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Mick, an army veteran, and a recovering alcoholic last shared his addiction treatment story six months ago. Now a year clean he’s sharing another insight into his ongoing recovery journey.

It feels like a lifetime ago when I last shared my story about my time in rehab and at the time being six months clean.

It is now a year since I completed the Hader Clinic Queensland’s ninety day drug and alcohol rehabilitation program and since then, I’ve been in the outpatient program or what I’d call “maintenance”.

I’ve stayed this long in the outpatient program to keep myself accountable and follow through with what I’d call “the basics” and most importantly, keep myself connected, because connection is the opposite of addiction.

I’m always trying to keep that connection going because the nature of addiction is isolating.

In the last seven days, I’ve secured a job and I will be moving out of the transitional housing.

Life is great, I couldn’t be happier with it. I’ve achieved so much in such a short time.

One year of being clean has been worthy of celebration – I even had three cakes that week!

Not that everything has been smooth sailing of course.

I’ve had a few wobbles along the way, but I’m learning that’s part of the recovery process.

There was a stage there where I was feeling like I wasn’t going anywhere in the program, I couldn’t see the final outcome and as a result, I really started to sweat the small things.

I think in general, that’s what I do when I’m a bit stressed – let the small stuff get to me.

How did I turn it around?

I started reading a lot of books that were recommended to me by the staff at the clinic. I did this to help me understand why I was feeling this way. That really helped pull me through. 

The staff here were a great help in helping me overcome these thoughts.

I decided to do some training (Certificate III in Cleaning Operations) to enable me to get a job.

I’m also saving to be able to do some community counselling courses because I want to help people.

I’ve always wanted to help others. I don’t know why.

I remember as a kid being told that I’d end up as a preacher or within that line of work. I’m always that person helping an old lady across the road or carrying her bags to the car.

It makes me feel good to help others.

Years ago, I read that helping others releases endorphins in the brain. They’re right, I do get a rush out of it.

On reflection, I used to help a lot of people out to make me forget about myself. I think that’s where I came unstuck a long time ago.

I helped so many people, I neglected to get the help that I so desperately needed. I lost my sense of self in giving too much.

These days I’m more balanced. I don’t seek gratification or praise for helping others now. I just do it because I can.

Another big “take home” message I’ve learned is that there’s always help available if you’re willing to ask for it.

Years ago, I wouldn’t have reached out, because I didn’t think I deserved those things. Recovery has taught me that I actually DO deserve these things and then some!

Whether those things are physical, financial, mental or spiritual I know that I am worthy and that I can get around my pride and ask for help.

I’m still volunteering with the Salvos.

I just don’t do as much as I did before – because I realised that I had to put my recovery front and centre – some days I miss volunteering due to this – however I don’t worry as I’m there to help for the long term.

Sometimes it’s once a week or a couple of times a month – or even three days a week. I’m learning that I can’t save everyone too.

I’ll always be volunteering with the Salvos. It helps me identify feelings within myself of what I was like at the height of my addiction.

I was selfish, and didn’t care about anyone else’s journey. Actually, I was numb more than anything else.

Now I can go down to Streetlevel and I can see the growth in me.

I know it sounds bad, but I can also laugh at where they’re at – I can find the humour in it because I was there myself. It’s my way of separating myself from active addiction and not getting drawn into the drama of it.

With my new job, I’m starting with a small allocation of hours. It’s a trial period, but I’m not too worried about that as I know my confidence and ability will get me more work.

It’s not going to impose too much on my recovery – as it’s night time work. I feel like I’m ready to work now.

I had reservations about going back into the workforce and doing what I was doing before.

It wasn’t a lot of day time work and the culture of the job is that everyone has a beer or uses drugs after they knock off. I voiced my hesitation, prayed about it.

In the end I handed the problem over to my Higher Power and asked Him to help me find my way, to give me the right direction – and the next thing I know, I find this job where my commitment to recovery isn’t affected.

