Reflecting On 10 Years Of Sobriety

Each day in sobriety is a gift and it’s important to try to pass that gift on.

Sobriety highway signI will celebrate my 10th year of sobriety on April 8, 2017.  While I generally take my sobriety one day at time, I am 99.999 percent certain I am going to still be sober on April 8, so you are getting this a few days early.

On April 6, 2007, however, my thoughts were not of even one day of sobriety. My expectation was that I was going to be able to party two days straight because my girlfriend of just over a year had left town for the weekend. She knew nothing about my heavy alcohol and illicit drug use or my underlying mental health issues dating back to childhood.  In addition to my J.D., I had a Ph.D. in wearing whatever mask of respectability I needed for periods long enough to fool those who needed to be fooled. My friends. My family. My clients. The lawyers I worked with.  My significant other.

There were those times when my mask failed and addiction collided with reality. Jail. Three failed marriages. A near suicide. Two trips to a psychiatric facility. Losing all of my law practice clients. Spending every dollar, made when I had clients, fueling my partying and drug habit. Feeding my addiction was exponentially more important to me than my professional standing, or paying my bills.

Some of those moments brought me back to reality briefly with resolutions and promises to others that I would “toe the line” until the memory of the consequences faded into the conviction that these things were just blips on the radar screen. The white powder, a straw, and a few Jack and Diet Cokes would make everything right again. I was right back into my world of addicts, enablers, and cocaine cowboys.

On April 6, 2007, I didn’t want recovery. I was not ready for recovery. Then two days later, once again, standing in the parking lot of Green Oaks Hospital for the second time after a cocaine-, alcohol- and Xanax-fueled blackout. My girlfriend came home to find me passed out in bed. Drugs everywhere. Alcohol everywhere, and a condom on the floor.

In that parking lot, I saw my future. I saw my girlfriend leaving. I saw the disappointment in my father who wanted so much more for me and my two brothers than he had. I saw the loss of my family. The gray area between love, enablement, and recovery had finally become clear to them. They had enough. I needed to take responsibility. They could not do it for me. There would be no third trip to Green Oaks. I would be dead. It was time. I was finally ready.

Like many, my journey started with an alcohol-focused 12-step recovery. (Alcoholics Anonymous is the largest and most well known.) I picked up a “desire chip” (a symbol of a desire to stay sober for 24 hours) that first day and the hard work began. Not only the work of dealing with where I was present day in getting sober but dealing with how I got to that point in tearing back all the layers of my life to a shy, bullied, sad little boy. In short, I had to allow myself to be vulnerable.  In addition to 12-step program, there has been psychiatric talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, and other types geared towards allowing that little boy to finally love himself. Dealing with how I got there has been just as important as the process of sobriety. This was very important because until that tweenaged Brian loved himself, I would be susceptible to triggers and relapse.

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It has not always been easy. Recovery rarely is. There have been bouts of clinical depression which have plagued me since childhood. I take medication daily for it. There has been a constant struggle in my relationship with exercise and food as I also deal with recovery from traditional and exercise bulimia. All of these things are potential triggers for relapse. I, however, have maintained my sobriety. My tools have been the support of my 12-step group. The support of my wife and family.  The coping tools I have learned in therapy. Working with others who are struggling. Writing.  The daily work to love who I see in the mirror.  All have all been a factor in maintaining my long-term recovery.

In the past 10 years, I have learned more about myself that in the previous 46. I have learned that there is a wonderful life in sobriety.  I have learned that it’s okay to be vulnerable and let others see it. I have learned that people wanted me to succeed in recovery and were prepared to stand with me if they saw me trying. That girlfriend who took me to the psychiatric facility in 2007 did not leave. She is now my wife. It took a long time to rebuild the trust I destroyed.  Like my sobriety, it was one day at time.  I did not do it for her, however. I did not do it for my family. I had to do it for me.

I understand that each day in sobriety is a gift and it’s important to try to pass that gift on.

There is a phrase in the Jewish faith called “Tikkum Olum.” It is defined by acts of kindness performed to perfect or repair the world.  There are so many out there in recovery practicing this. First, however, I had to work on repairing myself. I am a work in progress. Hopefully I can do my part moving forward to allow someone else to repair themselves. In doing that, we can do our part to repair the world.  One person at a time. One day at a time.

My name is Brian and I am a grateful person in long-term recovery. I thank every person who played a part knowingly and unknowingly in helping me become that person.

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Brian Cuban (@bcuban) is The Addicted Lawyer. Brian is the author of the Amazon best-selling book, The Addicted Lawyer: Tales Of The Bar, Booze, Blow & Redemption (affiliate link). A graduate of the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, he somehow made it through as an alcoholic then added cocaine to his résumé as a practicing attorney. He went into recovery April 8, 2007. He left the practice of law and now writes and speaks on recovery topics, not only for the legal profession, but on recovery in general. He can be reached at brian@addictedlawyer.com.