Share 1

Trigger warning: This piece contains references to suicide and grief.

Hello, my name is Joey, and I am an alcoholic.

A couple of things before we get started. Trigger warning: this might have some suicide in it. I'll also have some talk about grief in it. I identify as he/him. Let's get started from the beginning.

So, I was adopted in Russia. And, oh, quick, one other thing. This will focus on my story, not as much as the steps, because I'm still a little bit new into this, but I hope that people can get messages from my past upbringing and take that and put it into any action that they may see. And the last little reminder, the most important one, is I'm going to use the word "Adderall," not "alcohol," because Adderall was my drug of choice. I'll talk more about what that means and how it differs a little later on.

So, I was adopted from Russia and I came into the country at a year old. My family gave me all the love and support and care that they could possibly ever, and I cannot ever thank them enough for that. But along the way, I did take it for granted.

I'm going to fast-forward all the way up to middle school in 2010, when I'm sitting in a therapy office and I got diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactive disorder at a time that I didn't even know what this meant, but I was told that I needed to be put on these special meds in order to be able to focus, because I was causing headaches for my mom (who's a teacher), headaches for my teachers (who are teachers), headaches from my teachers that called themselves my parents because they had to supervise me like they were my parents. I was causing headaches for everyone, from the principal to the maintenance guy and every single person.

So in 2012, I got put on Adderall. And I remember the moment that I was sitting at my kitchen table, looking at the pill, and I looked at it in my hand and I said to my mom, who was standing there, "Once I take this pill, I will never go back. Based off of what I've seen and what I've heard, once I take this, life will change forever." And she nodded in silence. She knew. But we also knew that I wanted to graduate high school. She wanted me to graduate high school. Her parents didn't graduate college. My sister graduated college. She wanted me to try to follow that path.

So I took this pill, and it did make me focus. I don't know if anyone here has seen the movie Limitless. That pill did it for me. That was everything for me.

Fast-forward two years into 2014. This summer, for some reason, my doctors decided to put me on Adderall during the school year, then take me off of Adderall in the summer. And Adderall is like cocaine. It is an upper. So when you get taken off of it, you feel down, and I mean way down.

For some odd reason, I was by myself. My family had gone out to dinner without me, somehow. I don't know how I got tricked. But I was at home by myself. My mom was there, but the rest of my family was out, and I was feeling really sad and upset. So I took five times the level of Adderall that I was supposed to. It was a total of (I did the math on it) roughly equivalent to, I think, like, I don't know, 10, eight to 10 bumps of coke in like one go. And I was up for 72 hours following that.

From that day in 2014 to June 9th of 2025, I chased that purple dragon every single time. Whether I was prescribed it or not, whether I got it from legitimate means or not, I chased that high. Add in a little bit of weed after senior year, add in a little bit of drinking and having, not blackout nights, but nights where I would slur so much and say stupid things that my friends were very disappointed in me about. And we end up to the final crunch of my addiction.

I found... actually, let me rewind. In 2024, in April, my grandfather died suddenly. And this was a complete surprise. I was working at a job that I really liked at Target at the time, and I was sitting in my office before that, and my mom comes in and says, "Grandpa is dead." I said, "Out?" And I'm like, "What do you mean, out? He's dead?" And I'm like, "What?" And my mom tells me he died suddenly. And I'm like, how do I go to work after this? But I did.

Two months later, my grandmother passed away in her sleep, probably from heartbreak. In my heart, I know that they passed away the way they wanted to, because my grandfather was not gonna be put back into a hospital because of his legs, and I did not want my grandmother to be in any more pain than she already was when it came to this heartbreak.

But after that death, I started to go a little kooky, and I was doing little bad things at work. I was leaving work to go pick up more meds, go and pick up my prescription legitimately and illegitimately. I kept overdosing and overdosing to get that high back, on being able to think like I'm focusing. And I kept checking more and more and more and more (tell me if this sounds familiar), more and more and more.

And finally, after my grandparents' passing, my mom had the money in the closet, and I found it. And in my head, I'm like, "Oh, I'm going to use it for legitimate purposes. I'll get a plumber to fix this. I'll wash my car because coffee's all over it." And I kept a log of everything I spent the money on, as if I was ever going to pay her back.

