Ever since I was a little child, I believed I was different.

I often felt like I stood on the outside of the crowd looking in; alone in a room full of people. Somehow deep inside I was unlike anyone else around. I both loathed and embraced it.

My family was much like everyone else’s. Nobody’s home is perfect when they are growing up but we all crave the nostalgic embrace of our childhood. I would brag to my friends at school about how my home was a safe place; a place for others to feel safe as well, and I’d boast about the upstanding citizens my parents were and how prominent my lineage was. I admired the honor and honesty my family attempted to foster and represent in the public eye and within their own lives. In my eyes I didn’t see struggle.

In reality, we weren’t perfect. Nobody is. I was living in a dream world, a bubble. A little slice of heaven created in my own mind. A safe place for me to escape to whenever the world seemed too scary. My memories tucked away warm and safe.

I won’t focus too much on my family’s individual stories during my blogging, primarily because they aren’t my stories to tell and they aren’t my reputation to affect. I can say that we all had our share of struggles and drama, we wouldn’t be human beings if we didn’t. I as a child absorbed and imprinted both the good and bad, it was nobody’s fault. Everyone was doing the best they could and I understand that more today than I ever have.

That’s life. That’s the way it progresses. We all start somewhere.

As a child, I had one or two very close friends that I enjoyed spending time with. I wouldn’t really want to play in groups and rarely wanted to attend large social functions. I remember that it was mostly because I’d feel overwhelmed; like an actor who has performed back-to-back theatrics in double features night after night. I used to talk about being exhausted; the more people I was around in any given day the more tired I’d become.

My mother has mentioned to me on occasion that even as a toddler I preferred to watch games or groups from the outside looking in rather than jump right in. I’d watch behaviors and how others interacted with one another, get a feel for the games being played amongst peers. Then when I was confident that I had mastered my plan, I would join in and immediately be able to hold my own, win the game, or capture the hearts of those playing. Even to this day that description of my behavior rings true.

Even today I enjoy observing and I enjoy being good at something, I enjoy impressing people and being successful. I enjoy control.

In my 20’s I actually absorbed the term “objective observer” as a bit of a mantra, an inspiration of something I wished to become. I valued being indifferent, like a Vulcan I longed for logic and the relief it would provide me with. If only I had paid closer attention to all of those Star Trek episodes growing up, I would surely see the true plight of being emotionless. As it turns out, it’s a lonely world.

In my early teens through into my 30’s I prided myself on being able to suffer. How much I could subject myself to without breaking. I ran towards the things that people normally flee from as a bragging point. In fact, it became quite formative in what I am today. It will likely continue to mold my behaviors and beliefs for the future.

I needed to be something or I needed to become something, I didn’t know what it was but I had to be successful at it. There was no other option in my mind. I started searching in the depths.

Most of my life, I’ve always chose to keep company with suffering people. In my own sick mind, people who are suffering are more real to me at times.

In the past they have told me “how it was” (or their perception of it) point blank. At the very least their need to talk about their struggles; much like I am doing today, was a wealth of untapped knowledge. It was a simple matter of deciphering their experiences into something I could understand, translating it into something I could explain. In reality, it was because I believed deep inside that I was better than them. If I surrounded myself with poorly people, I could feel better about who I was deep down inside. I didn’t realize any of this at the time; I could have avoided a lot of heartache that I both caused and experienced, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

One thing I will always admire about the underdog however is their willingness to help. Those who suffer are the first to offer to help another, there is no doubt in my mind. Also, our greatest heroes often suffered the greatest hardships. All hero origin stories begin with tragedy.

Again, in my mind, I needed to suffer in order to become a hero. Tragedy wasn’t happening fast enough according to my standards, I needed to give it a little nudge to help it along.

Enter Alcohol and my need to impress. It was nobody’s fault.

The year was 1998, age 12 was a magical time. A coming-of-age time where puberty was playing all kinds of tricks on my mind (perhaps there is more to write on this one day).

My family’s economical situation was improving as my father progressed in his career, we had always been a “hosting” household and actively social within the community. Our home was a hub for weekend get-togethers, parties, and BBQ’s.

We lived on a large parcel of family heirloom land located about a fifteen minute’s drive outside of a suburban Alberta town. Campfires and outdoor gatherings were commonplace at our home and I was always allowed to have a friend sleep over when my parents were having company. It was a great way to keep me occupied so the adults could let off a little steam.

The coolers on the deck were stocked full of cold ice and cooling brews that were ripe for the picking. I was an otherwise trustworthy and honest child; mostly on my best behavior and relatively predictable, until I wasn’t.

My friend and I began by taking turns “going to the bathroom” throughout the evening; that way no adults would get suspicious. If we got caught, we simply said we were bringing the drink to someone. One by one, we would leave my bedroom and the gaming console behind and embark on a raid. We would sneak back one, two, maybe three drinks to my bedroom and secretly hide them.

As a side note in addition to the story, I enjoyed tinkering with electronics growing up. Like a true nerd, I built my own “surround sound system” using old stereo equipment and large speakers I had bought from garage sales or been given when family upgraded. I wired them all together myself as I got them, I then wired them through an old hand-me-down television set so I could watch loud movies. The wooden backs of the large old stereo speakers were easily removed to reveal an extremely large and; what I’d consider sneaky, empty cavity.

We packed those babies full.

After the party had ended and all of the adults had gone home my parent’s retired for the evening. My friend and I pretended to be in bed for what felt like hours, just to make sure we were truly in the clear. My stomach fluttered with butterflies, I was both anxious and excited.

We began to enjoy our hard work. I started with the beer; my friend started with the rum coolers, we escalated to the harder liquor. We drank every single drink we stole within a very short period of time, 12 or so each actually. We hid the evidence before becoming too intoxicated and from then on, I have no recollection. I remember waking up the next morning feeling sick and disoriented, but we managed to recover from it “without incident.”

It’ll never happen again, right?

My sobriety date is September 21, 2018.

In sharing my experiences, I hope that someone else might feel less alone and perhaps even find some strength and hope for their own struggles. If you suffer from an addiction or mental illness in any form, it’s not your fault. You can make the change you so desperately need. You can ask for help.

Most people are waiting for an opportunity to help another person; most people want to be useful but don’t want to impose. Let them in, give them the opportunity to help someone else and feel better about themselves.

Stay strong, we’re all in this together.

Part Two: Coming Soon…