Chapter 55

I wake up and start my first clean and sober birthday in as long as I can remember.

It is Thursday morning and I unfortunately have to go to work. I have been fighting my insurance company all week because they haven't completely paid my rehab bill like they were suppose to. Nothing in the world can be more challenging then trying to get money out of an insurance company.

I take it in stride. I am sober and right now. The money means nothing to me.

I don't tell a soul at work that it is my birthday. I just enjoy the fact I am taking care of business. I am doing what I set out to do and I feel like I can actually do this long term. That doesn't change the fact that it is one day at a time. I know that if I stop doing the things that have kept me sober I will go right back into my old ways.

If I drink or use again I might as well put a gun to my head. I know that I am choosing death over life.

I get many phone calls today. My parents both call to tell me Happy Birthday. My brother calls and so does my sister. I also get calls from my nephews that bring tears to my eyes. I don't know what exactly it is about being clean that makes me cry at the drop of a hat. My emotions are all over the place.

It's like I am really feeling things for the very first time.

I have always been a very sensitive kid. I have always felt like I was in touch with my feelings. Somewhere along the way I started to suppress those feelings. I started acting the way others wanted me to act. A worldly man.

I now feel like I want to just be me. Be the guy that God made me to be. If that means I cry then so be it.

The mixture of emotions that come with each day is what is hard to deal with early in my recovery. One moment I can be so thankful and the next I can be so angry that I can't have a drink. The next moment I think about my family and how they have all stuck with me through thick and thin and I cry.

I have tremendous feelings of being unworthy.

I feel as if I have done nothing in my life but take. I was given this life by God and I haven't done anything in return but be a drunk in a Christian band. I am sure He loves that.

My parents want to take me to dinner tonight. My brother is going to be there and so is my nephew Matt. I tell them I would love that but it will have to be after my meeting.

Near the end of my day I get the email.

My Happy Birthday email from Krista.

I see it and my heart starts racing. I haven't talked to her since I got out of rehab. The email says she misses me and that she loves me.

I am thankful that my meeting is in an hour.

****************************************

The meeting is a good one.

No matter what there is always something that I hear in the meetings that keeps me coming back. The main thing is I get to see that people can maintain long term sobriety. It can be done. It requires work, they all say, but it can be done.

The main thing I hear from the people that have time in the program is a reliance on God. In A.A. and N.A. they call it a "Higher Power" or a "God of your own understanding". At first I want to fight this but I know in my heart who the "God of my understanding" is. Right now it is all about me. I can't do anything for anyone else.

I can't give away what I don't have.

Steve, do you want to come up and talk?

Every time I start daydreaming a little this happens.

I walk to the podium.

My name is Steve and I am an alcoholic.

Hi Steve

It's my belly button birthday today.

Clap Clap. Woo Hoo. Happy birthday Steve

It is weird. I have never had a real sober birthday. I never would have guessed that I would be spending one in an A.A. meeting. I guess I just want to say that I am happy to be clean and sober today. I use to think that I knew a whole lot about a lot of things and now I realize that the only thing I really know is I am an alcoholic and a drug addict. I finally know that. Well, I have always known it I guess I just never could admit it. I don't have any words about sobriety because I am only 50 some days sober. I am thankful. I am going to give this my all and I think God gave me a great sponsor to do that with.

I walk away from the podium and go grab another cup of wonderfully delicious A.A. coffee. I just stand in the back of the room for a bit.

It feels good to talk in meetings. They are raw and for the most part are very real. People in pain and people who are finally out of pain. People there to help each other out. I haven't ever been in a situation like this before. The thing that amazes me beyond belief is the fact there are people here that would never associate with each other anywhere else. I know more homeless people then I have ever known and I am realizing how judgmental of a guy I have been in my life. The only difference between me and some of these guys is a roof.

They weren't always homeless.

Alcohol and drugs took everything. With nothing they come and fight this disease side by side with me.

I have so much to learn.

********************************************

When I walk into the Olive Garden I see Matt.

He has his Seattle Mariners cap on his head and he smiles from ear to ear when he sees me. I haven't seen him since I got out and I am trying so hard not to break him as I scoop him off the ground and hold him to my chest.