That’s the thing, our Higher Power opens and closes doors all the time for us – but most of the time we’re not noticing what’s going on.

We’re too busy sweating the small things. If we can just sit back, relax, we can see those doorways being opened to us.

It’s nice to be taking steps towards independence again.

I’m so grateful to the Hader Clinic Queensland for their help.

If it hadn’t been for my time in the Defence force, I would not have been able to access this opportunity to get clean as the Hader Clinic Queensland is a Department of Veteran Affairs (DVA) Approved Provider of addiction treatment services.

I treat my recovery as a gift and something to be cherished.

I want to live each day honouring that gift, that chance that I’ve been given.

Despite losing his wife and kids, Pete continued to drink. He didn’t see a problem with it and never thought he was an alcoholic. Then one night a family intervention put Pete on a road to recovery. This is his addiction recovery story.

Hi, I’m Pete, I’m 57 and a recovering alcoholic.

I served in the army in my early twenties but didn’t drink much then.

My drinking really started socially in my early thirties and as the years passed, it became more and more excessive.

A couple of years into my social drinking, my then wife and I decided to brew our own spirits. It was a cheaper option, and my drinking became a daily habit. We had that much alcohol in the house that you could pretty much name your drink and it was there.

My wife was also a reasonably heavy drinker, but the difference was that she could stop, and I couldn’t.

I was a workaholic as well and always looked forward to coming home at night and drinking which would give me a bit of a break from the daily grind or at least that was my excuse.

Back then, I didn’t see my alcohol use as problematic. I thought that I could stop at anytime I wanted to.

Drinking would also help me sleep. That was my reasoning behind it at least. That was followed by, “why should I stop?” “I’m not hurting anyone else; I drink at home and I’m not drinking in public hurting anyone”.

I never drank in the morning if I had to work. I would wake up early so I could have about ten coffees before I went to work, trying to get going as my job demanded a lot of me mentally.

I did however drink in the mornings if I didn’t have to go to work and those drinks are what I’d call “sneaky ones”.

Before I started drinking in my thirties, I was obsessive about fitness – I was the National Powerlifting Champion. As a matter of fact, that was my addiction back then – I trained for two to three hours a day, five days a week.

Yes, it was an addiction but a socially accepted one. One that also would not have taken me to a rehab like the Hader Clinic.

Over the years, I found I couldn’t stop drinking.

My first wife asked me to leave home about ten years ago.

I was still drinking when I met my next partner and she has also left me.

My kids don’t speak to me either (unfortunately, they haven’t yet had a change of heart since I completed my time in rehab).

Despite my wife and kids leaving, I continued to drink. I didn’t see a problem with it and I certainly didn’t think I was an alcoholic.

However, my sisters and their husbands and my niece were the ones that said, “enough is enough”. They invited me over for dinner one night and ambushed me, trying to convince me to get help and go to a residential rehab.

I had brought a few sneaky drinks with me in the car, and throughout dinner, I was excusing myself to head out to the car to have a drink.

Anyway, I agreed to go.

Then I put if off for a week, then for another week. Because I own my own business I was worried about what would happen to it.

Then, eventually, I spoke to Hayden at the Hader Clinic Queensland and organised to head into rehab on the following Monday.

On the Monday I was reluctant, but my family convinced me to get in the car and dropped me off at the Hader Clinic.

At the time, I couldn’t believe that I agreed to it, thinking that I wouldn’t do the full ninety-day program.

I thought that I would go there, they would give some pills and I would be cured in a couple of weeks and then leave.

Anyway….

After four weeks, I had planned to leave. I was all good. I thought, “I know what this is about, I’m not stupid, I can handle myself, I will be fine”.

However, the staff convinced me to stay for another thirty days and at the sixty-day mark, I realised that I would not have made it had I left at the thirty-day mark.

Again, I thought I would leave at sixty days, but the same thing happened – as I progressed towards ninety days, I realised that for me the sixty-day mark would have been too early.

