29 years ago I drove into the parking lot of a local detox in a stolen car. I'd made the decision to change. To quit drinking. To stop stealing anything I could lay my hands so I could buy more heroin. At 51, I'd essentially decided to live - rather than die in prison, on the streets or in a mental institution.
However, to my dismay, I was told that I couldn't get into the detox because I'd arrived in a stolen car. For some reason, they asked how I'd gotten to the facility and I told them I found a car with the motor running outside of a convenience store and "borrowed" it to get to the facility. They told me to move it from their parking lot to the street. When I walked back in they told me I needed to return the car to where I'd stolen it.
As I left, they said that if I decided to come back that I could call them and they'd come to pick me up with a van they used to transport those who needed a ride to detox.
I was so resentful when I left that I got high for another week before I called them again. I figured God didn't want me sober, so I kept doing what I was doing. But eventually, I surrendered and called the following week and sure enough, they sent a van to the sleazy motel where I was staying. And that was the beginning of my sobriety 29 years ago.
It was the best decision I've ever made. After 11 days of detoxification, I went to a local halfway house where I lived for a year, doing volunteer work for them the last nine months of my stay there.
Once I left I started a small halfway house. I worked an outside job for the first six months then quit my outside job. At that point, the halfway house had become self-supporting. It has grown from five beds in January of 1992 to 800 beds and six different businesses today. More than half a million addicts have passed through our doors since 1992.
And during all those years I've been blessed with the promises we're given when we enter the 12-step programs.
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