“I’m lying on a mattress in the back of an abandoned building, homeless, with no hope, my future behind me, unemployable, and very sick. And someone came in and found me there — took me upstate. I detoxed there for four days. I made a phone call to a friend that was in recovery and told him what happened to me. And next thing I knew, I was getting some help.”
“Good people do bad things. They do horrible things — sometimes seemingly unforgivable things. The recovery movement gives that audience another perspective. It’s not just my brother; it’s lots of brothers. It’s not just my sister. It’s not just my mother. It’s mothers all over the world. It’s fathers. It’s children. It’s the notion that this is not just about me.”
“For the first time in my life, I decided to tell the truth about my drinking. Even though it was very, very humiliating and embarrassing ... it was also very freeing to be able to talk about who I really was.”
“It never crossed my mind to be afraid to talk about my recovery. It's not something to be ashamed of or afraid of. It's part of who I am. And if something I say can help somebody somewhere, then probably the more people [who] know, the better.”
“One of the big things in my intense outpatient therapy ... was keeping a journal. Believe it or not, that was very therapeutic. You start seeing all these little things start adding up — all of these little lifestyle changes. You have to find what works for you. … Keep your network going ... Keep interacting. The more you put out in there that’s positive, the more that’s going to come back to you.”
“After a year of homelessness on the streets of New York City, I sobered up in late January of 1992 on the 28th. … This coming January 28th, I'll celebrate 20 years of continuous sobriety.”