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Perhaps like you, my addiction was experienced in quite a few places:  Kinsman in Cleveland, as well as 55th Street off Central Avenue; Broad Street in Philadelphia and Poplar Street; Ann Street in Newburgh and Liberty Street; Llorens Torens Projects in Puerto Rico, etc., etc., etc., and the one thing I found common no matter where I was, our stories are the same but the faces are different.  The jobs we held were different, but our stories are exactly the same.

While in various recovery places and listening to others share, except for the obvious, their story was my own; having had success in life and then that one night which changed it all.  It is interesting it didn’t take anyone other than us to fail but it definitely does help to have someone to work together with us to keep from returning to that type of life.  The fact we are talking and sharing, for some, it will be a catalyst for them to return because they’re not ready, but for the majority, it will be the impetus which will encourage us to continue forward because we realize we are truly not alone.  So many broken hearts and lives are soon mended when we share with others who are traveling upward from the mess of the street.

I’ve taken the responsibility of sharing my story whenever I can have the opportunity to do so.  Some will be disgusted in my story.  Some will not want to hear it.  Some will be in denial about their own situation, but the one thing is certain, it is “my story” and it cannot be told by anyone other than me.

Telling your story is what keeps you from reliving another chapter.