I completed the ninety days.

Towards the end of my drinking I was starting to lose some memory and cognition, but I had been able to do what needed to be done in my business.

My employees were also a great help in keeping things going.

While I was undergoing rehabilitation, I learned that alcoholism is a disease.

I didn’t believe it before my admission to Hader, but I believe it now.

Learning about the AA steps and realising that my life had become unmanageable as a result of my alcohol intake was another watershed moment for me.

Five years prior to my admission into rehabilitation, I went to AA meetings.

I was in denial – I didn’t think that I was an alcoholic, reasoning that my life wasn’t unmanageable, I thought, “I run a business, I go to work every day, I also thought “I do what I need to do every day to live, so I’m not an alcoholic – and I manage my life quite well”.

However, our minds tell us that we’re doing well but often we’re not.

When I was in rehabilitation, I did everything I had to do. In fact, I went back to the Rehab last week for a meeting and I still can’t believe how many people both male and female came up and gave me a hug.

What made me stay a bit longer each time? It was the staff.

If it wasn’t for the staff explaining addiction and other things to me I may have left.

The staff were brilliant with a person like me.

I like to work for myself and have done so for most of my life in several different businesses. I also have two university degrees and thought that I was more intelligent than the average person, so reasoning with me could be quite hard, but the staff managed to convince me to stay for sixty, then to ninety days.

I now average four AA meetings a week – often I’m away for work where I have no access to a meeting.

However, when I’m in town, I’ll attend several meetings a week.

I love the meetings because they keep me focused.

On the days that shit happens, the fellowship of AA really picks me up as I can identify with their shares.

There’s some merit in confessing your defects, troubles, shortcomings and whatever else, through sharing.

I’m much better at expressing my feelings since rehab.

Before my time in rehab, there would be no chance of getting me, this “tough man” telling you how I felt.

I thought expressing feelings was a sign of weakness, along with the fact that I didn’t want to bother anyone else with my crap.

Pre-rehab, I wouldn’t open at all. Post-rehab it’s one of the things that I’ve learned is so beneficial in life as a healing tool.

I honestly think that because I plan things to the minutest detail, the best thing I can do for myself is to take one day at a time, and practice patience and tolerance, simply because that works for me.

I’m was a bit slow on the uptake of the higher power thing. But since accepting the spiritual side and the 12 Steps of the AA program, I’ve now got the tools to be able to live without alcohol.

I’m learning not to be so pedantic and rigid about planning because things don’t always go to plan. I’m learning to be open minded about that.

Acceptance, patience, tolerance and one day at a time are some of the keys that I have to be aware of daily for continued sobriety.

The story of how Peter came to hit rock bottom is one of desperation, then a springboard for getting the help he needed to recover from alcohol addiction.

At 67 years old Peter wasn’t expecting to be heading to a drug rehab clinic for treatment of alcoholism. 

He’d lived and worked in the bush where having a few beers was the norm, and where he’d never given having a drink a second thought. 

However, a traumatic event at work was the catalyst for his descent into an alcoholic hell.

Peter shares his incredible journey.

My introduction to alcohol was unusual to say the least. I’m originally from Holland, and at the age of 15, my parents decided to go back to Holland and I was to stay in Australia.

They arranged for me to stay at a friend’s place. My parents drove off and I proceeded to find the house I was to lodge at.  I knocked on the door, only to find out that my parents friends had moved on.

Here I was, standing on the side of the road, with a suitcase and no money. I wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel, so I walked along the side of the road, kicking a rock as I went.

I ended up at the local pub. Luckily, I knew the people that owned it – I think I went to school with one of their kids. Anyway, they gave me a place to stay and let me off the hook a bit because I had no money.

However, I had started my apprenticeship in panel beating and spray painting, and had bought the family home from my father.

Somehow I think he collected the rent and I made the repayments. Then, as I mentioned, they left the country and I struggled through my apprenticeship. I did all sorts of trades, not just panel beating and painting.

