Josh, 42
Volunteer Coordinator for After Care
Where does your story start?
I came from what I thought was a good family—barely middle class. My dad worked a lot, and my mom was a stay-at-home mom. My dad thought paying the bills was being a good dad, and that was it. He was more or less the guy in the chair when I got home from school.
I had a decent childhood—it was the kind of time when you’d kick kids out of the house and lock the screen door. I was one of those kids who always wanted to push it to the very edge. Any minute over curfew I thought was a win.
When did you first experiment with alcohol?
My parents used to throw daiquiri parties, and the first drink I ever had was when I was maybe five or six years old. My dad’s friend sat down his strawberry daiquiri. I picked it up and thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Every time someone at that party set one down, I picked it up and drank it.
That turned into me being the little drunk kid dancing around, making a fool of himself—and everybody laughed. It wasn’t the feeling of being drunk that was the instant attraction; it was the attention. From that point on, I always looked for attention, whether it was good or bad.
How did that desire for attention show up as you got older?
It turned into attention-seeking at school. I was always looking for a way to get over on somebody, get attention, or fight an authority figure.
My dad was always the plant manager or supervisor for carpet companies, so we moved around a lot—to Rome, Dalton, and Chattanooga. I was always the new kid. I played music and was more into the lifestyle than the music itself. Anything high-energy or rebellious—I was into it.
What were your teenage years like?
By the time I was fifteen, I had already started staying at friends’ houses. I was getting paid with a bar tab at 15 and groupies, meeting 30- and 40-year-old women who were into me.
Around that time, I met a woman more than double my age. One day she asked me to go for a ride. She took me out of state, and I ended up staying with her for nine months without telling anybody. In my head, it was my idea at the time, but I came to find out that I was being groomed.
There were copious amounts of drugs. She was a stripper in Atlanta, 35 years old, living out in the middle of nowhere. The first time I tried to call my mom, she flipped out.
After about six months, I realized what was going on. She’d come back from stripping in Atlanta with money and handfuls of drugs. I got into whatever she had—shooting, snorting, anything. Alcohol was how it started, but it became the afterthought.
How did you eventually get out of that situation?
Through all this, I was a full-blown drug addict. One of my mom’s friends found me, kicked the door into the trailer, and got me out of there. To me, that was the end of that chapter.
But when I got back home, I felt like I didn’t belong there. I felt like I should’ve already had my own place. I was still in school and had missed so much that I ended up going to an alternative school—which, at the time, was probably the best thing for me.
I felt “othered,” and my life story felt completely unique. At the alternative school, I felt more relatable. I had perfect attendance during my last three years of high school. But after high school, I didn’t have that kind of consistency again for a long time.
When did you become a father?
When I was 16, that woman called my house and told my mom she had a baby. She wanted to know what I was going to do about it.
That’s when I realized my mom’s pattern—if it had to do with the family, we created this bubble to look like the all-American family. Keeping up appearances.
My mom decided there would be no contact between me, my daughter, and that woman. That ate at me for a long time. I had two more kids with another woman after that. If I was good at anything, it was being a dad.
How did that separation affect you as a father?
I felt like the love I had for my first child had been taken away from me. I always felt like I treated people a certain way because of what happened. My other kids didn’t even know they had a sister until they were teenagers.
Their mom shared custody with her own mother because their biological mom wasn’t in their lives. She hadn’t seen them for 16 or 17 years. I always felt like I had to overdo it as a dad.
It always madevme feel guilty. I was parenting from an unhealthy place, trying to make up for things. I don’t really know how to explain it other than it was a big ball of guilt and shame. Their whole early childhood, that’s how I felt about it.
Were you using during that time?
I started using with my first child’s mom and didn’t stop until I was 40. I wasn’t using everything I had been, but I was still drinking, smoking weed, using designer drugs, and going to concerts all the time.
I had to balance being a dad with that rock-and-roll lifestyle.
What was your mindset during those years?
After high school and having kids, a lot of that guilt made me feel like people owed me something. I felt I’d been dealt a bad hand. I could never see my own part in things—only other people’s.
What made you feel like you’d been dealt a bad hand?
I think it started when my mom made me lie about my first child. I felt like I was hiding or lying about something all the time. I was a rebellious little asshole.
Eventually, I got fed up with everything. My kids turned ten, and my mom wanted them. She got a judge to sign off on full custody without me knowing. It was probably good for them in the moment, but it broke me.
After that, I went off the rails. I was at every bar, every party, every concert I could go to. I started dealing drugs to fund it and lived off struggling artist pay.
I built a crew, and we’d travel to festivals, sell drugs, and move to the next one. We did that for years. Eventually, I owed people money. I became a bum—people wanted me around because I was fun, until they didn’t.
