Lavell, age 43, “a country boy,” was born and raised in southern Maryland’s Calvert County. Growing up on his uncle’s small farm with his two brothers, mother, and father – Lavell was a loner whose best friend was a cow named Joe. He had a good childhood. “I was raised in the Methodist church, went to Sunday school, and sang in the choir,” Lavell remembers. “I got my first car at age 15, was in gifted and talented programs, and graduated Northern high school in 1995. As a graduation gift, my father gave me a sports car and it blew up from there. Before I graduated, I had become popular because I drove, worked at a liquor store, and could provide alcohol for parties. I started drinking from that point on and for many years, my life was pretty cool. I just partied.”
“That same summer, I began smoking marijuana. Everybody around me smoked “weed” so I started smoking and drinking every day. While I liked to party, I always prayed. I always read the bible. I knew the things that I was doing were wrong, but I just wanted to fit in. I would do bad things and then go around the corner and say, ‘Lord please help me.’”
“When I turned 21, my uncle passed tragically. I helped my grandmother find him by climbing in the window only to discover his body. Seeing him dead devastated me and I remembered a friend telling me to have a drink of wine in order to deal with my emotions and relax. That glass of wine put me to sleep and soon thereafter, I was drinking four packs of wine, which turned into bottles of wine. By age 22 I had transitioned to cocaine.”
“At age 28, I met my partner. They were well off and we had a strong attraction to each other. But due to the financial situation, cocaine was always around. Cocaine became life. The tumultuous relationship was filled with alcohol, drugs, and infidelities. We moved to California with the hopes that a new environment would help alleviate the pressures of our relationship. At first, the partying dropped off completely. But the reprieve was temporary as old ways resurfaced and ‘cocaine-fueled’ antics returned. “
“I was miserable on the inside and thought about walking away from this lavish life and trusting God’s plan for me. One night, when I just couldn’t handle the situation any longer, I was “coked-up” and had a loaded shotgun in my bedroom. We were arguing a lot and they kept calling me ‘crazy’ and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I put the loaded shotgun in their mouth and said call me ‘crazy’ one more time. His eyes got really big and he left. I then put the shotgun in my mouth, but it would not go off. I tried to kill myself. I kept pulling the trigger four or five times, but the gun jammed. I blacked out and woke up in my room with the gun gone. I immediately booked a flight home to Maryland. I packed my duffle bag, trusted God, and left.”
A few years later, and after his fourth DUI, Lavell finally heard God’s plan. “One day I hit rock bottom, woke up and said that I am done living this life. I called my best friend Lisa and she already knew what I was going to say. She put me on the phone with John Mister, a staff member at Helping Up Mission and as I was talking to him, I instantly knew, God said ‘HUM is where you are going.’
“I asked God to take away my taste for chemicals, including cigarettes. And I am a firm believer, that if you ask Him to take something from you, He will.”
“When I arrived at HUM, I went from being a little scared country boy to having a true brotherhood with the guys and staff. I broke out of my shell and started singing in the choir. It was the first time that I sang in front of people, sober, in twenty years. Members of the choir and I joined a group called Brothers in Prayer. They became my core group of accountability partners. We love God and the gospel. I could finally just be myself.”
Last March, when the pandemic began, Lavell was worried about how the 500 men at HUM would be served. “All that I could think about was the coronavirus was going to hit HUM and we would be screwed. I didn’t know if we were going to go into lockdown or be discharged. So, I made the decision to leave my work therapy assignment in Philanthropy and go back to work. I was worried about having no money and no place to go. At my new job, I was tested for COVID-19 every Monday and Thursday. Thank God, I never did end up catching it. In the end, Helping Up Mission was a safe haven. Their attention to detail, cleanliness, and their response to the coronavirus has protected me and the other clients during this pandemic. There is no other place like Helping Up Mission and that is all that I need to say.”
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Our feature story this month focuses on the journey of Rick W., a 53 year old Navy veteran, who was born in New Jersey and raised in Boston. His alcoholic parents divorced when Rick was 8, and he took it hard. His family moved to Florida and eventually back to Boston. His father was now a raging abusive alcoholic and at age 12 Rick would have to intervene. Coincidentally, Rick started drinking alcohol at age 12, to escape loneliness and the childhood trauma of bullying. “I could not sleep at night and sometimes I got very depressed. The first time that I drank, I had four beers and I liked it so much and from then on, if there was anyway that I could get a drink, I would,” Rick remembers.
Rick feels that some of his bullying was brought on by himself. A lover of fiction, especially the stories by F Scott Fitzgerald and Hemingway, Rick would frequently dress up in white sports coats and tweed pants. “I just really got into that period of time. They (the characters) had freedom. They were always drinking, partying, and having a great time. I realize now that the books were my first indication that alcoholism was not great for me to have. And at the time, I realized that I was an alcoholic.
