My name is Grant, and I am a person living in recovery. I grew up in a West Texas town called “San Angelo.” In West Texas, football was a right of passage, and those who were good lived in glory and honor, at least as it would appear in my eyes. As a youngster, all I ever wanted to do was make my father proud. In my eyes, the most important things were to do well in school and play hard at football. I can remember sensing enormous pressure to attain these standards, even at the cost of compromising values. But for the most part, I excelled in school and football. 

I had an obsession from an early age with making people like me. I was constantly concerned with what others thought of me. And despite being told that I was a good son, brother and friend… I still had an undying need to impress my peers and elders. I never lacked love, food, or amenities in life. My family is incredibly loving and supportive of all of my adventures. I don’t particularly identify any obscene traumas or events in my life (any one thing that stands out) that contributed to my substance abuse or addiction. I do, however, remember that I loved to make people laugh and feel good. I always tried to be the comic relief in my family and friend group. 

However, the day came when I would feel intoxicated chemically for the first time. I was 15, and I was driving with my permit with my mom by my side. The older kids on the football team were dipping Copenhagen snuff, and I was curious about all the fuss. So, I asked my mom to buy me a can of Copenhagen, and she did. I was driving us home with a dip in my mouth, and about 2 miles from home, I felt it. The intoxication was captivating and overwhelming, and it made me very physically ill. I threw up all over the bathroom at my house, and I felt awful. But the first 10 minutes of that “high” had me hooked. It wasn’t 6 hours later I would take my second dip of snuff and experience the same consequence all over again. Yet again, I was chasing that first 10 minutes of bliss, willing to endure the negative physical consequences thereafter. 

For me, this was simply “breaking the seal” of my journey with drugs and alcohol. From that point forward, I was on a journey to find the things in this world that would make me feel out of body and mind and things that would make me less concerned with what others thought of me. The next eight years were full of ups and downs. During my football career, I pledged never to drink during the season. And this I accomplished. I had several girlfriends and was very popular. I was the captain of the football team, prom king nominee, top 5% of my graduating class, and headed off to the University of Texas to get a degree and a career. 

Leaving my home and entering a very competitive academic environment posed many challenges. I was not equipped to maintain the strenuous schedule of studying and the social presence I felt was necessary to succeed. Also, I was no longer playing football, and I think I just totally lost my identity. I would entertain various drugs and dangerous adventures in my time in college. Midway through my sophomore year, I woke up one day to my mother at my condo telling me to pack my things, and I went home. I couldn’t even find my car, as it had been impounded. This would not be the first time my family would bail me out of a scary situation. However, my family and I both believed that the key to my success would be a geographical change and to enroll in school again and get a degree. So I moved back home, got an apartment with my family’s help, and enrolled in the local college many of my high school friends attended. This was to be my saving grace. 

The only problem with this plan was that I had literally no new coping strategies or ideas on how to manage school, social life, and the pain of break ups, discords in relationships, and just everyday life. So, three years after moving home, I was into harder drugs. The opiate crisis was in full effect, and my drug of choice was OxyContin. It was cheap, widely available, and most importantly- it disassociated me from my internal issues and feelings completely. I started to become less focused on school and work and more focused on staying high all the time. This was a recipe for disaster. Despite having an incredibly loving family and die-hard friend group, I was once again woken up by my mother with a proposition for rehab in California. 

The idea was the same: geographical change and then the intention of getting back into college and getting a degree, and my problems would, in theory, be solved. I did inpatient and outpatient rehab in California and was permitted to continue to take my stimulant medications for ADHD. Not shortly after moving out of the inpatient rehab and living in a sober house did, I begin to abuse my stimulant medications. Then, a divine intervention caused by my iPad being stolen prompted my mom and dad to get me onto a plane headed for Lubbock, Texas. The only person I knew in Lubbock was my younger brother, who had just started his freshman year at Texas Tech. At this time, I had been a lifelong Longhorns fan, and the idea of living in the hated Red Raider land was repulsive, but I had no choice. My family was calling the shots. I moved into a sober living in Lubbock and was greeted by a still lifelong friend from my hometown. He asked me if I wanted to be sober, and not really knowing what I wanted other than to make him happy, I said yes. He was the first person to introduce me to recovery. He would be my sponsor and my mentor and introduce me to 12-step fellowships and the collegiate recovery community at Texas Tech. 