I start to tear up.

I haven't cried in an Olive Garden before.

Well, at least that I can remember.

The waitress comes and asks us if she can get us all a beer or some wine. Somehow this is funny to all of us. I order a diet coke and give my Dad a wink.

The meal is great. Spending time with my family is awesome and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. In the past it has been hard because I was always trying to hide the fact I had my "swerve on". I would be around all of them high or drunk. I got good at hiding it. Now they were getting see the real me.

I guess I am too.

I say some serious prayers that night. I am very thankful for what is happening. I thank God for my first sober Birthday.

For the life of me I can't get that email out of my head.

Chapter 54

April is usually a pretty good month for me.

I have always considered myself an April fool. Almost every year I have played April fool's jokes on my Mom. Every year she says she won't fall for it and every year I have found new and very creative ways to get her.

I have called on 12:05 A.M., I have called at 11:55 P.M.

I get her all the time.

I don't even mess with it this year. The thought of me calling and going with the obvious trick just doesn't sound like the best thing in the world to do this year. I call her instead and actually let her know that I am letting her off the hook.

I was hoping you weren't going to do that this year.

I love you Mom.

Keep it up Steve. We are so proud of you.

Now if I was my Mother I would have thrown in the "April Fools" after this comment just for a laugh. I know they are proud though. I know that it is there, just under the concern, every time I see them.

I can only imagine the worry that they are still going through.

I sit out on the porch and eat my very healthy breakfast and healthy shake and smoke my very unhealthy cigarette and come to the realization that I can't hide anymore. Everyone pretty much knows I am a drug addict and alcoholic. I know that all eyes will be on me for quite some time.

and that's perfectly ok with me.

I am going to be going back to work and I am not looking forward to it. I have a lot of history in many ways there. People will always see me as the party guy. No matter what that will always be with them.

The guy that got loaded at company functions.

I just don't want to be that guy any longer.

I have a feeling that it will be a weird transition but I know, just like everything else, I just have to face it and deal with it.

I have been having more and more using dreams. They suck. Every time it is the same thing. I wake up and I am sweating and I feel like I am waking up from a hangover. I can't tell if I drank or drugged the night before. It is terrifying.

I talk to Jeff about it and he tells me that it is pretty normal for people in recovery to have these dreams for quite some time.

Super.

I don't sleep very well at all. These first months out of rehab have been very challenging. I have actually gotten to the point where I go to the gym at all hours. I go at 2 A.M. I go at 4 A.M. I jog 5 or 6 miles at 4 A.M. just to get out of my own head for a while. There is just such an uncomfortableness about waking up and staring at the ceiling for an hour and having your body tell you that a drink would put you right to sleep. My mind is still trying to kill me.

It hasn't given up the fight that easily.

24 hour fitness is a very interesting place at four in the morning. I was completely shocked to actually find other people in the gym. I want to run up to them and ask them if they are having drug dreams also but for some reason I feel like this isn't such a smart thing to do.

The treadmill and my headphones.

My mind can slow down as my body works through it all.

In the 2 months since I went to rehab I have lost close to twenty pounds. I have been working out everyday. Most days I am in the gym more than once. It is a safe place for me and it is open 24 hours a day. If they had meetings at 4 A.M. I would be there.

Some days my workouts are short. An hour run and I am done. Some days it is an hour run, 45 minutes on the stair machine and then at least an hour lifting weights. Each minute I spend in the gym is a minute I don't have to worry about using drugs or drinking.

I feel like I broke myself down and now I am slowly rebuilding. I am taking back what drugs and alcohol took from me.

My mind.

My body.

My soul.

I am slowly becoming a new man. As I stand in front of one of the million vanity mirrors they have inside 24 hour fitness I look at my own reflection.

I look different. I look alive and not so tired. My eyes have life.

As I curl the weight to my shoulders that man in the mirror smiles ever so slightly back at me.


******************************************

My first day back at work.

I walk in the door and am greeted by the security guard. My security badge isn't working so they have to call one of my bosses to let me in.

