The writing on the walls

    There's something to be said about a man who lives a life that he has always viewed as a waste, but there's more to be said about that same man when he realizes that everything he has survived has given him a priceless perspective that may be of service to others. The moment came in my life where the circumstances and experiences I had traversed to that point had distorted my reality into a place where the world of heroin was an attractive and inviting place to build a home in. The last thing I was expecting to get out of that initial injection was a step-by-step guide on how to aid my brothers and sisters in freeing themselves from the very same snares that had once gnawed on the deepest parts of me with a voracious and insatiable appetite. The part of my story that is being written now is based on learning how to be a friend to myself and building a life that I never thought I deserved.

I went back to college with 90 days clean.

I remember getting a book advance from Financial Aid and walking into the bookstore. I saw a wide assortment of art supplies, book-bags, sweatshirts emblazoned with "AACC" on the front of them, and a host of students that were all bustling with intent and purpose, clearly guided by some force that allowed them to smoothly navigate the process of going to school like so many sailboats that they probably rode on the weekends.

There was them, and then there was me.

I pretended like I knew what I was doing and purchased some arbitrary pens and stationary, carefully checking my periphery for those who knew I was a fraud. I tried to convince myself that no one was on to me, but it did little to abate my fears. Sure, I was only 26 and I still had a touch of coolness, but the reality was that while Johnny College and his companions were in line at the cafeteria, I was in the bathroom making sure the cosmetic makeup I had put on the track marks on my hands was doing an adequate job of concealing the evidence of the life I had lived in the not-so-distant past.

Classes started, I showed up like I was supposed to, and I inserted myself into the coursework and discussions.  There were challenges I faced, and there was a great deal of creativity I had to generate to overcome them. I was always accompanied by a voice in my head and it sounded just like me. It had an urgency to it and it was constantly telling me that I was going to fail. On some days, it was hard to leave that voice in the mirror when it spoke to me in the mornings. On others, it wasn't as hard. This pattern continued on all semester, and when I emerged with a 4.0 GPA at the end of it, no one was more surprised than I was.

For someone like me who hadn't been in a classroom since the first week of the 7th grade, it was a bittersweet realization to learn that I had always been capable of pursuing a college career. While it was great to have a 4.0 GPA to show my mom, it was equally disheartening to feel as if I had missed out on going to college when I was "supposed to" instead of following my heart into a variety of ditches over the course of most of my life. I plugged away and managed to graduate the Addictions Counseling program at the school, but while some of my dearest friends and family were sitting in the crowd waiting to see me walk across the stage, all I could hear was that same voice in my head telling me that what I had in that moment was worthless because after all, I was 28 years old, and I should have had a Master's Degree by now......


I say all these things not in an attempt to cast a grim light on the life I have lived or in an effort to somehow gain favor by detailing the magnitude of my struggles and suggesting that my victories are commensurate. In fact, everyone has their own burdens to bear while pursuing a college degree. Mine are just my own and I come from a culture where victims don't survive, so I certainly don't want to sound like one.

The point of all of these words is to offer a view into the mind of a recovering addict trying to pull a dream out of the sky by going to college.

The point of this blog is to catalog the process of trying to start a Collegiate Recovery Community from it's outset. Most of this post is dominated by elements of my personal story, but at this point, that is all I have to offer.

I have received the CRC Curriculum from Texas Tech (Thanks Kristen!!) and have gotten the support of my supervisor to exclusively pursue the genesis of our very own CRC.

More Will Be Revealed,

Steve