“I am Ron James Anderson, I’m an alcoholic. I’m a broken mess, shattered into a million pieces, in ways I didn’t even know possible.” This was me, approximately 2 years ago upon entering my last round of inpatient treatment. This is the beginning of an end to a very long journey.

There are parts of this story that resonate deeply, others many have been fortunate enough not to endure. Despite the road an individual has walked, there is at least one part of Ron’s story that will strike a chord. From childhood to current day, all of our paths have intertwined in story at some point. Whether a certain feeling, memory or experience, each of us can relate to another’s journey. This story comes with so many dynamics, and condensing it was not easy, because there’s so many important and valuable points.

At the end of the day, it’s another reminder, that we are not what we were, but the potential of what we can be, despite our past. When we’re able to identify old patterns, release them, forgive ourselves and others, we can be free from the ties that bound us to a belief that made us think we could never be more.

Thank you, Ron. Thank you for being willing to share your amazing story. It isn’t easy, to go back and relive parts of yourself. But, man, what a wonderful reminder of how far you’ve come! A reminder of what got you here, to this exact moment in your life. A reminder of how sometimes, the lessons take more then once to learn, but they always serve their purpose. That no one walks this world without a purpose, even if it is in the midst of addiction/alcoholism. Thank you for reminding us that sometimes, it is just taking it a day at a time, minute by minute, hour by hour. That we’re all a work in progress, just trying to be better then we were the day before. You are another testament that this thing called life, truly is a journey.

Paint a picture of your childhood and background.

I wasn’t raised in your average home. I lived with my mom, my dad showing up intermittently to wish me a happy birthday, on days that weren’t my birthday, or to crash in my mom’s car after a binger. Born and raised in the Twin Cities area, my mom was a functioning alcoholic and avid pot smoker/user, who worked 3 jobs to try and keep us afloat financially. My house was a free-for-all. There was no stability, discipline or guidance. As men came and went, I learned quickly not to grow too close to my mom’s current boyfriend, because although I craved male attention and interaction, they most likely wouldn’t be around long. I learned a woman’s psyche and it became an easy manipulation tactic as time went on. At the age of 10, after my mom fell down a flight of stairs, breaking both of her ankles, I was pulled from school to care for her. This included feeding, bathing and changing her, making sure her meds were taken when needed and her basic needs were met. Not the average responsibilities for a 10-year-old. Growing up quick was apart of it. During my mid-teens we lived in between 2 stable households, this gave me a glimpse of what a functioning home consisted of. These houses provided a sense of normalcy, safety and security I craved and gravitated towards.

Can you give us a timeline of what your addiction looked like?

My first interaction with a substance is at the age of 15, in my buddy’s backyard. We had a couple of 40’s and tokes of weed. This quickly spirals into recreational use of cocaine and meth, but primarily pot. I’m selling small amounts of weed to be able to smoke for free, skipping school more often then not, and although I attend 12 years of school, I don’t have the necessary credits to graduate. It doesn’t take long to learn that cocaine is a rich man’s drug, as the highs fade quickly for the price. From age 19-23, I’m a functioning meth addict, who sells on the side, while holding my 9-5 job in construction. Although my relationship is mentally and emotionally abusive, I stay, as the idea of stability feels good. For the first time in my life I don’t have to wear hand-me-downs, I’m able to support myself and have financial freedom. As with anything, we start to get greedy, and test our boundaries making rubber checks. And as with everything, it only last so long. I’m 24 with 3 felony charges of check forgery.

25 kicks off with a bang when I become a witness to a murder. I heard things I shouldn’t have, and although many would say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it serves as an awakening for me. I quickly switch gears. I leave my toxic relationship, get a new number, beg to come back home and attend my first 28 day outpatient treatment, and consistently attend CMA (crystal meth anonymous) meetings. I switch to the bottle (still a better choice then the previous) and meet my soon-to-be-wife, and within a year, I’m a dad to a handsome and healthy baby boy, Evan! My deceitful ways are straining our on again, off again relationship. I love being a dad, and at the forefront of my mind, I know I don’t want to be anything like my own. I continue drinking a 6-pack every night, enough to keep me even keeled, still an improvement from previous life choices, but still a substance to numb.