Eventually Rick dropped out of high school to join the service. “I was tired of school. I was tired of people. I wanted to be able to take care of myself. So I joined the Navy, and I thought that it would be a place where I could get my life back under control.”
At first, Rick trained to become a medic hospital corpsman. But, when he was getting ready to go to his first duty station, things changed. “I was told that I would become an “8048” and that’s a combat medic. It never dawned on me that I would end up a Marine. So I went to bootcamp and became indoctrinated into the Marine Corps, from how to salute to combat techniques.”
After spending time in Asia, Rick began training at Twentynine Palms Marine Combat Center in the Californian desert. “In January of 1991, we got our orders. I thought that I would not have nightmares anymore, I wouldn’t have to be bullied anymore. Fitzgerald became a distant memory. But it (war) changes you. The sounds of gunfire, the sounds of explosions. I was in Operation Desert Storm. I walked into battle with a gun in my hand and walked out with a strange sense of guilt that I have carried for the rest of my life.”
Once the war was over Rick’s life didn’t change for the better and drinking started to affect his military career. On one excursion in Somalia, he was sweeping a village, when an insurgent stabbed him with a crude knife. “I still have the scar, (the knife) got me deep enough that it took out my appendix, part of my large intestine, and almost nicked my spine. I spent three months in the hospital and four weeks learning how to walk again.”
The hospital administered morphine to ease Rick’s pain, but alcohol was his painkiller. “Being a medic, I knew that I was an alcoholic. Just like I knew it when I was a teenager. I never wanted to stop. I have Barrett’s esophagus from reflux attacks. And yet I still drank!”
In October of 2019, a peer recovery specialist named Joyce recognized that Rick needed long-term help and recommended Helping Up Mission (HUM). “For the first 45 days, I spent so much time in the chapel. It was the first time ever that I felt the Spirit come to me. I prayed to God to
please take the pain and anxiety away from me. And then I felt it all go away. I learned how to actually talk to God.”
At one point, Rick learned that he was staying in the program and doing recovery for himself. He wanted to finish the program. “Something about the graduations, keep you going. Seeing people phase up, seeing people graduate, and halfway through the year, you start noticing people that you have been interacting with. And you think maybe I can do this.”
“It’s funny when you come to HUM, you feel totally lost. And at some point, you are a part of it. It becomes your family.
Speaking of family, “The biggest highlight for me this year is because of all the work I have done, on August 22, my fiancee Elizabeth married me. She married me because she really believed and continues to believe in me. I never felt worthy. I was just a nice drunk. I drank alone. I never really was in love with anybody, I did not even love myself. I was able to marry the love of my life, and I would not be able to do that if it was not for HUM.
“Combat will change you forever. You will never look at the world the same. When you open up and believe in God, you finally know that you do not have to carry as much guilt. You can confess and feel whole again. The same goes for drinking. You can be forgiven. I’m a better father and a good husband. And I am going to become a Peer Recovery Specialist to help others turn their life around.
“I was using drugs for so long that I didn’t know how to live without them.”
Dustin was a Baltimore City firefighter when he fell through a flight of stairs and was injured. He was prescribed pain pills to help him recover, and “started needing more and more.”
“When I couldn’t pass the physical to go back to the department, the insurance got cut off, which means the doctor got cut off. I realized I was addicted and started feeling the withdrawal.” So, Dustin started buying pain pills on the street. When he couldn’t get them anymore, a buddy suggested trying heroin as a stronger and cheaper alternative.
He woke up one morning and couldn’t find any drugs. He remembers, “I was sitting around, hating myself, and hating life. I cursed God a lot and was wondering what went wrong.” A week earlier his sister and mom had tried an intervention. Dustin decided to try to detox and went to Bayview Hospital. He was in there for seven days when a social worker, “an angel on my shoulder” as Dustin puts it, came to him and explained that he needed to do something or he would die. She told him about Helping Up Mission and showed him videos of the Mission on YouTube, but he still wasn’t sure.
Eventually, Dustin decided to come to HUM. He remembers, “When the cab pulled up out front, I was scared and nervous. I was still sore and feeling [the effects of withdrawal]. I was using drugs for so long that I didn’t know how to live without them.”
At first, a year seemed daunting, but after three months of going to classes and chapel, he decided he wanted to stay. “I liked the way I was feeling. Every time I would see [my mom]; she would say ‘You’re looking good. You’re walking tall now. Keep it up.’”
“I started building a strong support network. I was making good friends. We started playing softball together. We were all learning to live again, learning to play again, learning to have fun again. Besides my family, the friends that I made here that are still my friends today; I consider them family now. There is no way we would be where we are now without each other’s support. We still hold each other accountable every day.”
When he came to HUM, Dustin knew his mother had terminal cancer. The time they had together while he was going through recovery allowed them to get to know each other better than ever before. Dustin remembers, “It was kind of a blessing that we knew she was terminal and we got to know each other [again]…it was liberating. One Sunday I visited her, and they did a church service in the cafeteria at the nursing home. We prayed together there for the first time probably since I was a little boy. I still remember that.”
