plan to be in constant pursuit for knowledge and truth.  No matter how long it takes, I am determined to find my calling in this world.  In the end I believe that it is about loving who you are and the world and people that you live in.  Without knowing what hate is, I would not be able to fully know what love is.  To rejoice is to know what it means to mourn just as you cannot have life without death.Right now, the only thing I can do is to hold on tightly to love and cling to all of the love that I have in life and the people in it.  The reality television shows are not my comparison on what happiness is and I cannot base my own success by contrasting it with what the world says.  There is a river that I perceive as life and I am navigating down it with the flow of time.  There is no way to stop, it is constant and evolving with forks and bends.  Every choice and decision has a consequence.  Each fork I go down will lead me towards what will be and further from what may have been.  There is a constant risk of losing something with everything that I gain based on every choice that I make and action I take.  The choices that I make are important and I want to make sure that I am using discernment and sound judgment before every action."

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - July 19th, 2009

When Life has other plans

After Jazzlyn was born, I tried several times to wean off the Suboxone, but I could never quite make it through the withdrawals to become completely free of it. The Suboxone became just as bad as the pills I had been abusing, primarily because I never used it with the support of treatment or therapy. Instead, it became just another chemical crutch.

While attempting to come off the Suboxone, I was extremely fatigued and tired, and every movement of my body required an immense effort.

This took a toll on my professional life, and I ended up losing my job as an Outside Sales rep due to my poor work performance. I kept falling asleep in meetings and at my desk, and when confronted about it, I was too scared to tell them about my addiction and the Suboxone that I was taking. Fortunately, I found another job just a block away from my house at a collection agency.

During the transition between jobs, I didn't have health insurance for the first three months, and I couldn't afford the Suboxone. So, I turned right back to the pills—Oxys, Vicodin, morphine, and anything else I could get my hands on. I began sinking lower and lower as the addiction continued to consume everything that was good in my life. Eventually, I found myself on the verge of losing my new job. I had to keep calling in sick because I was dealing with opiate withdrawals and couldn't get out of bed.

The vicious cycle of addiction and withdrawal was taking over my life, and it seemed like there was no way out. Despite my best efforts to hold onto the positive aspects of my life, the overwhelming power of addiction continued to pull me under.

Buried in a Hole - No way out

"Buried in a hole, no way out, scratching and clawing but its no use.  What have I done? What have I become? How did I get here? What am I thinking and where does this beast within me reside with a thirst that cannot be quenched? Think back, way back to when things were Grand; Happy, Loving, and appreciated.  All of the things I've taken for granted, nobody ever told me that life is a never-ending battle to be happy and do the right thing.Many people are lost myself included, but some people are lost beyond discovery. some people may live their whole life buried in a hole with no way out. there is a greater force present in my life, a divine light that is all knowing, but I dare not walk in that light for fear of being consumed in the holy flame of eternity.  Seeking that light, I must trust that I am here with a purpose much greater than myself.  I commit myself to His will and not my own. I am buried in a hole, but I have faith that I will climb out, bloody fingers and come what may, I commit finding my way out even if I need to climb straight through hell and back out the other side. Come what may, I put my trust in Him"

February 20th, 2010 - Page 1 of 2

Day One

"This morning, I awoke very early with body aches all over and nauseous, vomiting several times. I tried to start The Thomas Recipe with ingredients that I found online...My body aches with the never ending need to stretch out the pain, it's just past noon and being at work is hell. Every hour feels like five seconds, and I look at the clock in disappointment at how slow time is passing by.""Thumping in my chest, anxious nerves that quiver with discomfort. I somehow made it through the day working 10 hours, the withdrawals were too much for me to handle cold turkey, so I picked up two, 15 MG Morphine tablets and a 1 MG Xanax to calm my nerves and aid me in catching some rest."

Day Two

A Brand New DayToday is what some people would call rock-bottom; the end of the line for some but merely a new beginning for me. My anxiety, panic attacks and physical withdrawal have become increasingly violent so yesterday I made an appointment to see my doctor. During my appointment I told him about everything I was going through and he just put me on some new medications for depression and sent me on my way.

March 2nd, 2010

"This morning I woke up at 4am I worked myself into a violent puking nervous wreck. It was the thoughts inside my head that knew what I was doing to taper down with morphine was like being killed with a thousand tiny cuts instead of one huge cut head on. It got so bad this morning with cold stabbing shivers of anxiety all over my body accompanied by vomiting and dry heaves in the toilet.I didn't know what to do, I asked Ashley knowing that she could not tell me what I should do either. I was completely alone, or at least it felt like I was totally isolated.

I called my Mom and told her partially what was going on, only describing the anxiety and panic attacks leaving out the morphine tabs to try to ease the withdrawals. She had my Father rush to come pick me up and brought me to the hospital.

When he arrived I had to finally tell him about the morphine and he suggested detox and treatment. It was like a light bulb turned on inside my head and I broke down crying and told him everything."

Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - March 2nd, 2010

Lord Save me, Lest I have fallen

"Today was alot better, I even turned down the suboxone that the Doctor was gonna give me because I didnt feel like I needed it. Also, it was interesting that I found a lot of comfort in speaking with a Catholic Preist as well.He told me the story of an eldest son and heir that was given riches and wealth from his Father but he squandered all of the wealth, was careless with his use of his inheritance and in the end the eldest son lost everything that was given to him. When he was down and broken with nowhere to go the only thing he could do was face his father. From all that the eldest son had done he was worried and ashamed and thought he might be able to get a job as a servant in his Fathers household and eat scraps to survive. Instead, the Father welcomed him with open arms, clothed him in his best garment's and put a Gold ring on his finger and Welcomed him home with a celebration and feast.

(Hindsight Reflection Note : I did not know it at the time because I was not as familiar with the Bible at this time in my life but this Catholic father was telling me the story of the Prodigal Son from the Holy Bible.)"

March 3rd, 2010 - Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick

"Goodbye Demon"

"It's a brand-new dayA brand-new way of lifeI'm coming out of the darkness and into the lightno more long nights shivering in cold sweatsno more living my life in constant regretSo goodbye demon I'm not coming backAnd goodby demon I'm taking my life backWhen first we met, I thought you were greatBut I had not a clue that you would doom my fateSlowly but steady you began to torment my thoughtsYou turned me away from all of my loved onesand you laughed as we foughtI've shed too many tears in these last few yearshiding in the darkness from all of my fearsIt's time to stand up and time to move onForgetting my painful past and everything that went wrongSo goodbye demon I'm on a new trackand goodby demon I'm freed from your trapyou will never know love for you only know hateIf you fight with this demon and know these traitsAs long you're breathing than it's not too lateRemember within you resides both Good and EvilThis is why Christ died on a cross for all of his peopleSo burn in Hell demon for the compassion you lackGoodbye demon I'm finally turning my back"

3/7/2010 - Personal Journal of Nicholas Patrick - Mercy Hospital Detox

March 11th, 2010

"Well last night I tried one of the steps #'s with my fiancé and it did not work out well. She was allowed to read my Journal, everything.....She got sick and went into the bathroom and cried and now today she wants to take a break so tonight I am going to my Parents house."

