- Drugs
“You know, in this life, you can lose everything you love and everything that loves you.” – Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson, The Wrestler (2008)
I overdosed the night before I achieved my lifelong dream. I spent seven years as a professional wrestler before I got the call I had been waiting for. A company in Yokohama, Japan, had called me and wanted to give me a shot at the big time in the Land of the Rising Sun. Japan is sacred ground for professional wrestlers; it is our own special pilgrimage. I, at 22 years old, had gotten the call. Sadly, the day before my first, and only, match in Japan my disease took me to death’s doorstep as I overdosed on a plane that was to meet my connecting flight.
I lied to the doctors in the hospital after I woke up. They let me on my next plane over to Japan and I had my one match in the place I had dreamed of since I was a child. I walked to the ring barely able to breathe, wrestling gear stuck to my body where the heart monitor pads had been 24 hours before and put on one of the worst performances of my career. I left the next morning, not having told anyone what had happened just 36 hours before, and walked away from the biggest dream I ever had.
I have dedicated my life to sharing my story. My story is not special. My story is no different, no better, no worse than any other addict in recovery. My life was controlled by using drugs; it became completely unmanageable and I lost everything that I held dear. Marriage, family, home, wrestling career, it was all gone.
But the difference in my story is that I choose to be one of a large number of us in recovery that openly and honestly shares our stories in the public forum. So many people in recovery simply are not able to do such a thing because of the stigma still attached to our disease. They may lose jobs, careers, friends, families, and so much more if they came out as addicts. In my close circle of friends in recovery, I hang out with a doctor, an accountant, a daycare operator and a gym teacher, among others. A few of these people are open about their recovery in their chosen fields. However, others sadly risk so much should they go public.
When I hit my bottom, I was sleeping on the floor of the abandoned home where my wife and I had been raising our son. She had cried all of her tears and said all the prayers she could, but it wasn’t enough to save me. I was alone. The last night I had used drugs, I locked myself in a basement of a friend’s house, gotten drunk and speedballed until the early hours of the morning. When I went back to my floor in the empty home where I was to sleep that morning, I lay down and I cried. I cried and cried and cried and cried. At that moment, lying on the floor, high and drunk, I finally understood at that very moment that my life could get no worse unless I let it. That morning, I vowed that I would do everything in my power to share this pain that I carried so that hopefully one person could hear me and not have to fall like I did.
I do not share my story strictly to save people. I share my story so that someone who is struggling or whose loved ones are struggling can come to a sense of peace that they or the ones they care about are not alone. I try to share my story in a way that someone who has never struggled with the disease of addiction can come away with a better understanding of the disease and maybe break down some of the stigma.
Hopefully, if someone finds themselves in the grips of this illness in the future they can look back and say, “I remember that guy that came to my school or spoke at that conference or came into my treatment center– he nudged open that door and maybe it’s time for me to find recovery too.” But for me, I wear my broken heart on my sleeve, because I never want to go back to hell.
These days, I speak everywhere I can. High schools, colleges, treatment centers, conferences, parking lots—I speak to whoever will listen! I left wrestling for four years, but I recently started performing again in Canada, under the name Stefan Epic I now have enough trust from my son’s amazing mother that I have my son for three days a week. I finished my first year in university. I have a blossoming speaking career and many projects underway. It is my goal to do a TEDx conference this year to speak on the disease. These opportunities would simply not be possible without the program and people in recovery, and the experience, strength and hope was so freely given to me. Just for today, I AM CLEAN!
CATEGORIES:
Recovery, Family, Drug Addiction, Treatment, Friends