After about six months, as Dustin was beginning to get his life together, he got a phone call that his four-year-old son had pneumonia and was in the hospital. Although they thought he was getting better, he did not begin to breathe on his own when the hospital removed the ventilator. Dustin was on his way to say his goodbyes to his son when his friends rallied around him. They wouldn’t let him go the hospital on his own. They were with him and went through the painful time with Dustin. While he was numb and thought about using again, he didn’t want to lose all of his progress and all the trust he had built back up. He didn’t want to disappoint those who believed in him. “I loved to see the look on my mom’s face. I loved that my daughter smiles back at me now.”
His mom’s health was deteriorating, and she could not make it to his son’s funeral. Three weeks later, Dustin’s sister called to say that his mother only had a day or two left. He and his sister spent the night with his mom as she passed away. “I just felt gratitude. If I would have picked up [and started using] after my son passed away, then I wouldn’t have been able to be there with my mom. It just kind of put everything in perspective for me. As hard as it was, it was peaceful. We were able to be there with her. I was clean and clear-minded. I was at peace, and she was at peace.”
Dustin explained how he continued his recovery during this difficult time. “I leaned on my network. That is a big part of my story; I had that positive network.” He remembers, “It was hard at first. All I knew is that I had to keep moving forward.” A few days after his mom had passed away, Mike Rallo encouraged Dustin to share his story with the new guys at HUM. “It was an emotional day. When I walked out of there, I just felt a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders.” It was also an opportunity for him to help others at HUM. “Before, I thought nobody’s going to learn from me.” Now he can see that others learn from his struggles and how he got through it.
Dustin graduated in November of 2015. Shortly after graduation, Dustin and his close friends were all offered staff positions at HUM. He recalls, “To be able to give back to a place that saved all of our lives, it was awesome.” He continues, “It’s about the guys that are here in the program. Just to be able to give back to them, it’s a special place, and I feel it when I walk in here.”
Dustin has a new life after coming to HUM. In August, he had a new a life come into the world when he and his wife had a baby boy. “Hopefully I went through the struggles so he won’t have to.” Dustin’s daughter is eleven now, and he gets to be there for her, too. “I love being a dad.”
Dustin says that those who support HUM matter. “You save lives every day. I’m not just thankful, but I’m sure my family is. I’m sure my kids are. I’m sure my mom was thankful to have her son for her last six months – her real son, not her son who was showing up high.”
“I had accepted in my head that I was going to be a dope fiend for the rest of my life.” Josh is 29 years old and was born in Boston to an Air Force family. He moved to Middle River, Maryland when he was seven and he graduated from Eastern Technical High School. Josh started using marijuana around the age of thirteen. He remembers the older kids in the neighborhood using. “Curiosity was a big part of it,” and he thinks the media had something to do with it, too. Throughout high school, Josh used the party drugs – ecstasy, acid, mushrooms, cocaine, etc. It wasn’t until his senior year that a friend introduced Josh to opiates and he explains, “I fell in love immediately”. After high school, Josh worked in sales and went to community college. He managed to do okay balancing out a life of partying, working, and going to school. Eventually, he realized that managing his social life and friends had become overwhelming. “I had no rest. So, if I wasn’t at work and if I wasn’t at school, I either had a group of friends over at my house partying, or they were hitting me up. [They wanted to know] about what bar are we going to, or can you get me this drug and do you want to do some of it with me? Josh remembers that “it became a burden to continue in that role.” Josh’s friends at work reintroduced him to oxycodone during this time. “I started to lose interest in work and school and hanging out with friends.” At first, oxycodone helped and kept him motivated to keep going. “Eventually, my friends started seeing different changes in me, that I was becoming a straight addict with these pills [as opposed to a social user]. They started not wanting to be around me. I started resenting them not wanting to be around me. Then I started lying about how much I was using. That’s when the isolation started to happen.” Eventually, Josh dropped out of college, and his life became about going to work and getting high. When he was twenty-four, taking prescription drugs became too expensive and more difficult to find, so he moved on to heroin. “The idea of shooting up had disgusted me [in the past].” I had always taken a lot of pride in myself and had a lot of confidence in myself, and the needle took that away from me. I couldn’t do it in a room with a mirror because I didn’t want to see myself.” After a while Josh wanted to get clean, so he called Mercy Hospital’s detox unit and went through three days of detox. “Luckily I had a friend that was clean at the time, and he introduced me to Narcotics Anonymous. I went to a meeting, and I didn’t like it. The guy who shared, I judged him the whole time. Even though I was an addict, I judged everyone in there the whole time. I left there and got high. I called my buddy, and he told me to come back.” Josh kept going but decided he didn’t want to do anything they were telling him to do. “It sounded like a lot of work.” He refused to give up alcohol and six months later, while he was drinking, he started using heroin again. Josh overdosed four times after