By: Mike Murphy, Manager of Alumni Services
For as long as I can remember, one of the main things I have always struggled with is my identity. Who am I? What
do I want to be known for? Who do I want people to view me as? I think this is pretty normal for most of us. Especially during certain turning points in our lives. And some people? They find it! Me? Well, it almost took me out. Allow me to explain a bit….
If I were to pinpoint the first time I had to wrestle with this topic, it would have to be in high school. Instead of going to the normal public school, all my friends would be attending, I was enrolled into a private Catholic School 30 minutes away from home. I only knew about four other people there. Not exactly what you would call a strong support system going into arguably one of the most tumultuous times of your life. Your mind is all over the place, hormones are running ALL SORTS a muck and if you were like me? Your outward appearance is just an absolute evolving dumpster fire.
The truth of the matter is, I thought if I was miserable enough and complaining enough, that my Mom would take me out of the school and send me to the public school to be with all my friends. My Mom had a different stance. I was stuck there. Mom : 656657583638 Michael : 0 (still). I realized this going into my Junior year and figured I might as well embrace it and make the most of it. And like most people that age, I started going to parties and testing the waters of cheap domestic keg beer. As it would turn out, for whatever reason, I had a pretty high tolerance (insert Irish stereotypical jokes here: ________). And before I knew it, I was the party guy. Every weekend, I was finding where the party was and saw just how much I could drink and in the process, started gaining some popularity and making my way onto the Wonderland that is the High School Social Scene. Hell, I even made Senior Class Office! I ended up graduating high school, albeit barely, but I did it. And was what some might have called, kinda popular. Like a B-List High Schooler. With a D+ GPA.
Next up, The Marine Corps. And I was in a very similar situation as I was in High School. Sure some of the people I graduated high school with joined the Military, specifically The Marines, but we all went at different times. So again, a brand new place with no familiar faces. I remember one weekend I overheard some other junior Marines talking about getting a motel room and raging for the weekend. I snuck my way in on that action and next thing you know, it was like high school, again! I was making friends, though! And, it’s The Marines. This is one of the things we are known for, right?! This would carry on throughout my time in The Corps. I was the heavy partier, always skating (being lazy, getting out of work) and doing the bare minimum. I was what would later on be known as a “Terminal Lance.” Which is an amazing Marine Corps Comic by a guy named Max. Check it out, especially if you have served before. BUT. I had friends, and some of those friends were higher-ups which meant I had a pretty smooth ride and got me out of some pickles when needed. So overall, I’m 2/2 on this identity thing. Just drink a shit ton and you’re good. Right?
At the end of 2005 I was discharged from my time in The United States Marine Corps (Honorably, thank you very much!). And for whatever reason, I set my sights on Orlando. Probably because I had some friends up there from high school, heard great things and because it was still close-ish to home in South Florida. Now while I knew some people up there, I also knew I was going to have to make new friends, go to new places, get a job, the whole to do. What I also knew was that I did NOT want being a Marine to be my identity. Firstly, I didn’t want to be one of those people that couldn’t separate themselves from the service once their time is done. Secondly, I didn’t want people to treat me any differently, which definitely happens. Last but certainly not least, I didn’t want to have to address any of my issues surrounding my PTSD. I was one of those Veterans that was convinced that if I don’t talk about it, it just goes away.
Needless to say, I picked right back up where I left off in The Marines. I found a pretty awesome job at Universal Studios in Citywalk and was off to the races. Clock in/Clock out. DRINK. And before I knew it, I had a reputation going. I was the new party dude with cutoff camo shorts, a black t-shirt, and a backward hat. And this dude could DRINK. Ultimately this job at Citywalk would take me to Nashville, TN to open a location there. If you’ve read this far, I am pretty sure I don’t need to tell you how I made friends there.
What I do need to tell you is this….. Nashville was also the beginning of the end. After most of my adult life trying to be this image, this made up character of the hard partying wild man, my mind and body finally started crumbling at it’s weight. I was not sleeping, I was anxious and depressed all the time and I was drinking non stop. It had stopped being fun. I was definitely drinking to be able to “feel normal” and living in a place like Nashville? Not exactly the best environment for someone with a drinking problem that had been building for years, and a bevy of mental health issues finally coming into play. After an almost decade-long run with this job, I lost it. The job that is, my mind was not completely lost at this point. But, close.
I left Nashville to return to Orlando, but this time, downtown Orlando to bartend. I know what you’re thinking. And you are correct. The spiral that started in Nashville only continued. But at a very rapid pace. Within two years, I found myself broken. I was an absolute mess. A shell of a human being. A person who had accepted that death by 40 was acceptable. What kind of identity is this?! Is this what I was destined for? All this time, I wanted to know how people viewed me. What they thought of me. My perception. Not thinking once that I probably didn’t want to know all along.
Strip everything away, all the titles, the jobs, the accolades, the good, the bad, everything. My identity, which had been in plain view to quite a few people for a while, was finally becoming visible to ME. I was a person in trouble. I was a person that needed help before they died. And If I didn’t change that, my identity would be whatever my family plastered on a headstone or buried in all the generic FB/IG memorial posts we see all the time. Something had to change.
As many of you know, a little over two years ago, I decided to do something about it. I found myself at Transformations Treatment Center in Delray Beach, FL. A place I never imagined I would be. Addressing issues I swore to the back of my mind a long time ago. Things that were to never be discussed. Learning to become honest. Not only with myself, but others around me. Learning humility. Holy crap. If you’ve ever known a Marine before, we are NOT good at that. And it was not easy! Some days outright sucked. And they still do, sometimes! Not everything is peachy keen all the time! Including my identity!
I say all of this, because at the end of the day, I’m still not sure who I am or who I want to be. It has been one of my biggest struggles in recovery. My sobriety has given me alot of things back. A healthy relationship with my family and friends (most of them, comes with the territory, I suppose), my long lost pride in being a Marine Corps Veteran, being only two. But those are HUGE. But, sometimes at the end of the day, I still wonder “Who am I? What am I going to be knows for/as? How will people think of me?”.
The truth is, I have zero idea. And that can frustrate the living hell out of me. But, when I get frustrated, I try to remind myself that where I am at today is a lot better than where I was a little over two years ago, and that when my time comes, some of those FB/IG memorial posts won’t be as cringe as they could have been. I remind myself, that this is a work in progress. Every day I need to try and better myself and do better for others. Continue with my OWN recovery. Not everyone else’s. One day at a time, right?
Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this. I hope it makes sense to someone out there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to set up my next therapy appointment. This should be a good session!
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