Tribute to a Recovery Hero

By David Whiters

Thank you for the opportunity to share my recovery testimony. In many ways, my story is similar to those that have come before me and to those who will come after me. It is a story of a child who was once blind, but because of God's amazing Grace, can see now. It is an experience that, unfortunately, is typical of far too many urban African American males. It includes a childhood characterized by crime, intravenous drug use and a self-imposed Spiritual Blackout. As I reflect on my childhood experiences, I realize that I was attracted to the people in my community who lived the street life. These were the individuals who I looked up to and aspired to emulate. While I am not proud of this childhood attraction, I will not pretend as if this was not my attitude then because it was. Nor am I attempting to give the impression that this was the attitude of everyone else in my community, because it was not. Several of my friends saw these people as nothing more than "community bloodsuckers," worthy of neither praise nor respect. Because my family included both a sister and a brother, each with graduate degrees who serve as excellent role models for me, it is difficult to explain why I had such an attraction for the streets. However, my obsession was with the "street life" and it would be this obsession that would ultimately lead to several years of pain and misery.
My testimony begins in high school where I began experimenting with marijuana. Little did I know that my daily marijuana use would serve as the gateway to what would become 13 years of pure hell for me. I later began experimenting with heroin. It had taken me several years to become addicted to marijuana, but only a short time to become addicted to this wonder drug, the one that seemed to eliminate all my pain and anguish. As a result of this new addiction, I dropped out of high school and traveled all across the country trying to "find myself." I moved back and forth to Atlanta on three different occasions beginning in 1975 when I was only 17 years old. I moved to Atlanta for a final time in 1984. I prayed that this would be the time where I would settle down, get myself together and overcome my addiction. However, the cunning disease of addiction that I call Satan had an agenda of its own. After being back in Atlanta for only a short while, I returned to using heroin daily. I shared an apartment with my nephew and a good friend. They were also heroin addicts, and the three of us "got high" together. One day, after becoming "sick and tired of being sick and tired:' I dropped to my knees and prayed that old-famous prayer, "please, God, help me." I'm so glad that God still heard a sinner's prayer. Shortly, thereafter, on July 18, 1984, I went to my first 12-step support group for addicts. Since that day, God has completely delivered me from the desire to use drugs.

I became active in my 12-step support group and quickly gained a reputation for being committed to helping others. It was this commitment that led to my first real job as a drug counselor. However, because I had less than a high school diploma, I was professionally limited and not allowed to advance my status as a counselor. I was constantly being told that I did not have the credentials. Yet, in many cases, I knew as much and, in some cases more, about drug counseling than several of my colleagues with advanced degrees. This resentment prevented me from pursuing a formal degree. I believed that my life experiences and my personal recovery were credentials far more valuable than a college degree. However, the time finally came when I realized that unless I improved my educational status, I would not be able to continue my career as a substance abuse treatment professional.

In May 1993, I made a decision to pursue a college degree. With this decision came several barriers and challenges. I had not been in school in almost 20 years and I literally did not know where to begin. I dropped out of high school to pursue my career as a fulltime addict though I had earned a GED early in my recovery process. At the age of 35, I felt as though I might be too old to start a college career. I figured I would be somewhere in my 40s by the time I graduated. Lastly, I had no earthly idea of how I would attend school and financially support myself. However, I did know two things: (1) I had to earn my degree and I had to begin the process immediately and (2) God had not delivered me from my heroin addiction to leave me stuck in a dead-end job. That didn't make any sense to me. Remember, at this time in my life, I should have been dead and buried in my grave but God blessed me to see another day. And I knew in my heart that God had plans and blessings waiting for me if only I would become obedient and begin to trust in him.

