I did it again. I swore I would never do it again. I swore to Laurie. I swore to Jason.  I made it my goal to never do it again... do it again to them… But when I went to work I was met with 5 stacks of paperwork. Later a heart-wrenching call with my 80-year-old mother sick, thousands of miles away. I couldn't even sit down and eat my lunch without having excruciating pain. So yeah. Driving home I decided to take a stop at the gas station, in shame. I decided to pick up that vodka bottle, in shame. And I decided to lose myself with that Demon in the back of my head fueled by the alcohol in my bloodstream, and take out all of the sorrow all of the pain all of the shame on… Laurie… Jason.  alcohol. 

Alcohol, is a depressant, a depressant that promises to make the pain an individual goes through daily a little more easier to swallow down. Alcohol is often fantasized as a way to relax, put your feet up, and help you truly better life but in reality, alcohol can take it away. Not only is alcohol responsible for taking the lives of nearly 150,000 per year, but it's also responsible for destroying others' lives,  the separation of families, and as you see here, weathering mental health. Coming from an almost all-Irish bloodline, I've seen firsthand the battle between alcoholism and sobriety, in this story. You will meet Matt. A 27-year-old man who battling his hardest battle yet, the Demon that's holding him back from being with his family, and best self. Alcohol. 

-Trigger warning this speech contains mentions of substance abuse and self-harm. 

 laurie said it was either drinking myself to death or going somewhere to get sober, I chose the latter.  Before I left I saw Jason look out the window. I waved to him, and he smiled, but I could tell, I could read through that pitiful smile and see a boy who's seen his father go down this road hundreds of times, all ending with the same disappointment But not this time. For the first time, I was determined to end up a father he would be proud of having. 

What they don't tell you about rehab is how much of a horror movie it is.  I went north to this rehabilitation center in the middle of a forest. Swear to god looked like where the boogeyman lived.  There were like 12 of us. Some guys are in their 20s, and some are in their 60s. We all gathered together in the cliche circle. We started introducing ourselves. I didn’t remember anyone’s name. I was too busy counting the minutes until I would be able to go into my room and crack open my mini tequila bottle. Sorry, Jason but I need that drink. I despised rehab, sure I had been through it a couple of times, but did I learn anything, did I have that generic growth as a human they show in the movies? No, if anything I had felt worse about myself. Rehab consisted of meeting people I would never see in my entire life, and spending 30 days with a consistent reminder that I needed a drink and that I wasn't strong enough, I was honestly fine with living in bliss and not realizing my problem.  I had been doing that since the cancer diagnosis-

(in another person's voice) - Matt? Matt HI. Can you tell us about yourself.?

I quickly snapped myself out 

I told them my story. It got uncomfortable when I started talking about my mother. She is my everything. People joked and said I was her “little clone”. For some reason, the doctor kept pressuring me about my upbringing.

 “Being raised by a single mother must have been hard.”

“How old were you when your father left.” 

“At what age did you start drinking” 

I wasn't proud of the teenager I was… having to be dragged by my mother into the car after my friends ditched me when we got kicked out of the bar. 

The dead silence that fell on the car rides home from the police station after a night of partying. 

The countless tears shed on the cheap living room sofa as I plead to my mom that I’ll change I’ll be better… I never could for her. When we left for our rooms, I grabbed the tequila bottle and threw it away. 

We were nearly halfway done with the treatment. But it didn't feel like the other halfway mark times in rehab, for the first time I was letting out the emotions that I had bottled up for years, the stress of work, the radiation, and my mother all that for first time was being straightened and organized in my very messy and chaotic brain. For the first time since… god I don't even know… I felt I was under control. 

One day this man came in. He was older than me… on the day he arrived, we had our circle meeting. He came in 20 minutes late with shades on clearly hammered. The doctor had the brilliant idea for him to go first. He introduced himself as Pat. he shared his life, and his fight with alcohol, however with what he discussed it seemed less of a fight and more of a brotherhood. He told us how his entire family had left him. And how he had no one else that cared for him. Some of the guys started to tear up. I didn't. I was cold… when I looked at Pat, I saw me. And what my life could turn out to be if I didn't take this opportunity… this last opportunity to be the father that Jason wanted me to be, the husband laurie wanted me to be; the son, Mom wanted me to be. The human, I wanted t…

Hello… yes this is him. I'm her son… 

...

No, I'm sorry I think you have the wrong person she–she was recovering- she was getting better–

...

she was going to mass Sunday - - she was - she was alive-  SHE WAS ALIVE

*looks at bottle… drinks it*

Oh my god… no god no… no no no 

I was so close I had never been that close I was there I was there I was healthy I was developing. I was getting stronger I was getting better. I was…

I could hear Jason's voice asking “Dad why did you do it?”

I'm sorry Jason, Dad wasn't strong enough this time. 

The shame consumed me, and I wanted death… I wanted to join Mom. 

Hi, my name is Matt, and I'm an alcoholic, I've been sober for nearly 6 months. Last November I went into rehab. My goal was to be the best person for the people that I love. But I failed, weakened by a loss I am still dealing with today. In that failure, I had tried to take my life. I didn't want to be here anymore. And live with the person I see every morning in the mirror. I am very lucky to be here now. I am fortunate to have been allowed to try again, I am lucky to have my family with me. And I am fortunate to be on this earth. The key- I guess I'll call it was I accepted my shame.

Last November, and instead of shoving that down like I did before with all my problems, I processed it. And got through it.  The other night I was walking into our house when I noticed my son looking down at his window. I saw that look, the look I had been thriving for years to create,  the look that proved that all of that hard work, the highs and lows, were worth taking,  the look that said “I'm proud of you my dad.” it doesn't mean I'm in the clear. I still have thoughts of giving back the power to the Demon. But I am left with the strength given to me by my mother, to strive to be the person she knew I could be. “Mom.. the Demon is not going to win… I promise.”