I was setting up my office Christmas tree this past holiday and what flashed on me was how I was homeless this time of the year in 1981. Unfortunately, I was not alone.  Each year more and more people are homeless, familyless, or friendless. That storybook holiday so often packaged each year on TV and in the movies where you have a home, a family, warmth, and food, didn’t happen to me during that time so I opted to use drugs, live life the way that I wanted to, angry at the world, and wondering if there was some loving God.

As a child, I wanted to have that White Christmas, or even a Silent Night but with my father’s rage, well, the holidays were far from it. And there lies the root of what brought me to my knees as a young adult. I never processed through those difficult times in my youth, because my family was great at keeping secrets and putting on the facade that we were perfect. It was more important to fool others into believing we were a happy family than discuss as a family the things that were eating me up inside. I guess it was inevitable that I would turn to substances to numb the deep panic that tore at my soul. 

As a child, the holidays were just like another day where dad would get into a rage, pound his fist into the walls, send my sister and I cowering in the corner and my mother eventually into the bathroom to lick her wounds. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night – yeah right. No wonder I ended up with an anxiety disorder.

We do a process at Basic Steps where we see issues as a blessing. The ultimate blessing in all of this was learning from my father how not to be. Because of this, I became kind, helpful and full of love.

My life restarted in 1981. At this time the odds were against me, as they are with so many people who suffer from mental illness and substance dependence. The way I made it through, well, it is unique because I was too stubborn to join the crowd, go to AA and confess that I was an addict, beg forgiveness, and look to others for their stamp of approval. I needed to find my own worth and how that took place was remarkable.

After I was tired of sleeping on the street, I prayed to the God I didn’t believe was there, asked for his help, and then reached out to a friend who I felt turned his back on me. In the past, harsh words were said and we parted ways, but when I told him I didn’t need his righteousness but simply his support, he lent me a hand. Suddenly I had a home, he got me a job, I cut my hair and didn’t look like Jesus anymore. Did this help my inner state? Not one bit, because when I stopped using substances, all of my past issues came rushing to the surface. I thought that sobriety was going to bring me that happily ever after. Nope, not one bit. What it did was have all that stuff that I never wanted to deal with, go on the attack! Merry Christmas to me.

Christmas 1981 found me sleeping on a couch at my friend’s house. His mother and sister were fantastic and provided me with the love that I hadn’t received from my family in years. To them, I was some drug addict that they wanted no part with. If you do what we want, and pretend you are perfect, then you are accepted. If you have other points of view, you are treated like a refuse, so I acted like that eventually. Now I had a caring family, who didn’t show scorn, but love. This was the greatest Christmas ever! I wasn’t judged, could share my feelings, and talk about my struggles with my newfound sobriety.

For many who I treat at the clinic, they don’t have this. So, I try to be the mom or dad to them, share my love, and listen to them as they share their feelings. Is recovery about doing certain steps and begging for forgiveness? Not to me. It is people helping people out of the kindness of their hearts.