This is far from being my complete Christian testimony. It is instead focused on some of the causes, effects, recovery and victory over my addictions and/or mental illnesses such as clinical depression and life after rededicating my life to Jesus. It is intended for people who are dealing with or trying to understand the problems listed above. And assure folks ongoing recovery and a happy responsible life is attainable through diligent work and Jesus in the lead.
It follows the standard 12 step 'My story' format of what it was like, what happened and what it's like now. I hope that it serves and helps others have hope, encouragement and faith. I pray that is a blessing to all who read it. I'm Calibob and here's the real deal. Be blessed.
This is part of my story. It's not for kids. Rather, adults recovering or trying to recover from a co-mingling of an addictive disorder and an emotional disorder and or a mental illness, (which describes me). I hope some of it helps you. It is well documented that the power of testimony works both ways. It gives the witness hope and hope leads to faith and faith goes along with miracles. It helps the testifiers conscience trust and self-worth by practicing sometimes shameless honesty. Which is one of the keys to successful recovery. Here goes;
Hi, you may call me Calibob, I was born in 1954 to a runaway teenage alcoholic/addict. She was unprepared for motherhood and I was born in withdrawals. She ran away, without me. I remained in the charity nursery for 7 months and was taken into foster care by the only parents I ever knew or loved, and they got me through withdrawals, dialysis and very severe anemia. My body got healthy and I grew up strong of muscle and limb.
The first true addiction that I can recall was adrenaline. Loved riding my bike down a particular hill so fast, I had to turn my head sideways and use one eye to see or the wind in both eyes was blinding. There was a stop sign at the bottom of the hill but that didn't stop me. My Schwinn 5 speed hand brakes took about a 1/2 of a block to bring me to a stop. This type of behavior lasted about 40 years.
My Dad used to say, Mom “ has spells.” Talking about my mom. The truth turned out to be bi-polar episodes. Sometimes I lied and made excuses for her. She also believed and that; "All boys just need the meanness beaten out of them sometimes." Occasionally, I lied about the marks on my back to teachers and counselors. After her Mother died, she started hearing voices. I used to stay in my room alone, with no siblings. I guess I needed an escape. I noticed at parties the men always seemed much happier after a few high balls. I came to believe drinking was fun and eagerly awaited the day I could "drink like a man." It was a Bad Idea.
Dad was a good provider and worked as much as he, was allowed to. I made my Mom show me that he was at home and ok a couple of times. I was flattered he took 1/2 day off to watch me graduate High School. He was proud. I wanted some whiskey. I was about 18 when I got my first 1/2 pint. Oh, I had beer and cheap apple wine, but whiskey is what real men drank.
I knew on Military Bases the men were allowed, to drink and from being around Ft. Mac Arthur and Long Beach Naval men in uniform didn't get carded. I suppose that was extra incentive to join the Air Force at 18 during the Viet Nam war. Of course, there were drugs everywhere too.
I promise. NO war stories. I continued drinking, every payday, every sporting event. Every holiday, wedding and funeral (except an uncle who died of liver disease) while I had been sober a short time. (I picked up a bottle on the way home instead of drinking at the wake.) I found it too ironic to drink at a wake of a guy whose death was caused by drinking too much. I eventually I drank every day. But wait. Thats only part 1 of 3. The rules are, tell what it was like, what happened and what it's like now. end of part 1
I hit my bottom in 2007 and by winter I was sleeping on bus stops and in lifeguard towers in freezing weather. I considered jumping off a bridge or throwing myself in front of L.A. Metro rail some cold dark foggy night. I was cold, hungry, lonely, angry at myself and depressed but not so much over my situation. Depression is part of what gotten me there. I only felt worse for being there. I didn't see myself as being depressed. I thought I was being realistic, and all the happy people were stoned or crazy. Another homeless person came to me after a lot of humble prayer and told me where I could take a shower, wash my , and get an address for social services, free. He drew me a map on the inside of a torn fast food bag and told me of a trail from a freeway overpass to an outreach center in an industrial where house area. The map he drew was of the area and gave me verbal and hand gestures to get there. I only followed directions.