College life was extremely difficult. I quickly learned that I had poor study habits (actually, I had no study habits at all) and I didn't read very well. I could read books from my 12-step support program, but no other literature seemed to hold my interest - including the Bible. I was forced to become active in study groups and this proved to be an additional challenge. Most of my close friends at the time were members of 12-step recovery programs. Over the years, we had developed our own language and shared a common philosophy on life. In other words, we all had a "program." My cohorts in my study groups had no "program." This made it difficult for me to interact with them. Studying in the library was also challenging. The silence would literally drive me crazy. Instead of studying, I would often find myself staring into space and daydreaming. In spite of these challenges, I was able to complete an undergraduate degree and get accepted into the graduate program at the University of Michigan School of Social Work.

Graduate school presented a new set of challenges for me. During my drug-using days, I would experience these overwhelming feelings of uselessness, hopelessness and despair. Suddenly, these feelings resurfaced. I was beginning to wonder if I was smart enough to be a student at the University of Michigan, and how many of my colleagues, peers and professors believed that I was there because of affirmative action. I was experiencing these feelings in spite of the fact that I had graduated cum laude from my earlier scholastic program. I also had issues with the relatively small number of African American students on campus at the University of Michigan. I did not believe that the white students could truly identify with my experiences. And, of course, the issue of me being one of the oldest students in the program presented me with another set of challenges. I was not sure if these were feelings unique to people in recovery, but I did know that they were feelings that were causing me great pain.

In spite of these challenges and difficulties, in December 1998, I graduated from the University of Michigan with my Master's Degree in Social Work. Today, I understand very well the meaning of the passage from my 12-step program "The wreckage of our past." If I had to live life over again, I would have avoided my attraction to the "community bloodsuckers;" avoided drugs at all cost and gone to college and earned my degree. Hindsight is 20/20, right? However, I don't have life to live over again, but I am in a position to help others avoid the painful experiences that I encountered. This is my responsibility as a person in recovery, as a social worker and, more importantly, as a Christian.

I mentioned earlier that during my early days in Atlanta, I shared an apartment with my nephew and a friend. I would like to add that in June 1991, my nephew, who was also my best friend, died from complications due to AIDS. Shortly thereafter, my friend was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison. As for me, I am HIV negative, obviously not in prison, and celebrating more than 20 years of being delivered from my addiction. On top of this, I am currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Social Work at the University of Georgia and I plan to graduate sometime before the next millennium – summer, 2005. In addition, I own my own business and have secured more than $3 million in federal grants for my agency. I have seven of my closest friends, all of whom are faith believers, working with me. In spite of everything that I seem to have accomplished, none of it would have been possible without Christ Jesus. What I haven't shared with you is that for the first 17 years of my recovery, I managed to gain everything material a "brother from the hood" could ever dream of having, including a four-month internship in Durban, South Africa. However, in spite of all of the material gain in the process, I had lost my soul. I had a relationship with a "higher power" who I actually referred to as God, but what was missing in my life was a relationship with Jesus Christ.

One day when I was drug free and miserable, I was invited to a faith-based support group meeting called Celebrate Recovery. Now, I had experienced church before. I had been "saved" several times only to back slide into my same destructive behavior after only a few months of being in church. Celebrate Recovery provided me with a safe environment where profanity wasn't allowed nor tolerated and where people spoke openly about their love for God, and a connection between their belief in Jesus and their deliverance from drug addiction. This is where I wanted to be! Shortly thereafter, I was invited to Peace Baptist Church and introduced to Pastor Barnette, a true man of God and my new hero. My first experience at Peace reminded me of my experiences in my 12-step support group. Pastor appeared to be delivering a sermon based on Spiritual Progress rather than Spiritual Perfection. That was important to me because I had tried church before, but I never believed I could meet nor maintain the standards that many Christians appeared to live by. Today, I don't compare my walk with Christ with anyone else. My relationship with Jesus is real and it's personal. My covenant with Him is that I will do the best I can each and everyday and He will continue to help me along the way.

In closing, I'd like to share a story; one that we all have heard before. It is the story of a man that I try to model my life upon - the story of the Good Samaritan. Today, I don't ask God what will happen to me if I stop and help someone, but instead what will happen to them if I don't stop to help them. This is where my recovery has taken me to and I am eternally grateful.