Christmas, when I was younger, was always the greatest time of the year. Waking up in Minnesota with a fresh snowfall, we would go snowmobiling or ice skating as a family. My dad built a hockey rink in my back yard every year so the ice was never too far away. I remember getting my first hockey net one Christmas Day. We would always be allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day we would go to church, go home and open presents then we would always go to my grandma’s house. My uncle would dress up as Santa and walk out of the woods and give us presents. Me being the youngest, everyone kept the secret for as long as they could.
During my addiction, Christmas slowly became less about family and enjoying each other’s company, and became more about my obsession for when I could get loaded next and the preoccupation that comes along with being an alcoholic. I was never present for any family event or Christmas gathering. I remember rushing my mom and pushing her out the door so I could get home and get loaded with my friends. On my dad’s side of Christmas, my cousin and I would find excuses to leave the gathering and get loaded. Last Christmas I snuck out of my house on Christmas night and got loaded. I fell and busted open my elbow and had to have my mom drive me to the hospital at # in the morning. Christmas lost all of its meaning during my use.
I am looking forward to Christmas in the house. Even though I won’t be able to see my mom, brother or dad, I will be with my extended family in the house. I look forward to the love in the house that all of the guys show me unconditionally. I look forward to the fun that I have heard so much about and the secret Santa. Even though I won’t be with my family, I look forward to my first sober Christmas in years with all of my brothers.