When I got there the place had more than he described like a place and address to receive mail. Directions to food banks. 12 step meetings. Counselors on staff. referrals or medical Inc., mental health even free HIV and Hep C testing. I had an old GI duffel bag filled with dirty clothes. I needed to wash clothes before taking a shower. I was sitting, waiting for a machine when a counselor saw my bag and asked if I was a Vet? Of course, I said. Welcome home, thank you for your service... Would you like to see a counselor today?
Ka-boom it hit me. I had been praying. Another "bum," (so I thought) came up to me on the street and gave me easy to follow directions. All I did was realized I was to beaten not to follow Good, , Orderly, Directions. I saw a counselor, washed my clothes and took a shower. She asked a few questions. I told a few lies. I didn't know she was a recovering addict, yet. She kindly overlooked my denial. Made an appointment at the V.A. and told me if I got there clean and sober, they could reserve me a bed at the mission. She warned me the two intake counselors have been doing it about 20 years each. "They'll see right you bull (poop?) in a heartbeat. If you tell them the truth and they’ll love you." She didn't tell me one was nicknamed "the Dragon lady." (LOL.) They were both very experienced counselors. But heard enough lies and word salad from schizophrenics. They were very quick to pick out disorganized thinking. They were both mental health nurses who switched to substance abuse. I learned a lot from them, but that comes later.
Dragon Lady reserved me a bed at the mission with dinner and alter call. Coffee and donuts in the morning. Back to the V.A: Groups, meetings. counseling, sober friends, Cheap food, uh Doctors? After 7 days of that they got me placing at a full-on, V.A. treatment center for 30 days, it took me 61. I had blackouts on and off about 30 days. My Doctor put me on mild anti- depressants NOT BENZOS and gave me Folic Acid and B3 because of vitamin deficiency’s caused by addictions. Huh?
It follows the standard 12 step 'My story' format of what it was like, what happened and what it's like now. I hope that it serves and helps others have hope, encouragement and faith. I pray that is a blessing to all who read it. I'm Calibob and here's the real deal. Be blessed.
My name for sake of Anonymity, my name is Calibob.
This is part of my story. It's not for kids. Rather, adults recovering or trying to recover from a co-mingling of an addictive disorder and an emotional disorder and or a mental illness, (which describes me). I hope some of it helps you. It is well documented that the power of testimony works both ways. It gives the witness hope and hope leads to faith and faith goes along with miracles. It helps the testifiers conscience trust and self-worth by practicing sometimes shameless honesty. Which is one of the keys to successful recovery. Here goes;
What it was like.
Hi, you may call me Calibob, I was born in 1954 to a runaway teenage alcoholic/addict. She was unprepared for motherhood and I was born in withdrawals. She ran away, without me. I remained in the charity nursery for 7 months and was taken into foster care by the only parents I ever knew or loved, and they got me through withdrawals, dialysis and very severe anemia. My body got healthy and I grew up strong of muscle and limb.
The first true addiction that I can recall was adrenaline. Loved riding my bike down a particular hill so fast, I had to turn my head sideways and use one eye to see or the wind in both eyes was blinding. There was a stop sign at the bottom of the hill but that didn't stop me. My Schwinn 5 speed hand brakes took about a 1/2 of a block to bring me to a stop. This type of behavior lasted about 40 years.
My Dad used to say, Mom “ has spells.” Talking about my mom. The truth turned out to be bi-polar episodes. Sometimes I lied and made excuses for her. She also believed and that; "All boys just need the meanness beaten out of them sometimes." Occasionally, I lied about the marks on my back to teachers and counselors. After her Mother died, she started hearing voices. I used to stay in my room alone, with no siblings. I guess I needed an escape. I noticed at parties the men always seemed much happier after a few high balls. I came to believe drinking was fun and eagerly awaited the day I could "drink like a man." It was a Bad Idea.
