In 1993 I meet crack cocaine

It's 1993, about the beginning of the year, likely spring time. I am working at Loomis, Stephanie and I are together, I am being a dad to my son who is three; really, living life as best one can live it. Stephanie and I were having some issues, but, we were trying to make things work.

This is serious relationship number three for me. There were others along the way, some ok, short lived, and others, short lived and not ok.   Stephanie and I, as I said yesterday, shared a lot of good times and I still hold positive memories from my time with her. She and I still talk to this day.  She's a good one for sure.

I was drinking, smoking pot, and doing speed here and there. I was what you might have heard as a "functional alcoholic".....I would add "functional addict".....whatever you want to call it, I was able to hold a job, maintain a relationship, be a dad...you know, mostly.  It wasn't always pretty, my drinking would get out of control at times, but, somehow I kept it all intact.  Typing that reminds me of my mom when we were kids.  To any outsider they might think "huh, looks alright".  But, inside you might view it differently. 

I had a neighbor who I used to smoke pot and have a beer with on occasion.  We would chat from our porches and visit with each other here and there.  I should add, this was during the height of the crack epidemic of the 90's.  Kinda toward the end, right before the meth epidemic really took hold, but, what you were still hearing about and seeing on tv, was the crack epidemic.  To note, I was that guy.  The guy that said "I will drink my beer, smoke my pot, but that, never that, never me". 

I went to that neighbors apartment one fateful day after work. I will never forget it. He was holding a different looking pipe.  Now, those that know, it wasn't your traditional crack pipe.  It was a pipe that looked just like a pot pipe, but, it was glass.....I asked, of course, what is that?   He said "crack". It threw me for a minute, I was surprised.  He was my next door neighbor.  He didn't fit the bill of what I envisioned for someone who smoked crack. He was just like me really.  All of the things I did and said, he did too.  He had a job, a family, a place to live.......He asked me if I wanted to try it, it was mixed in with pot......I tried it. 

That very first time I tried it I didn't get much out of it.  I did really get the allure.  I went home, went to bed, went to work the next day, and that was that. Ha, not so much. I tried it again. I don't remember if it was the next day, or when exactly, but the next time I tried it, it had a completely different effect. I felt the rush of the high. In that instance all of my worries and fears about the world around me were gone. All of it. I felt better than I had ever felt in my life.  Alcohol, while it had some positive effects on improving my mood, it didn't come close to crack.  Pot, well, really, a whole different effect.  But, and I remember this well, crack was all new.  I truly laugh at this now, I felt like I had finally found the perfect drug. 

In the first few weeks my world was a perfect place to be with this new drug. I could get high, have all the energy in the world for a short time, be in an amazing mood, and, still live my life.  That was just the first few weeks.  Quickly crack took ahold of me in a way I had never experienced with alcohol or pot. Remember....I was that guy "never me, no way, give me my pot and alcohol, I will never do THAT".  I was full on doing that on levels that were completely out of control.

My job that I loved, that I was really good at, it started effecting that. I starting calling in sick because I was up all night, for nights on end, and, was still high when it was time to go to work. My performance level at work, that had been effected by alcohol for sure, well, I didn't dare tell anyone I was tired or lacking motivation because I needed a hit of crack.  Shoot, you could say you couldn't wait to get off work to have a beer, or, with the right people to get high on pot, but, not to say you were withdrawing from crack cocaine. This was a secret I couldn't tell anyone. 

Stephanie had no idea. I kept it hidden from my entire circle of friends, family, and co-workers.  My boss at Loomis, Dan Rushing, he knew something was up.  His star employee wasn't, well, his star employee anymore.  Looking back he tried to get me to tell him what was going on...he tried so hard. Even with the shit that happened at work with Chris and me cheating on my wife with his Dan still gave a shit about me. I wouldn't dare tell him I was smoking crack....I wouldn't, I couldn't.  It was to big a secret and I was full of shame. 

Within a few month period I was broke...beyond broke.  I had sold everything I owned in apartment that I could sell.  To the pawn shop to the dealer, to whoever would buy it. It was all gone.  The only thing I had left when all was said and done is what you can see in the picture from a couple of days ago......a bamboo furniture set that I am sure I tried to sell but couldn't. I had bought my very first computer prior to all of this, it was gone. I had a stereo I am sure, it was gone. I had sold anything of value for the drug. All of my possessions were gone. Let alone the fact, that in many ways I had given up my life for crack. 

I lost my job at Loomis. I wasn't showing up or I was always late. I left Dan no choice.  Now, him being the good person he was, said I could tell employment security I was laid off......that gave me all the time in the world now and funding to continue with crack a few months longer. It all came to an end though......I don't have vivid memories of the how and why of me reaching out for help, but it happened.  Based on the card you see in the picture I finally had had enough and somewhere in about July of 1993 I reached out for help.  I remember going into a state office to seek treatment. By this time I didn't have a job and had no health insurance......and, this just came to me, I had been evicted, or was real close to being evicted, from my apartment.  Stephanie and I must had stopped living together somewhere in this period of time.  Can't blame her there.

Cyndi's mom was a state DSHS worker and I will never forget walking into a state office and asking for help. To this point in my life I never had to ask for help. I worked my whole life, from when I was 15 until than.....until I lost that great job at Loomis. I was full of shame and remember weeping in her cubicle.  She helped me find help.  This would be the very first time  that I would start peeling the back the layers of my life.

I went to Olalla Guest Lodge in mid July of 1993. It was my very first experience in any type of treatment program ever. It was the very first time I started looking at my life through a whole new lens. I still have my folder from that very first treatment experience.  I have the information from the very first time I ever really start examining my childhood, my family, all of it. To be honest, I am not sure if I started talking about the sexual abuse in that first treatment experience; I just don't remember for sure. 

It was both freeing and scary as hell. Being in treatment with people who had similar experiences was amazing. For that 21-28 day period, for the first time in my life, I felt somewhat safe. I felt somewhat ok to start talking about my life in a way that I never had to that point. 

Stephanie and I were still trying to keep our relationship going. She was supportive of me getting help.  I think by that point though, it was to late for our relationship, a lot had happened. Yet, we were still trying to keep it together.  I remember Cyndi being supportive.  She had started dating a man who, not really a big surprise, had many of the same issues I was now having.  Cyndi has always been one of my biggest supporters in life.

I left Olalla on the date you see in the picture below, August 11, 1993. With a strong desire to live a new life. But, looking back on it, I don't think, and what you read in the days coming, I did not believe I should stop drinking and smoking pot all together.  Sure, crack, that had to stop.  But, really?  Quit the two things that were part of my life for so long....come on.  Well, as these things go, my choice to not remain completely abstinent from all of it, would lead me to a new drug that would take me down roads that crack had only begun to take me down. 

That 21-28 day stay at Olalla was good in so many ways.  But, I think it also scared the shit out me. The prospect of really looking at my childhood and life as a whole was scary in many ways.  I wasn't ready to really start looking at in the way I would in the future. It would take more time and more darkness before that happens.