Relapse, Recovery, And The Portland Water Bureau
My relapse from drug and alcohol abstinence is difficult for me to document, as this story represents a particularly disturbing period in my life, a period when I limped away from recovery and its attendant Grace. There is an “old saw” in the recovery movement, and that is “relapse is part of recovery”. The definition of relapse (according to all addiction-awareness resources) is returning to drug/substance abuse after a period of sobriety. The same resources also say that relapse is a possibility for everyone and that every recovery plan should involve educating our self about relapse and making a plan to not only prevent it but also to deal with it if it occurs. If relapse were a failure, national and global addiction agencies would not make an effort to inform addicts and alcoholics that dealing with it is integral to recovery. Addiction is a multifaceted disease, and recovery is not as simple as staying sober. Our journey to a healthier life includes repairing our brain, updating our treatment, monitoring our triggers and behavior, rebuilding our life, and even rethinking our definition of recovery. It’s not easy, but relapse doesn’t mean we’ve failed at recovery.It only means we’re an addict who is trying our best to get well, and if at first, we don’t succeed—get up and try again. I had been able to maintain almost 20 years of continuous sobriety, from 1987 to late 2006, but towards the end of that lengthy period, I had unintentionally become more isolated as a person, which is a danger sign for a person embracing recovery. I worked in an industry that had a style of work that left me depleted emotionally and physically, at the end of most work days. This left me little energy after work for being with people, other than with my wife. I had to become more sensitive to the needs of my aging parents, which took me more often outside of my pattern of social connections, thus devoting even less time to my friends and acquaintances. I also lost touch with several important friends due to death or mutual neglect during the same period of time. Concurrently,, the actual time that I spent in daily meditation and devotions reduced dramatically, as well. With a series of health related events redirecting my attention away from total abstinence from drugs, I limped towards excessive use of pain killers, with me drinking beer again, as well. The period of time from October of 2006 to February of 2009 became characterized by the loss and eventual recapture of sobriety and sanity.
The neglect of my inner spiritual world really began in earnest with the enhanced demands of my training regimen for competitive athletics. The more athletic ability that I developed through training, the more competitive that I became, with the almost obsessive need to keep improving.. I also noted that the more races that I excelled in, the less that other male runners were interested in maintaining friendships. That fact made me long for the early days of my running career, from 1993-1996, when I ran on friendly Hood To Coast teams with our friends from LEC. Competitive ability did not matter to any of us. What mattered most was that we loved and appreciated each other, and that we maintained social connections throughout the year.
There are so many first place plaques and trophies, here. Not one of them could replace a hug from a friend, however.
On the competitive male running teams that I participated on from 1997-2002, no such mutual love or appreciation existed, beyond the commitment required so that team members could experience the fruits of the excellence of each other’s running capacities in any particular relay race. The 2002 Hood To Coast Team, the Time Bandits, which consisted of all over forty years of age male runners, came in tenth, out of nearly eleven hundred teams, which was the pinnacle of success for team sports and running for me. At forty-seven years of age, I was the fastest runner on the team as well as faster than ninety-eight percent of all other runners, no matter what their age. After the race, there was little mutual friendship interest for the top male runners, even though I asked for it. My running ability became an impediment to the fulfillment of my desire for social connection later in my running career. It appeared that the competitive nature of those who wanted to run faster than me kept them at an emotional distance more than an arm’s length away from me. I continued to pursue this self-destructive running excellence, becoming more isolated, with my body complaining, and revolting, through a series of painful, and, at times, disabling injuries. Yet, my race times continued to improve, as I neared “elite” level running, even at an “advanced age” Somehow I finished in the top thirty in a huge, Nike sponsored race, the 2006 Run Hit Wonder Race, finishing a close second in the over forty age group, for the last race I ever ran, at fifty-one years of age. But, the injury I incurred in December of 2006 effectively ended my competitive running career..