Around this time, I had my first drink – when I was staying at the pub. After I finished my apprenticeship, I renovated the house and sold it for a tidy profit.

In my lifestyle, out in the bush, drinking was part of the culture. I didn’t drink habitually at that stage, it was just everywhere you went.

There’s a pub on the corner block of every country town, right? 

And they’d yell out your name as you walked or drove past.

I got into motorbike racing, I got into fishing.

I even went on a working holiday around Australia – mostly in the bush.

There was always a drink involved, that’s what you did. But I never drank to the point of intoxication. You went out somewhere and there were always three or four beers – never thought anything of it.

I met my wife around that time, too. We’d actually gone to school together. We married and had three daughters and eventually shifted to a mining town in Central Queensland, which felt like the middle of nowhere.

I worked my way up the ladder in mining.

Mining also had that “drinking culture” – you’d knock off from your shift and have a couple of drinks.

I worked my way up from being on the shovel (as an operator) to overseeing two hundred and fifty men.

I also moved around doing some contract mining work, then ended up at the mine I originally started at.

My mining career spanned 27 years.

One day at work, I collapsed. At the time, I was doing an emergency evacuation, and as the boss, everyone was following me.

I collapsed underground, then the mine had to do an emergency evacuation to get me out. 

After this event, I went to the doctor for a check-up and received clearance to go back to work.

When the bus turned up to pick us up to take us to the mine, the weight of responsibility I was carrying for the safety and welfare of my employees and colleagues was crushing.

It was overwhelming. I could not bear the thought of experiencing another underground fire incident and being responsible for everyone’s safety – especially those men with wives and children.

It was hard because I knew everybody that worked there by name. I felt like I couldn’t afford the risk of another collapse at a time when everyone at the mine would need me most.

I ended up going home and resigning that day.

That was when my relationship with alcohol started to change.

I got a job at the local marina. There was alcohol involved then, but I didn’t have the responsibilities that I had at the mine.

My alcohol use started to increase.

Looking back, I can see that the events at the mine really kicked things up. I’m a hard worker and basically I’d moved to the beach, had less maintenance to do at home, and had fewer responsibilities.

The marina even gave me an account where I could book up a beer when I knocked off and I could finish work anytime I wanted to.

Then I collapsed again, and was found unconscious at the marina. I had to resign from that job because I couldn’t run the risk of walking out on the marina in case I collapsed again and fell into the water.

That was the end of work as I knew it. After lots of testing, including a few trips to specialists in Brisbane, I was diagnosed with temporal lobe epilepsy. 

This was the cause of my collapses and it took six years to find out what was happening to my health.

After my diagnosis, I stopped work completely. With nothing to do, the alcohol use started to increase – until exactly what the book says happens – you start off with one drink, then have another and then decide to keep drinking to “fill the day in”.

Then you start feeling crook and then start drinking early in the morning to get over the night before.

 Before long, my drinking led to life turning into a total disaster. My wife and daughters were horrified and soon started monitoring me and tracking my movements in an effort to stop me from drinking.

I even handed over all of my money to them. Anything to make it stop.  But my behaviours persisted.

You still get very sneaky to find a bit of grog. They’d be driving around town to find me if I’d gone out for a walk.

One particular day, I found a dollar coin on the ground. I walked five kilometres to the newsagent to buy a Scratchie.

Then I won two dollars. I cashed that Scratchie in and got four dollars. Then put that in again and I won eight dollars.

That was enough to buy me two bottles of red.

I didn’t make it home.

I collapsed unconscious on the side of the road. I was found by my wife and children. Then the ambulance and the police turned up and that was the day we had a family meeting.

We decided that I’m an alcoholic.

My daughter had done some research and contacted The Hader Clinic Queensland and I was at the rehab two days later.

I don’t think I had realised the impact of the stress of my mining career.

As the deputy in charge, you couldn’t afford to make one mistake. And running on time is of utmost importance because the machines are expensive to run and every second has to be accounted for.

