At that time, I was seeing a woman named "Cookie" Mastbaum for help with other problems I was facing in recovery. She was important to me and I really respected her. I didn't tell her anything about the new image I was creating. It was something I was doing and I kept it to myself. By mistake or good fortune, I showed up at her office dressed out and looking cool. I walked into her office for my appointment, and she looked up at me and was instantly mad. "What are you doing? I thought you respected me and what we are doing!" Cookie stood up. "Get out of my office and don't come back." She turned away from me, sat back, and started working on some paperwork. I stood there for a moment and she didn't move or look up.

            I left her office and climbed on my bike and kicked it into life. I over revved it a few times to make my point and sped out of her cul-de-sac. On the freeway, I sped along not paying attention. About an hour later, well out of the city and into some farm land, I slowed down. I was driving dangerously and I knew it. I pulled over and shut my bike off. So many things were going through my brain, and I really needed to think. The look on her face, her words were echoing in my head, and no matter how many times I tried to shut them into a compartment in my head, they broke right back out. One thing I'd already learned in recovery was that it's almost impossible for me to shut the door on truth when I hear it. I was at a crossroad in my life, and I knew it. I'd been confronted by others about trying to be "terminally cool." I had just hoped that I wouldn't have to pay a price for it. The price tag had been shown to me, and I was scared. It was too high and I wasn't willing to pay it. The anger I was feeling wasn't really anger, it was frustration and fear. I was trying to be mad at her, and I knew that was misplaced. I was frustrated at the side road I'd taken, and I wanted to blame my friends who I'd followed down that side road. I couldn't do that either.

            I got back on my bike and turned it back towards home. I was bummed, and I was dealing with that feeling as I drove into the city. At my home, I parked the bike and swung myself off. I walked up the sidewalk to my home, and when I pulled the door open, I knew what I was going to do. I sold my bike a few hours later and gave away all the "trappings." I called my friends, who I rode the motorcycles with, and told them what I had done, and that I was through with that chapter of my life. I met significant resistance from them. When it was all finished and a few days had passed, I went back to Cookie's office again. I had no idea how I was going to be received, but seeing her again was important to me. I had come a long way because of her, and I needed that relationship to help me get further.

            When I was in treatment, I was diagnosed with multiple Learning Disabilities, and I was going to her for help with those. I'd just barely made it out of High School, and to finally have a name for the frustrations I had felt for so many years was great. To know that I wasn't really stupid, dumb, and a lazy slob like I'd believed was a relief. Cookie had been seeing me for a year by then and I'd come to really respect her. It was funny to me that I respected her. I am over six feet and about two hundred pounds. She was just over five feet tall. Her office was set up for young kids with small chairs and tables to match those chairs. Every time I walked into that office, I had to hunker way down to sit in those chairs, while looking pretty silly trying to stuff my legs under those small tables. I knew the truth, and I prayed as I walked into her office that I'd be accepted back into her life. Sitting in the waiting room, I started to get even more scared. I had lots of reasons floating in my brain to run. I had just as many reasons to stay right where I was.

            I really got a kick out of myself sitting there being driven by fear, and doing my best to sit and let it move on through me. Cookie's door opened, and a young girl came walking out. Cookie looked at me, and a puzzled expression came from her. The young girl's mom was there and they left.

            "What are you doing here?" she asked. Suddenly our size was switched and I felt like a little kid looking up at a towering person with my hand out.

            "I'm sorry. I sold my bike, and I gave away everything that went with it. I called my friends, who I was riding with, and told them I was no longer going to ride motorcycles," the words flew out of me.

            "Really?" and she looked at me a moment. "You think that your bike was the problem?"

            "I'm not sure of anything right now except that I still need to be here learning from you, and doing the things that we do. I'd rather be doing that, than riding that dumb bike."

            My fingers were crossed, and I was silently saying every prayer I knew. "Let's talk." She turned and went into her office, and I followed. I got to stay, and she spent another full year teaching me. My time with her, learning about what made me tick, was time well spent. I learned so much more from her than I could have imagined. It was amazing to me to see just how being a learning disabled adult affected my whole being. When I graduated from High School, I barely made it out, and secretly I thought they just moved me along because, at that time, they had no name for what was up with me. I was an addicted kid, with many addictions and severe learning disabilities.

            With her help, I was able to get my counseling certificate from a prestigious program, and I did it by myself. Because of her willingness to lead and my willingness to follow, we covered ground that had been hidden deep inside me. It was with her that I learned that you can't lead people where you aren't willing to go, and you can't teach something that you never learned. It was also with her that I learned that, if there is no enemy within, nothing outside can harm you.

            When I left her office for the last time, it was just like leaving a safe zone. In her office talking to her, nothing was too large to overcome. But, she was a great momma eagle, and when it was time to leave the nest, she just pushed me out and knew I could fly.

            In recovery, I've had to learn some lessons that I thought were insurmountable. I looked at those problems as mountains that were too big to climb. With time, each problem was put into my rearview mirror, and I had done the work. With each accomplishment, I grew to trust God more. I went from a non-believing person, to a believing person, no matter what the problem. In the throes of addiction, I never thought about God, or even cared about God. I looked at all the things going on in my life, and knew that God didn't care one whit about me. He had bailed on me and I was alone. In my mind, everything wrong with me, my friends, and the world, was God's fault, and he didn't care. I was a whining, self-pitying little puke.

            With time, I learned just how wrong I was. When I started a relationship with Him, things changed quickly. I learned to lean on Him and trust in the Grace of God, not my own selfish thoughts. 

            I owe a great "Thank you" to one of my greatest mentors, Mildred "Cookie" Mastbaum, and a "Thank you" to my parents for sending me off to that terrible place that opened me up to the awesome power of God and recovery. RECOVERY ROCKS!