My “relapse thinking” began when I experienced malignant melanoma early in 2005. I had an infection in my left arm, from a scratch received from falling while out for a training run. When I went to our family physician to get it treated, he noticed a hidden malignant melanoma cancer on the back side of my left arm. Prior to this, I had always told myself that if I had a terminal diagnosis, with less than six months to live, that I would start drinking micro-brewed beers again, as they were my favorite beers, and what would I have to lose then?. Surgery was quickly scheduled to remove the melanoma, and it was a success, though had they not caught it in time, I would have been dead by the end of the year. So it was a lucky fluke, or divine providence, that I was saved from a miserable death from cancer. I did not start drinking the micro-brews then, but the thought was sure there! But, this dangerous thinking continued, and had its culmination when I broke my leg (stress related spiral fracture) in December of 2006, yet again, while training hard for another road race at the tender age of 52 years. Two different attending physicians/surgeons refused to operate on the slow healing fracture, and also refused to prescribe pain killers for that incredibly painful injury. Both surgeons told me that I needed to stay off of my feet for at least six weeks. This was unacceptable to me. I needed the relief to keep me upright and walking, which would keep me from getting fired during a six month probationary period for the new job with the City of Portland, which had started in November of 2006. Sharon counseled against using pain killers to continue my employment, but in my mind, I had no choice. I needed this job, or it was back to the construction industry I would go, and I feared that my body could not handle five or ten more years of the abuse. My now deceased brother-in-law Larry Weaver (died 2006) had mentioned early in 2006 about getting Oxycontin off of the internet, so I utilized that knowledge, and early in 2007 I secretly secured the pain killers from online pharmacies. I had to keep this a secret from my wife, as I knew that she would strongly disapprove. As a direct result of securing the drugs, I was able to maintain my ability to continue my employment.. But, once the addictive cycle started, I lost 20 years of sobriety, as well as a huge measure of self-respect. Staying with the job had other dramatic, negative consequences, however. It was quite the profound relapse, and it totally caught my wife, family, friends, and myself by surprise. The relapse began in October of 2006. I had joined with Sharon on a cruise ship experience to Bermuda, which I had won in a bingo game on another cruise ship experience with the family the previous year. While on the island of Bermuda, I sampled the liquors and the beers, and felt like I could drink again without problems, since so many years had passed since the alcoholism of my youth. As I told Sharon then, I could better control my desires, unlike my previous life experience. And, I was a totally different person, physically and spiritually, than the ignorant, suicidal alcoholic and drug addict I once was. And, it went well during the tour. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and upon return, I was to begin my new job as an electrician with the City Of Portland Water Bureau, albeit with new potential problems brewing. I had never found much meaning or purpose in my ego association with a career as an electrician, though it had certainly paid the bills over the years. I had long since started the process of psychologically detaching from it by the time I joined the Water Bureau.. I had left the electrical constructions trades in September of 2006, with the intention of never returning, after qualifying for the new job through the City of Portland, where I would serve as a maintenance electrician, with added responsibilities of overseeing electrical aspects of any new construction projects. I would no longer be expected to manage high stress jobs, as I had in the construction trade, and I would not be so physically challenged by my work, as well. I planned on making new friendships, and building a greater sense of belonging for myself with this employment opportunity. I had perceived that working in construction had never provided for continuity of relationships, because of the transitory nature of the jobs that I worked on. This new career, I hoped, would provide a foundation for more long-term healthy relationships with co-workers. Little did I know that I was to be exposed to the most toxic work environments that I had ever experienced. I first met Marc Crowder in 1996, when I was reassigned to the Blue Heron paper mill in Oregon City, through my employment with Oregon Electric, a contractor out of Local 48 of our electrical union. Marc was also a member of Local 48, and was now a maintenance and instrumentation electrician for the paper mill, having left a career in electrical construction several years earlier when he was not able to maintain continuous employment there. Marc and I were always on friendly terms, and we developed a mutual respect for each other. Marc also began to follow my road racing exploits, and from time to time we would talk about running marathons as well as taking long bike rides. Marc was beginning to train to become a triathlete, and so we always had something to talk about, as far as our personal training regimens went. Marc continued to apply for work elsewhere, and in 1998 he was hired by the Portland Water Bureau as an electrician, and I was not to see him again, until he spotted me in the 2002 Portland Marathon, when I was near the front of the pack in the mid stages of the race. It was because of Marc that I was eventually hired to the Water Bureau, when Marc, now the Electrical Supervisor for the Electrical Department, noted my name on an application that I had submitted in the early summer of 2006. At that time, my feet were in a constant state of pain from plantar fasciitis, caused and exacerbated by the exertion of climbing ladders for several months at a job at Sunnyside Kaiser Hospital, and I wanted a permanent break from construction.
