I used to think I was uniquely different. I used to think that everyone looked at me and immediately I was alienated- stigmatized and looked at with eyes with disdain. When I first tried to get clean, and I had to answer why I left Michigan, I had this embarressment that followed me around like shadow. The realization that my disease is essentially on par with diabetes took that sense of angry isolation away from me.
If you met me now, what you would see is a 22 year old male, probably with some stubble growing on his face, long side burns, a cocky grin, wearing a collared shirt and jeans and some Puma's trying to crack some joke at you. And essentially, the first idea you would get from me, I doubt, would be, "hey, this kid is an alcoholic." The irony of my "younger" days was that I would make assumptions that you would assume that I was an "evil" person because somehow you just knew I was a drug addict. It was just such teenage poetry. I think some part of me liked that conception back then, though, because back then, I had no real intention of really staying sober in the first place, and well, sad to say, I didn't stay sober after some period of time.
Now, I look at my disease as a part of me. I treat it like I would treat the flu and move on. Of course, I don't walk up and introduce myself to people as "hey, I'm Fernando, and I'm an addict- nice to meet you," but at the same time, if it comes up, I can look you in the eyes.
Yet, of course, there are still the hurdles that we have to face of the stereotypes that do place upon us. For instance, the other day, I was at MHMR, trying to set up an appointment for a shrink, there was a woman behind me as I was explaining to the woman in the window my situation- "i have this and this disorder, i just was discharged out of this rehab..." and as soon as I said rehab, I see the shuffle of the feet, but I tell myself, I'm just seeing things. So, anyway, I finish what I have to say to the woman in the window and she tells me to take a seat. I take a seat in this semi- circle of couches they have in the middle of the foyer (the only place really to sit) and I happen to be next to these two kids that can't be older than nine years old or something playing game boy. Well, I'm not sitting more than five minutes when the woman behind me in the line rushes over to me and grabs both the little boys and grabs their hands, gives me a curt smile, and walks them over to the other side of the room where there are these little pamphlets and they start rifling through them. I just laughed at that. Maybe it had nothing to do with anything... maybe.
I don't blame the woman for what she did, though. This is a tenacious disease. These stereotypes didn't come out of nowhere, and in my own experience, I have lived some of them out myself. If I think about my past, and the things I've done, I wouldn't want those kids sitting next to me either. That's where the humility kicks in.
There's the other thing that makes me sad. There's the thing that's going on in my community, the thing that I've seen happen so many times: the relapse condition. Most of you don't know what I'm talking about, but let me explain, and then I'll get to the personal part of it. Objective to the subjective. Alcohlism/Addiction is a disease that there is no medicinal cure for, at least not one found yet. The only way we sober up (and by we, I mean those of us afflicted by the disease, which is a medical condition and diagnosed bu the DSM IV which makes it psychological) is by following a twelve step program because the twelve step program actually helps us face an internal condition that plagues us and that has been ruined by the medical disease of alcoholism. Essentially, since there is no medical cure for alcoholism, the only way we found to stay sober is to work with one another get out of ourselves because we know that by ourself, we cannot fight the urge to put down the bottle like everyone else. I'm not going to go any further in explaining the program any further because I'll probably ruin it for someone, but it does work.
Yet, the tenacity of the disease makes it very difficult for anything to work. While the twelve step program has been the thing proven to work the most out of anything ever tried to cure alcoholism, still a great deal of alocolics and addicts don't make it. In fact, 70% of addicts (or so they say) coming out of rehab relapse (relapse is a term for going back to using and drinking). The reason being usually is that most addicts and alcoholics though don't actually work a strong program. 100% of people that do work a good 12 step program do make it, but sadly a great majority don't do so.
In most cases, it takes multiple tries until one actually makes it. For me, I went to three rehabs and two psych wards and now I live in a half way house. But, I'm in the minority of my graduating group for rehab that's still clean, and almost everyday, I hear about another person relapsing- and I've already heard of two people going to the hospital, one of them dying for three minutes until he was revived.
So now it gets personal. I left College Station not on the notion that demography had anything to do with changing the compulsion to use, or else I would've never left Ann Arbor, but I left College Station to start a new life, and yet, there are the essences of the old life, actually more similar to the one in Ann Arbor here, that I feel. There is drama, and yet, I move along. Every day, I thank God for a roof over my head and food in my mouth. While not everything thing is going the way as I planned (I still am jobless), I am happy, in selfish way, that I so far, have not relapse, and I don't see one coming anytime soon.
Here it is: here is my epiphany- I have a lot of love this time around. I have love for those who relapse and those who don't. I have love for those who cry and those who laugh. I have love for those who hurt and those who are euphoric. I want to reach out to those that wonder why God has left them to die and remind them God that has kept them alive so they can have a second chance. I want give an arm to the people that scream at the world for taking everything they loved away from them and remind them that the world put those things in their life in first place. What the world sees you as is not who you are. "You must be the change you wish to see in the world" as Gandhi said.
Sometimes, we feel like God has deserted us, when we are marching through desperate and tired moments. It is easy to see God in the easy moments, like a high school graduation, or a marriage, but he is also there when you are crawling through the mud. It won't be easy, but once you are on the other side, it is easy to return to faith. Don't mix up faith with hope. Don't mix up hope with will. Even if your will power is gone, there is hope. Even if hope seems slim, have faith. Even if your faith is weakened, God is still there. Just keep your eyes open. No matter how crowded the room is, he can find you.