Walking towards my desk the building seems so big to me right now. I really don't want to be here. I am scared. Really scared. What if these thousand people see me fail. What if I don't stay sober.

What if.

I have to gain some composure before I see everyone. Eyes again are on me as I walk to my desk. My group is a smaller group within the building. It is a good group of people that I really enjoy working with.

They welcome me back with open arms.

I don't really know how to act. I am pretty quiet and just let people know that it is good to be back. Some people want to know what I have been doing and what I have been going through. Others just tell me that I look good and they are happy I am back. I just want to stand on my desk and tell all of them that I have changed. That old guy that they knew wasn't coming back.

My own experience has taught me that talk is really cheap. I just hope that I can start living this new life that is building inside of me. I hope that people can just see that I have changed.

There has been quite a few changes since I've been gone. People aren't too happy about some of the changes but I could care less.

Change is my new middle name.

Chapter 53

I said that I was going to do everything that they told me to do in rehab. I was going to take every last bit of advice.

Looks like I am going to be taking most of the advice.

Adam had told me so many times that I should not be starting any new relationships for at least the first year of sobriety. Nothing can take an addict or alcoholic down like a broken heart or relationship stress. I understand what he meant but I really want to date Lacey. I sit and justify it in my head and the decision is made.

I double check this with my sponsor Jeff. He also tells me that it isn't the best idea to be starting a new relationship.

What do these people know.

My mind is made up. I was just hoping that Jeff might tell me its ok and give me just a little more justification in my decision.

I start spending lots of time with Lacey. We go to meetings together and we just hang out. I don't let her get in the way of my meetings or my workouts. I stick to my game plan. It works.

There is a Sunday night meeting that we go to in Lake Oswego. I meet up with Lacey and we stand outside and smoke with the rest of the folks. It is amazing to me how many recovering alcoholics and addicts I now know. They are everywhere.

We go inside and take our seats against the wall. Just before the meeting begins a guy my age walks in. As he walks by he looks down at me. Both of us are blown away. It is one of my best friends from my youth. Ryan and I played soccer together for at least 8 years. We were on several teams together and we competed against each other at rival High Schools. The last time I saw him was at one of my shows at the Gemini Pub in downtown Lake Oswego. My Christian band played there. The Gemini was a place I frequented when I was drinking and using. When I lived with my brother I was pretty much there nightly.

Ryan was there the night I played. It was great to see him. He was completely wasted.
He and I use to get high together back in the day. We would get high and listen to Iron Maiden and Pink Floyd. He was the only other friend of mine at the time that shared my love of Floyd. He also loved to listen to punk music. We would crank up old Suicidal Tendencies, Dead Kennedys, DRI and Black Flag.

You knew we were gonna end up in here.

I smile at him as he says it.

No doubt man. How long have you been sober Ryan?

Just over a year.

Sweet. That is awesome. I just got out of rehab and am working on my second month.

The meeting starts and throughout the whole meeting we just keep looking at each other and shaking out heads in disbelief. I think it is the coolest thing in the world. One of my oldest friends is in the program also.

After the meeting Ryan and I exchange numbers and go our separate ways. Lacey and I go to her house for the first time. I haven't met her parents or her son before. I have never been one to date a woman that has children but I really think that Lacey could be different for me. I think that she will understand me more than most.

I have never been a guy that has had a problem meeting parents either. I am comfortable with all people and my Father really taught me how to be a gentleman. I always give a firm handshake and I always make eye contact. I think that her parents like me from the start.

Her son is adorable. I love kids so I am just drawn to him. In that moment I realize that I am on dangerous ground. This is a little boy who doesn't, from what she has told me, have a strong Father figure beside Lacey's Dad in his life.

I have to be careful. I don't want to be a bad notch in this kids life.

Here today, gone tomorrow.

**********************************************

On Thursday nights I go to outpatient aftercare.

This is at the same location I did my original intake interview with Joe. I haven't been here since and walking up the flight of stairs brings back the memory of that day. I walk in and I see Joe almost immediately. He recognizes me and tells me I look good. I tell him that I feel really good.

Do you have a sponsor?

I have a great sponsor.

He winks at me and says that's good.