I began the job,after delaying my start date for two weeks because of the trip to Bermuda, which started me on the wrong foot with the management team. The office employees appeared to be, at least initially, quite friendly and accommodating. One of my favorite teachers from my electrician’s apprenticeship process from 1988-1992, Steve Rodger, was an electrician within our office, and I felt like I had found my new home. Mike Popp was my guide, initially, into the ins and out of the Water Bureau, and his guidance and wisdom were helpful. Ron Bailey was a talkative, friendly guy, who appeared to have quite the attitude, but he showed good industrial competency. Jim Smith was another long-term employee of the Water Bureau, and showed amazing mechanical and creative abilities to customize and repair outdated equipment and parts. Other than Mike and I, the rest of the office showed a pretty heavy attachment to religious ideas, some of which were quite awkwardly presented by two individuals, and I learned to just listen, and not to confront their errant religious nonsense. In the first six months, I only needed to not miss any work to sickness or injury to keep the new job, as the demands of the job, at least initially, were almost non-existent, as I was given much time and liberty to “learn the ropes”. I just had to follow other fellow electricians’ leads on the many jobs that I was on. We had over forty-three different pump stations and over forty wells we needed to maintain,, or upgrade when necessary, plus the electrical systems up at the Bull Run Reservoir, an area that was to become my favorite job site. The job setting offered me freedom, and I took advantage of that freedom to plan my work day as I saw fit, unless there were other pressing needs or dictates by the management team. When I started using the Oxycontin, I only used it as necessary to manage the tibial fracture pain. But, after the pain of the injury extended on much longer than my previous six or seven fractures, it was easy to justify using the pain killers on a daily basis over a dangerously long period of time. By the time the bone had knit, I was hooked on the drugs, and a lot of time and energy started being spent on securing more drugs, either legally, or illegally. I was able to get online prescriptions from doctors in the Southeastern USA, and order through them at very high prices. When these pharmacies got shut down, I secured the drug through international pharmacies. When the US Customs department had intercepted some of my prescriptions, I found a source closer to home, which probably was linked with the Mexican cartels. The nearly two-year relapse was concurrent with the times when I first started working for the City Of Portland Water Bureau, up to nearly March of 2009. I was able to maintain a fairly constant supply of pain killers during this period, when two near death experiences with too high of doses occurred. I decided I needed become clean and sober in February of 2009. Unfortunately, I was physically addicted to the pain killers, and I needed to secure a legitimate recovery Physician, Dr. Oleg Reznik, who prescribed to me Suboxone for over one year to recover from the addiction. Dr. Reznik was a fabulous doctor, and a spiritual practitioner as well, so he had some amazing exercises and processes to enable me to recover at a faster and deeper level.
Yet, the relapse meant redefining myself YET AGAIN, and, I have since learned, I am one of a fairly small percentage of people who actually have made it back from relapse after decades of sobriety, as well as from the opiate addiction. I am not proud of that fact, and, I no longer feel 100 percent secure in the knowledge that I am protected from my own worst intentions by my “higher power”. For many, many years, I was never tempted to drink or use, as the urge was lifted from me by Grace itself, and was never an issue up to the point of relapse. It was disheartening to have to start over, yet start over again I did. But this time, my experience was not to be accompanied by Conscious Grace, like I experienced during the period of time from 1987-1992, and I felt like I was living through the “dark night of the soul” several times, interspersed with moments, days, or sometimes weeks of “transcendent energy” sprinkled in, all the way through the year 2017. Yes, the ever-present smile and experience of continuous joy of living that characterized my life from 1987-1993 just did not reappear.