March 11th, 2010

During the middle of March in 2010 I finished a 5-day inpatient detox program, it was my first experience in a medical detox setting as well as a treatment facility. At the time, I can remember being so confident in my recovery, no doubt, I truly thought that I was done with drugs and specifically done with Opiates. I was much too naive and unprepared for the road that lay ahead of me.

When I came out of Detox for that first time, I remember having such confidence and I assumed that anything I had previously done was swept aside by those that I hurt, Ashley in particular.

 As part of my newfound sobriety, I wanted to come clean and be honest with everyone in my life.   At the top of the list was Ashley and the double life that I was living right under her nose.

The sobriety that I had obtained went to hell the same week that we broke up.  In addition to that I lost my job, and my house went into foreclosure all within the same month.  I moved back in with my parents and as far as anyone else knew I was still sober.  That was far from the truth.   Deception and a higher level of skill at lying became my way of life even more than before. 

There was nobody close to me anymore that I trusted to let in to my messed-up world.  As far as I was concerned, I was never going to let anyone close to me ever again.

I figured the best thing to do was to let her read my journals and allow her to glimpse the raw truth of everything that I had been doing. 

That turned out to be the decision that ended our relationship.  The reality of all of my lies and deception was too much for her to handle and she just couldn’t deal with everything.  The truth is that our relationship was already on a downward spiral. 

I later found out that she was cheating on me with another man that was friends with our neighbors.  When we broke up she moved in with him with our daughter right away.  It was too much for me to handle.

Rekindling My Passion for Martial Arts

For the following year, I relied on unemployment benefits to get by and spent an unhealthy amount of time in bars. I sought comfort in fleeting encounters with random women. It was during this period that I stumbled upon a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) gym, which turned out to be a pivotal point in my life.

Soon, I was training and competing in the world of martial arts again, an activity that had previously brought me great satisfaction. The gym introduced me to a new circle of friends, and I quickly became involved as the gym's boxing coach. In this environment, I discovered a sense of belonging and brotherhood that had been missing from my life. The gym also provided me with an outlet to channel the anger and frustration that had been simmering inside me.

In my journey to master various fighting styles, I encountered Muay Thai, a martial art that piqued my interest. In 2011, I participated in the TBSA National Muay Thai Boxing Tournament. Although I lost my first match by a single point to an opponent who eventually claimed the national championship, the experience was exhilarating. The ring offered a unique space for me to unleash my anger and rage, transforming it into strength and resilience. Each punch and kick I received only fueled my determination to keep moving forward and attack.

The adrenaline rush I experienced during the tournament was unparalleled. The anticipation on the day before the fight, and the camaraderie of my fellow fighters and friends as we walked out to the ring, created an intoxicating high. Stepping into the ring, my vision sharpened, my movements became instinctual, and the outside world faded away. It was a singular moment where my problems and concerns ceased to exist. In that ring, it was just me and my opponent, each of us testing our will against the other's.

The Double Life: Success, Addiction, and Relationships

Throughout my time spent training and coaching, I harbored a secret: I was still using drugs and indulging in the party lifestyle. Another aspect of this lifestyle that brought me satisfaction was the attention I received from women. For some reason, the MMA scene seemed to attract a significant number of attractive women, and I didn't hesitate to capitalize on this attraction. I launched a women's kickboxing program and spent much of my free time socializing with my friends and partying with some of the women who attended our classes.

From an outsider's perspective, it appeared as though I had everything together. I wore a smile and seemed genuinely happy. At times, I even managed to convince myself that all was well. Alongside my MMA pursuits, I landed a new job as an inside sales representative for a software company that developed programs for metal manufacturing. Within my first year, I exceeded all my sales quotas and received a promotion to Regional Sales Manager. This new position came with a substantial salary increase, further contributing to the illusion of success.

However, my personal life told a different story. Despite the professional achievements and thriving social life, I was still grappling with addiction and engaging in self-destructive behaviors. My double life had created a facade that hid the true struggles I faced every day. The journey to reconcile these conflicting aspects of my life would prove to be a challenging but necessary endeavor.

A Shallow Life: Materialism, Relationships, and Hidden Struggles

I had acquired the trappings of success - a pearl white Cadillac STS, a close-knit group of friends, and sudden increase in beautiful women on my arm. My pride and ego soared, and I believed I was living the American dream. In reality, my relationships were superficial, and my attitude towards women was disrespectful. My friends and I referred to the women we dated as "dimes in our piggy bank" or "horses in the stable," indicative of our callous mindset.

Haunted by past experiences, I was determined never to let a woman get close to me again. Consequently, my relationships were short-lived, lasting only until my carefully crafted façade began to crumble. The women I dated never got the chance to know the real me, as I hid behind a mask and kept my true self concealed. My continued drug use, particularly my reliance on opiates, went entirely unnoticed by those around me.

This lifestyle, marked by materialism and emotional detachment, was ultimately unfulfilling. It was a house of cards built on shallow connections and hidden struggles. In time, I would come to realize that true happiness required confronting my demons and seeking a more authentic, meaningful existence.

Cracks in the Facade: A Relationship Built on Secrets

In the summer of 2011, I entered my first serious relationship since breaking up with Ashley. Naomi was intelligent, beautiful, and genuinely kind-hearted. She was far too good for the man I was at the time. Her affection made me feel better about myself, and I quickly became infatuated and codependent. Despite this newfound emotional connection, I continued to secretly abuse opiate pills, becoming increasingly skilled at concealing my addiction.

To the outside world, it seemed as if I had it all, maintaining a facade of happiness and success. But in reality, I lived in constant fear of my true self being exposed. My life was built on lies and deception, and I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare. Slowly, the cracks in my carefully constructed image began to widen, and the mask I wore started to disintegrate.

Naomi was the first to see through the deception. Our relationship began to unravel as she realized that the successful and charming man she had been dating was hiding too many secrets. I suspect she sensed that something was amiss, even if she couldn't pinpoint the exact cause. As the truth began to surface, it became increasingly difficult to maintain the illusion of a perfect life, and the consequences of my actions would soon catch up to me.

A Desperate Attempt to Cope: Methadone Clinics and Addiction

The comforting and affectionate relationship I shared with Neyna was short-lived. Soon, I found myself alone once more, turning to drugs for solace. My income had reached an all-time high, but my drug habit consumed every penny, leaving me unable to make ends meet. Deep within, my spirit and intuition screamed that my life was spiraling out of control. I knew something needed to change, but I was too self-centered to make any difficult decisions at that point.

In a desperate attempt to save money and sustain my addiction, I enrolled in a methadone clinic. These programs provide patients with a daily dose of methadone, often covered by insurance. In my case, state insurance footed the bill, meaning that American taxpayers were inadvertently funding my drug habit. At its peak, my methadone dosage reached an alarming 120 mg per day. When combined with benzodiazepines, the potent cocktail produced a high that rivaled the effects of numerous oxycodone pills. My methadone-induced stupor was so severe that I had to convince my employer that sleep apnea was to blame for my constant drowsiness during meetings.

Initially, I was required to visit the clinic every day to receive my dose. Over time, the clinic allowed me to take home a week's supply at once. The staff would periodically inquire about my well-being and offer to increase my dosage. As an addict, I invariably agreed, always seeking a more potent high. However, I soon discovered that increasing my methadone dosage was far easier than reducing it. Attempting to wean myself off the drug proved to be an excruciating, drawn-out process. The clinic would only permit a reduction of 2-5 mg per week, making my struggle to break free from addiction more challenging than anything I had ever faced before.