What did hitting bottom look like for you?
Every time I hit rock bottom, I’d find out it had a basement. And every time it had a basement, I’d find out it had a root cellar.
It got to a point where I was homeless in Chattanooga for about five or six years. I was camping out under bridges with a needle in my arm, wondering why I woke up that day.
I had to hit that absolute bottom to finally ask for help. I had been to treatment probably eight times before I became homeless, and ten more times after. But I was always doing it for somebody else—because I was court-ordered, or to get someone off my back.
What was different this last time?
This last time, I don’t know what it was, but I just didn’t have another one in me. I had another relapse in me, but I didn’t have another recovery in me.
I called my dad and asked for help. He flew from New York to Chattanooga, picked me up, and brought me to Burns, Tennessee. I told him, “Don’t tell me where it is. I don’t want to know anybody around there. I’ll find a way to get something or find my way out.”
The longest I’d ever stayed anywhere before was 14 days. As soon as I left detox, I’d relapse. I thought the drugs were the only problem. But it turns out the other things were the reason I used.
When did things start to change for you?
I got here in April 2023, and I was a horrible guest. There are rules here in place because of me. If you come straight off the street, they search you before they give you a tour—that rule exists because I used to hide things.
My stepmom actually found Discovery Place. She does a lot of research, and I would’ve never found this place on my own. I got here in April, but my sobriety date is in June, which tells you how bad of a guest I was.
I didn’t want to go to the second phase—they asked, but I was ready to go back to Chattanooga and be homeless. That’s all I knew. I stayed because I was out of options.
The last day of my original 30 days was when I decided to move to the next phase. I gave things up slowly, a little at a time. My sponsor told me I should “write a book overnight.”
What does life look like for you now?
I thought that if I got sober, I’d never have fun again. But now I live in sober living, and we have fun and joke around every day. After a while, I started working Third Shift here. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I wanted stability—and I found it here.
I don’t understand exactly how it happens, but I know that it works. I need people with shared experiences. Every other treatment I’d been to was medical-based and clinical.
Here, I’m surrounded by people who’ve been through it too. It’s a place to connect—a network of support. Every day, I have to do a few things before I put my armor on: pray, meditate, and make myself available for service.
Archive:
Where does your story start?
I came from what I thought was a good family, barely middle class, dad worked a lot, mom was a stay at home mom. My dad thought paying the bills was being a good dad, and that’s it. He was more or less, the guy in the chair when I got home from school. Decent childhood, it was in the time when you kick kids out of the house and lock the screen door. I was one of the kids that wanted to push it to the very edge. Any minute over the curfew I thought was a win.
My parents used to throw daiquiri parties … and the first drink I had I was maybe five or six years old.
My dad’s friend sat his strawberry daiquiri down. I picked it up and thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Everytime someone at that party sat one down, I picked it up and I drank it. That turned into the little drunk kid dancing around, making a fool of himself, and everybody laughed.
It wasn’t the feeling of being drunk that was the instant attraction, it was the attention. From that point on, I always looked for attention, whether it was good or bad.
That turned into attention seeking at school, and I was always looking for a way to get over on somebody or get attention, or fight an authority figure.
My dad was always the plant manager or suprvisor for carpet companies. So I moved around a lot to Rome, Dalton and Chattanooga. I was always the new kid. I played music and was into the lifestyle more than the music. Anything high energy or anti rebellious I was into.
By the time I was fifteen, I had already started staying at a friends house.
I was getting paid with a bar tab at 15 and groupies. Meeting 30 and 40 year old women that were into me.
Around that time I met a girl more than double my age, one day she asked me to go for a ride. She takes me out of state, and I ended up staying with her for nine months without telling anybody. In my head it was my idea at the time, but I came to find out that I was being groomed. There were copious amounts of drugs. She was a stripper in atlanta, 35 years old, out in the middle of nowhere. First time I tried to call my mom she flipped out.
Then at 6 months, I realized what was going on. She’d come back from stripping in atlnata with money and handfuls of drugs. I got into whatever she had, shooting, snorting, anything. Alcohol was originally how I started it. Then it became that alcohol was the afterthought.
Through all this, I was a full blown drug addict. One of my mom’s friends found me, kicked the door into the trailer and got me out of there. To me, that was the end of that.
I got back home, I felt like I didn’t belong there. I felt like I should’ve already had my own place. I was still in school and had missed so much school that I ended up going to alternative school, which at the time was probably the best thing for me. I felt othered, and my life story is completely unique. At the alternative school i felt more relatable, I had perfect attendance my last three years of high school. After high school though, I didn’t have that again for a long time.