Mike Popp, one of my favorite co-workers at the Water Bureau
Bull Run Lake, my favorite spot at the Water Bureau
In front of my Sprinter Van
One of the most beautiful work locations, EVER
One telling story is the period of time near my mother’s death, in August of 2009. I had made a commitment to install an air conditioning system in a shop for the workers up at the Bull Run dam on a Monday morning. The prior Sunday evening, my mother had taken extremely ill, and I feared for her life. Sharon and I visited with her, and I brought her foods that might better agree with her nauseous feelings. I told my mother that I feared that she might die, and I wanted to take her to the hospital. She refused to go, stating that she was scheduled to go in the next morning anyway, and that she could make it one more night. Well, she couldn’t make it, and collapsed on the floor next to her bed sometime in the middle of the night. My father was totally incompetent as to how to handle it, yelling at mom to get up, and she could not. Sharon finally called the ambulance the next morning, after driving up first thing. Sharon stayed to assist, and I was counseled to go to work, and meet up with Mom in the hospital when I got off from work.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, mom was fading fast, and the doctors were running out of ideas as to how to save her. I was able to hold her hand, and talk with her briefly, but I knew things were grim. They “needed” to take her for yet one more test, so I gave her a kiss, and she did not want to let go of my hand. I never talked to her again, she was placed in a medically induced coma, from which she never awoke. We turned off her life support machines three days later, after all hope was dashed for recovery. I felt guilt and grief of such immense proportions that I was almost buried by it. I felt like I had betrayed my mother, and I was inconsolable. The family physician counseled me that I needed antidepressants, in addition to the opiate addiction recovery medicine that I had been taking since February of that year. i was quite messed up, and sadness was my companion for quite a while. I never could quite forgive myself for choosing to go to work that Monday, rather than being by my mother’s side at the hospital, nor could I entirely let go of my resentment for having to continue to work for the Water Bureau, which I grew to despise by the time I retired in 2013.
Water Bureau Tour with Mom, Dad, and Sharon two weeks prior to Mom’s death
The work period from September of 2009 through the rest of my career with the Water Bureau could be characterized as having a toxic nature, with a hostile work environment impacting all relationships within the Electrical and Instrumentation departments.. There was a devil’s triangle of hate, mutual jealously, control, and dysfunction which primarily involved three employees, Mike Popp and Ron Bailey in the electrical department, and Jack in the electrical instrumentation department, but the damage impacted many innocent co-workers. I sent and received dozens of emails between the operations manager, Chris Warner, our electrical supervisor, Marc Crowder, and whoever was serving as our union representative, both within our office, and within our local 48, trying to work through the issues,. I attempted to bring peace and resolution to individuals who just seemed committed not to heal of their problems, I spent over one hundred hours in conferences and personal conversations with all affected parties, I was out of my league with my attempts to deal with the mental illness that permeated the operation. Ron was eventually to be diagnosed as manic/depressive, and it appeared to me, at least initially, that Ron was using self-made methamphetamine, and drinking excessively, especially on his weekends. Ron was overly critical of management, and fellow employees, and he was extremely hard to work with. And, so was Jack, who constantly spoke up in meetings, bringing an almost venomous repartee to the meetings, complaining about everything that did not fit his exacting pictures of how things should be. Both Ron and Jack were incredibly selfish and hateful at times. Mike Popp was one of the older, longer term employees, and technology had bypassed him in the many years of his employment with the Water Bureau. Both Ron and Jack were quite technologically proficient, and this created incredible jealousy and mutual control dramas between all of the men, especially as Ron and Jack both jockeyed for position to tailor operations in technological advancing directions, more suitable to their skill set. There just did not seem to be any middle ground between these three characters, and management struggled mightily to accommodate these three pillars of conflict, and failed mightily in the process. Marc Crowder was overwhelmed by the internal conflicts, and he also became the target of many attacks by individuals within the electricians and instrument technicians offices. I spent many hours in personal consultations with Marc, in a failed attempt to help him, and the rest of our office, find a new path towards resolution.