Dad was a good provider and worked as much as he, was allowed to. I made my Mom show me that he was at home and ok a couple of times. I was flattered he took 1/2 day off to watch me graduate High School. He was proud. I wanted some whiskey. I was about 18 when I got my first 1/2 pint. Oh, I had beer and cheap apple wine, but whiskey is what real men drank.
I knew on Military Bases the men were allowed, to drink and from being around Ft. Mac Arthur and Long Beach Naval men in uniform didn't get carded. I suppose that was extra incentive to join the Air Force at 18 during the Viet Nam war. Of course, there were drugs everywhere too.
I promise. NO war stories. I continued drinking, every payday, every sporting event. Every holiday, wedding and funeral (except an uncle who died of liver disease) while I had been sober a short time. (I picked up a bottle on the way home instead of drinking at the wake.) I found it too ironic to drink at a wake of a guy whose death was caused by drinking too much. I eventually I drank every day. But wait. Thats only part 1 of 3. The rules are, tell what it was like, what happened and what it's like now. end of part 1
What happened By Calibob.
I'm still Calibob and I'm still in recovery for being a person with Co- Occurring disorders. I must thank Jesus first; the twelve-step program second; and the many Doctors, Nurses, Pastors Christians, recovery workers, 12 steppers, instructors and Professors I met along the way. I am truly grateful. (I'd rather spell it great full but that's improper English.)I hit my bottom in 2007 and by winter I was sleeping on bus stops and in lifeguard towers in freezing weather. I considered jumping off a bridge or throwing myself in front of L.A. Metro rail some cold dark foggy night. I was cold, hungry, lonely, angry at myself and depressed but not so much over my situation. Depression is part of what gotten me there. I only felt worse for being there. I didn't see myself as being depressed. I thought I was being realistic, and all the happy people were stoned or crazy. Another homeless person came to me after a lot of humble prayer and told me where I could take a shower, wash my , and get an address for social services, free. He drew me a map on the inside of a torn fast food bag and told me of a trail from a freeway overpass to an outreach center in an industrial where house area. The map he drew was of the area and gave me verbal and hand gestures to get there. I only followed directions.
When I got there the place had more than he described like a place and address to receive mail. Directions to food banks. 12 step meetings. Counselors on staff. referrals or medical Inc., mental health even free HIV and Hep C testing. I had an old GI duffel bag filled with dirty clothes. I needed to wash clothes before taking a shower. I was sitting, waiting for a machine when a counselor saw my bag and asked if I was a Vet? Of course, I said. Welcome home, thank you for your service... Would you like to see a counselor today?
Ka-boom it hit me. I had been praying. Another "bum," (so I thought) came up to me on the street and gave me easy to follow directions. All I did was realized I was to beaten not to follow Good, , Orderly, Directions. I saw a counselor, washed my clothes and took a shower. She asked a few questions. I told a few lies. I didn't know she was a recovering addict, yet. She kindly overlooked my denial. Made an appointment at the V.A. and told me if I got there clean and sober, they could reserve me a bed at the mission. She warned me the two intake counselors have been doing it about 20 years each. "They'll see right you bull (poop?) in a heartbeat. If you tell them the truth and they’ll love you." She didn't tell me one was nicknamed "the Dragon lady." (LOL.) They were both very experienced counselors. But heard enough lies and word salad from schizophrenics. They were very quick to pick out disorganized thinking. They were both mental health nurses who switched to substance abuse. I learned a lot from them, but that comes later.
Dragon Lady reserved me a bed at the mission with dinner and alter call. Coffee and donuts in the morning. Back to the V.A: Groups, meetings. counseling, sober friends, Cheap food, uh Doctors? After 7 days of that they got me placing at a full-on, V.A. treatment center for 30 days, it took me 61. I had blackouts on and off about 30 days. My Doctor put me on mild anti- depressants NOT BENZOS and gave me Folic Acid and B3 because of vitamin deficiency’s caused by addictions. Huh?
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