Doug T. shares from Covington at 20 years sober, tracing a hard arc from a 9- or 10-year-old playing quarters with his older brother to a maximum-security prison cell that finally cracked him open. Alcohol gave him a feeling of bigness and acceptance from the first drunk, and addiction escalated through a punk-rock adolescence and two devastating losses: a best friend killed in a car wreck at 16, and his idolized older brother dead at 18 by what was ruled a Russian roulette suicide. Two years of full-time oblivion — heroin, IV drug use, near-overdoses — ended in a Texas arrest and his first stretch of sobriety, about four and a half years that he says he intellectually understood but never anchored.
A move to Arizona, a girlfriend slipping in and out of recovery, and her diagnosis with Ewing's sarcoma set up the relapse he calls the steps worked backwards. Convinced he was a drug addict but maybe not an alcoholic, he drank for roughly eighteen months in nightly blackouts — picking fights, waking up covered in dried blood, flattening his own mailbox on a motorcycle. On May 15, 2004, his mother's birthday, a perfectly white dove landed at his feet. That same night he blacked out at a medical school graduation party, took his girlfriend's car, drifted into another vehicle on the Phoenix perimeter, and killed a pregnant woman.
He came to in an interrogation room. Maricopa County jail, suicidal months, then 13 years sentenced — 11 served on a level-four yard with gangs, riots, murders, and dope coming through holes drilled in four-foot walls. His sobriety date is February 5, 2005, the day he was transferred to prison. A job tutoring math in the GED school produced his moment of clarity: watching a younger inmate's face light up over basic algebra, he finally understood that helping another alcoholic is the program. He sponsored about 15 men inside; one is now 15 years sober and runs a treatment center.
Released October 1, 2015, Doug opened a sober living house with his family, went to grad school, and rebuilt slowly on the outside — which he says was harder than going in. Twenty years on, he frames the daily work plainly: when he stops praying, taking inventory, and working with others, the old restlessness comes right back. The difference now is he can see it coming. Misery, he says, is completely optional at this point.
And tonight's speaker comes to us from Covington, and he just celebrated 20 years. So I'm very excited to hear a lot of what it's like now. And with that, we have Doug. I'm Doug. I'm an alcoholic. Hey, Doug. I don't...
And tonight's speaker comes to us from Covington, and he just celebrated 20 years. So I'm very excited to hear a lot of what it's like now. And with that, we have Doug. I'm Doug. I'm an alcoholic. Hey, Doug. I don't know when I first realized that I might be an alcoholic. I don't even remember my first drink. But I do remember the first time I realized that I might have a different relationship with it than other people. So I was probably 10, 9 or 10 years old. I was with my brother and a few of his friends, and they had played in quarters with them, and they were doing shots of whiskey. I think they did it as like a joke or like laughing at me or making fun of me. That's my brother, I should say. He was 5 years older than me. So they were teenagers. What I found out was that, well, I'm not very good at quarters. No. None of us were. We all ended up getting drunk. But at the end of it, the only two that didn't tap out was me and my brother. And I remember not so much the buzz, the alcohol buzz, but the feeling that that gave me, which was kind of like acceptance. It made me feel like I felt bigger somehow because I knew that I could hold alcohol. And I don't know where that came from. And I think part of that is, you know, in that context, I think I always remember feeling kind of a little bit at dis-ease, like socially. And I don't really understand that either because I'm, you know, I had social skills, but I always just kind of felt other and didn't really feel like a part of like groups and stuff. And alcohol, I think that was my first recognition that it kind of did that for me. So naturally. I've continued to do that. I've sought it out, you know, and I was just a child. I was like 10 years old. And so that would kind of evolve as I went on. There was, you know, there's drugs in my story. In part, at that age, it's easier to get drugs than it is alcohol. You know, that's, you know. But I think alcohol was probably always primary, you know, with my different addictions because they kind of started there. And it kind of, you know, we refer to alcoholism as a dis-ease. And that's exactly how I think of my disease is dis-ease. That's when I know that my alcoholism is present is when I'm feeling dis-ease, usually in social settings. You know, it's a reminder to check me and to dig into my recovery. So growing up, thinking back on it, alcohol and or drugs were always a part of like all my social, I'd say. I'd say. I'd say. I was really into music. I played in bands and stuff. And so that kind of was all, you know, part of that lifestyle. So while I think I was probably self-medicating to some extent, it still had kind of an innocent character to it. At least as I think about it, consequences weren't there. It actually worked. But then like a series of events as I got older happened that kind of took it in a different direction. The first of those was like, I guess I was 16 and my best friend died in a tragic car wreck. And, you know, at that age, you just lose, you know, like a first real experience with death kind of changes the way you look at the world. We all experience that. But given my proclivity to alcohol