he started using again. He explains, “Before, when I was disgusted about what I was doing, I didn’t hate myself. I just hated what I was doing. I knew I was better than that needle. But, at this point, I had tried all these different things and had lost the willpower to get clean. I had accepted in my head that I was going to be a dope fiend for the rest of my life and I was okay with that.” Eventually, Josh was arrested and charged with possession and disorderly conduct. He had also received several traffic violations over the years. At his hearing, he was sentenced to four years in jail because the judge was afraid that Josh would either kill himself or someone else if he was allowed to go free. When he was clean, Josh had met graduates of Helping Up Mission. He told his dad about HUM and said he wanted to come here. So, when Josh filed for a modification of his sentence, he came to HUM. When he arrived, adjusting wasn’t that difficult. HUM wasn’t what he expected and “looked like a hotel.” At the end of his blackout period (the first forty-five days), he started to show up to non-mandatory meetings, hearing the NA literature again and met a good group of guys who seemed to want the same things he did. “When we got off black-out, we were [out at] meetings every single night.” Josh came to Helping Up Mission just before Thanksgiving. “That week was just amazing. We eat well here, anyway, but that week I ate amazing. We had the Ravens players come out, and it was cool meeting those guys. A lot of people were festive and in good moods. I was used to being in jail where everybody was angry the whole time, and there was a tension that you could cut with a knife that they didn’t have here. It was relaxing to me.” Josh’s parents visited around Christmas, and he sees them more often now. He is working on building up the relationship with them. His brother has even brought his dogs to meet up with Josh at local parks. While at Helping Up Mission, Josh has grown through his work therapy experiences. He started off as a peace-keeper and then moved to work as Pastor Gary’s assistant. He was there for several months when another opportunity presented itself. Josh had a casual conversation with Martin, the IT director at HUM, and mentioned some of his experience. A little while later, Martin asked Josh to work for him in IT as an undergraduate intern. The opportunity to work on technology has been incredible for Josh as he rediscovers his interests, especially in network security. Josh has a bit longer before his graduation. He wants to stay active in his twelve-step program and has been asked to lead a group here at the Mission. He plans to eventually go back to school to study the field of IT and network security. He says, “I’ve learned to trust the process and God’s plan for me.” Josh and a friend at HUM recently reminisced, “When we got here we didn’t want to stay for a year.” Now, they might stay beyond a year to continue to grow. “This is a good place for me right now. As long as I keep doing the next right thing, then I will never know what it’s like to get hit with NARCAN again.”
Nick has been able to rebuild his relationship with his mother and brothers, and now he can help others do the same!
Nick is the youngest of three boys whose parents divorced when he was young. He admits that he was spoiled and played both parents to get what he wanted. His brothers stayed with his mom most of the time, but Nick would go back and forth between both parents. He liked to stay with his more lenient dad, who was also an addict.
At the age of ten, Nick started drinking alcohol and using marijuana. When he was twelve, he was using regularly. His addiction got worse, and by the time he was fifteen, Nick’s mom sent him to a recovery program in Utah. He hated the program, and was angry at his mom for sending him. He explains, “I always loved my mom, more than anything in the world. She was a wonderful lady, but I was always mad at her for that.”
While he was in Utah, Nick didn’t use, and completed two years of high school. He thought he had recovered and wanted to return to Maryland to be a normal student and play sports for his senior year. Nick convinced his dad to get him out of the program and let him come back to play football and baseball.
Upon returning, Nick earned the starting quarterback role on his varsity team. He drank occasionally, and once the football season was over, he drank frequently. During baseball season, Nick hurt his arm and started taking pain medication which he became dependent on..
He played baseball for a year in college, but his reliance on pain medications led to a heroin addiction, and soon, Nick didn’t want to do anything other than feed his habit. He quit school and managed to survive for several years with the help of his father.
He eventually moved back with his mom, but he wasn’t able to hold a job or have a relationships. Again, his mom tried to help by bailing him out when he got in trouble and sending him to rehabs. One of the programs had a spiritual focus, and that was where Nick discovered his desire for a relationship with God.
Unfortunately, he returned from one of the rehab programs to find that his brother had started using, too. Nick returned to his old ways and even began to sell drugs out of his mother’s house. His mom had finally had enough and said they couldn’t live there anymore. Enraged, Nick went to Las Vegas to live with his father. “I was not nice about it at all. I could not control my emotions. I am a completely different person now. I don’t even recognize the guy that I used to be.”
Nick lived two and half years in Vegas. He was always high, repeatedly arrested, and at one point found his father on the floor unconscious from an overdose and with a blood infection from shooting up. In the end, Nick was living in a trailer that didn’t have power or water. He was exhausted, and when his aunt came out to bring him home, he returned reluctantly to the East Coast.