Lost in a loop: Cycle of Despair

Gradually, the mask I wore to hide my addiction began to slip. My ambition waned, my work performance suffered, and my behavior grew increasingly reckless. My spirit and intuition screamed that my life had become utterly unmanageable. Change was desperately needed, but I stubbornly believed that I could resolve my issues on my own. Every attempt at sobriety failed, and I always returned to the opiates. I was trapped in the darkness of my addiction, unable to see a path towards the light.

The cycle of despair repeated itself relentlessly. My frequent absences from work due to withdrawal symptoms jeopardized my job. Despite earning more money than ever before, I was perpetually broke, spending every last cent on pills to fuel my addiction. The number of pills I consumed reached alarming levels, and I would take any opiate I could find: oxycodone, Vicodin, Percocet, morphine, fentanyl, and even a potent drug called Opana. Desperation drove me to use whatever substances I could get my hands on. Eventually, I lost all hope and abandoned my efforts to become sober. I had given up on myself, surrendering to the seemingly insurmountable grip of my addiction.

A New Job, Old Habits: Addiction and the Illusion of Success

During this period, I reconnected with an old friend from my hockey days who also had a penchant for pain pills. He sold them and had access to a vast supply of various opiates, thanks to a pharmacy burglary he had committed.

Despite being at the peak of my sales career, I had jeopardized my standing with my current employer due to frequent absences and generally shady behavior. Aware that my days at the company were numbered, I leveraged my sales achievements and reference letters to secure a job with a competitor based in Cincinnati, Ohio. After two interviews with managers and a final meeting with the company president, I was offered and accepted a position as a Regional Sales Representative.

The new job came with a significantly higher base salary, along with monthly and quarterly commission bonuses. As a remote employee, I had the freedom to work from home, along with a company car and credit card. It seemed like my dream job – the flexibility to work from anywhere and indulge in my addiction while making sales calls. My pride and ego swelled in tandem with my escalating drug use.

Unfortunately, this new opportunity only served to reinforce my dangerous habits. The illusion of professional success masked the deep-rooted issues that continued to plague me, further entrenching me in the destructive cycle of addiction.

During this period, I reconnected with an old friend from my hockey days who also had a penchant for pain pills. He sold them and had access to a vast supply of various opiates, thanks to a pharmacy burglary he had committed.

Despite being at the peak of my sales career, I had jeopardized my standing with my current employer due to frequent absences and generally shady behavior. Aware that my days at the company were numbered, I leveraged my sales achievements and reference letters to secure a job with a competitor based in Cincinnati, Ohio. After two interviews with managers and a final meeting with the company president, I was offered and accepted a position as a Regional Sales Representative.

The new job came with a significantly higher base salary, along with monthly and quarterly commission bonuses. As a remote employee, I had the freedom to work from home, along with a company car and credit card. It seemed like my dream job – the flexibility to work from anywhere and indulge in my addiction while making sales calls. My pride and ego swelled in tandem with my escalating drug use.

Unfortunately, this new opportunity only served to reinforce my dangerous habits. The illusion of professional success masked the deep-rooted issues that continued to plague me, further entrenching me in the destructive cycle of addiction.

A New Connection: Seeing What I Wanted to See

Despite the escalating chaos in my life, I continued to indulge in drugs and frequent bars and clubs to party. One evening at a bar, I spotted an incredibly attractive young woman and resolved to get her phone number. I introduced myself, learned her name was Jenny, and struck up a conversation. Eventually, I asked if I could take her out sometime. Her initial response, "You just want to get laid," caught me off guard, but I assured her that I simply wanted to have lunch together. It helped that my female friend, Bianca, was with me that night and vouched for my character, telling Jenny, "Nick is seriously the nicest guy I have ever met." With that endorsement, I succeeded in getting Jenny phone number.

As I got to know Jenny, I discovered that she was in an unhappy relationship with a boyfriend who struggled with meth addiction and frequently traveled for work while using drugs. Jenny felt trapped and unable to escape the relationship. Fueled by a misguided sense of chivalry, I became determined to "save her" from her predicament, disregarding the fact that my own life was spiraling out of control due to my addiction.

A Dark Liaison: Unhealthy Bonds and Shared Addiction

Despite her complicated relationship status, Jenny and I began seeing each other behind her boyfriend's back. Initially, I tried hard to persuade her to leave her boyfriend as my feelings for her grew stronger. Jenny insisted she didn't want to jump from one relationship to another and needed time to be single, yet our intimate encounters continued.

Soon, I discovered that Jenny also enjoyed using drugs, albeit at what I believed to be a recreational level, far removed from the intensity of my own addiction. For the first time, I felt I could let my guard down and invite someone into my chaotic world of deception and substance abuse. Gradually, I convinced her to consider leaving her boyfriend. The main obstacle she faced was feeling trapped, without a place to go. Eager to help, I proposed a solution.

With the financial stability provided by my new job, I rented a house for us to share. Jenny left her boyfriend and moved in with me as a roommate, not as my girlfriend. I reasoned that this arrangement would give her the space she needed to heal after her previous relationship before committing to a new one. However, the months that followed were far from what I had envisioned when I invited her to live with me.

All roads lead to Rome: The Pathway to Heroin

At first, Jenny worked at a temp agency and contributed a modest sum toward our living expenses. But shortly after moving in, she lost her job and claimed to have found another one. To my surprise, she began bringing home large amounts of cash, which she initially used to furnish the house we rented. As time went on, her schedule became increasingly erratic, and she would often leave and return late at night. Meanwhile, our drug use together escalated. My instincts warned me that something was off with her new job and the cash influx.

When I confronted her, Jenny admitted to providing massages advertised on the Backpage website. I was well aware of the nature of services typically offered there. She insisted that she performed the massages naked but didn't engage in any other activities. According to her, clients would pleasure themselves while receiving the massage, and that was the extent of it.

Despite her explanation, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story, especially given the substantial amount of money she earned. The situation weighed heavily on my mind; I was already falling for the person I believed her to be, and the thought of losing her affection and intimacy filled me with dread. I chose not to make a fuss about her work, reminding myself that we were only roommates. In retrospect, I realize I was in love with the idea of Jenny rather than the reality of who she was.

This is around the time that she started bringing some of her friends around and I began meeting new drug connections through her.  There was a dude named Greg that I began hanging out with and allowed to crash on my couch for a while.  He is the one that shot me up with Heroin for the first time.  That was when shit got real.

Now, in hindsight as I update this blog from many of my previous journals, looking back at this whole situation, I can completely see how someone would be like "Dude WTF!! How did you not see those red flags", I would completely agree and accept it because I know I was not motivated by anything good. It was an adventure for me basically and I lost control.

A Descent into Darkness: Crime and New Connections

After meeting Greg, I found myself plunged into a world I never could have imagined inhabiting. We hustled people on the streets by selling fake drugs and stole license plates to put on my vehicle while committing crimes. These experiences began to harden me as I slipped deeper into the darkness of my drug addiction.

Eventually, Greg was arrested for stealing a car, leaving me to continue my heroin use alone. The Northside of Minneapolis became my new stomping ground, where there was no shortage of heroin dealers. One day, someone gave me a phone number, and that's when I met Beans.