On her birthday of 2025, she found out the money wasn't there. A day before that, she found out that my sister was moving away from South Florida to Utah with her whole family, which is my two nephews and my brother-in-law. She was devastated for a lot of reasons, and I certainly didn't help that situation.

And that was the beginning of the end. Because about a month later, thinking that I'm moving to Utah with them (because my mom's plan was to move this coming June, I'll go back to that later), but in 2025, thinking I'm leaving, I left my job at Target because I felt the walls closing in, because I kept leaving whenever I would want. I kept going to take more meds, and it was just all... all this was coming to a head in my mind. The walls were closing in on me. So I left this dream job that I actually really, really liked, where I got to give people tech support. And certain people in this room know I love to talk about tech, and I love to give support, and I love to just stand around and do nothing but talk to people about tech. I can talk anyone's ear off. People in this room know that.

So I left my dream job at Target, and I just circled the storm drain over and over and over: just selling some stuff, getting more medication, just messing around, effing around, all the way up, until finally I'm in my pool, the loveliest of places, and my mom comes out to me and says, "Joey, your insurance is running out in December. I'm on my last straw. You just ran away to Kentucky to try to escape your problems, but you took the pills with you, so I don't think that worked out too well. But I suggest rehab." And I said, "Okay."

So that Monday, June 9, 2025, I went into rehab and I did PHP with my counselor. I met my counselor there. She has been a blessing in my life ever since. I met a couple other people in rehab that are here tonight that have all been blessings in my life, because these people gave me hope, made me love myself, because I couldn't love myself. Because I was like, "What do I do without this pill? What do I do without this?" This was my way to focus. This was my way to be me, who I thought was me. And me was an ass. I was not a good person. My friends would call me at 10, 9 a.m. on my pill and I'd be like, "Don't call me till afternoon, because I am working right now." I could be off, but in my head, because I'm on this pill, I need to focus on something. "What is that thing I need? I don't know, but I need to focus." Click. I was not a good person.

But in rehab, I discovered what it means to be sober: how to be okay with being just me. In that program, I discovered that my addictive personality, that my mom kept referring to, wasn't necessarily just a personality trait. It was a problem dating all the way back. Could be allegedly some fluid leakage in my brain, but it's also just because I felt unconnected to people.

In middle school, I was bullied relentlessly because I would talk a lot. Actually, elementary school. Correction. I would talk in elementary school, and people would bully me because I wouldn't shut up, and I would talk about nothing and random things. So by middle school, I was a quiet kid. Could you imagine me quiet? Absolutely. I didn't say a word, wouldn't talk to anybody. And I just became disconnected.

Then, when I learned about my ADHD, I also was disconnected, because I was like, no one's on my level. No one understands the amount of thoughts that are racing and racing and racing and racing and racing and racing and racing through my head at a constant pace.

So in rehab, I discovered what connection was, and I found the connection to people in this room. I show up to this meeting, Chicky, at the old place in the Reservation. I thought it was so cool to be on the rez. I show up and I see a warm face saying, "It's okay to be comfortable. It's okay to be okay." And I knew I was safe: to love, to start to learn to love myself, and to be okay with not being okay.

Now, the second half of this: the theme is opportunity. This program gave me the opportunities that I have, because a lot of people will talk about how AA opened up all these things, but they don't necessarily say how they opened up all these things. And I have not necessarily the answer, but I have my answer, which is: it put me in line for opportunities.

So after rehab, I'm looking for work, and I'm uncomfortable, but I am also starting to feel better, and I'm more willing to reach out. So I reach out to one of my friends who has a connection through Walmart, and he gets me a meeting: an interview at 10 o'clock at night. Great time for an interview, 10 o'clock at night. And I explained, "You know, I'm looking for work. I've worked in Winn-Dixie, Publix, Target," and he goes, "Sold." Because at Walmart, a lot of people are a little bit less experienced. If you've shopped there, you know why. But they do like that experience. And he pulled me in. He said, "Please." I said, "Absolutely." And I work there to this day. And that opportunity only came up because I was more present in the moment.

Now, I will talk about the spiritual awakening that happened around July of 2025. I am sober. This is my first family event sober. And I am at a dinner table in Miami, at this restaurant where it has a bunch of places where you can go and eat and choose your food. And my family has been there this whole time. They have never left. But it felt like, in my mind, they did, because I was so focused on the pill and focused on breaking off from the connection and going to be on my medication and focus and work and write and do whatever I wanted to do, that I was never spending time with them.

