PERSONAL STORIES

H.R.'s Story

I can always remember being and living in fear. Not for my life or my safety for I grew up in a very secure and loving family. I was just afraid of everything that had to do outside of my home: people, school, assignments, activities, dinners and the list goes on and on. I also remember having no HOPE. I grew up in a very small town in northern Minnesota. It was a farming community and my dad was the town Doc. It appeared on the outside to be a A Leave it to Beaver type town. However, on the inside, it was filled with rampant alcoholism.

I remember the first drink that I ever took. I was nine years old and my grandparents were in town. We had a liquor cabinet downstairs that was easily accessed, even when locked. My brother and I poured three or four different liquors into a glass and drank the glass. I distinctly recall the feeling that came over me, once the gagging of the bad taste was gone. It was as if someone or something had taken away my fear, filling up the huge hole that was constantly in my stomach. I could feel it work its way into my stomach, numbing everything physically and emotionally. The AAHHHHHH effect. I HAD FOUND THE ANSWER.

We grew up very Catholic so I was instilled with a fair amount of guilt at a young age. I don't think that it was necessarily the Catholicism, just my spirit telling me when things were not right. I was very conscientious, to a point of absolute perfection. This perfectionism was not forced upon me by my family, it was just part of who I was. Only AA's were acceptable. Striking out in baseball was a tragedy. Losing in any sporting activity was devastating. Humanity and mistakes were unacceptable.

My second affair with alcohol came at age 12. I had been sober for three years (joke) and my brother had a small party at our house. My parents were away and there was plenty of beer in the house. I just sipped out of beer glasses and immediately felt the AAHHHHHHHHHH once again. How could I have forgotten THE ANSWER? How could I have left my beloved for so long? The night ended with a case of severe dry heaves and pleading to God that I would never do this again, if only he would heal me. Again I swore off liquor, but again I remembered the feeling.

Around this same time I discovered marijuana. It gave you a buzz without the hangover! Awesome. My use of both alcohol and marijuana slowly escalated in my teenage years. I went from a weekend warrior, we always had a party somewhere, to an occasional weeknight, to every weeknight, to everyday. By the time I was off to college, I was fully enrolled in the Graduate School of Addiction.

I was the valedictorian of my high school class but never really took college very seriously. I attended a private Catholic school, St. Johns University in Minnesota. I was constantly in a haze from the first night at school. I remember the night the party escalated to pouring Johnny Walker Black down people's throats at my discretion. It was all part of some drinking party game.

My days at college were spent either drinking or smoking marijuana or finding ways to procure the substance. I can remember the feeling when the a "score" happened. It meant all would be well in the world for as long as the "stuff" lasted. I remember feeling relieved, satisfied and hopeful that the "stuff" would get me through another day/week/month. At this point, I was using anything bad for me that made me feel good.

I rarely attended class and honed my business skills by hiring people to take my tests for me. These were general studies classes so it was not difficult to procure the services of some able minded person in my dorm. The irony is that I could have gotten A's for free, doing it myself. At this point I was always looking for the path of least resistance, the wider gate, the easier road. Obviously, easier is not better.

After my first year I pulled out of school and at the beginning of the next semester stayed in South Dakota for one month to hunt. I returned for the Spring Semester and that was my last stint in college for awhile. The partying had reached epic proportions and my friends and I could no longer keep up the pace. The HOPE was again fading.

I still had the lingering fear that would drive most decisions. Fear of social situations, fear of losing, fear of not succeeding, etc. ad nauseum. My perfectionism had reached its pinnacle, leading to the only release of pressure from work: drinking and doing drugs. It also led to its natural conclusion, procrastination. If I didn't do anything, I could not fail and did not have to be perfect. If this makes sense to you, you are probably an addict.