Beans was a black drug dealer immersed in the gang scene in the rough neighborhoods of Northside. Whenever I wanted to pick up, all I had to do was call his number. He would ask how much I wanted and when I was coming. After that, he would give me a street corner to park on, and soon, someone would arrive with whatever I needed. The delivery person would sometimes stay the same for a few days, but Beans would frequently change locations and have different people handle the deliveries.

Toxicity and Heroin : Failed Intimacy

Heroin engulfed my life like a wildfire, burning through every other desire or need that I had. It became a comforting blanket, shielding me from emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

As time went on, Jenny and I grew increasingly toxic towards each other. Eventually, I discovered that one of her clients had become her patron. His name was Jon, a wealthy business owner in his 60s. Jenny started driving around in his Mercedes or Ford Mustang, and I knew there was more to her relationship with Jon than she was admitting. The only way I could numb my emotional pain was with more heroin.

Jon began showing up more frequently, and I grew angrier and more bitter, realizing that his money meant more to Jenny than I did. This toxic dynamic continued to fuel my descent into addiction, leaving me feeling powerless and trapped.

Even as I write this now, I can only feel deep sorrow at just how lost I was, the things I was willing to put myself through as well as others and the gravity of the situation I used to live in. Nobody deserves to settle for a life where they are not living up to their potential or being treated with the love and respect, they deserve.

When the House of Cards Fell

The fragile house of cards I had constructed came tumbling down just as quickly as any other. I failed to meet the sales quotas for my job, and soon I was let go from the most lucrative career opportunity I had ever had: a regional sales manager position in the software industry. Within the same week, tensions between Jenny and I reached their peak, culminating in a disastrous confrontation.

The night before Easter, my daughter Jazzlyn was staying over with me. Shortly after putting her to bed, Jenny and Jon walked through the door, with Jenny visibly drunk and under the influence of Xanax. An argument between Jenny and I erupted, as I objected to Jon spending the night while Jazzlyn was over. As far as I can recall, Jenny began screaming at me, accusing me of being a terrible father and a drug addict. The altercation finally ended when she punched me in the face, and I demanded that both she and Jon leave.

An Unwelcome Easter Surprise

The next morning, I woke up with Jazzy and discovered Jon sleeping on my couch, while Jenny lay passed out in her bed, apparently from taking a couple of Seroquel. This was Easter morning, and I had to prepare for my parents' arrival; the last thing I wanted was to explain Jon presence to them. I asked him to leave multiple times, but he insisted on talking to Jenny. Unwilling to deal with the situation, Jenny refused to wake up for him.

When my parents arrived, I couldn't let Jon stay at the house unsupervised. I asked him to leave again, and he chose that moment to make a scene in front of my parents. We argued, and he went upstairs one last time to try to talk to Jenny before finally leaving. My parents took Jazzy and me out for brunch before dropping Jazzy off with her mom.

Soon after, Ashley called me, frantic, asking what had happened. Jazzy was crying and telling her about the huge fight between Jenny and me. I explained the situation to Ashley, omitting some details. As long as Jenny lived with me, Ashley would no longer allow Jazzy to visit.

The Breaking Point and a Downward Spiral

That incident became the final straw for me. I told Jenny she needed to move out. Looking back now, I think that's what Jon wanted all along. He had been manipulating her from the very beginning, knowing she had nowhere else to go. Jenny sold her car, which was in her name, because Jon promised to give her his brand-new Mustang. Soon, she was completely under his control. He could take her car away at any time, and she depended on him for money as well as a place to live.

After Jenny moved out, I didn't want to feel anything. The torrent of emotions I experienced was overwhelming, so I began using more and more heroin. By this time, I was isolated and alone. The only thing I cared about was having enough money to get high and escape from the chaos that consumed my life. The first time I overdosed, I was sitting in my car after picking up some H from a dealer in North Minneapolis.

The First Overdose and Seeking Help

All I can remember is doing a shot while parked on the corner of 36th and Morgan, thinking I was good, and then driving off. The next thing I knew, I woke up lying on the side of the street with paramedics standing around me. I had nodded off and slowly drifted to the side of the street while driving. A passerby saw what happened, pulled me out of the car while I was unresponsive, and laid me on my back until the paramedics arrived. As the ambulance rushed to the hospital, the only thing I could think of doing was calling my mom and telling her I had overdosed. I could hear the frantic shock in her voice as I told her what had happened.

I can remember sitting in the back of the ambulance thinking oh, my God what did I do, this can't be happening to me. Always I would tell myself that I was too smart to ever Overdose, that was only something to happened to people that didn't know what they were doing, but Heroin doesn't care about cognitive dissonance, it is an equal opportunity executioner.

Sitting there stunned, in shock and completely lost the only thing I could think to do was call my mom and tell her I was on my way to the hospital because I overdosed. I remember he saying you overdosed on WHAT!??

Heroin Mom, Heroin and that was how my parents came to the truth that no parent should ever have to face, their child was addicted to Heroin, and he was shooting it up. Often times when in the middle of our addiction, we don't have any thought for our family or how things will affect them because literally all of our mental capacity is being used up thinking about using, finding substances to use, finding money for substances, hiding our substance use, maintaining the masks on any given day that we are operating under.

Often times people get angry and think that if an Addict doesn't get clean it means that they don't care; in my experience its often quite the opposite. Many addicts care TOO Much by nature, heightened emotional stress is one of the major causes for addiction and so when a person is in the middle of their addiction, they have placed themselves outside of the reach of normal compassion or empathy. Which is another reason that success rates in recovery are so bad.

Once an addict gets clean, the real work begins. The processing and healing of previous trauma, shame and guilt, regret and feelings of failure. They all can come crashing down like waves of terror but the thing about waves is that they come in and go out with the tide and like the tide, that pain will eventually fade back into the Sea where it is easier managed with the contrast of hope and love being added. But it is a dark business getting clean, and its not ever sunny even when you stay clean. Recovery has been about finding a new way to cope and learn how to live and find purpose that adds meaning to each day.

I was taken to Fairview Riverside, where I went through detox, and after that, I admitted myself into their 28-day inpatient program. Jenny was really upset with me because she had just given me $100 that I had promised her I wouldn't use for drugs, but obviously, that was a lie. My family was shaken to the core; no parent ever signs up for something like that. There is nothing in this world that could possibly prepare someone to raise a child who has a severe substance abuse problem.

Lost and Alone - The pathway to darkness

While I was going through my inpatient program, I remember thinking that I was done with drugs. After surviving an overdose and coming clean to my family about my drug problem, I fully intended to get clean and move on with my life. If only I knew that I was just beginning to scratch the surface of how dark my life would really become.

My behavior became more and more careless until one day I made the biggest mistake of my life. On July 12th, 2016, I had Jazzy with me as I went to the Northside to pick up some heroin. Jazzy had just turned 8 years old on the 10th, and I turned 28 on the 11th. After picking up the heroin, we went to a restaurant to have lunch.

After we were seated and had our food, I got up to use the bathroom. While in there, I shot up heroin and overdosed. Jazzy actually came looking for me and found me lying on the bathroom floor with a man standing over me, on the phone with 911. She reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell phone, and was able to get her mom on the line.