So at this lunch-dinner, I'm just there, and I look into my nephew's eyes, and they're sparkling so much brighter than normal. And my niece is smiling, giggling, and laughing as she's running around. And I really paid attention to that, and I enjoyed it. And kids are incredible. As by (next to me), kids are incredible. They really notice when you're actually in the moment with them, and they realize that. And they interacted with me during that two-hour stretch more than they've ever interacted with me in my entire history, into their entire history. And I felt that, and I felt really good about that.

And I came out of the closet about my recovery to my two family members who are from the program. And they were very proud and very impressed. And a quick joke on that: my cousin Danny (not just Danny, but another Danny who he knows) said to me, "I'm surprised I made this call for you. I thought I would get this call from your father first." And I'm like, "Go figure, here I am. So that's what we're doing." And I asked him to be my spiritual sponsor, and he said yes: my cousin Danny.

And that day just was a magical moment. And every single time I am tempted to take that pill again (and recently it's come up a lot more in my head), I remind myself of this room, you people, my family, my job. Because the minute I take that pill again, I am not going to be able to have this. I won't be sober anymore. I won't get to see you guys anymore. And I'm going to become an ass again. I know it. And as we say, it's much easier staying sober than it is to get sober.

I did detox at home. I had a therapy session in June of 2025 where my therapist ended the call on me, 'cause I looked like I was insane, 'cause I kept doing this with my face. I kept being like, "What are we talking about? Where's Earth?" I don't know, because I was so out of it. So that's what happened next.

Now let's talk about what life is for me now. I think I have like five-ish minutes left. Yep, nine, eight minutes. So life now in this program is the fellowship and the steps.

Again, for me, the fellowship is the people in this room. It's getting to go to these planning meetings. I just drove all the way down from the intergroup book office for a planning meeting for the April banquet (hint, hint, nudge, nudge, get your tickets now, $60). So I will be a seater at that event. So if you are there, you will see me there. And I'll probably seat you, take you to your seat there. And getting this fellowship, and being able to be involved with this program and meeting all these people with all these amazing stories. And we don't talk about how nasty "out there" is. We talk about how great life is in here. It's such a world different from what I'm used to.

On my Discord, my name is "debate enthusiast." I love to argue. I love to debate politics, the world, technology, anything. So going into a program where all we talk about is peace, love, hope, strength, and serenity (my favorite word), it's like, whoa, what is this? This is not what I'm used to. And if you knew me in rehab, you knew I love to argue.

So that's the fellowship. And the steps: like I said, I'm a little new. I did go through steps one, two, and three. And I felt this electric feeling that my sponsor had talked about. I felt cared for. I felt put up front. I felt good, for the first time in a long time. And a quote that he had stated to me was, "Nothing you could have ever done is worse than anything anyone else has done."

And in my head, I kept ruminating on these things over and over and over and over, all the mistakes that I made, and it hurt me. I was thinking about it, and I would wake up in cold sweats and wake up panting, like in the movies where someone wakes up almost every night from these nightmares. And I still do have nightmares, which is why I hilariously hate sleeping. But I would wake up thinking about this. But in this program, it's taught me to be okay, and to be okay with not being okay. Because although I talk about unicorns and flowers and rainbows, it's not all perfect.

I still have little fights with my friends who come claim that I said this thing while high or drunk or smoked out of my mind or whatever, and say, "That's the truth, because you said it then," where I have to say, like, "Listen, things are different now." But from just my tone of voice and the way I approach things and conversations and things, people do take notice. And that's where that same thing of opportunity comes up for me, where I get more opportunities to be honest with you, my friends and family.

And I'll end on this last note. I did my amends with my sister a little early, because she was down from Utah by herself. And I said, "I'm sorry for what I put you through, because I know you were praying by the phone that my mom didn't call. You panicked because I was throwing furniture, punching holes in the walls because of the frustration, stress of this medication that I'm on, and I'm sorry I put you through that. But not just that. I'm sorry because words are sh*t. But I hope by the actions I'm doing and the progress I'm making in this program, that you can see that I am aiming to improve for the better."

And that's all I'm trying to do: by going to these meetings, being of service, communicating my story with you all today.

So thank you for letting me be here. And thank you for letting me share.