Nick has a family friend on the Board of Helping Up Mission who recommended that he and his brother come to HUM. Although Nick was not ready to stop, his brother was ready, and came to HUM’s Spiritual Recovery Program. He recalls “I wanted to stop, but I didn’t want to.” As Nick went through several other programs, he realized, “I didn’t really want to live. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to do what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop.” He kept trying and kept slipping up, but all of those places helped keep him alive until he was ready to stop. “I always believed that once I was ready to stop, I could with God’s help.” Nick called his brother after he had messed up again, and his brother suggested he come to HUM.
Nick remembers walking through the door and just crying. He was worn out and wanted to stop. When he came in it felt good and safe, and he could finally let his guard down. At HUM, he could focus on what he needed to do to get better. He had the chance to address the root causes of his addiction. For the first time, Nick didn’t immediately seek out a social circle. Instead, he focused on his recovery and did the work he needed to recover.
One thing Nick had to work on was his relationships. He was tired of hurting everyone. When his mom came to visit, it was tough to see her, and they both cried. She visited every week and welcomed him home.
There were years that Nick didn’t communicate with his mother, and there were times she enabled him, believing she was helping him. Eventually, she made the tough choice to say “whenever you are ready, I am here.” It was certainly tough for him to hear, but now Nick proudly declares that his mother is “the best woman I ever met. She is loving and caring and always did everything she could for my brothers and me. She always put us first.”
It has been almost a year since Nick graduated from HUM. He now works as an Intern in the Program Office at the Mission and helps other men find their way. Thanks to you, Nick has been able to rebuild his relationship with his mother and brothers, and now he can help others do the same!
Wes, 33 years old, was born and raised in Baltimore. His family sent him to an all male private high school to allow him to get a good education. “While I was there,” he explains, “I probably didn’t enjoy everything about it. But after graduating, I really appreciate having the opportunity to go somewhere like that.” However, while in high school, Wes started gained access and started using substances, like Ritalin and Aderall – taking prescription medication for Attention Deficit Disorder, even though he was not diagnosed with ADD. From there, he moved onto other drugs, including marijuana, hallucinogens, and OxyContin.
Wes graduated high school and moved on to Towson University, where his addiction intensified. He was eventually expelled for selling marijuana from his dorm room. For several years Wes worked dead-end jobs in order to support his habit. Then he started selling again. “I kind of felt like it made people need me in their lives,” he explains. “I always had trouble making friends on my own, so I figured…if I sell addictive substances, they’ve gotta be my friend.”
Eventually his house was raided, he was arrested, and he moved back in with mom. At that point, Wes knew he was on a downward spiral. He was only twenty-eight years old. Wes was going through what he called “spiritual decay and just feeling tired with life.” At this point he knew, “I had nothing to sell; I had nothing to give; I was just really taking everything… trying to fill the void inside with drugs.”
Wes went back to Towson University, managing to get good grades despite continued drug use, and earned his degree in Environmental Science. But even after earning his degree, he getting dead-end jobs, staying up all night using and sleeping all day. He thought it was the chemicals that caused the schedule, but since he has been at HUM he has realized: “It was really a lot of self-image and self-esteem issues, being ashamed of showing my face outside in public. I didn’t want to see the light of day, or the ‘normal’ people going about their business.”
Thanks to you… Wes is gaining confidence to live as the man he was created to be!
At one point, Wes went to ask his mother for money. She suggested he get some help, but Wes protested that he didn’t have insurance or any way to pay for a treatment program. But, his sister’s boyfriend had been to HUM and told him about it. Wes spent that night in his mother’s basement, thinking, and finally decided he was ready for something else. So at the age of thirty-two, he started his recovery journey at HUM.
When he first arrived, Wes was in a fog, but was ready to surrender. He was surprised that everyone seemed friendly and willing to help him. It took a while to settle in, though, because he was used to the schedule of sleeping during the day and staying up at night.
At about four months, Wes started to acclimate to recovery. “Making regular class attendance, grudgingly waking up for work therapy, and at least trying to do the best I could do” are all things he says have helped. “It really has gotten easier. As somebody who would go to sleep before the birds wake up, my work therapy [has me] wake up with the birds and go clean up cigarette butts on East Baltimore Street. I am out there dancing around with my music on, and I am having a blast.”
Besides his work therapy, Wes suggests that other aspects of life at HUM have really helped, especially the sense of community. “I’ve never experienced anything like it,” he says. During his time here, Wes has also taken the opportunity to meet regularly with his mental health counselor. “The mental health coordination is great. I can be honest with my counselor, tell them whatever is going on with me inside.”
For Wes, one of the most meaningful parts of the HUM community has been the choir. It took him some time to gain the confidence to join, but once he did, Wes found he was in his element. “The people who sing in the choir get a lot out of it – finding some purpose – helping us to realize that we need to trust God and just do the best we can. I love getting up there. I have always been an introvert, and never thought my skills would be enough to be on a showcase. But, I love getting up there and showing off my moves.” Through the choir, Wes has had some additional leadership opportunities which have been personally affirming. It has been an encouragement to Wes to realize that “people see more in me than I can see in myself sometimes.”