I then decided, after several career stints with Taco Bell and Country Kitchen to move to Dallas with my brother. He was being transferred and at age 21 I was in the Big D. I began a job at a very exclusive Dallas hotel as the graveyard bellman. Great job in that it allowed me to smoke marijuana, unimpeded, all night long. I worked my way up the hotel corporate ladder the next few years and became the Guest Service Manager. I was always easily offended by my superiors at work. Although I was a model employee, they rarely did anything to my satisfaction and I could not deal with the denial of a promotion. It eventually led to my leaving three very good jobs in about seven years. A classic narcissist.

My drinking and use of marijuana increased during this time. I always, always, had to have something to numb my pain, to enable me to get out of reality if only for an hour each night. Many of my days were spent buying or arranging to buy my medicine. In retrospect, I probably spent five to six hours per day in my habit, either using or in the procuring.

Around the age of 26 I met a young lady at a hotel where I was working. We became immediately physically intimate and this led to our "falling in love". During my courtship and eventual marriage, the use of marijuana was not permitted. Although I was caught several times, I was fairly honest for the first year. It would result in many promises being broken and a trail of concealment a mile long. I would try to get them out of the house so I could use. I would make innumerable excuses so I could leave alone and use. The list goes on and on.

Around our second year of marriage I began with a start up finance company. The company grew and went public and I moved my way through the ranks very quickly, eventually becoming their VP of National Marketing and Sales. I was the sixth employee and we ended up with 300+ employees after two years. We were riding high and I was hiring some pretty big hitters, both in sales and in drinking and using. We would hold many of our sales meetings in bars and my days consisted of around 12-14 hours.

I would start the day with a Vicodin in the morning and smoke a joint on my way to work. I was always the first one in at 6:00 a.m. so I had ample time to enjoy the "buzz". I would then take another Vicodin around 10:00 a.m., smoke another joint around noon and sometimes have a martini lunch. Most nights were spent in the bar for "sales meetings". I can remember wanting to live up to my word and get home on time. The minute that I would start to drink, I would lose control of time and myself. I would look up and it would be 10:00 p.m. It was frustrating to my wife and me however, I was making pretty big money at 30 and neither of us ever really addressed the problem.

After another grandiose business idea, I left this job and started up a business for my wife. I was going to oversee it and be "El Presidente" because no one else could do it the way that I could. My days were spent golfing and letting her find her way through the business. Obviously, this was a formula for disaster. My drinking and drug use increased at this point. I was constantly concealing my activity from my wife and child. Living a complete lie in many ways. It tugged at my spirit, however, my spirit was slowly being numbed into submission. It had been many years since I had gone to church, other than an obligatory Christmas mass with my family of origin. God was nowhere to be found in my life as there was already a god, Me. What a scary and lonely way to live one's life, self-propelled. I believe that C.S. Lewis describes that as being hell, all by oneself. I believe that to be true. The HOPE was again gone.

As you may imagine, by year four, I was ready to be on my own. My wife and I separated and eventually divorced. I lost about 30 pounds and moved to Sioux Falls to recharge my batteries. I had come to the conclusion that marijuana was my nemesis so I swore off "dope" forever. You can only guess what happened, my drinking increased dramatically. I again procured a good job and within six months was the Sales Manager. I saved up my money, was held back on a promotion to Vice President and some stock and summarily quit because of my "black and white integrity". That "l'll show them."

I spent the next six months in a bottle. Many days were spent alone at our hunting cabin. I'm not stupid, I always quit jobs around hunting season. My drinking increased to about one and one-half quarts of really bad vodka every day. My liver was expanding exponentially and I was rarely eating a good meal. I was trying to kill myself but couldn't get myself to pull the trigger. Drinking myself to death seemed a suitable alternative. I was tired of the pain and fear and anger. I was tired of all of the "imbeciles" of the world that did me wrong. I was mad at God for giving me this lot in life. I felt more HOPELESS at this point than any other time in my life.

Then something happened. I woke up one morning and couldn't do it any longer. I just remember getting on my knees and asking for help. In fact, it was the only word that I used in the prayer, "HELP". I didn't see any white lights or feel anything in particular. I just knew that it would be OK and that I wouldn't drink that day. Keep in mind, I had tried to quit hundreds of times, swearing each time that it was the last. Drinking and smoking up the remains only to wake up in a panic and looking to score by 9am.

