Getting sober was my first step. Becoming truly healthy was an even bigger hurdle

This First Person column is written by Curt Sanderson, a 41-year-old father from Saskatoon. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.

Four years ago, as my life descended into chaos and disarray, I realized I had to make a change. 

On the surface, I may have looked like I had it together. I had always worked, paid my bills and spent time with my two children.

My colleagues were unaware that I was living a double life: working in the community by day and spending my nights in dive bars. Hard drugs became a regular part of my routine.

I had always struggled with insecurity, self-consciousness and social anxiety. From the first time I drank a beer at age 14, and felt that cold pilsner transforming into warm confidence, I was hopelessly addicted.

By my late 30s, the guilt, shame and self-loathing were eating away at my soul. 

It wasn't until the world went into the isolation of the COVID-19 lockdowns that I felt I hit rock bottom. Not being able to go to work and see familiar faces made everything more lonely and dark. Drinking became even more of a constant in my life. I knew I was going to die unless something radically changed. 

I signed up for treatment at Ahtahkakoop Cree Nation and waited for the call.

My intake date was Oct. 2, 2020. The treatment centre was running at half capacity because of COVID. Several people didn't show up and three people quit on the first day, so that left four of us for the entire month.

It quickly became clear it was going to be a lonely four weeks.

Two of the other clients had significant mental health and developmental issues.

One guy was in his early 30s but had the mentality of a 10-year-old. He would spend his time in group lamenting the girlfriend he had in Grade 4 who broke his heart when she moved away.

Another was stuck in a constant psychosis. He would hijack every group session with talk about aliens, bizarre conspiracy theories and how he could cure COVID-19 if he was given the right supplies. At night, he would sit in the common area and laugh maniacally to himself like he was the Joker.

The days stretched out and ran together at the same time. I'd lay in my bed contemplating hitchhiking back to Saskatoon, hysterical laughter echoing in the background.

I somehow finished the program and was eager to start a sober life.   

I went to the grocery store and bought vegetables and healthy snacks. I got a gym membership, even though I had never worked out. I started doing guided meditations every morning. I was determined to live a healthy, holistic and balanced life.

But I realized I wasn't feeling any different. It felt like I was just spinning my tires in the mud. I didn't like vegetables, I hated the gym and I didn't feel any better after meditating.

Frustrated, I spoke with an elder who gave me some valuable advice.

"You're trying to do too much at once," he said.

"All you need to do right now is focus on not drinking today. After a while, you can begin to work on your heart and mind. Once you do that, the physical part will fall into place. You will want to be healthier."

So that's what I did. I focused on my sobriety. I went to AA meetings and started therapy.

The elder was right.

One day in my second year of sobriety, I decided I needed a change. I was overweight, inactive and didn't like what I saw in the mirror.

I decided to do things differently for two weeks. I counted calories, went for daily walks and switched to diet soda.

I quickly started to see change. I lost five pounds and that motivated me to keep going.

Losing weight started with small, manageable goals. I made a pledge to walk just one kilometre every day. Soon it turned into two. 

The next thing I knew I was walking five to six kilometres every day.

After four months, I was down 50 pounds without going to the gym. I was doing the work and feeling better. 

Accepting we're capable of change

I spent a long time hiding my drinking from others. I'm sharing my story now to show others that if an average person like me can make radical changes, they can too.

Early in my sobriety I got a job working at a cold weather warm-up location. I struck up a conversation with a young guy who came in for coffee. He had his guard up, but at one point, he shared that he was struggling with alcohol. 

I looked him in the eye and told him I had been living in a sober living facility less than two weeks ago.

I watched as his whole demeanour changed. He began to open up to me and I shared my journey with him. 

I don't know what happened to him after he walked back onto the streets. I'd like to think that something I said resonated with him. I hope that he began to see that he deserves a happy and sober life.

Sometimes all we need to get started is to see that someone has done it before us.

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