The Beginning

In 1987, it was my senior year in high school. Public education was finally coming to an end. From as far back as I could remember, school was always a breeze for me. They give you the books, tell you to read the stuff, then in a week they test to see how much you've retained. A simple formula to me, plus my Momma wasn't going for bringing home bad grades. She had it fixed in my mind that she would never have to come out to school for nothing. Ever.
I was designed to follow good directions. It was good that I didn't have the power to make decisions for the first 16 years of my life, but boy was the time coming.
Graduation is fast approaching, and everyone is talking about college choices. I knew that I wanted to go away to a school that had a marching band. Staying home to attend school, in my mind, wasn't going to college.  I loved playing the trumpet. I loved to here all the parts from other instruments blending in my ears. I could play my part and listen for everybody else's part, and sometimes I would turn around if I heard something wrong coming from another horn section. Senior year, I was the drum major for marching band. It was not an easy task being the leader of over 150 people. NO PUNKS. During concert season, I would switch from trumpet to French horn. I was a real beast on French horn. We were practicing hard because the school was going to allow us to do a concert during school hours. We planned on rocking the student body. As things go, the band director became sick. So what happened? My right hand man and I took it upon ourselves to direct the band. We were some real bandsmen. We killed it.
I was receiving letters from schools now, I just wasn't focused on them. Hell, I was 17, and prom was coming. I guess the adults in my life weren't focused either, because they never laid out a plan for me.   Did I mention that I was good at following directions?
Just about everyday, my right hand man and I would catch a ride home with the band director. He
was like our father at school. Plus, it was cool to get a ride to my front door. Often times he would tell us to bring our instruments, and we would travel to other high schools to show them how it was supposed to be done. We could play. One day riding home, the band director was asking about our college choices. He listened a little, and his major input was for us to leave home and attend school. Then I broke out and said, "I wanna major in music". My band director's advice was that I should should go into computers. "That's where the money is". Did I mention that I was good at following directions?
That fall, I found myself at Virginia State University. A nice place. I loved the people. The band was a lil weak from where I came from, but it was good to be away. I was selected for All CIAA band for my freshman, sophomore and junior years. I was still loving this band stuff. I finally did quit the band, but I walked across the hall and joined the concert choir. I was selected All CIAA tenor. In the first 3 years, I changed my major twice, but I was now majoring in Technology Education. Simply put, a woodshop teacher.

Lace 'em Up

We'll, let's get right to it. It was 2004, and I had just quit working at a timeshare resort in Williamsburg. It was fun for a minute there cause it was the first job where I had to dress up everyday. The part I hated about the job was trying to trick people into owning their vacations. What was crazy about it was that our sales managers would tell us not to talk numbers to the potential buyers because this whole timeshare purchase didn't make financial sense. We were trained to sell it on love, family,and health. I enjoyed putting on clothes, and my co-workers loved "Bob White". (I'm a funny dude) Anyway, I had just quit and went to see my Mom. After visiting with her for a few hours, I went out on the block to kick it with the fellas. I was standing in front of the convenience store when I ran into the guy from the barbershop. I had quit working for him a year before. There's that quit word again. Well, after a little bit of catching up, he asked if I wanted to come back to work. I accepted.

This time around, the shop was different. I could feel it. It was a new guy working there that had heard a lot about me. I could sense that he felt that I was there to take over. He was also fed some wrong info about me, and I could feel him posturing.
One day, I went into the back of the shop. The back was always a place where we would sip a cold beer, or taste a shot of good liquor. We'll now, blunts were burning. Not just after hours, but all day....everyday. On this particular day, I could smell the sweet aroma of a crack laced blunt. Now, before this time, I had tried a laced blunt plenty of times. Hell, around '89 or '90, a lot of crack dealers would  collect the shake from "choppin up", and put it in their "jays". It's just what folk did in the late 80's. It wasn't something that I would do often cause I just didn't like the feeling. But, I still never frowned upon those who indulged. As I was saying, on this particular day, I could smell the sweet aroma of a "laced one".

Intro

Boy!! Where do I start? This Is the first time that I attempted to tell my experience of overcoming cocaine addiction. I will start by saying that I haven't touched, or should I say haven't used cocaine since 2007. Because, their have been times in the last few years where I've been confronted with coke, rather it was in the powder or cooked up form. It was easy though. Because I was armed. Armed with an army of myself.
Some have said or have been made to believe that people don't just beat their addictions on their own. Some say that a higher power must intervene. Others of us go to these meetings and listen to others testify over and over again about not ever getting over addictions(even though they haven't used in years), and how you must keep coming back. I tried all of these things. I didn't get results. I found myself having to prove myself to another individual. They seemed to be telling me that I would never be free from this "crutch". I'm the type of person that looks for an end to things. You know? Give me my diploma and let me live. It was not until I sat down and took some time with myself that it began unfolding.