There are three different groups you can be in. There is an all male group, an all female group (ok, two groups i can be in), and there is a mixed group. Based on Adam's recommendation I am put in an all male group. He thinks that I really haven't come to terms with the fact I was an abused husband.

He couldn't be more correct.

I love groups. I love meetings. I love the whole process of really talking about stuff. My group consists of guys that have been in and guys that haven't. The guys that have actually been IN rehab tend to understand the process a little more then those that haven't. The guys that haven't remind me of the guys in my diversion program. They really don't believe they have a problem.

I meet some incredible new guys.

I have a female counselor.

We are required to go to outside meetings. That isn't a problem with me at all. I hit meetings everyday without fail. Seven days a week. My sponsor told me to go to 90 meetings in 90 days and I plan on doing more than that. This is one thing I promised myself I would stick to. Meetings are my lifeline right now and I am not ready to cut that off for anything.

Tattoo Eric is in my group.

I am really happy to see him. He just got out today and he is looking good.

We exchange phone numbers. In fact, all of us exchange phone numbers. I carry a list of numbers in my wallet. A list of people I can call if I start falling apart. Jeff's number is at the top. He said I can call him at any hour of any day on one condition. I call him BEFORE I take the first drink because he said he can't do a damn thing for me after that.

There are guys in my group that I can tell I will get along with perfectly and there are a couple that I know I will clash with. There is one for sure. He is a pharmacist that liked to fill his own prescriptions. He lost his license and the only reason he is here is to try and get it back.

He blames everyone else but himself.

Wow that sounds familiar.

I can tell that this group is going to be good and challenging for me.

There is also a family night that allows members of your family to come in and all sit in a group setting. An addiction counselor talks to them about what we go through and they can ask questions. I think this is great. My parents both go to this and I know that it helps them to see a small piece of the hell I have been in.

Lacey is in another group on the same night. It's all a little like rehab with only one exception.

I get to go home and sleep in my own bed.

Chapter 52

Having Lacey at my house is amazing.

It is, in a single word, normal. I think that we both could use a dose of normalcy in our lives. We sat at a real dinner table and ate marinated flank steak, Caesar salad and garlic mashed potatoes.

How is your steak?

She just looks up at me and she smiles.

It's SO good. It's perfect.

I think to myself that, yeah, this is pretty dang good. Nice meal, beautiful woman and for the first time in a long time I am sober.

When is it all going to come crashing down around me...

That is the hardest part for me to get over. I have self-destructed so many times in my life that I constantly live in fear of messing it all up again. I know that this is one of the main things I want to work on in my life. I don't want to continue living in fear of failure.

Especially not tonight.

After I have cleared all of the dinner plates I am in a mood for a night time stroll in Northwest Portland. Starbucks is calling. Lacey is game and we head out into the night.

It is a clear night and it isn't too cold at all. It isn't raining and for late March that is a miracle in Portland. We decide to sit on my front porch steps and have a smoke first. We talk about rehab and how weird it is to be out. Lacey has only been out for one day. I can't get over how great it feels to be talking and laughing with her outside of the comedy courtyard. Her laugh warms my broken heart and in a million years I could never see her as a heroin addict.

Beautiful. She is beautiful.

How 'bout some coffee? Some REAL coffee.

That smile tells me she is right there with me.

We take the walk down Everett to 23rd. I walk on the street side because my Dad taught me that is what a gentleman always does. I feel like a 12 year old when I cautiously reach down to hold her hand.

It fits.

Her small little hand just seems to fit inside mine.

We walk in silence, holding hands. It is a slow stroll but inside my mind our arms are swinging and we are skipping down 23rd like 6th graders who are "going together". Starbucks comes upon us far too quickly. I could walk like this for hours.

I open the door for Lacey and we enter Starbucks, both of us pausing to take in the fragrance of real coffee. My life is starting to be all about the little things.

We order heavily caffeinated beverages and walk outside. Nothing like another cigarette to go with fresh coffee. We sit outside and laugh at the bikers that come to this Starbucks. It is a mix of biker types. The Harley riders are fine by me. It is the crotch rocket guys that make me laugh like it's going out of style. Guys that wear leather jumpsuits that match the color of their bikes.