and drugs, I began to, you know, I think my youth began to excel. And then, you know, I was also like heavy into like the punk rock scene, which was basically all about nihilism and, you know, self-indulged debauchery. So that was, you know, that was kind of the scene that I was wrapped up in. I was 18 years old. My brother passed away. And this was a really significant event in my life and my family's life. Because he, I always kind of idolized him. I always looked up to him. And, I mean, he's the one that first exposed me to alcohol, drugs, all of that. The way that he passed, we don't know exactly, but it was ruled suicide by Russian roulette. You know, as hard as that was, losing my big bro, you know, watching my family, my parents go through that was devastating. You know, there's no doubt that the worst pain is in the human experience is, you know, loving parents losing a young child. You know, to see that up front, you know, up close was, you know, pretty intense. And so my addiction, you know, really stepped up at that point. And, you know, I remember... You know, trying to put the brakes on all of that, I think, in deference to my parents, to my brother. And that maybe lasted a couple of months. But when I kind of resumed, you know, the kind of weekend partying and whatever else I could, you know, get hold of stuff turned into, like, a full-time, like, absolute oblivion. And so there was alcohol, there was drugs, there was heroin, opiates, you know, IV drug use, all of that. And I guess that went on pretty intensely for about two years. So let's see, Tom, I was 18 when Chris passed away. So, yeah, until I was about 20 and then I landed myself, I'd driven to Austin, Texas to detox. And I think that in Austin, it's kind of, you know, it's funny, right? It's the most drug-free place in America, for sure. Well, like a good... a good guess, I was there maybe three days and I don't even, it doesn't matter what it was, but I blacked out, went to go buy drugs, got drugged, I don't remember any of this because I was blacked out, but drove up into somebody's yard in a residential area, I didn't even know this town, and passed out. And I guess I was blocking their driveway, so naturally they called the police to have this intruder removed. And this is what I do remember. I remember waking up and there being a cop rapping on the window with a flag, and it was getting dark, and I'm not knowing, being disoriented, not knowing where I was, not knowing what was going on. I just knew that I was in a car, and it was a truck, it was locked, and the cops were trying to, were telling me to get out. And I was going, no, I'm not getting out. Finally, finally they, they cracked a window and pulled me out of there, and I got arrested for, um... Some drug charges, um, and, um, I can't remember, there was like a resisting arrest and some other similar stuff, but, um, anyways, I, I, I was forced into sobriety, um, probably for the first extended time, um, via criminal justice system. Got into, like, a diversion treatment program through the jail, and then ended up getting out and going to a private treatment center, and, you know, trying to do recovery, and I, and I, um, and I did, I wanted to get sober, um, but I don't think it was. I think mostly it was, it was because I realized what was happening with my parents. After watching, you know, um, them go through that with my brother, um, I was, um, I knew that I was torturing them, you know, but they just buried their eldest. And here I was, and they knew what was going on. Um, they'd heard through the grapevine, there'd been multiple overdoses, you know, I was, I was flirting with death for sure. And, you know, I don't need to get too into it. But I was, like, pretty, pretty hardcore. I was, um, recklessly, you know, my drug use, I wasn't kidding myself of what I was doing. I mean, I was, I was seeking absolute, total oblivion. There was no denial of my addiction or, you know, trying to cover that up. I was, I was all in. So, um, when I, when I ended up in treatment, and was, was first exposed to, you know, this program and other programs, but 12 steps. Um, you know, I was trying to do it. I was trying to do it, but I was 20 years old. Hindsight, I don't think I truly understood what the program was. I intellectually understood it. I, um, you know, the treatment center, I went, I could, I memorized the 12 steps. I knew all of these details, you know, they, they really made you study the book, you get into this stuff, and I, I understood it. But I don't think it ever really anchored. I don't think it ever really connected. I think probably immaturity, and part of it was that, and that just doesn't work, you know. It might get you in the doors, but it's not gonna, it's not gonna keep you here. So, um, staying sober. It was about four and a half years. There was a few slips, but I did end up staying sober for about four and a half years. And I'd moved to Arizona with my girlfriend. And, um, the plan was, and she was in recovery too, but she was, um, she was struggling, and she would make it like six months and slip. And we were living together. And, you know, financially, it was, I was kind of trapped, because I couldn't afford an apartment without a girlfriend. I loved her, but, you know, you know, I'm staying sober. I think when this really started happening, I remember being about two years sober. And, um, you know, she, um, definitely was just not, not a great, not a great environment. And, um, I was going to meetings. I was trying to do the deal. Um, but ultimately, um... That relationship didn't work. And I, um, moved to Phoenix. I was in, I was in, um, Flagstaff at that time when we were living