My Recovery from Alcohol and Drugs: "Hear, Here"

By Daniel Smith

The book was written with those who are still suffering in mind.

However, it was also intended for those not-addicted friends and family members who would like to know more about what their loved one is going through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Feb 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781504394710

Daniel Smith

Daniel Smith is a non-fiction author and editor who has written across a range of subjects, including politics, economics and social history. He is the author of The Little Book of Big Ideas: 150 Concepts and Breakthroughs that Transformed History and the 'How to Think Like ...' series for Michael O'Mara Books, which has been published in 25 languages and sold over 500,000 copies worldwide. He is also a scriptwriter for the award-winning podcast series, Real Dictators and A Short History of . . . He lives in London with his wife and two children.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

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Those Early Years

A t the start of my life Like every child I had expectations like -other children. To be successful at whatever I wanted to be. We come into the World already a success, it takes people who were here before us to cast self doubt in us. (including Family)

I was born the seventh child of Reggie and Lea Smith on December 2, 1953. He was a factory worker/carpenter and she was a homemaker. Being raised up in the Western part of Detroit was not easy but we did the best with what we had. Sometimes the household had little or nothing to eat and the quarters were very cramped with 13 siblings.

The clothing I wore was mostly hand me downs or we would get the occasional clothing order from the Volunteers of America. That is of course with no shoes at times and an empty belly to go with it. However my brothers and sisters and I did not complain (except among ourselves) about conditions we had to endure, going along to get along was par for the course in the Smith household.

Unlike today where one can be killed over a pair of Jordan’s I was happy to get an old pair of gym shoes and or clodhoppers. My Father for the most part was doing the best he could for his large Family. It was the time that Chrysler went on strike about 1959-66, so he would take odd jobs as a carpenter and welfare to see us through.

Why am I giving you this information about my childhood? Something happens as I travel through my youth, so bare with me it will begin to make sense. (really a lot of things happened)

In December of 1955 I contracted the Polio Virus which left me paralyzed. Who knows why some people get things and others do not. My other siblings did not contract the Virus and I had some resentment although my age at the time was 2 years old.

My Mom and Dad immediately took me to Columbia medical to see a physician. (Hospital was torn down circa 1960 or so) Fortunately for me Dr. Jonas Salk had discovered the vaccine for Polio and little by little I began to re-gain the use of my legs until I was walking again. Call it a stroke of fortune that the Vaccine became available, many others did not fare as well.

In 1955 to 1968 and beyond Black Folks were not afforded the same rights and privileges that other Americans had. However, we took things in stride and always kept an open mind that things would improve. My father’s sister (Debra) moved from California to be close to her brother along with my Uncle Jake and grandma Florence Sever. She (Debra) settled down on West Philadelphia just up the street from where General Motors was headquartered for many decades.

It was tight times in my Home considering my Father was not Employed and all of us Kids were young, with hunger pains. So, he would load us up in an old Plymouth Sedan and take us over to Aunties House where She and my Grandma would cook us something to eat. She always seem to present the impression of being delighted to have us Kids over for something to eat.

However even young children can sense the stress fractures in any relationship and they were starting to show. But through it all she held the line and was basically pleasant about the ordeal we found ourselves in.

I grew up in a West side Detroit Neighborhood and in 2020 hindsight there was times of Feast and Famine. Dad would grow a Garden in order to stretch our food Budget so that we could eat and He and Debra (his sister) had formed an alliance, when it came to food She could pick what she wanted out of the garden when She was short and He could come over with us Kids when we were hungry. This, as it turned out was a pretty good arrangement.

You must remember both brother, sister were depression era adults who knew how to stretch things and were very close. Their were signs of trouble with me and my Father that would help to shape my path to addiction and alcoholism. As for Momma I pretty much got along with Her very well as she seemed to have a better handle on things. (one exception was when I was expressing my opinion about something, so she laid on top of me and announced she was supposed to do this. When I grew up you weren’t considered having your own thoughts.

I loved my parents and believed basically what they had to say. That is why I was jolted when while looking skyward after coming from Fred’s market on 14th-near Davison a Jet aircraft was rumbling overhead. Then seeing the Jet also Debra’s brother turned, looked at me saying, you will never be able to do that. (meaning Pilot such a Craft) I was devastated at his words and couldn’t believe he would shoot me down. I did not tell my mom about what was said as they were having some personal problems of their own.

Another time when we were visiting his sister Debra we walked up to the front stoop of the Duplex on Philadelphia, I must admit I did stray towards the neighbors doorway but without any concern for a youngsters fragile Ego he says get away from that door they’re raising her to be somebody. I could only come to the conclusion that Debra’s brother, my father valued me less than a total stranger. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and was devastated by it.