Wes graduates in a few months, and he is waiting on God as he discerns the best way to move forward. Wes is thrilled to have a better relationship with his family. Where he used to be a hindrance, he is now a help. His self-image issues have come a long way, and he is learning new ways to live in confidence and freedom. While he would eventually like to work in his field of study – Environmental Science – Wes is not anxious. “I can take this time, figure out what is best for me, and set things in motion.” He knows that God will make a way for him.
What does Wes think of HUM? “It saved my life, and I think it can work wonders in anyone’s life, even if they don’t think it can.” To all friends and supporters of Helping Up Mission, he has this to say: “Thanks for showing me that God loves me!”
Richard is no longer wandering the streets. Instead, he is spending this Christmas with family!
Richard, 58, has lived his whole life in Baltimore. Dad was a steelworker and mom stayed home, taking care of the four children.
Richard remembers his grandmother struggled with alcoholism and was reclusive. While he didn’t like that about her, he started to drink, himself, by age 13. “I was small in stature and shy,” he says, “and it helped me fit in better. It gave me ‘beer muscles’.”
Looking back, Richard says he was an alcoholic by 16. Still, although drinking regularly and working a side job, he did earn his high school diploma.
But, at 19, his parents couldn’t tolerate his drinking and “invited” him to leave the family home. On his own, and continuing to drink, Richard kept steady employment in local restaurants. A hard worker, he often received raises and promotions. Then, at age 28, his boss invited him to his first Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting.
It was a moment of clarity! Richard bought into the 12 Steps of AA and began faithfully working the program. A couple of years later, his girlfriend, the mother of his son, agreed to marry him. Richard remembers this as a good time in his life and he stayed sober for eight years.
But, he started getting bored with his daily routine. “Life got kind of stale,” he says. One day, Richard decided to take a drink – even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. Within a year, he was divorced. While he cared about his son and saw him almost daily, Richard admits it wasn’t quality time.
The two of them became estranged when Richard was sent to jail for a year. In fact, they only saw each other once during the following decade – at the viewing for Richard’s mother after her death. By that time, his son was on his own journey of alcoholism… and recovery, with two years clean.
In her later years, Richard’s mother needed 24-hour supervision because she was now blind and diabetic. Still bored with his life, Richard moved into her house and cared for her – all-day, everyday for seven years until her death. But that was okay with him because he could also isolate from the world and keep drinking.
After his mom died, Richard remained isolated and drinking in her house. But after two years and numerous unpaid bills, his sister evicted him. Richard says, “While I wasn’t shocked, I still had no plan. I was penniless and had this feeling of impending doom. I cared, but knew I was powerless – and that it was my own fault.”
Then something happened. A friend tricked Richard into attending an AA meeting because she knew his son would be there. The two exchanged pleasantries and his son introduced Richard to two ladies at the meeting.
The next week, now homeless and penniless, Richard was standing on a Baltimore street looking at a store window display. Inside, one of the women from the AA meeting recognized him and came out. They talked and she promised to take him to an AA meeting where he could learn about a program that might really help him.
As a recluse, Richard was afraid of programs, but agreed to go to the meeting. There he met three guys from Helping Up Mission who shared about HUM’s 12-month residential Spiritual Recovery Program. After hearing their stories and seeing how they were doing now, Richard felt a spark of hope.
But, it was the Labor Day weekend and there were no intakes until Tuesday. Richard prayed, asking God to keep him alive until he could get to HUM.
Then, an AA friend from years ago recognized Richard and offered to take him to his home for those three days. Richard slept on his couch, got cleaned up, ate good food and went to more meetings with his friend.
Upon arrival at HUM, Richard said, “I was looking for all of the homeless people, but I couldn’t see anyone who looked like me. The moment I walked in I felt hope!”
But Richard was in terrible shape – 115 pounds and couldn’t get up out of a chair on his own. And, after nearly a decade of isolation, being in the midst of 500 men on the HUM campus wasn’t easy. “But I noticed I was getting better,” he says. “My life was changing and I could see it. I could even look people in the eyes again.”
Richard’s daily work responsibilities on campus also required him to interact with many new people. He met guys serious about their recovery and they became friends, even helping him reconnect with his son.
Today they’re doing much better. “It’s amicable,” he says, “no longer about the past. He believes I am sorry. We love each other.”
Richard also reached out to his ex-wife and thanked her for raising their son. He even reconnected with the sister that evicted him.
This fall Richard celebrated one-year of sobriety and graduated from our one-year Spiritual Recovery Program. “I am truly learning what it means to live one day at a time,” he says.
