When a Man Owns the Bad Decisions He Made in Life

I am no vision of perfection. I bought the manual on life and literally tried everything that it told me not to do. I have made some of the worst mistakes that a man can possibly make—with friends, with women, with colleague—and I still beat myself up about some of the stupid stuff I’ve done in the past. But that’s part of my life. That’s me. No matter what I do, there’s nothing that’s ever going to change what’s come to pass. It’s history and it will stay there.

Breaking four months sober for me was a big step. I had started rewarding myself with fillet steaks every month of my sobriety. I was trying to get clean. Become sober after a life of partying.

They were delicious and I could afford them now because I wasn’t frittering all my money away on alcohol anymore. Rewarding myself had become an important duty in my staying clean. Knowing that I had a fillet steak at the end of the month waiting for me was an awesome feeling. I could have chosen anything, though. A trip to the cinema or a couple of box office films, a day at the beach, a visit to my friends, anything. But steak had been the most appealing to me.

It dawned on me at about the four-month mark that I had a lot of crap in my life. If I looked objectively at the way my life sat at that present in time, my relationships with others were a huge jumbled up mess of spaghetti. I had friends that I didn’t talk to anymore because of my stupid and idiotic shenanigans, family I had lost touch with because I was only focused on alcohol, and a couple of people that I had really annoyed along the way. It was time to build bridges and make amends.

I said earlier that I couldn’t change the past, but I certainly could build bridges to a better future, and that’s what I started to do. I reconnected with most of my family that I hadn’t talked to in years, even my Dad as he laughed down the phone when I told him I’d been sober for four months and he said he’d believe it with his own eyes. Not before. It was surprising that most of my family had given up on me, yet welcomed me back with open arms. Family was easy, they had always been very open and welcoming and it was through knowing their lives that I knew there should have been something better out there for me.

Next, I tackled my friends. I have ended up in me burning bridges to some of my friends from the past due to bad decisions I had made, and I absolutely crucify myself daily over those bad decisions. Every single day. So, I decided to take it upon myself to forgive myself for those bad decisions, but before doing so I had to ask forgiveness of others. Some were very happy that I did so, others weren’t really bothered and stayed the same, and the rest wouldn’t even speak to me, but I tried and that was the main thing. When I was trying to repair my friendships, I could only go so far; the rest needed to come from them.

I wouldn’t say the whole process was easy. Some of the challenges I faced were so painstakingly hard that I would be holed up in my room, hiding under my covers, not wanting to deal with my life, and of course, this is where the help kicked in: psychiatrist, doctor, counsellor, and mentor. I had an army of help behind me helping to make good choices and for the best part, I did so but under immense pressure. The term “building bridges” sounds light-hearted but can you imagine the bravery it would take apologising to the guy whose life I made hell in High School? Or the boy that I ran off and left alone whilst he was drunk and couldn’t move? I shudder at the thought now, but we managed the task. It makes it easier to live with myself.

It was through all this effort trying to heal my previous friendships and connect with my family that I realised that I was only human. It was quite a revelation because I had been spending most of my life trying to imitate perfection and whilst I was doing that I was ignoring some of the little things that really matter, like nurturing friendships. I realised I was flawed, human, not perfect, incomplete and it was perfectly natural. It wasn’t until much later that I truly took ownership of my imperfection and took responsibility for it.

I am no sobriety advocate but the impact that getting involved in drugs and alcohol earlier than I should have on my life was staggering and the reason I agree that a minimum age is appropriate. My life up until I began to glug the beer had been relatively straightforward. My friends were well behaved and well parented and we really didn’t get into much trouble. It’s true that when I started to drink heavily and dabble in drugs that my friendscape somewhat shifted. I moved from being with a nice group of people to a street gang. One that stayed out all night, drank, did drugs and were up to no good. Avenues that were previously closed to me opened. I was introduced to the local drug dealer, I was given my own line of credit, I started to talk the drug-code over the phone. I speak from the heart when I say in all honesty: they try to trap you when you are young.

The worst decision I had ever made in my life was to get drunk with my friends. It was at a time when I was grieving and at such a vulnerable time it had been so easy to ensnare myself in a false safety net, a go-to outlet when things got too tough for me to handle. I’d often find myself alone at my own house having a drink and a cry. It was a negative cycle that spiraled out of control and was triggered when John (my mother’s partner) died. Thinking back, I should have taken to something like contact sports, that would have been a better outlet for me. One that I’m going to try and get Alex (my Son) involved with should I ever need to.