RECOVERY STORY OF THE MONTH

My name is Kyle, and I am an alcoholic. My sobriety date is January 17, 2023, the same day I walked back through the doors of the Keating Center.

I was blessed with a wonderful childhood and a loving family that taught me right from wrong. However, when I was 13 years old, my parents divorced, and an alcoholic stepfather became part of my life. Although my family loved me, I struggled with the changes and the loneliness that followed. Instead of learning how to deal with those emotions, I looked for an escape..

I found that escape in drugs and alcohol

Baseball was my passion growing up. It gave me purpose, discipline, and something to believe in. But I walked away from it because spending time with the wrong crowd became my way of coping with what I was feeling at home. I dropped out of school in the 10th grade and surrounded myself with older people because they filled a void and made me feel like I belonged.

As a teenager, I attended a treatment center, but I wasn’t ready. Recovery doesn’t work when you’re trying to satisfy everyone else—it works when you’re finally willing to surrender. I violated probation, and over the next 15 years my addiction took me further than I ever imagined. As a direct result of my substance use, I accumulated five prison numbers. Every consequence I faced was another reminder that addiction was slowly taking everything from me.

Looking back, I can see that God continually nudged me toward the Keating Center. I kept hearing about it and eventually entered the program in 2010, where I stayed for 16 months. Unfortunately, I never truly surrendered. I didn’t get a sponsor. I didn’t take suggestions. I believed I knew enough to recover on my own. The result was predictable—I went back out and spent another decade in active addiction.

By the time I returned to the Keating Center on January 17, 2023, I was completely defeated. After blacking out behind the wheel and catching another case, I finally stopped focusing only on what I had done to myself and started thinking about what I could have done to someone else. The realization that I could have taken an innocent person’s life forced me to confront the reality of my disease.

For the first time in my life, I became willing.

I became willing to listen.

I became willing to follow directions.

I got a sponsor. I took suggestions. I stopped trying to manage my recovery my way and trusted people who had what I wanted.

One statement from Marty has stayed with me ever since. He would tell me, “Kid, you’re running on emotions.” I couldn’t stand hearing it because I didn’t understand it. Today, after working the program and gaining sobriety, I realize exactly what he meant. Running on emotions is really running on disturbed thoughts. My feelings dictated my decisions, and my decisions dictated my destruction. Marty saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself, and he was exactly right.

The Keating Center didn’t simply help me stop drinking and using—it taught me how to live differently. Through the example of Marty, the fellowship of the men around me, and the willingness to accept guidance, I found a new way of life. Many of the friendships I built there remain some of the strongest relationships I have today.

Today, I have the privilege of sponsoring other men and working as a clinician at another treatment center. The same experiences that once filled me with shame now allow me to help others find hope. My past has become my purpose.

I am forever grateful to the Keating Center, to Marty for never giving up on me, and to every person who showed me that recovery is possible if I am willing to do the work.

Recovery gave me more than sobriety—it gave me a new life. For that, I will always be grateful.