together. And, um, like I said, I, I cared very deeply for this person, but it was like I knew that I was going to relapse if I, um, if I didn't get out of there. Um, unfortunately, by the time that I left, we found out that she had, uh, a very serious form of cancer. Hewing's sarcoma. It's like a very aggressive type of bone cancer. Um, and, um, she, um, you know, she, she got sick and maybe 18 months later she was gone. She died. And at that point, I kind of think the relapse, that was more of the trigger, it's not the reason. I kind of think of relapse looking back when it was kind of working steps backwards. You stop working with other people. You stop, um, you know, you stop prayer. You stop taking inventory. You stop, um... Being accountable. Until next thing you know, you're not powerless anymore. So it was a process that had probably been going on for at least a year or so. Um, but when she got really sick, um, anyways, I went back out. And in my mind at that time, I told myself was that I knew that I was a drug addict. There was no doubt about that. But I wasn't certain that I was an alcoholic. And when I think back on that, it's nonsense. Like, I knew. I just, I don't think I was. I was scared of alcohol like I was some of the other stuff. Well, when I, when I went out, when I started drinking again, I learned a, um, a very painful lesson in that drinking, you know, I was able to kind of control it for, I don't know, a month or two. I would drink, you know, just a couple of drinks. And I was able to do that for a couple of months. But when I, when I started teetering, went straight into just full, I started drinking like I'd never drank before. And now, I wasn't really doing drugs. I was drinking. But most, every time I drank, I would black out. And I would black out and I would go to bars. And I would somehow pick a fight with somebody and proceed to get the crap beat out of me. Um, usually I would hit somebody. And this is mostly somebody telling me. And then somehow my, you know, pickled brain, I didn't recognize that person when I just hit. For no good reason, was with like five other people, you know, so, so it didn't work out too good for me. Um, you know, and there's, um, yeah, I mean, it was scary. When I think of all my drug use, most of the drug use I did in the privacy of my own home and while it was, you know, obviously some dangerous stuff, at least I was doing it in the privacy of my own home. Something about alcohol makes you want to go out in the public and share it with the world. Right. And so, um, so yeah, so yeah, um, waking up, being covered in blood, sometimes it was blood. One time I flattened my mailbox with my motorcycle and went right through the mailbox, talking completely over. And then I guess just went inside and passed out on my couch. When I woke up and there was just dry blood all over me and my, my lip was, you know, cut open. And it was pretty obvious what happened. You went out in mailboxes. I was on the ground. There was at least two incidents where I woke up right covered in blood and I wasn't hurt. So, um, you know, um, I don't even know how to describe that. I mean, just like terrified. You don't know what you did. You don't know where you went. You don't know who's looking for you. Yeah. So there was, there was a period of a, probably a year, a year and a half. It's a little fuzzy, but a little, yeah, probably, probably a year and a half where I was doing drinking like that. This would have been 2004, May 15th, 2000, 2004. It was actually my mother's birthday. And this is kind of crazy. I tell you this before I get into subsequent events, but I was sitting outside my house, smoking a cigarette and this dove, like a perfectly white dove landed right in front of me. And I'm not a religious person. Definitely was not a religious person at that time. I certainly know what the situation was. The symbolism was of the white dove, you know, and this was not like a pigeon that was white-ish. This was like a perfect, picture-perfect white dove. And it just sat, it flew down, landed, kind of looked at me and then flew off. And I was like, huh. And being my mom's birthday, my mother, on the other hand, is very Christian, very religious. And so I called her on her birthday to tell her what happened. And she was like, duh. And because I knew she would, she would be touched by it. So. Well, that night, I went out with my girlfriend. She talked me into going to this party, and I didn't want to go. But she was like, well, I'll come pick you up. We'll go to this thing. So we went to this party. It was like a medical school graduation party. There was people I didn't know. They were her friends. Going to dis-ease, being in a social situation with a bunch of people that were not my people, as far as I was concerned. They had beer. They had, like, kegs or whatever. But, like, a, you know, a good. A good party, I guess. And found a half gallon of Jack Daniels. I remember a whole lot more about that evening. I remember that somebody had gotten escorts. Like, whoever it was, they were, like, strippers. And I got in trouble with my girlfriend, I guess, because I was at the party that she made me go to. And they were strippers. And I'm like, I may have looked at them. Yeah. So there was a fight. There was some sort of a fight, which I don't really remember. And somehow I got the keys to her car. And I left. Because she would get crazy. And it was all my fault. I never put hands on a woman. And so it was like that. And I left in her vehicle. I don't remember any of this. The next thing I remember was coming out of a blackout in an interrogation room with five or six, clearly detectives, that are trying to get me to incriminate