In the CRC (Collegiate Recovery Community) at Tech, I flourished. I was surrounded by over 120 other scholarship students in a variety of majors and disciplines that touted the highest cumulative GPA for any organization on campus. It was there that I was taught that using the ‘powers’ of an addictive personality in the proper way would benefit not only me but countless others. This was when I started to become interested in psychology and reframing my perspective of how to utilize my internal voice and feelings. I would completely figure this out until having a major fallout about five years into my time at Texas Tech. At one point, I was the Graduate Assistant and Unit Coordinator at the CRC. I was a part-time chemical dependency counselor, and I was also a full-time master’s student. I got into a serious relationship with another recovered woman. At some point, I got it in my head to drink again. Not willing to get honest with anyone, I lived a double life. “Mr. Recovery All-Star,’ during the day, and expert bourbon whiskey drinker by night. This ran its course as the love of my life at the time caught me and gave me an ultimatum to get honest with my recovery community. I would lose everything. I was asked to take a leave from school, I would have to surrender counseling privileges for a year, and I would lose my job. The only thing I could focus on at this time was getting sober. At some point along this new journey, I was gifted an incredible opportunity as a strength and conditioning intern with the Texas Tech football team, and six months later, I would get back into my master’s program. 

Things were on the up and up. The girl trusted me again, and we got an apartment in Houston, Texas, with the intention of getting married and living a full, sober life together. However, not 3 hours into moving to Houston, I would get drunk again, and again, I would keep this a secret. This time, I simply decided that recovery from drugs and especially alcohol was not the path I was intended to take. So, I announced to my family and friends that I would now be a “beer drinker,” and I did my best to make that work for me. From that point until the end of 2019, my life was a cacophony of chaos and near-death experiences. I tried every solution I could, except sincere honesty and abstinence. The last six months of my horrific run would involve dissociatives and inhalants. I would total six cars in 9 months and ultimately scare my family beyond their breaking point. The very last option they gave me was long-term treatment for a year, and the first option was a Laconia-based rehab on the river. I was completely hopeless, broken, and suicidal. So, my father and I made the flight from San Angelo, Texas, to Boston. And from there, in the middle of the frigid winter, he drove me through the snow upstate to New Hampshire to what would become my new home.

My intention was never really to get sober and clean, but I did intend to stop my suffering. While in treatment in New Hampshire, I would relapse three times. I was given one last opportunity on May 25, 2022. That would be the last time I used it. Since then, I have lost my best friend in the world to the disease of addiction. I think I took that as my sign that I could also be a statistic if I didn’t stay diligent and try everything at my disposal to get my life in a positive direction. 

I would then begin to listen more intently to my sponsor. I did therapy every week with a LADC. I practiced yoga and studied Buddhism. I worked steps with my sponsor and began meditation and a daily inventory. I kept a daily exercise regime and made many friends in and out of recovery in my community. Volunteering every week is an important part of my life. I got to be a house leader at a local recovery house, and I finally started my career in counseling again. 

I think the most important thing I have today is some self-worth. I am less focused on what everyone else thinks of me, and I try to like who I am. I find that in order to do that, I have to be a person worth liking, and there is no better version of myself than who I am when trying to live a life of recovery. Gratitude is the overwhelming emotional state I live in today. When ups and downs enter my life, I lean into my fellows and friends. The problems I have today still have the same weight that they always have, but today, I have become strong enough to carry them with the help of the people around me.