My name is Jeff. I’m 56 years old, and I’m a recovering alcoholic and addict. To be honest, I’ve spent most of my life drinking and using — and not just a little, but a lot. I was what you’d call a ‘bad case.’ Alcohol and drugs were my solution, my escape, my way of living. But in the process, I lost so much. After my 27-year marriage ended, I lost touch with my five children. They didn’t want anything to do with me. That broke me.
After the divorce, I ran. I moved to Florida, and instead of facing my pain, I drowned it. I drank harder than ever before. To be truthful, there were times I didn’t think life was even worth living.
But back home in Iowa, my youngest daughter was struggling too. Something inside me told me I couldn’t just give up. I wanted to at least try to be a father to her again. So I moved back.
Not long after, I met Mary. I was 52, she was 41, and life threw us a curveball — we had a baby girl, Reese Marie. She was a complete surprise, but she turned out to be my greatest gift. At the same time, though, I was still drinking harder than ever — almost a half gallon of vodka or bourbon every couple of days.
Then came a turning point. On Reese’s third birthday, I looked at her — this little life that I had been given another chance with — and I made a vow. I promised her, and I promised myself, that I would never drink again.
And I quit. Cold turkey. No meetings, no counseling, no treatment centers. Just me, God, and a promise. The first months were the worst ever. Shakes, sweats, sleepless nights, emotions I didn’t know how to handle — but I got through it.
This October, I’ll celebrate two years of sobriety. For the first time in decades, I can say I’m present. I can say I’m a father again. And I can say I’m alive.
Sobriety hasn’t just saved me — it’s given me a second chance at life. And that’s why I’m here — to keep walking this path, to stay accountable, and to share my story in the hope it might help someone else who’s fighting their own battle.
Appreciate you sharing your story. It reminds us what staying sober actually looks like when no one’s watching. 