Thanks to you…Richard no longer wonders the streets, isolated and homeless. As a HUM graduate he continues to live and work on our campus – and this year Richard will be spending Christmas with his family – at his sister’s house!
You may have heard about Mark Ramiro in the news. Late one night in July 2014, he was with several friends – all high on drugs. They were filming stunts in the basement of his South Baltimore home, until things went fatally awry. Mark’s friend of 15 years, Darnell Mitchell, strapped on a bulletproof vest and asked to be shot in the chest. But Mark aimed inches too high, and the bullet hit Darnell just above the vest. Mark rushed his friend to the hospital, but it was too late.
Mark came to Helping Up Mission in June 2015. He had already successfully participated in several short-term recovery programs, but he was still awaiting sentencing, and constantly wrestling with the trauma and shame of what he had done. In March 2016, Mark Ramiro was sentenced to 4 years – but he went to prison with 9 months’ clean time and, more importantly, a new perspective on his past and his future. Our chaplain, Vic King, spoke with Mark in jail.
Both my parents worked all the time to put food on the table, so I was pretty much on my own with my friends. I didn’t really know who I was, because I looked Filipino, but I talked and carried myself more as a West-Baltimore American. I just went with the flow. I started experimenting with alcohol and weed in middle school, and by 9th grade I was a real heavy weed smoker.
When I was 21, I went to art school in PA and got a degree in fashion marketing. I was making and selling t-shirts, doing tattoos, and filming music videos for local rap artists. But I started using pills – Percocets, Oxys, Opanas, Benzos – and it started affecting my whole character. And that led to my friend’s death.
You came to HUM on house arrest. What was it like at first?
Well, I broke the record for the longest restriction in Helping Up history (laughs) – it was either HUM or going to jail. So when I first got there I was upset; I didn’t want to be there. But I found Pastor Gary and Mike Rallo interesting. Pastor Gary would make me write the character quality of the week on the board every morning, because of my artistic skills.
I got real close to different guys. Mike is the security guy at the 23 desk, and they put me there for work therapy. We didn’t talk much at first. But he’s a giver, always helping other guys, and I would just observe him. Then we started talking. He trusted me for some reason, and that meant a lot to me. He could tell when I was going through stuff.
What aspect of HUM’s program helped you the most?
For me, I liked the spirituality – reading the Bible, praying, talking, meditating. A lot of times I would slip into the chapel, and sit in the corner where nobody could see me, and just think.
So how has God helped you in the midst of all this mess?
He’s helped me in trying to forgive myself, helped me not blame other people for my own screw-ups, helped me be open with other people, to talk with people. A lot of times in my life, I was antisocial. Maybe it was my character or maybe it was due to my drug addiction, I don’t know. But I try to follow what I’ve seen.
Before your sentencing, you were able to meet with your friend Darnell’s family. What was that like?
It was emotional, but it was good. It broke the ice. They were upset at me, which they have every right to be. I can’t be mad at that. For what I did, they were upset, but they were open, and they were forgiving. They hugged me a bunch of times. They told me how it hurt them, how it affected them. I apologized – words can’t express how sorry I am.
Describe your transition from HUM to prison.
Court was nerve-wracking. You pray for the best and expect the worst. I got nine years with five suspended. God works in mysterious ways, and I think he prepared me for that. Nobody wants to go to jail. I don’t care who you are, this place is not for anybody.
It was different from 2014 when I came here; it just felt different. I’m happy. Not to say I’m happy to be here, but I’m cool. I know this is temporary. I don’t know what the Big Man’s plans are for me, but this is part of it. This was like the icing on the cake to set things straight. And I think this is Him testing me too… Is this kid going to turn his back on Me? Is he going to lose his faith? Is he going to give up?
I still pray, frequently. I was reading the Gospel of John this morning. I think my faith in God kept me together. ‘Cause if you knew me then, and if you know me now, you could tell. I’m in the system… and I’m cool. I know it’s temporary. Walking around with a chip on your shoulder is not going to help. At all.
What are your hopes for life after prison?
I’m going to get a job, stay sober. I’m going to continue to do my artwork – paint, draw, hopefully open a t-shirt business. I want to tell people my story – the mistakes, the drug addiction – and see if I can help someone.
What would you want people to take from your story?
Be yourself, be honest. Have faith… because you have to lean on something beyond yourself. If you put yourself first, and you think it’s all about you, then you’re already lost. Stay clean, stay drug-free. I know it’s cliché to say, but it doesn’t lead anywhere but jail or death. God didn’t give you the blessing of life to waste it and to get trashed every day. You weren’t put on this earth for that. I’m happy to wake up every day, open my eyes and breathe.
“Just a little over one year ago, I was worried about where my next meal was coming from, and how I could keep myself from freezing to death. After wandering around, with no real purpose, I had nearly given up. All hope was gone, so I began to look for a building tall enough to jump from.