Fast forward to age 31-32, this is big for me. I give inpatient a try and head to the Rochester area for a change in scenery, but my promiscuous behavior gets me kicked out of a halfway house. Which lands me homeless and sleeping in the Dorothy Day house for awhile. I’m diagnosed and medicated as a bipolar. I live in sober housing for 3 years while getting my GED, Associates degree in Criminal Justice and get shot down on pursuing my Bachelors in Social Work when my past comes back to haunt to me. Although sober, very little about my behavior changes, I’m still lying, being deceitful, not taking responsibility for my actions, or how it impacts others. I’m always trying to push boundaries to see how much I can get away with. I’m an attention seeker, whether negative or positive, always seeking the validation. I go back to the bottle for another 5 years, recreationally drinking and using. In this time frame I have my beautiful and healthy daughter, Stella, and begin a relationship with a woman with whom I will spend the next 4 years in an on again, off again relationship. I’m a present parent throughout my highs and lows in the form of physically showing up to exercise my parental rights. However, I’m not actively, mentally or emotionally engaged with them. Although they’ve never seen me drunk or high, I’m not the dad I’m capable of being because I’m consumed by my alcoholism. This is roughly how my life went. Each time improving, but never gone. Even while sober, I shift focus from one addiction to the next. From drugs and booze to sex and work. I was still numbing and would continue to do so. Sometimes it takes drastic measures to produce drastic results. All signs are leading me in a new direction, I just can’t see it….yet.

What was your addiction of choice and what did you feel while using them?

In my 20’s I prefer cocaine and meth because it makes me feel accomplished. It’s an easy way of staying motivated, I’m always driven to do keep going and do more, to achieve more. Of course, I wasn’t actually achieving more, in fact I’m most likely counterproductive, but it makes me believe otherwise.

As I transition out of the hard substances and into alcohol, it’s an easy escape mechanism. Aside from it being socially acceptable, I’m able to stuff, numb and mask what I’m actually feeling inside. It feels good to take a swig and wash away the pain with every sip.

Can you recall some personal lows? What did this look and feel like?

Being diagnosed a bi-polar in my early 30’s, although not surprised by this diagnosis, I’m more aware of these extreme bouts of depression, followed by manic states. During depressive episodes I’m overwhelmed by guilt and shame, primarily concerning my infidelity to my partner, and during mania, it’s just non-stop go, go, go! I’m a thrill seeker that craves constant excitement to spike that dopamine! Of course the substances only intensify these extreme states. When I’m off my meds and drink, my behavior intensifies, and if on my meds and drinking, I black out. Neither of which are pretty. I have 3 suicide attempts, 2 in which I had the intention of following through, 1 in which I reached out.

The rock bottom of rock bottoms is on Jan 31st, 2016, when my sister, Hannah, commits suicide at the age of 21. Hannah was not just a little sister to me, she was one of my best friends. The bond we shared was special. We connected in so many ways, and she lived with us for a brief time, forming an amazing bond with my son. I wanted so badly to take her out of a toxic home environment. She was beautiful inside and out and I always wanted more for her. She’s a brand new mom, who had just started a new position and was in an unhealthy relationship, which was causing her great stress, on top of some unnoticed post-partum and already existing bouts with depression, the weight of the world is too heavy for her to carry and she chooses to end her life on top of a 78’ bridge.

This day forever changes me. The overwhelming amount of pain that this inflicts on those left behind, is something I hope no one knows. The grief begins the moment I see her body at the viewing and it doesn’t stop until almost 2 years later. This is a side of me I didn’t know existed. No one had ever seen it, including myself. My numbing intensifies to an all time high, going on 4 day benders, plenty of days never wanting to be found, while others are spent toying with the thought of death myself. Rage and anger reared its ugly head that night, and never stopped. There was a dark side of me that was born that day, my alter ego, who I like to call, “Jon Rames”. I’ve never been known to be a hot-headed individual, looking to engage in altercations, in fact, just the opposite, I’ve always been a lover. Until Hannah’s death. From then on, nothing matters anymore. The speed on my bike, the amount of booze or drugs, the fights, the damage, the respect towards another human being or property, all out the window. I spiral so fast. Even though I know I’m spiraling, I don’t care. The pain is so deep, and numbing is all I can do at this point. This is the lowest of lows for me.

2016 began with death, and ended with death. December 12, my father passes unexpectedly. Although he lived life in sobriety for approximately 12 years, he relapsed when I was 27. This was a rapid downward spiral for him, which included homelessness, running from the law, as well as doing prison time once running wasn’t an option. He quickly slipped back into old habits once he fell off the wagon. Although his death is not a huge surprise due to his lifestyle, I’m too numb from Hannah’s death at this point to feel any type of emotion about it. It’s still adding fuel to the fire of chemical abuse. I’m not able to process his death until I enter treatment in April of 2017. Only then, am I able to release the years worth of resentment I had been harboring towards him.

Were you masking or hiding from something that sat below the addiction and addictive tendencies?

Absolutely. During my teens it’s attempting to deal with, or perhaps process, my childhood and various things that went on that I didn’t understand. There were many things about it that played a large part in avoidance and numbing, such as trust issues with my mom, abandonment issues with my dad, attachment issues with males in general and lack of structure and boundaries, or understanding consequences to my decisions.

