Shortly after I became a daily smoker, I would tell myself that I needed to stop what I was doing. I would buy a pack of smokes, and after a few, guilt would set in after some random bout of coughing. Then I would crush the pack and throw it out — only to fish it out of the trash 30 minutes later. At times, I would try really hard and run them underwater, dousing them completely, only to go back out and buy another pack.
After going through this multiple times, I realized there was no use. I might as well work on not feeling this guilt and accept that I was addicted to nicotine.
I was 17.
I was in denial for a long time.
At first, I was a stoner, and then I became a drunk.
I was a smoker, and then a junk head… if it got caught in the net, I called it fish.
At this time, you can see that I had no self-esteem, completely stigmatized myself and had no idea who I was. I was constantly searching for myself, and looking in dark places for the supports I needed.
I knew I had an addiction to whatever helped me connect with others, escape, spite my family or simply feel good about myself.
I knew I had a problem at 18, when I was blacking out a few times a month. But I didn’t think I had any options, and for a long time, I didn’t think about what I needed to change, or how. I was amazed at how I somehow made it home day after day. ..well, most of the time anyways.
I went from 0 to 100 super, super fast. About midway through my addiction career, I found myself going to bars all over New York City. I would go to happy hour and end up closing the place down at 4 or 5 a.m. This was brought to my attention one day when I was telling someone about my escapades, and they were alarmed when I said I just loved going to happy hour(s). I was still somewhat holding it together at that time… kinda, so I thought.
Over the next few years, the blackouts progressed from a few times a month to a few times a week. I went from happy hour, to scraping for change, to buying the plastic pint of vodka at the very bottom of the shelf.
I had one friend who called me Jekyll and Hyde as we stepped through the wee hours of the morning. I was semi-offended at the time. We were really close friends, and I didn’t imagine I was the one with the issue. At that point, he was staying on my couch, and I thought he was so much worse off than me. Little did I know…
I’ve found myself waking up with asphalt stuck to my face, on the train 4 hours later going the wrong way, my pockets cut, my drugs and wallet missing. I’ve woken up with broken teeth, and in a burning house. I’ve been held at gunpoint in DEA raids, and I’ve been threatened by an ex-girlfriend’s dad with a baseball bat.
I was already distant from my family, both physically and emotionally. Eventually, people started distancing themselves from me. I began losing gigs and friends followed shortly after that.
I was too busy trying not to feel like the “bad” person my family and society had made “addicts” like me out to be. I carried that label for another 20 years, even into the beginning of my recovery and wellness journey.
In retrospect, I was a person seeking to be seen and heard. I was looking to connect with others in order to belong and find my identity as I coped with family dysfunction throughout my childhood, my teenage years, and well into adulthood.
As I began building my recovery and wellness, I needed help with my mental health, my relationships, my family, my physical health, and employment. I had no health insurance, and I was couch surfing for a while. So there was quite a bit going on in my life. I had to weave different things together as I sought out the support I needed to keep moving forward.
Luckily, I had a few friends who didn’t live with an addiction, who stuck with me through thick and thin over the years, and looked out for me.
I used to bike all over NYC, and these friends were the type where one of them would put the helmet on my head and carry me while the other carried the bike. They were there for me regardless of what I had going on even when they were scraping me off the sidewalks of the Lower East Side.
As I looked for my own way forward, it helped to hear from people I respected. I wanted to hear all of the different options, ideas, and possibilities. At the end of the day, if (and that’s a big IF) I took any suggestions, I would take the little pieces I thought might work for me.
Even though I took only a few of their suggestions, this was a catalyst to find my own solutions.
I actually wasn’t sharing many of the important parts that worked for me, because at the time I felt I would be judged for taking the paths I did. I didn’t fully follow any one single prescription.
Along the way, I had to shift all kinds of things and find environments that were more understanding and conducive to my well-being.
There were plenty of people pointing fingers, making fun and disparaging me to make themselves look and feel better. I walked away and didn’t look back. Working in NYC nightlife no longer served me, and my credibility as an artist had taken a massive hit because I had already burned many bridges. I did have to protect myself.
It was a process (and still is!) as I learned more and more about myself.
Luckily, I was open-minded enough to take action and try different things. I would tell my few friends, and often they would go with me and stand beside me. The more I inched forward, the greater my confidence became. I continued questioning everything around and about me and the questions were different now.
After labeling myself for so long, I looked in the mirror and pondered:
Is that ALL you are?
What part of this is true for you today?
What do you actually see here?
Are you still that person today, or are you growing beyond the limitations you place on yourself?
Who is it that you want to be tomorrow?
This was the beginning of my dropping the “addict” label and embracing a whole new era of well-being. It took a few years as I continuously walked towards the things that served me in a whole new way, like people that didn’t judge me, accepted me, and supported me as I was building back my self-esteem.
After a few years in recovery, I began re-writing my story as I reinvented pAUL aLVES. And yet, I continue super curious about who I will and all that I can.. really be.
To anyone who has been labeled, or finds themselves labeling themselves, I’d encourage you to look beyond that label. Be patient with yourself and imagine who you really want to see on that other side.
Be kind to yourself and soon enough, you will find some others following suit. Kindness promotes kindness.