myself. And I had left someone dead on the side. Because, like I said, I don't remember the night. I don't remember anything about the evening. I don't remember getting in the car. I don't remember getting out of the car. I just remember coming out of a blackout. Coming out of a blackout and there's cops asking me questions. And I'm like, I'm being combative with them because that was just my nature when I was drunk and there was law enforcement involved. It kind of settled in with what had happened. I can't. Self-demoralization. I mean, I don't think, you know, there's words in the way that... They'll read it. Possibly could. You know, just my whole world felt emotionally, spiritually. Going to prison. You know, and I was at the tender age of, what, 28? I'm in Arizona. Arizona in terms of sentencing and the criminal justice system. Don't want to get in trouble in Arizona. They're going to... Evidently, I was driving down the highway. I don't know. Again, I don't remember any of this. I just know what, you know, that they're telling me. That basically... Basically, my car and this other car rubbed up against each other. So, either I drifted into their lane. Maybe I was speeding and then they didn't see me and they tried to get into my lane. But we just rubbed. It wasn't like an impact, but the driver of that vehicle panicked and cut the wheel which sent his vehicle into a flip. I was ejected from the vehicle and I was on the equivalent of, what, 285, like, the perimeter of Phoenix. And so, she was ejected and there was, like, these cables dividing the road and I was pregnant. You can find out that information for a month or something. I was in jail. But, you know, as far as I was concerned, life was over. Like, I was just... I always knew that alcohol and drugs would kill me. It never occurred to me that I would end up killing someone else. I mean, we know the prophecy. You know, jails, institutions, and death. I guess I just assumed that the death would be mine and that I had maybe accepted that and was okay with that. I wasn't scared of it. But I wasn't okay with taking an innocent person's life because of my drunken recklessness. So, I would say probably six, nine months, which would have been county jail, Maricopa County. Lovely place. Suicidal. The only thing that... And I was not scared at all. I hear people say, like, I was completely... taking myself out. The only thing that kept me from doing that was, you know, my parents. And knowing exactly what that would do to them. And that was not an option. And so, I don't know. Moment of clarity. I was either going to get busy living or I was going to get busy dying. And then in this environment, the addiction continues. But it's just... Where I was at... I mean, all jails are full of drugs and alcohol and stuff. But Phoenix was just wild. I mean, it was just flooded. You get in the dump. It's all bad. It's all bad. There's nowhere to run. There's nowhere to hide. It gets really ugly. It's over. I had experience with the program. Like I was saying, I didn't really... I don't think it really... You know... It didn't really anchor. I didn't really understand it. But in everything, I think I was... And I did. I started drying out. You know, there was all these... There was booze. There was all this dope in there. And it kept coming through my cell and everything else. They had drilled holes through the wall and they were fishing. This is the dope through the wall. It was like four foot thick. My sobriety date is February 5th, 2005. So I just made 20 years last month. Which is... The sobriety date is my arrival prison date. Being transferred from county jail. When I got to prison, it was... I went to a level four yard in Arizona. At the time, there was a lot of stuff going on. It's a border state. There's a lot of gangs. There's just a lot of, you know... Shouldn't have gone. I went to a local level four yard, given the nature of my crime. At that time, the classification system was pretty jacked up. So they put me in the highest custody. And so I was in there with just straight up gangbangers. Straight up killers, you know. And, you know, really harsh environment. You're seeing murders and suicides and riots and all of that stuff. It was a fairly regular, routine thing. But I think that that... The extreme... The nature of that environment was exactly what I needed, if I'm being honest. It pushed... It motivated me in a way that I had to, like, jump into recovery. And there wasn't really... There wasn't really AA meetings. They had meetings you had to sign up to. And you could only go to... You could go to, like, what do they call it? Like, ten sessions, I think they called it. And it was pretty much a punishment for people that had gotten caught with drugs or had dropped to dirty UA. So I started doing recovery the best that I understood it. And most of that looked like doing service work. And it was difficult, you know. If you went talking about, you know, Bill Wilson's way to some random guy on the yard, you'd probably get punched in the face. You just weren't going to do that. But there was so many opportunities. There were so many people in need. So just trying to help people. I had this wonderful blessing in getting a job in the GED school. And I started... You know, I got to get out of my cell every day and go and, you know, help people with... basic algebra and geometry and stuff. And I remember I met this little dude. I was working with him, helping with his math. And he was struggling with it and struggling with it and struggling with it. And then I remember him, you know, seeing that look on his face and seeing the wheels turn and it starting to click, you know. And I got this sense of, like, peace. Sense of fulfillment, maybe even joy. You know... You know, I got this sense of, like, peace. You know, I got this sense of, like, peace. You know, it was fleeting. It only lasted, you know, a few minutes. But it was, like, in that moment, I got it. I got what the program was about and what this was for. It, like, clicked. This is what I'm supposed to be doing, you know. And it's helping other people in whatever way I can. And that's the answer. Of course, this is all in our literature. It's right there in front of us. But it had never really resonated until that time. And so, you know, I didn't get into telling you the sense. But I got sentenced to 13. 