1982. I’m 14 years old, sitting in a lawn chair alone beside a Texas lake when I’m overcome with a feeling of oneness with a higher power. For all the times and places when my search for God has left me feeling utterly alone, that one moment changes me.
1995. I’m 27 years old, I have an alcohol problem, and my coworker responds to my invitation to go out for drinks with “I don’t drink. It just causes people problems.” Dumbstruck by the simple truth of the moment, I never drink again.
2010. I’m at a crossroads due to job loss and divorce. After a week in which an array of people, books, and TV programs mention owning an addiction treatment facility, I call a real estate agent about buying one. That moment doesn’t result in the purchase of a facility. It does result in marrying Renee.
2019. After almost a decade of working for the county probation department, I receive a call from my boss on a Friday instructing me to take over full-time management of the jail-based addiction treatment program. Without hesitation, I give my two-weeks’ notice. That moment commits me to working exclusively in private practice.
March, 2023. I fall completely apart. Having survived trauma and tragedy from before I could speak, I find myself unable to cope with the estrangement from my daughter. In that moment during the worst pain of my life, Renee tells me, “I’ve got you.” And she still does.
Part of what I hope for in our PLACE meetings is a moment, something that proves to be pivotal and useful to even one member. Yes, we share specific, measurable tools for coping. We speak of philosophy, of hope, of identity. But make no mistake: When we get together, a big part of why I do this is hoping that even one passing observation or comment can be just what someone else needs: one moment that can change everything.