As time goes on, there becomes this thirst for validation, constantly wanting to be needed or wanted, especially by women. I like the idea of having power over people and being respected, even if it was in this community. I love the thrill of the chase and constantly being challenged in any area of my life. Which can be an amazing asset, when used in the right capacity. I don’t shy away from anything, I’m hungry to learn more and continually test my personal capacity and better myself. It’s just a matter of driving these traits in the right direction, and being aware of myself if these old tendencies start to surface.

What are some major turning points in your life?

As I’m being cross examined during the murder trial, things start to go black and the sound of the courtroom turns to static. It only lasts for a few moments, but it’s as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. I look around and realize that this could have been my life. I could have wound up dead, or on trial, facing prison. This moment is complete validation that leaving this life behind, was in fact the right choice. Although my story surrounding addiction is far from over, I know with 100% certainty that I will never go back to the world of selling drugs.

Hannah’s death is without a doubt a turning point, even though I can’t see the plus side of it, while I’m living it. It’s a downward spiral and fast pass to rock bottom, but it isn’t a dead end, despite that thought process many times. This drives my addiction to depths I was unaware of, but in the same token, forces me into recovery to truly face my pain around the grief of her death, as well as the layers that sat deep beneath it.

In April 2017, I meet Pastor Pete, while in California at Luminance Treatment Facility. He plays a pivotal role in my recovery, as well as processing my grief. Him and I clicked the minute we met. He was in a high profile outlaw biker club, and ended up in prison for roughly 10 years. He found God during that time and became an ordained minister, and started his own church that focuses on recovery, which works with Luminance. He saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself. He did many things to help aid my recovery, one was allowing me to release Hannah’s ashes at a beautiful location and put my grief to rest. He held space for me like few have ever done. And for that, I am forever grateful.

(T/L) Myself & Pastor Pete (B/R) Releasing Hannah’s ashes in California

October 22, 2017 was the turning point. I started dabbling again, relapsing intermittently, but feeling as though I had it under control. It was one of the last beautiful weekends of fall, when my roommate and I decide we’d take the bike for one last ride. I passed a vehicle illegally and high sided a curb, causing my back tire to catch gravel. I was ejected from the bike, and non-responsive. After 3 days unconscious in a hospital bed, I wake up remembering little, but feeling a tremendous amount of guilt, knowing I was responsible for someone else’s life and how very differently this outcome could have been. After 6 weeks of bed rest, you have a lot of time to reflect. I remember thinking “that is never happening again”. This time, I know I’m done. With all of it. Time to face my own shit. Time to get sober, and stay there. A journal entry from my 1 year sobriety, sums this up. “”Not a single person can take that moment from me, it was truly a life changing event in every way. I’m blessed and grateful to be alive, and to feel life….good and bad, in a healthy way, without drowning myself into the bottle”.

What have been, or remain to be, the biggest challenges of sobriety for you?

I’m struggling to learn what balance looks like, while maintaining an identity of self. Choosing this path, means changing everything I’ve ever known. I’ve had to downsize my friend group from the size of Texas, to that of a cheerio. With that, comes finding new hobbies and ways to fill my time. I’m a naturally born go-getter, so getting bored quickly is easy. It’s a struggle to stay in the here and now, without reliving the past, or jumping to the future, especially when this road looks so different then anything I’ve walked before, there’s so many unknowns.

I used to live my life with a motto of “life isn’t worth living unless you’re living it on the edge”. Since sobriety, I’m placing more value in being a better father, in all its forms. Keeping at the forefront of my mind, that no matter how hard life gets, I will value life anyways, and I don’t need to seek out risk in order to enjoy it.

For the first time I can look at my bank account and see tangible results from saving, this allows me financial freedom in a new way, which continually empowers me to keep going. Sobriety requires deep, internal evaluation of self. Questioning why I do the things I do, and choosing to change old habits for the better. I want to be a living, walking testimonial to others, that life can be different, if we so choose. That addiction/alcoholism is not the end result, it is merely a chapter. One that can teach us our own worth, self-discipline and strength.

A journal entry while in Luminance Treatment Center “Getting sober is showing everyone you’re better then what you were and you’ve earned the right to hold your head high with pride in the person you’ve worked so hard to become today. I’m changing my life for the better every day, and no one can take that away from me, except me”.

“I am Ron James Anderson, I am a combination of my mistakes but more importantly, all of my lessons. I am committed to recovery and focusing on changing what’s inside of me, instead of changing the world around me. I know the highs and lows of addiction and loss, but today is a thousand times better then it ever has been. The more I lean on my sobriety and embrace who I am, the easier every day becomes as I walk this road of recovery”.

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For more stories surrounding addiction, check out Josh and Jodi‘s stories!