Discovering Freedom From Alcohol Addiction

A Very Brave Story of Addiction and Hope Found

This week I want to share an incredibly powerful story of personal FREEDOM discovered that is written by an incredibly brave friend of mine. I share this very raw story because this person and I both believe it will bring hope to somebody. That’s the point of everything I do—making music, writing books or essays, or conversations—to help people see that hope is always a reasonable option, even when it doesn’t look like it at the time.

On March 1, 2021, I was so drunk at work I had to be taken to the ER. And not just any ER. As a Chaplain completing a Residency in a hospital, going to said hospital’s ER only made sense.

The day began, unfortunately, as most days that year had begun, at 3AM. I’m awake and riddled with shame, fear, regret, a foggy brain, a sour stomach, a mouth filled with cotton, and a throat consisting of a seemingly unquenchable thirst. I am lying there making a solemn vow to myself I would not drink that day. Per usual, the oath is broken by about 10AM as I sit in one of the hospital’s myriads of private bathrooms guzzling hairspray.

Photo by Mishal Ibrahim on Unsplash

As the day goes on, I visit patients and am ever thankful for breath mints, free coffee on each floor, and for the concept of charting, AKA, the ability to read the words I typed when I can’t remember them the next day. It’s a Monday which means I will have supervision at 3PM. Feeling apprehensive about connecting with my boss, I figure some more poison will quell my anxiety and numb my dread. We sit down for our weekly check-in and he immediately asks if I am okay. I feel so very hot and start to experience an all too familiar fear - I am about to be outed for what I already know to be true: I am an alcoholic. And it’s not feeling as if I’ll be able to lie my way out of this with the usual, “I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”

In that moment, I say the only other thing I know to be true, “No, I am not okay.” He looks at me with what I deem to be shock, concern, and sadness. Also, “What the hell do I do now?” He asks if he can call my mentor – one of the staff Chaplains who had the bad fortune to get assigned to me. (At least that’s what I thought.) Surprising myself I said yes. She arrived within minutes. As they hugged me, they let me know they were bringing me to the ER. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget that sacred trudge and honestly, I hope I never do. They walked on either side of me, held me up, patted my back as if to say, “There, there,” spoke words filled with mercy, and embodied sheer grace. My boss called my mom - my ever-supportive and rock-of-a-mom who got the call, she later shared, she had been waiting for all this time. There was then a beautiful exchange – from one person who loved me to another person who loved me – both without judgment; both simultaneously scared and grateful.

That was the day I let myself know the jig was finally up; I knew with absolute certainty that, in the morning, I would enter residential treatment and try, once again, to find freedom from this demonic beast/best friend that was destroying my entire world. Four years later, I continue to relish in this freedom with clarity, gratitude, joy, and a heart filled with love for God, myself, my beloveds, and for the 12 Steps.

Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash

The other day – March 4, 2025 – I fell in love with the word serendipity. I can’t remember a time when I’d ever used the word and, like a lot of things I tend to experience these days, the Holy Spirit seemed to swoop into my heart and gift me with this word, this good fortune. (I could call it happenstance but as a grateful person in recovery, I no longer believe in such folly!) I just happened to be filling in for a staff Chaplain at the hospital and it was the first day since that day when my supervisor, mentor, and I were alone together in the same room. And it felt like an utterly serendipitous moment. As I told them this and explained I celebrated four years of sobriety the day before, they rushed to me, enfolded me in their arms, and cried. I let them know I am eternally grateful for the tenderness and love they showed to me during one of the worst moments of my life. They humbly acknowledged my thanks and spoke of their love for and belief in me when I didn’t love or believe in myself. It was, yet another moment when I felt absolute freedom, faith, and like the serendipitously aware self I strive to be.

Help is available. You can talk to somebody today. Call or text 988 or visit 988lifeline.org for info or online chat.