Matt Peterson's Story of Addiction Recovery

Matthew Peterson, CRPS, NCPS • Feb 01, 2024

My name is Matt Peterson, and I live in Tampa Bay, Florida. My sobriety date is 12/23/2010. 


Growing up, I had a chaotic home life at times. My parents divorced when I was 12 years old, and it felt like life was spinning out of control. I remember going to an inpatient mental health unit for 30 days at 12 years old, due to my depression, self harm, and suicidal thoughts. This experience of being hospitalized did not help me. 


I was full of fear, hopelessness, distrust, and anger. At 15 I got drunk for the first time, and it felt like all my problems melted away. I felt confident, numb, happy, and powerful all at the same time. Around age 16 I took on a persona as “the party guy”. I was responsible for finding alcohol, putting together parties, and I finally felt liked, needed, and valued by everyone. 


Once I got a car and started driving, things got worse. I was now routinely drinking and driving, and was obsessed with alcohol. I would spend all week thinking about the next party I could plan. By 17, I was starting to break my own rules. Now I was binge drinking at parties, and also at home by myself. 


Addiction and mental health challenges run throughout my family tree. By October of 2010, I had overdosed in a suicide attempt after my dad found my hidden stash of alcohol. At this point in time, drinking was the only thing that brought me happiness. I tried out a couple of 12 step meetings, and I could admit that I never drank in moderation, but the consequences that people were sharing about had not happened to me yet. 


That all changed on 12/22/2010. I had been drinking heavily that night, and could barely walk. But I was convinced I could still drive, due to my alcoholic insanity. I was pulled over for speeding. I sat there thinking “There’s no way I can talk to a cop right now, I’m plastered.” I looked around at the empty four loko cans littering the floor of my car, and said screw it. I took off as fast as I could. My best friend in the seat next to me said it looked like I was possessed. And I was. Once I started drinking, all that mattered was the ability to continue drinking, and nothing could stop me. 


About a minute later, I ended up spinning into a guardrail at 120 mph, and totaled my car. By some miracle, I did not hit a family on the interstate, and my best friend and I were left virtually unharmed. I was taken to the hospital for some minor injuries, and then spent Christmas in a psych ward. Here I was faced with two options. Go to prison for 9 years due to the felony evading arrest charge, DUI, etc. or go to treatment for 90 days, and I would have a chance at freedom. 


I surrendered. The jig was up. There were no more escape hatches to crawl out of. While in treatment I became fully convinced that I was bodily and mentally different from my fellows, and my experience with drinking has shown me that. I took suggestions, and developed a connection with a higher power that has kept me alive during some of the darkest times of my life. 


I was able to graduate high school while in treatment, enroll in college, connect with other young people in recovery, and finally developed trust with my family again. 


Life has still been full of challenges since beginning my recovery journey, but my decision to not take a drink, one day at a time, has given me the ability to get through all of these challenges. My willingness to be authentic and vulnerable with my support system is what has helped me the most. 


I firmly believe that the reason I am alive today is to help others that struggle with substance use and mental health challenges. This is my passion. If you are new to recovery, it’s never too early or too late to begin your recovery journey. Today is the perfect time.

Worth the Wait: Megan's Path to Lasting Addiction Recovery and Purpose

By Megan Miller, CAC • 29 Oct, 2024
I grew up full of fear. Everything terrified me. I never felt comfortable in my own skin. It wasn’t until I started smoking pot at 14—because I was too afraid to stand up to peer pressure—that I finally felt a sense of freedom and relaxation for the first time. I chased that high for the next 16 years. Somehow, I managed to graduate college with an OxyContin addiction, and after that, with nothing tethering me to the real world, things got a lot worse. I went to detox for the first of many times in 2005. I left there thinking I wasn’t an addict and that my use had just gotten out of control. That denial kept me in and out of treatment for the next decade. Heroin became my entire life. I couldn’t hold a job, I overdosed, I got Hepatitis C from sharing needles, and I didn’t care about anything except getting high. I was so full of shame at what my life had become, but I just couldn’t stop. I was great at trying to stop, but I couldn’t stay stopped. The gift of desperation came to me in April 2012. I couldn’t keep living the way I was. I finally wanted to live instead of die. That compulsion to use left me when I finally surrendered to it. Today, I wake up grateful for the life I have. My 6-year-old daughter is the greatest joy of my life, and she has never seen me use. Today, with the support of my wonderful husband, my family, and my recovery network, I live a full life of joy and purpose. There is no more rewarding feeling in the world than sharing the gift of recovery with others.

Overdose Awareness Day: A Reflection on Hope and Recovery

By Dave Aumiller, CPS, NCPRSS • 03 Sep, 2024
Overdose. It’s a word that catches in my throat and a topic that stops me in my tracks. As a person in long-term recovery from Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD) and Substance Use Disorder (SUD), I have overdosed many times. I have been revived by paramedics three times. Waking up in a hospital bed with no idea how I got there—scared. Or in the back of an ambulance, sick and angry for being Narcaned, a crazed hostage of my addicted mind. Or in a front yard, soaking wet from someone throwing me in a cold shower, unsuccessfully trying to revive me before leaving me outside—confused. These experiences don’t account for the countless times I have overdosed and been revived by a concerned party—now scarred by the trauma of my disease in its final stage, trying to carry out its final act, resulting in an untimely death. Overdose. After all of this, it was the kindness and care of others that made the difference between another chance and another day. Another dose of hope and life. An opportunity to begin again. On a day like today, reflecting on a topic that is so close to the heart of everyone connected to this reality, I am grateful. I am hopeful. I am humble. Because I know how lucky I am. How undeserving I was. And I live my amends and gratitude by doing my best to embody and live the values of a recovery that works. I also keep close to my heart, at the forefront of my mind, and on the tip of my tongue, the names of the countless others who weren’t as lucky as I. In honor of Overdose Awareness Day, I will say the names of my friends who weren’t fortunate enough to receive as many chances as I did, and I will live in their names—sober today and willing to extend a hand to anyone who needs it in their journey to recover and spread hope to both the sufferer and the caregiver.  Today, let us remember those we have lost, cherish the moments we have been given, and continue to fight for a future where overdose is a distant memory. Together, we can make a difference. Together, we can spread hope.

Overdose Awareness Day: Survivor's Guilt Transformed into Hope

By Shannon Schwoeble, CPS • 29 Aug, 2024
I was devastated when I heard that another close friend I'd made in treatment was gone. Seven friends in my first six months—two had come into treatment, left, and passed away while I was still there. In the years that followed, many others who had walked this path alongside me were lost as well. Nine in my first year of recovery. I found myself asking, "Why am I still here? Why didn’t they ‘get it’?"  Survivor’s guilt was not something I expected to experience in recovery. It hit me hard and fast when I began my journey in 2011. I was terrified. I would sit and think about friends I had just seen or spoken to—did they seem different? Did they sound off? I was so scared of who I would lose next. Through my work with a therapist and finding my own voice, I learned to transform my survivor's guilt into hope. I realized that by using my voice, sharing my story, saying their names, and talking about the profound impact each of them had on me—in life and in death—I could help others understand that recovery is possible. Perhaps, something I share will give someone struggling a glimmer of hope that they, too, can find recovery. On Overdose Awareness Day, August 31, we remember and honor those we've lost to this devastating disease. In loving memory of Ben, Pat, Krista, Harry, Christina, Brook, Dustin, Jeff, Jamie, and everyone we have lost—you are remembered and loved, today and every day.
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