By October of 2010, our office dynamics had not changed, the atmosphere was continuously corrupted by hostility and toxicity, and, if anything, they had deteriorated… Management was trying its best to get R.B. removed from his job, but they had made many mistakes, and R.B. was more secure in his position than ever. I still was trying to be the peaceful go-between for the management team and R.B., as well as for other impacted co-workers. We were all confused as to how to deal with our toxic work environment and hostile culture. One Friday morning, near October 10, 2010, I offered to R.B. to meet him at a local Starbucks on our way to our jobs. My job was out at the Bull Run dam system, which was a 50 minute drive. R.B.’s job was more local. I bought R.B. a mocha, and we sat and talked for 20 minutes, which is our normal break allowance. I asked about the therapy he was receiving, and about his sobriety, and his broken marriage. After 20 minutes, I got really uncomfortable, and left the Starbucks, and we walked out to our work vans. Out of nowhere, our boss M.C. walks up, and accuses both of us of “stealing from the company”, for taking a 45 minute break. This asshole had come in on his Friday day off from work to try to stalk R.B. and bust R.B. for whatever he could, and I got caught in his nets.
We were both given letters of warning, and because of the incompetence of our union representatives, my grievance against Marc.Crowder. was never filed in time. I accused M.C. of being a “fucking liar” right to his face, in front of the union rep, and higher management. I had never been more betrayed in my life. I turned my “light off” from that point forward, never giving any more than the bare minimum to keep my job, until I was forced into retirement in 2013. Beginning in early 2009, I became interested in computer design and sales, and I started a business called White Iris Computer Creations, in honor of my wife, Sharon and our deceased dog, Iris. In my off time away from work, while managing my deteriorating father, who was suffering from dementia, I would design and build custom computers for local, regional, and international customers, and sell them through Ebay and Craigslist. It was a great distraction, and I could build and test the computers while entertaining and caring for my father, which was a huge blessing for me after the year 2011, when he really started slipping. Caring for a family member can be quite stressful, and even though I loved my father, at times he was quite the load for me, and Sharon, to carry. I tried to remain friendly with all of my co-workers, and, in fact, that is what distinguished me from many of them. I had somehow kept myself in the position of being the non-resentful, peaceful connecting link between the people who may not have been communicating at the highest levels with each other. I kept my relationship friendly with Ron all the way to the end, even though my relationship with him had cost me the most. But I never completely mended broken fences with Marc, who I watched warily, and approached cautiously, until the end of my career with the Bureau. One interesting discussion that I had with Ron in 2012 revolved around when I would retire, and under what conditions would I do so. I was definitely unfulfilled as an electrician, and working at the Water Bureau did little to bring any sense of purpose or meaning to me. I told Ron of a scenario for leaving, based on what might work the best financially for me. I discussed the scenario where I would engage in some sort of questionable behavior that would force the Water Bureau to fire me, then I would in turn threaten them with legal action for the criminal act of perjury of Marc Crowder on my disciplinary report. I would then use that leverage to squeeze all of the benefits out of the Water Bureau that I legally could. How could I have known, this was EXACTLY what was to happen in May of 2013. Sharon now tells me that I created the conditions for my departure, and I have to wonder if I could have created a more pleasant, though equally prosperous, exit strategy had I considered other options. In early 2013, I sold an advanced computer system to a disabled man ( he had a form of mental illness) in Troutdale, Oregon, by the name of Earl D. I met Earl through Craigslist, and since he was disabled, and did not drive, I delivered the computer to him. There were three different instances where he was having trouble setting up the computer, or keeping it running properly after improperly adjusting settings, so he required extra love and attention from me. Since he was directly on my route from the main office to my site in the Bull Run Reservoir, I would schedule my lunch to coincide with these three visits, so as not cause any kind of suspicion or resentment from my employer about personal business on company