Written by Matthew and Steven, this is a story of a father and son’s journey to healing through substance abuse, depression, anger and family conflict that offers lessons to all parents and teens who feel lost in the struggle of dealing with the intense challenges of the teen years.

It is a story of redemption and growth through the emotional anguish that many families experience in the teen years and shares a message of hope that shows a path to maturity for struggling teens and for their parents.

These stories are told both through a father’s eyes as a family therapist and through the teen’s perspective and shares the profound heartache and deep love between a father and son. The lessons learned and the growth for parents and teens are clearly described so everyone who reads this can use these lessons in their own lives.

Continue reading for a exclusive preview of the book!

Matthew

Becoming healed, whole adults requires us to embrace the parts of ourselves we are afraid and ashamed of, and it takes acknowledging what has shaped us. It means taking responsibility for where we go from here and letting go of hopelessness, self-pity, shame and despair. My journey has not been the easiest nor the hardest, but it has made me into who I am. Finding peace with myself paves the way to shine brighter in the world and brings out my gifts and talents to be of service to others. 

What I have learned on this journey is that no matter how many times we get knocked down, what counts is how fast we decide to get up. I have faced drug abuse, depression, thoughts of suicide, feeling lost and hopeless in myself, and have seen many of my friends, clients, and community face these same problems. There was a time when it seemed a long shot to me that I could come out as a healthy adult, but through the help of many amazing mentors, friends and family, here I am. Currently, I am pursuing a degree in addiction counseling and I work at a drug and alcohol treatment center. 

A lot of my life I felt angry, out of control, scared and alone. The brighter aspects of my personality such as my curiosity, compassion, and love for my family, were buried under manic outbursts, drug abuse, and a mind-numbing depression. I felt lost and alone. I experienced myself as disconnected from my family, my community, and myself. In my own bubble of self-hatred and fear, it was hard to see how it was possible to reach out to others, make friends, or be a part of a community. Though I lost sight of the light and goodness in myself, my parents and a lot of amazing people around me never did. 

A huge turning point happened for me one night when I took some LSD and painkillers at a friend's house, and I came very close to losing my mind. The room around me started to spin and I felt a heavy anxiety rise up in my stomach. I told my friend I was starting to freak out, and she said I was going to ruin her trip and I should leave. My panic increased to the point where I couldn’t talk. “At least give me your keys before you go so you don’t drive,” she said. I numbly handed her the keys and walked out the door. It was midnight in March and about 20 degrees outside. I was so high that I forgot my shoes and jacket. I wandered around the neighborhood for a while and got lost. Every house looked the same. I eventually found my way back to my car, which thankfully was unlocked. I sat shoeless, in a short-sleeved shirt in my car with no heat, slowly losing the battle with my own inner demons. 

All of the fear, doubt, and self-hatred I had been living with was thrown in my face. I remember going through my phone and even trying to call some of my “friends” who told me they couldn’t deal with more bullshit right now. I realized how alone I was and how much I had pushed away those around me.

In a moment of clarity, I concluded that I needed help. I made a call to my parents, not an easy decision as we had fought over my drug use since I was 13. They managed to find me, despite the fact I couldn’t remember my friend's address and gave very incoherent directions. Seeing my mom knock on my car door was one of the most incredible and relieving moments of my life. Riding back, I kept repeating, “I lost all the love, where did it go? I lost it,” and my father told me over and over again, “It never left, Matt, it never left. It’s right here.” 

I went in and out of some form of psychosis for about a month. I couldn’t even walk around the block without panicking let alone work, and thankfully my parents were willing to support me. My sanity eventually returned and from then on, I was determined to get my shit together. I started going to therapy again, I enrolled in college, and I started taking care of my body, mind and soul. The next few years were some of the best of my life, and I found amazing friends, adventures, and a sense of purpose. I found a passion for outdoor education and mental health, and my friends and family supported me in my mental health and sobriety.

Steven

We found Matt sitting alone, shivering in the driver’s seat of our blue Hyundai Santa Fe in the parking lot of some random apartment complex across town. A thin sheet of white snow covered the parking lot and whitened the roofs of the apartment buildings all around us, in the silence of the night. It was about 1:00 a.m. on a Saturday, and Matt only had on his faded jeans and a flimsy short sleeved t-shirt, in his bare feet. The car was dark and silent with no heat, and my son was shivering uncontrollably. When we knocked on his window, he turned his head and I saw intense fear as well as tears of relief in his eyes. 