The Aftermath

An 8-year-old girl watched her father overdose and was made to sit in the back of a cop car while waiting for her mom to come get her. She watched as I was loaded into an ambulance and sent off to the hospital. As I write these words and relive this memory, I have a gigantic knot in my stomach and a sense of dread deep in my chest. It's a memory that seems so foggy, as if it's not even my own. The things that I put Jazzlyn through are things that no 8-year-old should ever have to endure. I am afraid that on July 12th, 2016, my daughter stopped being a child. This is something that will forever haunt and scar my soul.

This ambulance took me to the hospital, and I ended up being put on a 72-hour hold in the psych ward. This was one of the lowest points in my life. After this event happened, I still wasn't thinking about all of the effects I was having on Jazzy. I was only worried about how it was going to affect me and my relationship with her. You would think that this would be enough for me to wake up and realize that my life was completely unmanageable, but my run with heroin was far from over. There was still a lot more destruction that lay in the path ahead of me.

The Struggle to Stay Clean

After being released from the hospital, my parents allowed me to come home under the condition that I would go back to treatment and stay clean. At this point, I was willing to say anything for them to allow me to return home, so I agreed. However, I continued to delay treatment by coming up with lies about my Rule 25 assessment being rescheduled and trying to get into a program.

The shame and guilt of overdosing while my daughter was with me were so overwhelming that I didn't want to feel that pain anymore. So, I went back to doing the only thing I knew would work to take the pain away – I got high again.

Along with the overdosing, there were also several car accidents that I should mention during that time. I totaled a car that my dad sold me, crashed my grandma's car twice, and the second time, I rolled it off a freeway exit, totaling it.

When I totaled my grandma's car, I was supposed to be working a new job selling windows, or at least that night, I told my parents I had an appointment. In reality, I was on my way back from picking up heroin in the cities when I got distracted and drove off the side of the exit ramp. It seemed like everywhere I went, chaos followed in my wake.

Finding Hope at Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge

Eventually, things caught up to me. On Christmas Eve of 2016, we had family over, and I thought I was fooling everyone. I was on Suboxone at the time, so I would always blame my drowsiness on that. That night was no exception, except for the fact that I got really, really high, and it was very evident to all of my family that I was messed up. Afterwards, my cousin Kimmie helped my parents plan an intervention for me. They wanted me to go to Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge, and I had no other options or places to turn. I agreed and prepared to enter their short-term licensed treatment program in Minneapolis, MN.

On February 1st, 2016, I walked through the doors of MN Adult and Teen Challenge a tired and broken man. As I passed through those doors, I arrived with nothing – no hope, no self-worth, and no idea of what the future held in store for me.

I can recall sitting in the admissions office in Minneapolis, MN, wondering if this program would be different for me than the previous programs I had been through. I was on the verge of losing my family, my daughter, and everything. At this point in time, I had no idea who I was or where I fit into this world.

When I first entered the Men's Short-Term Program at MNTC, I had no idea what to expect. The only previous knowledge I had was that it was a strict, Christian-based program with higher success rates than other programs in Minnesota. I was raised Catholic and supposed that I considered myself a Christian, though I did not wholly understand or care much about what that meant to me at the time.

Self-Discovery and a Journey of Faith

I believed in Jesus the man, who historically walked the land over 2,000 years ago, performing miracles and raising dead men to life. But as to the question of Jesus the Christ, the living Son of God who died for the sins of the world? That idea has always been confusing for me, and I was unsure where I stood with my beliefs on the exact identity of Christ and his origins and purpose.

I had my first meeting with my drug counselor, Dean, and he asked me a bunch of questions to better understand my situation. One thing he asked me has always stood out: "Are you willing to do WHATEVER it takes?" At the time, I was certain that I was willing to, but I had little concept of what "whatever it takes" actually meant in reality. When he asked me, I said yes, but he asked me again with more emphasis on the "whatever it takes" part. Again, I answered in the affirmative. It was a moment where I took some time to genuinely ask myself, "Am I really willing to do whatever it takes?" I was unsure, but I thought I was. The truth is, I wasn't.

As I continued my journey through the program, I would learn what "whatever it takes" truly meant and face the challenges and questions that it would bring. This process of self-discovery and faith would ultimately help shape my understanding of Christ, his role in my life, and the strength I needed to overcome my addiction.

Embracing Change

Adjusting to the daily routine of my short-term program at MNTC was quite the struggle, especially in the beginning. I was standing on a mountain of bad habits, trying to figure out the best way to climb down without those habits causing me to plummet to my doom. Following the rules while in treatment should be a given, yet I found myself smoking cigarettes, selling my Rx Suboxone strips for cash, and pursuing other desires. In those first couple of weeks, I had every intention of finishing the 30-day short-term program and then returning to the world to do whatever I wanted.

However, something shifted during my third week at MNTC. I began waking up on time and attending the morning Chapel/Worship service, which was optional for people in the licensed short-term program. It was also during this time that one of the men from my small groups encouraged me to read the Bible in its entirety for the first time. I started with the New Testament, and for the first time in my life, I began to read the Bible every day. I wasn't just reading it for the sake of reading; I was genuinely trying to understand its teachings and messages.

This newfound dedication to understanding the Bible marked the beginning of a profound change in my approach to the program and my recovery journey. As I continued to attend the morning worship services and engage with the scriptures, I found myself growing more open to the idea of faith and the possibility that it could play a vital role in my healing process.

A Desperate Search for Hope

At some point within those first weeks at MNTC, a small flame of hope was kindled within my heart, and I began to see myself from a new perspective. I started examining my character flaws and attempted to honestly account for them. The shame and guilt I had locked away for so long began to unravel, and I started emotionally processing some of the things I had been through, and more importantly, the things I had put my loved ones through. As clarity set in, I faced the cold reality of just how badly I had messed up my life.

Healing began quietly in the hidden corners of my mind, where I started to analyze and interpret my emotions and discern the sources of my turmoil. Taking an honest look at the man I had become was no easy task, but with that glimpse, I promised myself that no matter what it took, I would become the person I was meant to be.

One day in particular stands out: I woke up at 5 a.m. and, as I lay in bed, I began to process all of my problems. My worry intensified, and I worked myself up into an anxious mess. The crux of my problem was the decision I needed to make about what I would do once my 30-day program at MNTC was over. There was so much wreckage and destruction still very fresh behind me, and I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do.

Trying to find my Higher Power

I was weighed down by over five different traffic and probation fines, a suspended license, and $1000 in restitution to pay. Furthermore, my background check would reveal offenses that were initially felonies, which would inevitably come up for any job I wanted to pursue in the future. What I first perceived as hopelessness, I soon understood to be powerlessness.

I finally started to grasp that all those years of feeling "in control" were nothing but an illusion. I had no power, and I gradually began to recognize that there was a higher power in control of my life.

There were a few job opportunities that I was offered conditionally, only to lose the offers after my background check came through, crushing any optimism I once held for finding another job that could provide me with a lifelong career path.

With all of these anxieties swirling through my head one morning at 5 a.m., I opened the Bible and came across a verse that stood out to me, a verse that would later help change the course of my entire life. That verse was Jeremiah 29:11: "I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you, not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all of your heart."

That morning, for the first time probably since I was a child in catechism, I sought out God and asked Him to show me the way, to shine His light on me and my path so that I might know His will for me. In chapel later that morning, during a group lecture, someone from the long-term program came in to talk about it and provide information to help people sign up. It was a faith-based 13-month program, and it was the last thing that I wanted to do.