time (everybody else did it anyway, but I was extra cautious about it). But, Earl had an adverse emotional response to one of the mistakes that he had made, and threatened me with blackmail if I did not give him a brand new computer, thinking that somehow I was responsible for his behavior. I took his blackmail threat seriously, and drove back to the main office, where I reported the threat to the management team, just in case Earl followed through with his threat. I wanted to give the Bureau an opportunity to get ahead of the issue, because I had no idea what Earl might say, to try to get his way with me. I had done NOTHING wrong, having used my own time for all involvement with this mentally disabled man. Instead of offering me support, Marc Crowder and the Water Bureau decided to sacrifice my name and reputation, in the need to protect against a potential threat against their own internal standings, and to ward off any blame and shame against management in the newspapers or on television, in case a public stink ensued. They used this experience as leverage to move me out of the Water Bureau, in the most amazing, shameful, hateful display of betrayal. I was subjected to three days of interrogation and reviews by internal boards, with everything that I said being recorded, and it was an abusive, gut wrenching process. I thought my experience of October 2010 when he criminally perjured himself and lied on a disciplinary report was his worst action, but he proved that there was no limit to his ill will and hateful intentions, in collusion with the Water Bureau’s own collective need to “cover their own asses”.. In the end, when contacted, Earl stated that he had no intention of ever calling the Water Bureau, and that he only wanted to “get Bruce Paullin’s attention”. My employer then engaged in the most shameful exhibition of intimidation and coercion in early 2013, forcing me to accept an early retirement. After I threatened the Bureau with legal action, I was given extra benefits, and forced to sign hush agreements, but I was still tempted to file a lawsuit against the Water Bureau anyway, over one year later. After consulting with a lawyer, and balancing the benefits of potentially winning $500, 000 or more, plus back pay, and one or two more years of extreme emotional toll, or just walking away and enjoying the benefits that I had already negotiated, I kept the sure thing, and found some peace of mind. Thus ended the most difficult chapter in my life story of challenging relationships with toxic men, and employers Toxic Work and Life Environments, epitomized by my almost seven-year career with the Portland Water Bureau, were my unwelcome companions from the period 2006-2013. This job had the classic toxic, hostile work atmosphere, where mutual enmity between several employees and management spilled over into all work relationships. It was a shameful exhibition of hostility, bullying, betrayal, and negative male energy exchanges by men who appeared to be helpless in the face of their own disease. The period that I worked for the City Of Portland in the Water Bureau corresponded to the period when I relapsed, and I also lost my mother to MERSA in 2009, and became 100 percent responsible for caring for my father. This employment brought to the forefront of my awareness my deep desire to be present for needy family members and friends. The dual burden of employment for a corrupted, dysfunctional employer within a hostile work environment, and care-giving was just too much for me, anyway, and being “forced” into early retirement from work at age fifty-seven was a huge blessing. I was not to finish my work career strong and proudly, but instead, with a prolonged dying gasp, and a sense of betrayal, rejection and humiliation.. Yet, I had all the time that was needed to be present for my father in his time of greatest need, so it ended up being a well-timed exit from employment. I finally perceived that there really was a purpose to this madness that I experienced with competitive running, the drug and alcohol relapse, and the aborted career with the Water Bureau. It was to prepare me to be more emotionally and spiritually present for family, friends, and myself. I am grateful for all of the people, places, and events that transpired, to bring me home to myself. Thank you, life. Thank you, Earl, for your threat of blackmail was a deliverance for me, supplying a “golden parachute” for me to escape the turbulent flight with the Water Bureau. I think that you were an angel sent by God itself, in the disguise of the Devil. I have found permanent freedom from this oppressive employer, and its hate-filled and hostile work environment. I am still standing today. https://www.google.com/search?q=Michael+Franti-+I%27m+still+standing&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&client=firefox-b-1