Matt had woken us up from a deep sleep when he called about 45 minutes earlier. It was shortly after midnight, and he said that he was in the middle of a really bad acid trip. He told us he was lost and didn’t know how to get home. Liz and I were dressed and out the door in about five minutes, and I was driving in the general direction of Aurora, Colorado. Liz stayed on the phone with Matt while he was doing his best to give directions to his location. I would call out the landmarks along the way, and Liz would relay Matt’s confused and uncertain directions. By some miracle, when we pulled up in the parking lot of the Apres Apartment complex, hoping we were at the right place, there was our blue Hyundai Santa Fe. Matt sitting alone, shivering in the driver’s seat, looked so small, afraid and pitiful. It just broke my heart. 

He was so incredibly relieved to see us, but that relief only lasted for a few seconds as he started to sob uncontrollably while Liz and I silently hugged him tightly. He told us he had got in an argument with the girl he was seeing and some friends in her apartment while they were tripping together. He said he could not go back because the negativity was too much for him. We didn’t know which apartment it was, so we just got him in the car with me, and Liz drove behind us in the Hyundai all the way home. Matt was crying, anxious and depressed, and he kept repeating, “I lost all the love, where did it go? I lost it.” I told him that I loved him and his mom loved him, and the love was right here and it never left. I was so scared for my son, and experienced such a deep and profound love for him on that ride home. I felt so powerless to help him, and I remembered that little boy he had been with bright eyes, a cheerful smile, and endless questions about life. I prayed he would find that joy in his life again. 

When we got home, we settled him in bed. He was still tripping hard and we were with him, talking to him as he slowly calmed down. We tried to stay awake, but were exhausted. Sometime later, I jerked awake, realizing I had drifted off to sleep and Matt was gone. I woke Liz and we were panicked. We looked for him all over the house and backyard, and he was nowhere to be found. After a frantic search, we finally found him about ten minutes later, meditating under a tree in a park across the street. We got him back home, and the rest of the night his psychedelic experience was fairly uneventful as he started to come down by morning. 

Over the next month, the darkness of intense anxiety and depression stayed with Matt. Liz and I hovered over him like mother hens as we nursed him back to life. He got back into counseling, and started to get serious about his self-care with diet, exercise, and lots of sleep. He became invested in healthy living and decided to go back to college.

Matt had struggled with anxiety, drugs, alcohol and depression through his teen years, and  always had a hard time finding friends and a group where he belonged. After that night, he never went back to that girl or those friends, and he started to reach out to individuals that supported his recovery. The next few months, I watched him slowly emerge from the darkness that had clouded his life for so long. Over time, the fear for my precious son faded as he began to turn a corner in his life. He began reading every book he could find on healing and recovery, and I would see titles like Healing Depression lying around the house for years after that. 

Rock bottom looks different for everyone, and this was one of those times for Matt. While it was a painful and difficult experience, I am grateful for the deep wisdom and compassion for others that he has developed by working through these experiences and facing his trauma. I am moved by the strength of his character and love for others, and his commitment to making a difference in the world. 

Lesson: Sometimes the strongest and most courageous thing we can do is be willing to admit we are vulnerable and need help.

A few years after this experience, I was having a conversation with a friend. He had worked through his own struggles with addiction and had helped me and many other people through a lot. He told me that he was able to help others because he had stood in their shoes. He understood what it was like to be in their struggle, yet also knew what it was like to make it to the other side. In mythology, someone would come across the path of a shaman or healer because they themselves needed healing. Having walked through pain and struggle, the wounded healer had the ability to empathize with others, yet having come out the other side, they were able to provide perspective and healing.

In my generation, there is an unprecedented amount of suicide, violence, depression, anxiety, addiction and countless other signs that show people are suffering. I have had my own battles, but I've heard countless stories from friends, girlfriends, clients and people I barely know, about how much conflict and pain they are going through. I have also seen incredible strength, compassion, awareness, and a deep desire for change from these same people.

Struggle and hardship have valuable lessons to teach us if we are willing to listen. They tell us to value and be grateful for those we love, to care more about the people and environment around us, and to be gentler and kinder in the face of hate. We have the choice to allow these experiences to be a catalyst for growth and change, but we have to be willing to face, heal and learn from them. A lot of the time, our first reaction is to numb ourselves so we don’t have to feel anything so horrible ever again. Yet, when we numb out the bad, we deaden the good as well. When we can’t feel fear or sadness, we can’t feel love and joy. When we have the courage to face the darkness, we find incredible light. And right now, the world and the people in our lives need this light more than ever.