A Sign or a Coincidence?

The man that came in to speak with us was Pastor Terry Francis, the Director of the Mens Longterm program.  The first thing that caught my attention was the program that MNTC had to help clients convert any fines they have into community service hours to be worked off volunteering while in the program.    That sounded like something that would really help me out in my situation and so I began to listen more about this year long program that would completely remove me from society and brainwash me into being a model member of society.  I had many misconceptions and prejudices that needed to be cleared up in the months to come. 

Pastor Terry began talking about career opportunities for people that graduate the program, and I was shocked to find out that He Himself was a graduate of the Mens program and was in recovery from his own drug addiction issues.   Then I first heard about their prevention program called Know the Truth, where people are paid to bring clients out to High Schools and Middle Schools across the state, sharing their story with children and teens and helping provide information to assist with Drug prevention in our communities.  It was something that I knew that I wanted to do immediately, and my heart began to soften to the idea of doing this insane 13-month program that I had heard about from many different people with lots of mixed reviews depending on who it was that I asked. 

It did not go without notice to me that, just that morning I was praying my heart out to God asking for a way out, some pathway that could get me on the other side of this nightmare that had become my life.  Here now was a path that would help me resolve most of the major things that I was constantly worrying about and a way to find a life after I manage to stay clean.   With all of these solutions in hand it began to feel clear to me that God was telling me to do this program.

In our morning small group, I told everyone that I had made the decision to go into the Long-Term program and the feedback I got from everyone was really encouraging. Everyone was excited and happy for me, and it felt really good to have their approval.

February 9th, 2016 - Step 1 assignment

Describe the circumstances leading up to your initial surrender and seeking help.  Describe in detail how you felt emotionally, physically, etc 

I was at the epitome of my Heroin addiction, constantly lying and stealing, conning and manipulating and doing anything that I could to get high and numb all of my emotional pain from the guilt of my actions.  I was getting high because I was unhappy, and I was unhappy because I was getting high.

On Christmas I got into an accident with my grandmothers car after sliding in the snow and going into the ditch after hitting a mailbox while my daughter was in the car with me.  I was super ashamed and picked up a bunch of dope after I dropped my daughter off at her moms house.    The next day we had a bunch of family over including all of my cousins and they could see that there was something wrong with me, I was really high.   

I thought foolishly that I could fool everyone and act like I was totally fine when it was obvious to everyone that I was high.  Several of our family members asked my parents what was going on with me.  I was totally ashamed once again, and my younger cousin Caitlin was crying to my cousin Kimmy because of how messed up I was.

I didn't let that stop me and ended up making the same mistake on my dad's 60th Birthday party after my mom had planned a surprise party for him.  I had grabbed some dope in Brooklyn Park and I wasn't paying attention on my way to go pick up, while going too fast on the ramp to the freeway I slid off down the side of the embankment. 

60 MPH straight off the ramp, rolled the car a couple of times and had it not been for the seatbelt I certainly would have died that night.   I had not yet gotten a chance to use even use the dope yet and so while I was sitting in the back of a tow truck while the police and everyone else was out looking through debris and the driver was hooking up my vehicle, I decided to do a couple of lines of H, and I didn't want to emotionally process what I had just been through. 

Even writing about this I cannot think of how I possibly was able to justify that in my mind, but it just goes to show the level of desperation that my addiction had taken me to.

That next day is when I faced my impromptu intervention and was convinced into checking myself into MNTC.

Step 2 Assignment 2-15-16 MNTC

Do you believe that sobriety is possible? If you do not, what might be some beliefs you have or blocks that keep you from believing that recovery is possible?

I may still have anxiety about staying sober but I have to believe that if I do whatever it takes to find and live in Gods grace and surrender to his will that I will bear fruit that provides me with to love and peace that I have been missing for so long.  

For so long I have lived life according to my own will, trying to control all aspects of my life and that was what allowed the demons to run rampant all around me. I lived so long in the solitude of darkness that I forgot what it felt like to be blessed in the light and feel the love of the Holy Spirit.    Right now those demons might be at bay, but always still existing and waiting for the moment when I am at my weakest.  When hope seems so far away, that is when they make their attack and stir from the depths to bring me back to the land of shadows. 

Which persons in your life have helped you have hope for your recovery?  What have they done or said that has convinced you of their support?

My family has really stepped up these past couple months and given me a ton of support, my Mom is and always has been my number 1 defender.  I am finally letting go of the shame from my past and being grateful that I still have my Moms love and support despite the decisions that I have made that I know have caused her a lot of pain.

As I entered into the long term program I remember feeling fully committed and a sense of peace had finally come over me that maybe in the end, things were going to be alright. For the first time, in a very long time, I had a sense of hope for my future and somewhat of a plan. 

In the early weeks and months of my 13 month program I surrounded myself with small group of other guys that I seemed to get along well with and I began to form friendships with them. It was also during this time when some of them began to slip up and get kicked out of the program. One of them actually took the hand sanitizer that was in a portable toilet and used it to make basically Everclear/vodka and he got really drunk and ended up failing a breathalyzer and got kicked out pretty early on. Another one relapsed on crack-cocaine that someone had brought to him from the outside and so he failed a drug test and was kicked out. 

It was really sad to see because alot of these guys were giving up the chance to finish the program and instead being forced to execute prison sentences that were over their heads.

Despite being isolated and in a somewhat captive environment, there are still ways for people with substance abuse issues to find substances to abuse, even in treatment. I, for my part was still very committed to maintaining my recovery and finishing the program. Not everyone had the same motivations and motives, some people were there because they snitched on someone and the court systems allowed them to get off on high level drug trafficking cases if they completed the MNTC Long term program. 

So there were people on furlough from the justice system, there were people court ordered by probation or as a result of chemical health evaluations, and there were people there voluntarily, not under any court ordered conditions that obligate them to finish the program. I fell into the latter category but grew to see great benefit in completing the program and becoming a graduate.

Time began to fly by in the long-term program and that spring I had what I felt like was a spiritual breakthrough that I journaled about in what is called at MNTC "SEW or Spiritual Emphasis Week" .

During SEW I spent a week attending intense worship services and powerful messages from a variety of well-known speakers in the recovery community.

I had expectations built up in my head of what I thought was going to happen but things did not unfold that way. I would sit during the sermons and wait for the Holy Spirit to come over me, I was expecting some profound occurrence where I would become overwhelmed by warmth and tears of happiness like I have heard of happening to other people. 

As the days went on I was becoming more and more disappointed , I felt like God was not finding me. As I sat on the very last evening service listening to a Pastor from Substance Church named Peter Haas and he was talking about the gifts that all of us have and all of the sudden I was instantly struck with the image of a small flame being lit within me. Somehow, I just knew that something important had happened and I was overcome with the inspiration to try and capture with words the experience that I had on paper. That is where the poem "Holy Flame" originally was inspired.

As I finished writing the poem, I suddenly realized that I needed to quit waiting for God to find me, it is I who need to seek Him out because he has known all along exactly where I am and where I will end up. As I sat praying, I began to have flashbacks of my life and all of the sins that I have committed flashed in front of me, and a feeling of peace came over me. It was as if God was telling me that despite everything that I have done he was still there for me and willing to forgive me.

