Hello, my name is Brandon, and I’m an alcoholic as well as a drug addict. From my perspective, the specific drug of choice isn’t important—only that I understand I have a spiritual malady and an allergy to drugs and alcohol. My drug of choice was more. Anything I could put into my body to make me feel numb. I couldn’t manage the emotions I felt or cope with the way my reality was. If you’re reading this, know that you are not alone. One of my biggest downfalls was believing that I was the only person who struggled the way I did. I blamed God and everyone else for the pain I felt inside. I used the only tool I knew: numbing the pain with drugs and alcohol.
When I got sober, I thought my life was over. I believed I would never have fun again. I thought I’d never laugh. I couldn’t have imagined the life that would blossom before my eyes. YPAA (Young People in AA) showed me how to have fun in recovery—traveling across California, singing karaoke with my shirt off, going to Bay Area dances, doing cartwheels, and moshing to techno metal. Wherever I go, I bring the hype. I got to be my most authentic self, and it was the first time I felt truly accepted and loved. People wanted me around—they loved me until I could learn to love myself.
I was raised by a single mother with two boys—me and my older brother, who is four years older than I am. My dad left when I was an infant. From a very young age, I knew humiliation. I was bullied as early as first grade. Kids used to gather on the soccer field during recess to beat me up and call me names—anything to tear me down. Looking back, these moments feel like scenes from a movie. In fourth grade, I had a girlfriend who threw a big sleepover party for her birthday. I brought friends along and gave her a giant stuffed puppy as a gift. Later that night, I was jumping on the trampoline when her three older brothers decided I needed to be “taught a lesson.” They beat me up badly, leaving me on the ground crying. Afterwards, my girlfriend broke up with me, saying I was too weak to be her boyfriend. This is just one of many humiliating experiences I’ve endured.
By age eight, I started smoking weed to numb the pain. At nine, I had my first beer. By fifteen, I was using ecstasy and LSD, and by sixteen, I was on crystal meth. Numbing myself was the only solution I knew. The bullying left me terrified to be myself—I just wanted to exist without being persecuted by my peers. Unfortunately, I had no idea how. From ages 16 to 27, it was all about using. I tried every drug, drank every drink, and wanted to feel nothing all the time. I couldn’t do anything without a mind-altering substance—not even watch TV. I drank myself to the edge of death. I developed stomach ulcers, blacked out regularly, and woke up vomiting blood—only to do it all over again. Doctors warned me, but I kept rolling the dice.
Fast forward to my darkest hours. I was 27 years old, trapped in a toxic, mutually abusive relationship for three years. I crossed lines I never thought I would, physically abusing her, and she did the same to me. I hated myself. I couldn’t stand my own reflection. Then my best friend, Devin, was murdered by the Redding Police Department, and my world came crashing down. I saw exactly where my path was leading. My future flashed before my eyes. Devin was the person I admired most—the strongest and bravest in so many ways. He was my hero. When I was weak, he protected me as a kid. Although he was a year younger than me, I always looked up to him. Losing him gave me a dark clarity.
At Devin’s funeral, I felt the presence of a higher power I couldn’t understand. I began praying to that higher power, and soon after, a path was laid out before me. I was offered a solution. I could have walked away at any time—and I still could. I wasn’t brought here by a court order. No one forced me to show up and choose a better life. I was just so broken that I became open to a new way of living.
You don’t have to burn your life to the ground to be an alcoholic—the only requirement is a desire to stop drinking. I want to remember and enjoy life until the end of my days. Life is beautiful, and it can fade in an instant. After rehab and sober living, I found AA, and shortly after that, I discovered YPAA. For the first time, people accepted me. After what felt like a lifetime of bullying and feeling like I would never belong, I found my home. I was resurrected into the man you see today.
I will be forever grateful to AA and YPAA. Without the acceptance I found there, I would still be wandering. Thankfully, I don’t have to do this alone—and neither do you. Every day, we get to choose who we want to be. We can be the voice of reason and hope. We can be the light in someone else’s darkness.
Who do you want to be today?