When I was 16, the lady called my house and told my mom she had a baby. She wanted to know what I was going to do about it.
That’s when I realized my mom’s song and dance. If it has to do with the family, we create this bubble so we look like the all american family. Keeping up appearances. This went up for a little while. My mom decided there would be no contact between me, my daughter and the lady. That ate at me for a long time. I had two more kids with another lady after that. If I was good at anything it was being a dad.
If I had this love that I felt gifted away from me. I always felt like I was treating people a certain type of way because of this other thing that happened. They didn’t know they had a sister until they were teenagers. The mom shared custody with them with her mom. Their original mom wasn’t in their life. She didn’t see them for 16 or 17 years. I always felt like I had to over do it being a dad.
This always made me feel guilty. I was parenting from an unhealthy place by trying to make up for things.
I don’t really know how to explain it over a big ball of guilt or shame. Their whole early childhood that’s how I felt about it.
Were you using druing that time?
I started with the first kid’s mom and didn’t stop until I was 40. I wasn’t using everything I had been, but I was still drinking and smoking weed, designer drugs, going to concerts all the time. I had to balance being a dad with that rock n roll lifestyle.
After high school, having kids, a lot of that guilt made me feel like people owed me something. I had been dealt a bad hand, I could never see my own part in it, only other people’s.
What was the feeling/what exactly made you feel like you were dealt a bad hand?
I think my mom having me lie about the kid. I felt like I was hiding/lying about something all the time. I was a rebellious little asshole, I got to a point where I was just fed up with everything. My kids got to be ten years old, my mom wanted them. My mom got a judge to sign off on it without me knowing about it. She got full custody of them, which was probably good for them in the moment.
After that, I went off the rails. I was at the bar every night, every party, every concert I could go to. Turned into dealing drugs to fund it, and going off of struggling artist pay. From there I had crews I’d take to festivals, we’d go to festivals, sell it, and go to the next one. We did that for years. Sold everything we could think of. Got mixed in with those people. We got fronted things, I always had some excuse, so and so didn’t pay me. We lost this on the way to this place. It turned into I owe a giant debt. No one would mess with me. I turned into a bum, and I’d go these festivals. People wanted me around because I was fun, but then people didn’t want me around because people got over it.
Every time I hit rock bottom, I’d find out it had a basement. Everytime it had a basement, I’d find out it had a root cellar. It got to a point where I was homeless in Chattanooga for about five or six years. I was camping out under bridges with a needle in my arm wondering why I woke up that day.
I had to have that absolute bottom to ask for help.Which I had been to treatment probably 8 times, before I’d become homeless. And after being homeless, ten more times. But I was always doing it for somebody else. Or I was doing it because I was court ordered. Or because I wanted to get somebody off my back.
That was a pattern for awhile. This last time, I don’t know what it was, but I just didn’t have another one in me. I had another relapse in me, but I didn’t have another recovery in me.
I called my dad, asked him for help and said something had to change. He flew from new york to chattanooga, picked me up and brought me to Burns, TN. Before I got there, don’t tell me where it is. I don’t want to know anybody around there. I’ll find a way to get something there or to find my way out of there.
The longest I ever stayed some where was 14 days. As soon as I’d leave detox, I’d get out of there. I thought the drugs were the only problem at the moment. If I can do that, I can take care of these other problems. It turns out the other things are the reason I used.
I have to practice recovery, I didn’t understand that. It took me realizing when I was here I was affecting other people’s sobriety. I didn’t like that feeling that somebody could probably die because I’m not giving them a chance at recovery.
I got here in april 2023, I was a horrible guest. There are rules here in place because of me. If you come straight off the street they search you before they give you a tour, I would hide things.
My stepmom found discovery place. She does a lot of research. I would’ve never on my own found this place. I got here in april, but my sobriety date’s in June, so that tells you how bad of a guest I was. I didn’t want to go to the second phase. They asked but I was so ready to go back to chattanooga and be homeless. That’s all I knew. I was out of options, that’s why I stayed in the second phase.
The last day of my original 30 days is when I decided to go to the next phase. I gave up things slowly, only a little bit at a time. My sponsor told me that I should write a book overnight.
I thought that if I get sober I’ll never have fun again. I live in sober living and we have fun and horse around every day. After awhile I started working third shift here. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I wanted stability, and I got it here.
I don’t understand how it happens, but I know that it works. I need people that like experiences. Every other treatment I’d been to it was a medical based clinical program. I had people around me that had been through this place too, and it was a place to connect with. It’s a network of sponsor. I have to do a few things every day before I put my armor on every day. I pray, meditate, and make myself available for service.