The Holy Flame

Once the flame of the Holy Spirit is kindled in your heart you must protect it as you would a candle in a whirlwind. Life will always throw adversity against your fire and passion.Once ignited, you must feed the fire to sustain it and allow it to grow and spread throughout your life.Your spirit burns from that in which you feed it; when you are angry, it will feed from your anger. When you have thoughts of peace, it will feed on peace. When time and circumstances send a storm into your path, take a stand and fight to defend that flame. Let your Light shine bright to feed the roots wherein you wish to bear fruit.

The Pastor finished up his message and he closed with a metaphor about our life being a flame and that we were meant to burn bright and shine through the darkness. I felt like this was God speaking directly TO ME. Once again, I stood witness to a Power that was greater than anything that I could understand.  That night I re-committed myself to living as a follower of Christ. The following week, I openly displayed that faith by getting baptized in front of my mom, my Grandma B, and best of all my daughter was there to see it and experience that.

This was a very important step for me in my mind, it was a chance to show my family the changes that I was making in my life. But most of all I was given a chance to provide a better example for my daughter to follow. She is the most important thing to me on this earth and I have a lot of time that I need to make up for. I pray that I can live as the Man and the Father that God intended me to be. It is my job to stand firm, to protect and provide for her and to be her rock and foundation in a world that is changing. It was the first time in quite a while where I actually felt good about where things were going.

After the baptism things started to test my patience, I was getting sick with a cold, and it seemed like all of the staff members were out to get me.

One day I was given a rude awakening when a staff member pulled me and Fife out of group and brought us down to the office, so I knew that we were in some sort of trouble. They had searched our rooms and on the desk, there was a pile of contraband; an E-cigarette, pre-workout powder, and a can of chew. Worst of all they also managed to find the cellphone that I had been hiding to be able to get on the internet and listen to my audiobooks at night. 

The house charge staff asked me if I was using tobacco and I openly admitted that I was. This set me back quite a bit and put me in a really bad attitude. I had to do 25 service hours on top of the 140+ hours I was already trying to get done to pay off all of my court fines. They put me on restriction for a month and made me switch rooms so now I have to go back to having a roommate again. 

I was also mad because they took a bunch of other stuff away too, books, acrylic paint I had for something I was painting my daughter, basically all the things I was able to enjoy during my spare time were taken and I was not happy about it.

The whole day I paced around looking for excuses on why I should leave the program. I even called my Mom but that just seemed to make things worse because now she was worried about me leaving the program. She reminded me that if I left the program that day, I did not have anything to come home to and nowhere to go. I was upset mainly because I knew she was right, I knew I needed to stay. 

The months I spent at Hudson house were a challenge but also helped me to grow but unfortunately, I still had too much pride to be able to follow all of the rules and ultimately it would end with my refusal to accept certain consequences for my behavior and lead me straight back into the darkness.

During the chapel services it was against the rules for the Male and Female clients in the program to talk or have any sort of communication at all. They called it fraternizing and it was taken very seriously. However, I did not think that should apply to me and my friends so I started talking to one of the women in the program and she had a couple friends that were talking to both Fife and one of the other guys from Hudson house that we hung out with.

We would pass notes back and forth during chapel services and through other clever means, except its doesn't always turn out to be so clever and something that I should have taken more seriously.  As I read through many of my old journal entries, I can see now how self-centered I still was back then and even though I convinced myself and everyone else around me that I was giving it my all regarding the focus on myself and my recovery ; in reality I was trying my best just to enjoy my time there and socialize and be the popular kid again. It was like I was back in high school with something to prove to the world.

"How can I know when I have surrendered my shame?"They asked this tonight at the church service and I realized that it is not an easy question for me to answer honestly even to just myself. It is not something that is have often or easily been able to ponder and I am unsure if I am even able to give a real answer. Tonight while thinking within myself, I learned that it is an everyday process to keep myself free from guilt and shame. Every Morning I need t o wake up, look myself in the eye while I am standing in front of the bathroom mirror and remind myself

"You are worthy of Gods Grace, you deserve to forgive yourself. Accept the sacrifice and love that was given by Christ on the Cross"

Journal Entry April 20th, 2016

"This struggle is an everyday battle to do the right thing. I am coming to realize that there is a huge difference between existing through life, and actually living life. Its far more easy to simply exist on mental auto-pilot, floating around in the wake of events around you. Always conforming the people in your environment and taking the easiest path towards contentment. It takes far more discipline and effort to do the right thing, especially when everyone else around you is doing the wrong thing.

As it's written "Bad company corrupts good Character" I am certain that this is true.

When you are with a group of guys and an attractive Woman walks past and everyone is cat calling and making lude comments, it is easy to allow myself to get caught up doing the same thing. Then after they are gone, my attitude towards woman could be influenced by that experience if I allow it.

Since starting this program, I have begun to recognize this feeling that I get sometimes when something intuitively feels right. It occurs randomly and it will come over me and flood me with warmth and joy and just this sense of what I am doing is exactly what I was supposed to do in that moment. I have come to cherish and welcome these moments more and more often and have come to identify this feeling with my bodies interaction with some people call the Holy Spirit, or the Holy Ghost.

It's no longer just a word in a book that is more like magic from a fairytale to me, it is a real presence that can be felt physically sometimes as well emotionally. It is something that I can feel on a level deeper than any emotion I have ever felt before. Sometimes it will send a feeling of electricity up my spine and the hairs on my arms will stand up with goosebumps. It feels as if God is letting me know at that moment that I am exactly where I need to be and I am doing exactly what I need to be doing.

Sometimes it occurs when I am just having a simple conversation with someone and say something that just comes out of my mouth from nowhere, something I was not even planning on saying but for whatever reason it just comes out. I will grow an intense sense of empathy all the sudden, almost like I am experiencing the other persons emotions through our conversation and the words just come to my lips. Afterwards, I will be filled with a sense of overpowering righteousness, like what I had done or said went deeper than the flesh.

The only thing that I know for certain is that I want to continue to have the Holy Spirit work through me and help me grow into the Man that God is calling me to be.

Thursday, April 28th 2016

Friday, April 29th 2016 - A Vivid Dream

"This morning I woke up with a really vivid dream still fresh in my mind. I truly believe that I received this dream from God last night. It started with me walking down the hallways of the Stevens Building where the short term program is for MN Adult and Teen Challenge in Minneapolis.

As I was walking down the hallway past the courtyard, I turned to look out the window and saw a huge fight taking place right outside and there was probably over 20 people just brawling it out.I remember yelling for the staff to come and I recognized one of the faces in the crowd getting beaten up by like 4-5 people, I yelled out again down the hallway, "Someone is really going to get hurt out there" as a bunch of people ran past me but there were not going to stop the fight, they were running to jump in the fight and it was like there were ones that saw this and tackled them to hold them down so they would not join in the fighting.

I was the only one left that was not struggling to hold someone down in the hallway and the doors were right in front of me, I could look through the glass windows and see everything that was going on right in front of me. I gazed out at fellow brothers and friends were getting kicked and beaten by a mob. In my dream I can remember becoming outraged that nobody was going out to help stop this and I knew that I could fight and so I pushed through the doors and ran out into the light of the courtyard prepared to start taking off heads.

