Mark's Story

While I don't have many memories before the age of eight, I remember being woken up in the middle of the night by my mum, who handed me a garbage bag with instructions to put in my favourite toys and make it quick. We were running away from my dad and going into hiding. I didn't know then that I wouldn't see him for almost a year, and even after that, it would be sporadic and dependent on how he felt. My father was a violent and abusive drunk. While I don't remember seeing him in action, I do remember the broken doors and holes in the wall.

Divorced or separated parents were uncommon in the 1980s and were often frowned upon, so I frequently dealt with disapproval from teachers, parents, and by default, their kids. I was a bad bet and wasn't worth the time or effort. Hearing the words, "that kid ain't going anywhere, so don't bother," was not alien to me, and I eventually began to play the part. These words only contributed to a growing sense of worthlessness and lack of belonging. It was alcohol that initially gave me a sense of reprieve from these feelings.

The first time I got drunk was in the 7th grade on one of those rare and beautiful summer nights when your friend's parents are away for one reason or another. An older sibling was throwing a party and, under the condition that no one told their parents, had allowed a few of her younger brother's friends to attend. For me, that night changed everything. It was what I had been looking for.

In the 90s, it was hard to come by alcohol for a 13-year-old living in the suburbs. But that first experience opened me to trying anything that might give me a similar feeling. When I couldn't get my hands on alcohol, drugs were usually the cheapest and most accessible options and something I took full advantage of.

Years later, working as a bartender in a ski town, I found myself with unlimited access to alcohol and the feeling of 'self-worth' it gave me. I was partying day and night, snowboarding, skateboarding, and mountain biking with friends. I was living what I liked to think was a life straight out of a snowboard or skate video. We were the lost boys in never-never land, and I felt like I had arrived. But the truth was that I was lost. I had found a way to block the disgust I held for myself and avoid any pain or fear from not understanding why.

I found myself on a spiralling path in the years that would pass. My self-disgust had grown to a level that alcohol could not soothe. I began spending time thinking about the best ways to end my life. Eventually, after freefalling through various jobs and living situations, I had come to the point of living on my dad's couch, out drinking even him. The same man my mother and I had escaped years earlier because of his drinking problems was now in awe of my ability to outpace him. By now, I had come to terms with the idea that I was screwed up. I was so tired of failing, yet too cowardly, I thought, to put an end to it all. I knew I needed help.

An interview with a man called Ron from Simon House Recovery Centre set me on a new path. I was going to live at Simon House and stay there for a year, learning how to apply the 12-step program to everyday life.

In the beginning, I thought everyone was full of it. There was no way that lifelong addicts and drunks could be enjoying life sober. It was impossible! Over time, I realized that many of the guys had found that enjoyment, even when faced with incredible challenges. While I didn't believe the same fate was for me, I began to follow the program and do what was suggested. I wasn't always patient or graceful, but when I realized that I had stopped calling myself names, I started to feel hopeful.

I started doing my step work with more urgency and looked for opportunities to be of service to others. The more I became of service, working through my steps or towards personal growth goals, the better I felt. In the first six months, I often had sudden realizations where I became aware of how much my behaviour was changing. One night while lying in bed and feeling immense gratitude for the seemingly endless supply of bacon at Simon House, I realized that I had stopped chanting, "Please don't wake up" to myself before falling asleep. On another occasion, I had been brushing my teeth when it dawned on me that I was able to look myself in the eyes without disgust. Then one day, I realized that I had started to believe in myself again after landing my dream job, building theatre sets and props.

By the time I left Simon House, I was not the same man that walked through those doors. I had tapped into something that I believed wasn't meant for me. But through the support, love and examples of those around me, I was able to find a sense of self-worth I hadn't found in even my best moments of addiction. I'm no longer powerless on the path I walk.

I've been sober since March 9th, 2012, and while it hasn't always been easy, my faith in a higher power and continued work on my recovery have strengthened me so that I may be of better service in this journey.

- Mark L.

Simon House Alumni