Plus, you’re responsible for educating the men and even being a bloody psychologist and dealing with absenteeism etc.

I started to drink more in order to be able to cope with these things.

My experience at Hader has been terrific.

I’m the kind of person that takes things on seriously and I thought to myself, “the position I’m in is that I’m coming in here an alcoholic – they’re not going to fix me, but they’re going to give me the tools I need to fix myself.”

And I got that from day one – and I’ve chased that the whole way through. I’ve asked so many questions and I got all the answers that I wished whenever I wanted.

The day I arrived at Hader, my memory was hazy.

My family thought that I was developing Alzheimer’s. I had been to the doctor several times, and I’d been trying to use that as an excuse, rather than blaming the drink.

I think I scored 30% on my first memory exam with the psychiatrist and now I’m scoring 100%. All my memory has come back and I have no sign of Alzheimer’s.

It was all to do with the bloody drink.

The first week I was here, the staff had to put my name on the door of my room so that I could find it. I couldn’t find it without help.

And the shakes I got were tremendous.

The bookwork was illuminating. One of the books asks, “am I an alcoholic?”  Well, that was just “tick, tick, tick, ticking boxes” all the way down the page.

As time went on, I’ve been going through the “withdrawal symptom” checklist and ticking off all of those boxes as well.

The shakes have gone, amongst other things. Everything has cleared. I was even getting hangovers for the first six weeks of the program at all times of the day and night.

I’ve been keeping a daily diary of my time here. Looking back, I can see the changes in my handwriting and my personality.

It’s pretty exciting, actually.

The staff taught me to keep a diary. They check that I’ve written, but they don’t read what I’ve said.

In fact for the first four days, you can’t actually read my writing because my hands were shaking THAT much.

I have a new lease on life. I’ve put on weight and look twenty years younger.

I’m looking forward to seeing my wife again.

I told her not to visit.

You see, I did a bit of a risk assessment and I thought the 400km drive down and back to visit me in rehab was potentially unsafe.

I’ve seen two of my daughters though and the whole family are visiting me for my send off from rehab in a couple of days.

My family have been very supportive and did lots of research on many rehab facilities. A lot of them had day leave, to which I said “that’s no good, I can’t be allowed to leave”.

I knew that I needed to be locked away from alcohol as a starting point.

Hader taught me that to stay away from alcohol, I needed to educate myself and join a fellowship that supports me in my recovery. I have done 85 AA meetings so far and have no plans to stop!

Yesterday, at my meeting, I shared my story about my arrival from Holland on the boat, and what happened with my parents etc. It took me an hour!

But I got a big round of applause from the residents and plenty of questions after.

Now I have a sponsor lined up for when I arrive home.

My wife has already been to a meeting and the Hader Clinic have been in contact with her to help her with my arrival back home and I’ve just finished my plan as to what I’m going to do when I arrive back too.

It’s taken me two weeks but the staff are looking at that with me.

I’ve also got a counsellor lined up at the local hospital once a week, I’ve got a long appointment with my GP booked as well.

I can’t wait to do a comparison of my blood tests, now that I’m healthy again. Hopefully my kidneys and liver are returning to normal.

I still live on the beach and I volunteer on Beach Patrol, which is a four kilometre walk each way.

I pick up any rubbish on the beach, empty the bins and make sure there are doggy doo doo bags available for those with pets. 

That’s not so much fun, but someone has to do it!

Everyone at the clinic has been amazing.

I’ve always had an ability to mix with princes or paupers and we all get along tremendously.

We’re all on a first name basis here.  

I’ve learned a lot from when new people come into the rehab and to see the changes that occur in them is mind blowing.

When someone new turns up, there’s not a lot of eye contact. But eventually they relax.

I’ve been on the buddy program for four new people here already and have loved it.

I’m looking forward to the best days of my life and thank the Hader Clinic Queensland for all their help and support.