Yet, another time after putting on my best shirt after finding out we were going to borrow the use of a neighbors table saw and I liked Mr. Bs. Daughter and wanted to make a good impression on her. Instead of giving me his support knowing that I liked Jackie he decided to laugh at me and make fun of my attraction to the opposite gender. (by the way my brother Rex was in on the laughter as well)

A child’s Ego is Fragile to say the least and can be damaged greatly, even into his or hers adult years! (perhaps even for life) The examples I gave are but a few but are capable of harming Kids in ways that Psychologist- still are trying to figure out. The lesson here is if you do not have something Positive to say then keep your trap shut and say nothing!

On the other hand my Dads favorite pass-time was reading his newspaper while not saying anything to anyone. However I am not trying to paint my Father as uncaring he simply had a different way of showing love and affection. His choice of words when talking to me (more like talking at me) were demeaning to say the- least. Alas, the ownership for becoming addicted to substances belongs to the Addicted.

Although it is likely the people in one’s life can influence what one does because of closeness, it is not the only factor as you will see. As time continued I grew as kids do and landed my first job delivering newspapers which was good as it taught me a thing or two about Business. Mom had a Stroke(1964) and was paralyzed on her left side. She had to use a pot chair (which I did not mind emptying) however there were 10 other people who did nothing and I resented that.

Mom even tried making me feel guilty about emptying what was called the green dragon by bringing up how she had helped me when I contracted the Polio Virus. (I think her feelings were, to lean on me since me and perhaps only 2 others were helping out) Heck, I only saw the old man empty the dragoon once or twice.

My resentment led me to stray away from home as I would walk long distances. Before my Mother had a medical emergency, me and my sister Rebecca went into the back yard,- found a hollowed out weed and smoked it not even knowing what it was. (I did not like it) On one occasion I came home from school for lunch and my oldest brother (sky) was home.

He worked for the Ford motor co. at the River Rouge auto plant complex. Sky approached me saying Daniel take these cans of colt 45 out to the back yard and toss them in the garbage and so I proceeded to do so.

I was a curious fellow and on a warm spring day I decided to take one of the cans out of the plastic rings (the cans were already warm from the Sun) and popped the cap and I did so.I think you know what happened, beer sprayed everywhere including all over my person, but my rationale was since I got soaked with beer might as well drink some, thus my love affair with beer began. (first high at 10)

By now it was time to go back to English class which I did and informed no one about what happened for fear of being punished. I did not do that again but after visiting my Aunt along with Rex on occasion we use to search for our uncle Jake’s discarded cigarette butts and smoked them. The only justification being if he- can do it I could. (cough, cough)

By the age of 13 my Dad was working steady and there was ample food in the house.

So his sister Debra could relax knowing she didn’t have her brother’s children hungry mouths to- feed. So, I began to see her less as traveling began taking up much of her time. At this time when I became Fourteen I was busy delivering papers. Then, it happened on a July day in 1967 Debra had came in from an out of town visit so me and my Father (her brother) and two other siblings went to see her.

A riot had started at midnight the night before at a blind pig (after hour joint) and things were getting out of control. My beloved city was burning and we could only watch.

Back in 1967 it was a time when Detroit had vast real estate holdings. We left Debra’s home as things had spiraled way out of control to go home in West Detroit where I grew up. There was a mass exodus out of Detroit after the riot and after 48 years the city is still recovering.

The years were going by fast now but I was not happy with the way things were turning out. I started working in a car wash around 15 (1968) and let the paper route go. While going to work one day a fellow approached me on the street and handed me a rolled up reefer stick. He said smoke this, you will like it and once again being a curious sort of fellow I did. He added, you’ll be back and I said no I will not. What he was alluding to is you will find this drug again and it later became prophecy.

Although I never saw or acquired marijuana from that fellow again I liked the high and smoked again. (by now you can see a pattern of use is setting up) I want you to see the pattern that set up in your own life so you can relate and not compare. Also their was such arrogance in my attitude, my thinking was that drugs were harmless and only weak people become addicted. (I could not be more wrong)

My attention turned to girl friends and I had several in between smoking marijuana and a beer every now and then. However as I became more engrossed in getting high, I saw ladies less and less. It was not that I could not perform sexually, I became preoccupied with getting high.

Junior high was pretty much a bore to me outside of skipping a class on occasion or skipping altogether and going Downtown to watch a Clint Eastwood Western.

At one point I even contemplated committing suicide by lying in a field of tall grass and bleeding myself out by slashing my wrists with a sharp knife. Yes, I had become so desperate for the love I felt was not at home for me, thinking of ending it was an option for me, or so my thinking would have it. However, rational showed me the only thing that would happen is a lot of loved-ones would be saddened at my departure, I would no longer be alive and life would go on without me.

I did not tell anyone about my thoughts of suicide as these were private thoughts I kept it to myself. Around the age of Seventeen in 1970 me and my parents fell out over an incident where I was told to escort two sisters to the local recreation center on E McNichols street in Detroit to a party. I did not want to attend so making sure they got there safely I returned home. Upon their