The week before her birth I made a post ruminating what song I wanted played during her delivery. I needed only look to my right arm for the answer, as the opening lyrics to Thank You from Led Zeppelin is tattooed there as well as in my heart and soul. It is a tattoo in memoriam of my departed Mother as well as the song my wife and I played at our wedding while we performed the ceremony recognizing the two families becoming one, not to mention the purest example of love in a song I’ve ever heard.
The
birth came slowly yet with no major complications for baby or mama and the time off gave me
tremendous opportunities to spend time with my three older children; something
rare in my nights-only work schedule. Together, my children and I visited Old
Town, the memorial park where my Mom and Grandparents are buried and the Living
Coast Discovery Center; where my almost two year old daughter got to pet a
shark, get up close with a sea turtle and stand less than ten feet from a bald
eagle.
As a
father who has only two evenings per week to spend with his children, you can
bet I cherished the three straight days I had with them. As a man who has never
forgotten that he once stood at the brink of ending it all, you can bet I feel
like not even a hundred million dollar lottery ticket would bring any more
gratitude into my life than I already have.My sons saw me drink and thankfully, they didn’t see or feel the worst of what was going on inside me during those years. My daughter Layla was born December 12th, 2012. It was and is a special day for many reasons, and not necessarily because the numbers all match. Earlier that year my grandfather Joe Ress passed away and the last time I spoke to him I told him the news of our coming addition. His great granddaughter was born on what would have been his 82nd birthday. And those who have sought help with their own alcohol problems know well the significance of “12&12”.
Of
course, Layla has never seen me take a drink and neither will Chloe, unless you
count the many cups of coffee throughout the week and the occasional Hammerhead
I have when we walk Seaport Village. Not to be outdone by the significance of
her big sister’s birthday, Chloe chose a date that held much significance of
its own, adding to it by her arrival.
October
13th, 2010 was the day I walked into my new life, my life of
sobriety. I had a few more days of drinking after, I guess I really needed to
assure myself that I was indeed sick and tired of being sick and tired. As an
added bonus, less than an hour before Chloe made her rookie debut I was
reminded that she would share her birthday with her big brother’s namesake;
Trevor Hoffman. One of the most precious moments from that time came when I
informed my Trevor of the news. As this is our last child, I find it
interesting that my all-time favorite ballplayer shares a connection with our
oldest and youngest children. I don’t see it as a coincidence, as I believe in
coincidences as much as I believe in making a wish on a fallen star, hanging a
horseshoe above my door and a government that does what’s best for all
citizens.
Since my
life became one of sobriety, two daughters have been born to my wife and I and
each have been born on very significant days. I consider this a stunning
example of Divine Providence. I’m not much into numbers when it comes to
dealing cards and other such things, but I do know a message from above when a
see one. When I feel one. My fourth
child was born four years from the day I truly sought sobriety, in the year I
turned forty years old no less. Not bad for a man who once spent many lonely
weeks eyeing the Coronado Bridge, thinking about that one way trip down.
In the
past six months, my blogs have become more difficult to write than in the past.
I don’t believe much in writers block, more than anything it’s little more than
a lame, tired excuse for lack of productivity. But as I write on, I realize the
difficulty comes from the desire to express what I feel, to truly capture the
essence of what I was, what I have become and what was needed for it to happen.
Most blogs used to take one draft and after a little editing, it was ready for
public consumption. This blog is in its third draft and who knows how many more
it may take before I am ready to share it. Reminds me of something a man wiser
than myself once said (And I’ll say
again, there are many of them); when asked how long it takes to recover
from alcoholism, he inevitably answers “As long as it takes…” Quite a
bit of wisdom to give to someone in desperate need of learning a little patience.
Some people do it in a few weeks, some do it in a few years and some spend the
rest of their lives chasing it, only to become an example of the “what not to
do” way of thinking. Oftentimes I ask myself “Why me” and yet another wiser-than-myself man has written “You should say why not me?” It may come from words written by another man but just as with the dates of my daughters’ births, I consider the words a message from above, sent through this man. This is the prime reason I take a much more painstaking approach to my writing these days. I’m no perfectionist. Far from it. Yet I have to think you value your time as much as I value mine and with that in mind, I could not in good conscience share something just for the sake of sharing it. If you have taken the time to read what my heart and soul has to say, you can bet the driving force behind what I do is taking every step necessary to ensure you do not consider it a waste of your time to read it. And if you’ve read this far, I think you haven’t considered it a waste of your time.
When I
look back on the past four years; the births of my daughters, the wisdom gained
during the late nights with my nose buried in a book, the ability I have
developed to offer encouraging and comforting words to friends and loved ones
who have lost family members, I know that more than anything I would never have
been able to do any of it with a drink in my hand. And one of the most valuable
things I learned is I could not have done it alone. A ridiculously large and
capable support network of family, friends have advised, counseled, encouraged
and prayed for me. And gave me a swift kick in the ass when needed.
Many of
you remember me before I got sober and more than a few of you had no idea of
the severity of my problem. In a way, your not knowing the depths of it all
proved to be a vital tool in the early days, as I was determined to publicly
state that I was in fact not the man my reputation may have suggested. Was it
not for my desire to share that with you, I don’t know that I would have made
such an effort at achieving and sustaining a sober life.Some of you may only know the sober version of me; those who have told me they couldn’t imagine me as a mean, bitter drunk. For some reason, I feel the obligation to show you at least a peek into my past, lest you think I’ve always been an upstanding family man.
Most important of all, I write and share my stories with the hope that you or maybe someone you know may have the need and desire to make some life changes, whether alcohol or anything that needs changing. I changed and I’m not the only one, so can you.
When I’m having a rough day, I need only remind myself that things were much rougher at one time. And when I feel like nothing I do makes anything better, I remind myself of the times when I thought I’d never smile again. And as long as I never lose sight of the man I once was, I’ll never have to take another drink…
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