“I then decided that if there was a God, I could at least ask for some guidance in what appeared to be my 11th hour. I spent a few nights sleeping on a steam grate after a bit of hope filled my spirit. I went to Johns Hopkins Hospital, the very place I was born. I told them that I had contemplated suicide in the recent weeks, so they kept me for the standard mental evaluation. After that, off to the HUM I went.
“Upon entering 911, I was greeted by Pete, who is cooler than the other side of the pillow. In all seriousness, I had struggled with my faith for some time. Pete would talk about God, and after watching how he carried himself, I started to believe that he believes.
“Between Pete, and my sponsor, and a few other genuinely good people, I started to believe for myself. For me, this evolved into daily prayer. I began to seek the love within all of us that binds us together so tightly, to overcome the fears that would tear us apart.”
Drew Dedrick, age 43, was raised in Columbia, MD. “I grew up in a good Catholic family,” says Drew. “I did well in school. I played football, baseball and painted scenery for the drama club and was an artist for the newspaper.”
“I had always been a normal guy. As I entered middle school I got glasses, braces and crazy hair due to my many cowlicks. I wasn’t cool anymore. I desperately wanted to fit in. I felt like good students were nerds so I started making an effort not to get straight A’s.
“After high school, I enrolled in UMBC and joined a fraternity. I did nothing but drink my entire freshman year. I felt like it was required to be part of the crowd and it helped me to feel accepted. By the end of my freshman year, I had failed out of college.
“I started working at Toby’s Dinner Theatre as a morning dishwasher. Within weeks I was promoted to working with props and stage managing. From there I became the technical director and finally a sound designer.
“In 1999, I married my girlfriend — an actress I had met at the theatre. We had a good life together. She eventually left the theatre and got a job as a teacher.
“Our first son, Martin, was born in 2004 and our second, August, arrived in 2007. After August was born, she wanted me to get a “real job.” She didn’t think that my job at the theatre had the long-term security that a day job could provide. But, I was comfortable at the theatre and knew that I was very good at what I did.
“After August was born, the disconnect between us grew. She had matured and become a proper mother but I hadn’t made that adjustment with her. She kept asking me to drink less. I hesitantly agreed but never made any real changes.
“We reached a point of crisis in our marriage. She gave me an ultimatum that I needed to quit drinking, quit smoking and get my health checked out. I told her that was a lot to ask for and I didn’t know if I could do all of it. I went to the doctor the very next week. I tried to quit smoking without realizing how hard it would be. I never was able to stop drinking. After six months, right after Thanksgiving 2013, she kicked me out. At first I fought for her and our relationship but eventually realized that it was futile — she was not going to take me back. Not being able to be with my boys was devastating.
“I still had my job at Toby’s and I would sleep in my car and at friends’ houses. It was freezing cold and so I drank to keep warm. My wife told me I couldn’t drive the boys anymore. Once that responsibility was gone, I drank whenever I wasn’t at work. I drank all day long. I got to the point where I would shake if I wasn’t drinking. My doctor prescribed me anxiety medication. Because I was taking it along with drinking, I started blacking out. I started getting progressive warnings from my boss about showing up drunk to work.
“From May to October my life was just shame upon shame. I was hallucinating. I was very paranoid and stopped talking to people. I thought I was going to die – I didn’t believe I had any chance to control my alcoholism. I was only getting ½ hour of sleep every night and drinking didn’t even get me drunk anymore.
“I finally realized that I needed help. My step-mother helped me look for programs and found Helping Up Mission. She brought me to HUM and I was an emotional mess. I had been isolated for so long. Suddenly, I was in a community of guys all working on the same thing and it was like an enormous weight had been lifted.
“I surrounded myself with good people. For the first time in my life, I started following the rules. Anything the staff asked me to do, I did. I got a sponsor, a home group, developed a great relationship with my treatment coordinator, fully used my therapist and started attending church.
“As I progressed in the program, I had to decide about going back to work right away or waiting. I prayed on it and decided to accept a work therapy assignment in HUM’s treatment office. I wanted to give back to the place that had saved my life! I eventually accepted an internship in the Philanthropy Department. My family wrote a letter lashing out at me for taking an internship instead of a full-time job. They wanted me to re-enter the workforce and provide for my boys.
“I recently was offered the opportunity to interview for a position in HUM’s Philanthropy Department as the Marketing and Communications Coordinator. As I read the job description, I was amazed – if I could have written it myself, this is the ideal job description I would have written. A couple of weeks later, I was offered and accepted the position. Working at Helping Up Mission is a calling. It’s a place where I can help save lives.
“Because I am able to live at the Mission as a residential staff member, I am saving money and able to make financial amends to my ex-wife. My family apologized to me for writing that letter and doubting me. They now realize that I was doing the right thing all along, by surrendering to God’s will and am now in a position to give back to my boys immediately.”
Watch Drew’s interview at our 2016 Graduation Banquet:
https://youtu.be/Z7XY9OguvbA?t=2m21s