13 years. This is Arizona. I heard I had to do 85% of that. So that's 11 years. And the entire time I was in there, I was constantly trying to help people any way I could. There was only so much stuff that I could do. But I had basically given myself permission to forgive myself for what I'd done as long as I committed to doing everything that I could do in my limited power to be a good human being. And that was, like... Physical fitness, helping other people, and education. And that's how I did my time. And I was constantly doing it in any way that I could. And, man, I stayed sober. And I also, not only did I stay sober, about three years into it, I remember thinking that, you know, even though the state of Arizona definitely owns my ass, my mind and spirit is probably more free. Free than I've ever been in my life. You know, so, I mean, the promises that we talk about in here was, like, actually coming true in a maximum security prison. You know? And it carried me through that. Taking that on and staying with that, it carried me through that sentence. In 2015, October 1st, 2015, which was almost 10 years ago, getting out was, in many ways, more difficult. More difficult than going in. You hit the ground running, get involved in business, get involved, you know, continuing on with service. My family and I opened up a sober living house. You know, specifically help people that had gotten wrapped up in the criminal justice system. You know, doing service where you're best equipped to do it. You know, people that had been through the same sort of circumstances as me were worse, infinitely worse. You know, I started working with my family, and then I ended up going to grad school. You know? I had only two years to kind of chill out. You know, I guess that's, I think that's a struggle that everybody has, the long-term incarceration. I ended up doing, it was 11 years. Got back and started readjusting. You know, trying to balance stuff, focusing on recovery, but also, you know, trying to create a career, trying to, you do all those things. But it started coming together very slowly, not in my time frame. But, you know, just getting 20 years. If I'm being honest, sometimes I've... I almost feel like, like I don't, it doesn't feel real. You know, I got, I think, I got a lot of benefits of, I think that my bottom, at least for me, was so intense that some of the, it was like, once I came out of that fog, I was already kind of seeing the world in a different way. It's just like the brutality of it just knocked, it just, it kind of knocked my head into a different state of consciousness. Which is not to say that I was cured or fixed or anything. It's just that, you know, I look back at it, you know, and then there's so many people. I've dug, I've survived so many things. It's, I'm just like, why am I here? Well, the only thing I can come away with is, there's got to be a reason. And it's to pay it forward and to continue giving to other people. And what I've found is that, that is, and I did the other steps so that I can do the 12th step. And the one thing that has been my saving grace is, yeah. When all else fails, working with another alcoholic, working with another addict, it gets me out of my stuff, man. And I feel good. And, you know, my happy, joyous, and free, yes. When I remind myself to be, you know, I mean, it's as simple as this program. The tools allows me to process things and have, and be at peace with them, with the outcome. And, very quickly, but I will forget if I don't stay, you know, doing the program, working with others, talking to others, staying connected, I will get off and la la land and get all blown out of here. Right. All ticked off for no good reason. That's still there, that will always be there. But the difference is, I recognize it and I can see it coming. So, misery is completely optional at this point. You know, there was a time where it was not. I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, I was, is, just fighting to get air, stay above water. Today, you know, life is, and, you know, opportunities like this popped up. You know, hopefully somebody will hear, share the message, my struggles. You know, the guy that I, that I talked about, teaching him, you know, in GED school, teaching him, teaching him math. I probably sponsored, I don't know, 15 different people While I was incarcerated, to my knowledge, Dr. Dead, the rest of them were in prison. But that boy is now 15 years sober. Not only that, he's running a treatment center in Arizona. He's making six figures with half a GED. Straight out of the street, no family. You know, my family basically adopted him. And if he's the one person that came out the other side that I worked with, it makes it all worth it. Because he's helping hundreds, if not thousands, of people. And I mean, that just, you know, that just sets my heart free. Thank you so much, Doug. Thank God for the things that get us in the door and lives we don't want to escape from.
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