PRIDE IS NOT A GOOD EXCUSE

Just For Today

One thing that's served me well in recovery: Knowing the difference between
dignity and pride.

I can maintain my dignity while still admitting I'm a drug addict. I can
maintain my dignity when I surrender to the fact that I'm powerless over
that addiction, that I can't beat it alone, that I need help.

Pride, on the other hand, usually always hurts. It never helps, because
it's that voice in the back of my head that tells me, "You're a grown man!
You don't need help from anybody ? you can do this on your own!" So many
times in the past, that pride has been my downfall.

I have to put pride in its place. When I first got clean, I had to be
willing to do whatever was suggested to me in order to stay clean. I took
those suggestions from people in my 12-step program who had been clean far
longer than me. One of those suggestions involved turning my paycheck over
to my father.

That was a hard one. At 31, the last thing I wanted was for someone else to
be in control of my money, or for my father to dole out spending cash like
I was a 12-year-old getting an allowance again. But I was willing to do it,
and I was able to maintain my dignity while doing so, because I realized it
was something I had to do to stay clean. Easy access to large sums of cash
was not a good idea for me in early recovery.

If I'd listened to pride, I probably would have tried to manage my money on
my own, and I'd probably have gotten high again. If I'd listened to pride,
there's no way I would have considered a halfway house as a way to get back
on my feet.

The recovery program to which I belong doesn't make any statement, pro or
con, on halfway houses. But personally, I think they're essential for those
addicts who don't have a safe place to call home. For me, it was a matter
of necessity as much as it was a choice. I didn't have any other place to
go, and I was grateful the E.M. Jellinek Center took me in.

The Jellinek Center saved my life. It's as simple as that - if I hadn't
received the structure, the supervision and the support of my brothers
there, I'd be out there in the wastelands, loaded to the gills ? or in jail
? or dead. Halfway houses are exactly that - a place halfway between
independence and a jail or rehabilitation center, a safe harbor from the
mean streets where our addictions thrive.

I'm still there today, although after almost two years, I live in one of
Jellinek's three-quarters houses. I'm still on the same block as the other
residents, but it's a level of independence that's pretty much the same as
being out on my own. I can say that today with dignity, because I owe the
E.M. Jellinek Center more than I can ever repay, and I'll recommend it to
any man who needs a helping hand.

Halfway houses aren't for everyone. You can't just walk in off the street
and hope to get off drugs there - they aren't detox or treatment
facilities, so if you're thinking about trying to get into one, do yourself
a favor and dry out first.

And it's not a fraternity house, a place to kick back and live it up. You
go to meetings. You have details to carry out. You have a curfew. Those
were all things I needed in early recovery, but some addicts who aren't
ready to stop getting high can't handle the discipline. Personally, I
needed to learn how to live again - to feel the simple satisfaction I get
from making my bed every day, doing a job around the house, getting a good
night's sleep.

Other addicts who aren't there for recovery usually don't last long. They
can't deal with being told what to do and when to be in, or they can't
resist the temptation to get high again. Others just want a place to rest,
a place to get a few decent meals and a few pounds before they go back to
the demanding lifestyle of getting and staying high.

I don't know how many guys I've seen come through and not make it. Fifty? A
hundred? Too many. But ultimately, they chose to disregard the advantages
the Jellinek Center offered them. And for every dozen or so who don't make
it, I can tick off a list of friends who did, as well as guys who are still
there. My partner Chris, now married and living life on life's terms. Mike,
the ornery house manager I didn't like at first but now consider a great
friend. Mark, the cook from Pittsburgh who never fails to ask, every week,
"Hey man, did you write about me this week? It'll be a best-seller!" Jim,
my old roommate and completely opposite from me in just about every way,
but a guy I regard as one of my best friends.

I couldn't have done it without those guys, and I'd like to think I play a
small part in their ongoing recovery as well. I won't even mention the guys
who run the place, mostly because the top dog, who's also become a close
friend, shuns publicity and wants all credit to go to the Jellinek Center
itself.

I know how he feels. Without it, I shudder to think of where I'd be. I'm
just grateful I found the willingness to put aside that damnable pride and
realized that I can ask for and accept a little help while still retaining
some dignity.

If you're in early recovery and considering a halfway house, here's some to
check out:

The E.M. Jellinek Center, 130 Hinton Ave., Knoxville: For men only. 40
halfway house beds. Waiting list varies from two to six weeks. Call
Director Johnny Lewis at 525-4627.

Steps House, 712 Boggs Ave., Knoxville: Halfway house for men. Contact
director Patrick White at 573-7152.

Agape, Inc., P.O. Box 3306 Knoxville: Halfway house for women. Call 525-1661.

Hope House of East Tennessee, 188 Raleigh Road, Oak Ridge: For men and
women. (865) 482-4826.

Knox Area Rescue Ministries, P.O. Drawer 3310, Knoxville: Residential
treatment program for men (63 beds) and women (30 beds). Call 673-6540.