That means guys in banana yellow leather.

I don't know what it is about this Starbucks on 23rd but it draws them in. All their bikes lined up in a row.

The Fast and the Furiously caffeinated.

We finish our smokes and I want to go and pick up some desserts at Papa Haydn. This place is amazing. As far as dessert goes, there is no better place I know. I just love the fact the place is named after an 18th century composer named Joseph Haydn from Vienna.

I always try and support music any way that I can and dessert is no exception to the rule.

There is always a crowd outside of this place. It has a wonderful atmosphere and I have always told myself I will actually have dinner here at some point. I always just come in for the dessert. There just is no better feeling than standing in front of the glass case at Papa Haydn.

The desserts are works of art.

We get three of them to go.

I choose the Boccone Dolce. Simply put this Swiss meringue is heavenly. The name in Italian means "Sweet Mouthful". In Stevetalian it means "Stuff your face with this".
Lacey gets a Raspberry Gateau and I have to also get some Chocolate Mousse to make the evening complete.

We head back to the house and I just am thinking that this has been such a great night already. I haven't really been on a date for a long time. I had been through the Krista wringer for so many years that I forgot how exciting a first date can be.

I start a fire back at the house and we sit and eat these wonderful desserts in the warmth of each others company. It is nice. Lacey has wanted to hear me play and I have really wanted to let her, so I break out my guitar and sing.

It is a very nice evening.

Lacey is living at her parents house until she gets back on her feet. Her and her son. She doesn't stay too late because she has to get home before her parents worry. We put our parents through hell.

That is one thing that I understand now.

I walk her to the door and we say our goodbye.

I smile as she gets in her car and drives away.

The house is once again silent and I only wish that she could stay longer. I sit down alone by the fire and pick up my guitar. I sit and I play and the melody fills the house and fills my soul.

Chapter 51

I have some bike riding experience.

I rode my bike everywhere as a kid. It was my first taste of true freedom. My own set of wheels that could take me as far as my legs could pedal.

My first bike was beautiful.

and orange.

The chain guard was emblazoned with the toughest name a bike could ever have.

"The Orange Peeler"

I lived in Aberdeen Washington and for two whole days the neighborhood was graced by the glorious vision of young Steve and his Orange Peeler. I rode proud and when I wasn't ferociously pedaling my metallic orange steed it was prominently displayed upon its kickstand out front of my house.

It took two whole days before the Orange Peeler was stolen and my dreams of a world tour crushed.

I was in kindergarten and this was my first experience that taught me that the world isn't all sunshine. Not everyone understands the joy that happens when a young boy rides his very first bike, especially the person that stole mine. Like all children a piece of my innocence was stolen when the Orange Peeler went away.

My bike riding continued with a new found vengeance. I became an outlaw biker.

Hell on wheels.

My best friend at the time rode with me. Me and John John. A kid so tough you had to say his first name twice. On a borrowed bike I rode alongside my compadre until a challenge was issued. John John had called me out.

He said he was faster.

I couldn't have disagreed more.

The stage was set for the biggest bike race Aberdeen Washington had ever seen. My Dad and brother were the track officials on that fine Saturday afternoon. We lived mid-block on Chilton Road and the track officials decided that we would head opposite directions and make one full loop around the block.

I was to head North on Chilton while John John had the uphill leg South on Chilton to Purkey Avenue. Both of us would then turn onto lengthy Bel Aire Avenue and let our legs do the talking. The finish line was our driveway.

1817 Chilton Road.

We sat upon our bikes, poised and waiting for the officials countdown. Anticipation hung in the air as I glanced at young John John.

A slight head nod and curling of the lip, eyes fixated upon the competition.

The familiar "Ready Set Go" and adrenaline surged my bike forward. The greatest bike race of all time had begun.

I felt strong that day. Almost unstoppable. I turned left onto Bel Aire and turned on the juice. The beautiful thing about a race like this is getting to see your competition heading towards you. As I saw John John in the distance I knew that he had brought his "A" game. He pedaled with a fury I had never seen in a kindergartener.

