Everyone has a story to tell! The twists and turns along the winding roads of life lead us all in different directions; yet, here we are. My story is no better or worse than the next human being who feels compelled to share to the masses what makes them the person they are. For me, maybe it’s vanity; maybe a grandiose attempt at fame; or maybe just a creative outlet to release a hit of dopamine since I no longer use drugs or alcohol. Quite honestly, I haven’t figured that out yet. It may very well be all of these things, or better yet, none of the above. I think I’m still trying to put my finger on what led me to the path I am on today.
Since the entries to follow will compile a series that begins at the time of my initial residence in Charlotte, NC back in 2006, I feel as though an abridged backstory is in order disclosing, albeit briefly, who I was going into this lengthy venture. I was 23 years old and still living under my single father’s roof. I was briefly enrolled in a private Christian university but my GPA was a .29 because I spent my days stealing from students dorm rooms to support a growing pill and cocaine habit rather than going to class. I gained a reputation as a thief as well as a truant so my father and I decided it was best to leave with some remnants of self respect. He had no idea of the thievery. I was forced to get a job at a local Italian bistro and take classes at the local community college. Throughout this time I was performing well at the restaurant but still had no desire to attend classes. I feel it also important to note that while my pill and cocaine problems had somewhat dissipated, my reliance upon alcohol was growing. Little did I know that alcoholism would become a major theme of my life for the next thirteen years. Trust me, I’ll get to that.
Now, my father was a strict disciplinarian but he always supported every endeavor I aspired to accomplish. He always gave me the benefit of the doubt as well. I saw an ad on television one day for an art school in Charlotte that, amongst all the quintessential art studies, also offered Culinary Arts. Master manipulator that I thought I was, and already being in the restaurant industry at the bistro, I convinced him that this was the perfect opportunity to get me passionate about a possible lifelong career path. I managed to even believe that I could succeed in Culinary School but the reality was, I dated a girl from Charlotte while at the Christian university and had fallen in love with the “big city.” I just wanted to get out of my dad’s house and out of my “dead end” hometown.
I had been performing so well at the bistro that my boss not only took me to visit the campus, but also paid the $50 application fee. A few telephone conversations with the admissions office and a few student loans later, I was accepted! I must admit, in hindsight, I don’t think the requirements for acceptance were too strenuous for anyone applying. That being said, when I mailed my transcripts, I only included high school, acting as if I had never even attended the Christian college. I may have been there on paper, but physically and mentally, I was a ghost.
As we approached the move in date in October I thoroughly convinced not only my father, boss, and other loved ones that this was going to be catalyst to my great success, but even I came to believe it. Keep in mind that I had still been hiding the severity of my drug and alcohol dependency.
So that’s who and where I was; a delusional drug addict, alcoholic, who really thought a change of scenery and a new opportunity for something I believed I was passionate about, would change everything. Oh how much I had to learn; pain is the cover charge!