Over the course of years, I created a life for myself in which my addiction was allowed to flourish. I cut out everything and everyone from my life that posed a threat to what I was building.I destroyed relationships, broke promises, lied, cheated, stole, and hid in the shadows.

Any threat of invasion only forced me to reinforce the walls.

Eventually, my creation became perfect. At least perfect in the sense that I was left alone to do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. I had achieved the perfect environment to enjoy my hard-fought-for freedom. But what I foolishly thought was freedom was not freedom at all. My sanctum of solace was indeed a prison.

Welcome to episode ten of Two Drunks With a Mic, the podcast where we share our past so that others might have a future. Your subscription and sharing of our show is greatly appreciated and has already had a great impact in getting it in front of people that are being helped. We are grateful and humbled by the testimonials that we receive. I also want to give a shout out to David O. and Eric V. over at podcast recovery dot com. I Had a great time sitting down with them last week on their podcast and sharing my experience, strength, and hope with their audience.

One of the most difficult things I faced in early recovery was trying to come to terms with the lack of trust from those closest to me. Afterall, there I was miles below rock bottom, finally admitting I needed help, and wanting nothing more than to get back some sort of meaningful life.

I was finally surfacing from years of incarceration in my self-made prison; the darkness slowly giving way to the light; I was fighting the hardest I knew how to fight to regain those of whom I feared had been lost forever. For years, I only wanted to be left alone. But now, I was finally at a point, at which I truly wanted, more than anything, to be back among those I had spent years pushing away.

So why wasn’t it happening? What was their hesitation? Why wasn’t I able to make them see and believe that this was truly what I wanted?  Why wouldn’t anyone trust me? But most confusing of all: why was it that the distance between us seemed, at least from my perspective, as far as ever? Though I struggled long and hard to gain understanding, all I ever got from trying to answer these questions myself was anger, frustration, and doubt.

I secretly wallowed in this self-pity until one day I was asked why I thought I deserved to be trusted. Did I feel entitled because I had poured out my guts swearing that I was gonna give it all up for good? Was it because I had agreed to enter a program? In short, I was asked if I felt entitled to their full and undivided trust because of mere words. This deflated me.

I simply couldn’t answer it, at least to a point that justified any thoughts I had of being the victim. And I most definitely couldn’t argue against its logic. I mean let’s be honest here; I had spent years and years lying and manipulating my way through my life. People were simply responding the way that I had conditioned them to. How could I realistically expect any different in those early days?

I couldn’t. And holding on to the idea that I was somehow deserving of their trust was only hurting me. My expectations amounted to no more than resentments waiting to happen. Reflecting on this question brought to me a perspective that forced my misplaced expectation & resentment to slowly give way to healing. Eventually I was able to relax, put my trust in God, and let the process to which I had agreed to adhere to in the program do its thing.

My days of instant self gratification were over.