Charlie Hole's house was directly behind ours and I knew this was the halfway mark. We crossed his driveway almost simultaneously and I screamed "I GOT YOU!" as I passed. I know that John John yelled something back but the speed of the wind created by my pedaling was too great to make hearing possible.

My Father tells me later in life that he has never been involved in a greater race then the "Saturday Slaughter on Chilton". He retells the story with equal enthusiasm.
Standing at the finish line in eager anticipation, he waits.

He waits for what must seem like a lifetime.

Both John John and I reach opposite ends of Chilton road at the same time. Both of us have downhill runs to greatness and future bragging rights.

With legs burning and John John in my sights, I pedal.

Time slows. I have to beat John John.

There is no second place. I have to beat him to the driveway.

My Father says that he knew there was going to be trouble as soon as he saw the look in both our eyes. Determined looks of men in battles to the death. He knew the outcome as soon as we both turned onto Chilton Road.

He says the crash was something legends are made out of.

John John and I, both unwilling to yield or take second, met head on at the entrance of that driveway on 1817 Chilton Road and collectively launched our tired bodies skyward.

The sound of children hitting the pavement sent a hush over Chilton road and the echoes of screaming Mothers filled the Saturday afternoon air.

As my Father made the first step towards what has to be a crippled or at least seriously disfigured Son, I rose. John John did also.

Like true champions both of us at the same time jumped to our feet and screamed,

"I WON!"

The argument had begun.

Having no instant replay back in 1976 there was no solid proof to the true victor of the great race. I tried to make the point that my bent front wheel proved that John John's wheel struck mine making me the winner by inches.

My Father declared us both Champions.

My head had a massive welt on it and we both were bloodied from the crash.

Although the pain was immense I had found great satisfaction in riding that day.

Today is a much, much different day.

The pain I feel upon this stationary beast is like none I have ever felt and John John is nowhere to be found.

I am absolutely convinced that my personal trainer is a beast straight from the very bowels of Hell. Why I ever thought that "Spinning" seemed like something I would enjoy escapes me.

I try and relive the glory of the great race as my legs burn to the techno music that adds extreme insult to injury. I am in spandex hell.

There is no doubt in my mind that I might see my breakfast make a surprise visit on the floor of 24 hour fitness.

With the hell finally over I lay flat on my back, arms above my head. I can't tell if I am actually dead or not. I open my eyes and she is standing above me.

So how did you like your first day of spinning?

Wow is she perky.

I look her dead in the eye and say,

Don't you mean my last?

******************************************

I meet up with Jeff at the 5:30 meeting. I sit next to him at the meeting and listen to a couple people talk about service work. I ask Jeff about that and he really seems to like the idea of doing some sort of service work. He tells me that I need to go to the monthly group meeting where they decide how the group is run and make decisions on changes and whatnot.

After the meeting Jeff and I sit in his car and I go over my list that he asked me to make. He just listens to what I have to say and when I am finished he looks at me and says, "sounds good. Sounds like you are one of us."

He smiles as he says it.

He asks me if I think I am ready for step two. I say that I am. I feel that the whole rehab process was step one for me. I am really looking forward to getting on with this. One day at a time. One step at a time.

Step two-
Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity

God.

Restore me to sanity.

There is nothing more that I want in this world.

The question is do I really believe that God is the answer to all of my pain?

When I really start thinking about this I come to the conclusion that I don't need to have all the God answers right now. I just have to have a little faith.

That night I sit and read the second chapter in the 12 and 12 and I love what it has to say. I love it because it makes so much sense. Alcoholics, in general, are defiant people.

Defiant to authority and defiant to even God.

At times we feel that because of the disease, God has left us and has failed us.

How could God do this to us? I asked you to get rid of this pain and you didn't!

I re-read the next part over and over again.

"When we encountered A.A., the fallacy of our defiance was revealed. At no time had we asked what God's will was for us; instead we had been telling Him what it ought to be. No man, we saw, could believe in God and defy Him, too. Belief meant reliance, not defiance.

Reliance, not defiance.

Today was the day that I came to believe.

It is all about Following God's will.