This time was different. There were not foxhole prayers, it was not premeditated, it just happened. It was probably the purest prayer that I had ever uttered. I know that the Lord knew my heart and His Grace poured down over me that morning. I have never wanted to drink or drug since that morning. It was March 30, 1997. I remember my Mom called that morning and asked when I would be over for dinner. I inquired as to the event. She said "Well, it's Easter of course." I put the phone down and began to cry tears of gratitude and joy. I felt a surge of HOPE again in my life.

I began going to the meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous within the week. I embraced the 12 steps and did everything that my sponsor asked of me. I couldn't get enough of the spirit in those rooms. Here were people that were different in many ways, religious, social, economic, race etc., yet, there was a common bond between each other. We were all trying to survive and to live productive and joyous lives. AA taught me how to be spiritual again in my life. It showed me how to connect with Heavenly Father, to surrender to his will on a daily basis and to serve others along the way. Once the spirituality came, I longed for more knowledge, which took me back to the religion of my youth, Catholicism. As usual, I went in with guns blazing. I was the Director of the Catholic Family Sharing Appeal, which raised money for the Diocese of South Dakota. It was very rewarding and my life seemed to be on track.

I remember an AA conference where a Catholic priest was a featured speaker. He came up to me after the conference and we decided to have breakfast together. He was a wise man and several times he leaned across the table and said, "You have the aura, Brown, you are responsible for that." It hit me to the very depths of my soul. I thought that I knew what he meant, I was supposed to be a priest. I spoke about this with my Catholic bishop and of course, he concurred. I then called my brother in Salt Lake City and told him of my revelation. He said he knew that I was to be a priest. I would later find out what that meant.

My brothers asked me to come to Salt Lake City for the summer, possible to move there. I was tentatively planning on going to the Catholic seminary in the fall. As I began to meet their friends in a singles LDS ward, I was attracted by their peaceful demeanor, similar to seeing a positive attribute in a person that you wish that you had. During this same time, I was studying the Catechism of the Catholic Church. There were some inconsistencies that didn't fit with my mind and spirit.

I began to take the LDS missionary discussions and also began to read the Book of Mormon. I focused on Moroni 10:3-5 before and after each reading. It was clear, concise and full of light and truth. The discussions were answering many of the questions that plagued my mind. They turned into quite the event with 10-12 people at a time.

The main problem was that I was still smoking two to three packs of Camels on a daily basis. I knew that I had to quit to be baptized and really felt I needed to quit more to find out if this were true or not. I went up to Lake Mary in Brighton for two days to fast and to finish the Book of Mormon once and for all. I packed some water, tent, sleeping bag and off I went.

There was one problem, when I arrived at the trailhead, I only had two cigarettes left in my pack. Here was the true test. I implored the Lord that I really, really needed his His Grace on this one. If he wanted me to join His Church, he was going to have to work some miracles with the smokes. As the saying goes, be careful of what you pray for, you just may get it and I did.

Several weeks later, after I finished the Book of Mormon, I was baptized. I can't say that I had a testimony of Joseph Smith at that time, I just knew that he did not write that book. I knew that it came from the hand of God. It was the purest text that I had ever read. The words seemed to apply to me and were understandable almost immediately.

Since then, my life has never been the same. I have a different understanding of sobriety through the gospel of Jesus Christ via The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It clarifies the 12 Steps for me and my "hiher power" is now Jesus Christ. It assists me in my everyday efforts and is the roadmap by which I try to live my life. I can testify to all that the Book of Mormon contains the words and mind of our Heavenly Father. I would also like to testify that I KNOW it contains the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, with all of the proper ordinances contained within, and that our Savior sacrificed all that he had for each of us, individually. Most of all, I would like to testify that it gives me HOPE for this life and the life to come.

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