South Station

I find this so fitting to be sitting in South Station for 2 hours before my final legs home on Amtrak. This station holds major significance in my life. When I was 23 years old I hit rock bottom living in Boston. I was homeless and addicted to heroin and cocaine. My life had taken a drastic turn for the worse in the last 4 years. My struggles with being gay and in the closet, along with an addiction that started when I was 13 with pot and any other substance a teenage kid living in a wealthy suburban town could get his hands on.

So by 23 I hit rock bottom. And that’s when I learned about recovery. I was living in a shelter in Jamaica Plain and each day they would drop us off in downtown Boston to walk the streets. I was committed to staying sober and I set a schedule where I would hit a recovery meeting in the morning, spend a few hours at South Station drinking coffee and then hit a noon meeting.

It was a strange time. You don’t own anything, you don’t have a home, but there was some hope in my life for the first time in years. I was convinced I was dying from HIV/Aids (subsequently tested negative) but would not get tested because I was in the closet. But I finally found out about recovery and found out there was another way to live my life. Every day I stayed sober the hope increased. Luckily I was placed in a great recovery program at Victory House and my life completely changed.

So here I am again, sitting in South Station. Just returning from a trip around the world. A trip I planned and navigated on my own. A trip with so many highlights that it is impossible to pick out the top ones. A trip that saw some of the most beautiful spots in the world. A trip where I met amazing people. I trip where I experienced world class cities and remote corners of the earth. A trip where I witnessed the best humanity has to offer and experienced some of the worst atrocities of humankind. A trip that was made possible by living a sober life, building a career which gave me the financial resources and the gift of time off to allow me this experience.

I think back to that scared and lonely 23 year old kid. The one who did not think he would be alive at age 25. I wish I could tell him what I know now. That he would experience great love in his life. That he would cherish being gay, not just ashamed of it. That he would be present for his parents when they needed support in their old age, that he would be there for his brother and sisters and their families. That he would share his life for 25 years with a guy from Salem. That he would build deep meaningful relationships with many dear friends, some that have already left this world, and some that he is very excited to see again. He would get an SBF, a sober best friend that blurs all the lines of love and friendship and support and family.

He would survive the plague of AIDS and the plague of Covid. He would run marathons and become addicted to tennis.

And that he would travel the world, experiencing all that he could absorb.

I would tell him “get ready Kid, you are in for the Ride of a LifeTime!”