As soon as I stepped through the doorway and into the courtyard the anger evaporated and it was like I knew somehow what I needed to do, what GOD needed me to do. I could feel his Will in a way that I cannot describe while awake now but it was a sense that I needed to do something different than those fighting around me. It was like I just knew what I needed to do and so abruptly I shouted, "STOP" and my voice boomed out over the whole courtyard and suddenly everyone just stopped fighting and turned to look at me.

Then I said with a commanding tone that I have never before used in real life, "SIT DOWN!" and everyone sat down on the ground around me."What are you all here for?! Are you here to fight each other or are you here to fight the Enemy? These men you fight with and the things you quarrel over will not matter 5 years from now but the decisions you all make today WILL."

As I spoke, people began to listen with great intensity on their faces, some of them started to cry with shame and I cried along with them as I spoke. The rest of what I said in the dream, I cannot remember but I can remember the emotions as I looked around at the faces of the men standing around me. The feeling of love and brotherhood, the fierce way that I wanted them to see the pain they were causing to each other and to their own futures.

When I woke up this morning the dream was still very fresh and after reflecting on it some time and even talking to a couple people here at the house, I feel like God was giving me a message. He was letting me know that there is another way to live and that I was on the right track. He showed me the power that my words will someday have through his Gifts and that people will listen and become inspired by God through me. I have the ability to help change lives in a huge way and this dream has been one of the most powerful spiritual breakthroughs I think I have ever had."

God is always moving,

Time is always flowing

Many times my flesh has died

Only for my spirit to rise and be born again,

My sins are washed and I am clean

Day by day, I often pray

That my troubles will someday leave me

and day by day I often say

This world will someday need me

4-21-16

If something is worth doing, it is worth doing right, and if it is worth doing right now, no more half measures. No more procrastination. I am so sick of holding back my hardest effort just because things get hard or tasks become difficult and require more effort.All my life I have justified taking the easy road and no longer shall I abide by settling for less. Now I understand why this program is called MNTC adult and teen challenge, because life is a challenge and within these walls, I am re-learning how to live. I have come to realize that if I am not challenging myself on a daily basis then I am doing something wrong. When staff enforce a rule that I get upset about or does not make sense to me, I need to remind myself that it is because we need to change our behavior to change our habits. Breaking rules in here required the same mental justification.

4-23-16

I just got done meeting with Tom and Pastor Terry about my infractions. It would seem that Tom has built a case on me to present to Pastor Terry. The cellphone and tobacco, having paints in my room, lying about sending unapproved books home and then getting caught reading it during study hall. After Tom was done talking I looked like a scheming liar who was trying to manipulate the program and to a certain degree I was. I knew at that time that any attempt I made to explain my actions or defend myself would not be taken well so I decided that the best thing to do is to just listen to what they have to say and do things right from here on out.Although I am angry and I do not like Tom I know that God has me here for a reason and all I can do is submit to his will and try each day to be a better man and do what is best. Tom is not going to allow me to go to Stevie's funeral and it bothers me that he never once asked me how Stevie was doing after I got back from seeing him. He did not say a word after Stevie died, and he was more concerned with the fact that I left on an emergency pass to see someone...

4-26-16

This struggle is an everyday battle to do the right thing. I am trying to realize that there is a huge difference in existing in this world and actually living in this world. It's far more easy to simply exist in this world floating in the wake of events around you. Always conforming to those around you, doing whatever is easiest to get by with contentment. It takes far more discipline and effort to do the right thing when everyone else around you is doing the opposite. For example, it is easy to look at a beautiful woman with lust when you are in the presence of friends who are doing and conversing likewise. I find it is often more difficult to look on her with respect and bring self-control.Since I have been at MNTC I have started to be able to recognize a feeling that I get sometimes when I am doing something right or sometimes it comes at random but it always happens when I am doing something positive or out of love or compassion. I have come to cherish these feelings and find myself having these moments more and more often.

4-28-16

"Dear Heavenly Father,I am but a helpless child, living at Your grace and mercy. There is nothing that I have done or will do that escapes Your notice.I have come to glimpse a fraction of Your greatness when You bless me with eyes to see You. I have even heard Your whispers when You bless me with the ears to hear You.I pray that I may have the will to seek Your presence daily. Grant me the discipline to let others hear only the words in which Your will invokes in me to speak. Let my actions glorify Your son Jesus Christ. Bless me with the control to exercise humility when ego and pride invade my flesh.I pray to shed more and more of my flesh each day and seek out the light within my spirit that You have shone upon me.I pray these things in Jesus' name, Amen."

5-2-16

I feel myself becoming stronger each day. I think I have passed my slump and the things that are being taught around me are making a lot more sense. My spirit is thirsty for God's presence and I am becoming more convicted each day. My sense of right and wrong has not been so clear since I was a child and I notice myself thinking a lot more before I act or speak. I know that I still have a long way to go, but I am truly happy I am growing in all aspects of my life.I don't look backward at my past so much anymore because I realize that a measure of a man is not how many mistakes he has made or how few times he has fallen, it is in how quickly he rises when after falling or what he has learned from his mistakes.

5-3-16

Break every chain—

See salvation in a glance

My strength was gained through tears and painI have buried my shame

And planted seeds of hope in its placeI have broken the shackles of my past

In the gaze of the Son of Man, I found grace

He cured to be worthy of this glory

Who am I to be so blessed

To kneel and to have God—Stand beside me through every test

I am free from the gibbets of secrets

The truth is where I found the key

There is power in the name of Jesus

The light made the darkness flee from meHe met me at a crossroadWhere I was broken on my knees

He lifted me on my feet

And straightened out my gait

I am broken out of bondage

To let the Holy Spirit guide my fate

The choice is mine to make

Salvation is there to take

Within us all dwells both good and evil

That is why Christ died on the crossFor the sins of all people

I see Jesus in the Spirit

Leading me towards the light

When my mind is still and my thoughts are clear

I open my heart as peace draws near

In the depths of the night

A battle wages for my soul

In looking to the heavens I have been given sight

In surrendering the fight I have gained control

Whichever way the river flows

I know I must accept

And whichever way the wind blowsComes from a power in which I respect

"I showed some weakness in my resolve tonight. I was able to get access online through the use of my friend's cell phone and I checked my messages. I had a message from earlier today from Jenny and she told me how much she missed me and wished that I could see her. I ended up calling her during phone time and she was pretty upset. Apparently, her and her sister are both struggling.

Jenny let her sister move in with her after she just got out of treatment and they are both struggling. On one hand, I feel bad so I let her vent on the phone and tried to give her encouraging advice.

On the other hand, I didn't feel like there was anything I could do. My flesh and my spirit are confused. I want to be her friend but I know that I will lust after her and I know..."

5-15-16

I asked God to give me a sign that I was on His path and let me know if I was doing the right thing. Within minutes of that prayer, the woman giving the sermon gave her first scripture which hit me as only the Holy Spirit can, it was Jeremiah 29:11:

“'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. '”

Immediately, I could tell that in that moment God was speaking directly to me, and to help clarify, the woman closed out her sermon by talking about letting go of those who have hurt us in the past and being able to forgive them and move on.

To me, this was confirmation of what I already knew in my heart; my friendship with Jenny was mostly a friendship built on lust and flesh, and it was not something that is healthy for me to continue pursuing.