Coming out of hiding
Recovery Day celebrates sobriety, shows people that positive change is possible
Almost a year ago, Terance Brouse was struggling to hold on to a month of sobriety, free for the first time in years from a life fuelled by booze and drugs, when he stumbled upon an event called Recovery Day.
The gathering in Toronto was one of many being held across Canada throughout that month of September — the offspring of the inaugural Recovery Day started four years earlier in Vancouver.
This year, more than 30 cities nationwide are presenting their own Recovery Days on various dates during the month, including Fredericton on Friday, Montreal on Saturday and Toronto’s event Sunday, dubbed “Sober in the 6IX.”
Recovery Day, says Brouse, saved his life.
“The thing about it was, it was all about celebrating stories of recovery, showing people that recovery is possible, and destigmatizing it too, because addiction as well as recovery aren’t necessarily that well understood,” he says.
“One of the things with Recovery Day for me was the fact that people were telling their stories. I was able to relate.”
Brouse took his first drink at age 10, a full glass of straight whisky pilfered from his parents’ liquor cabinet on New Year’s Eve.
By 16, he was known as the town lush among his cottage buddies. In his early 20s, he had become a blackout drinker. He enrolled in university, but remained a binge drinker on weekends.
Brouse had done some psychedelic drugs in his teens, but in his 30s he started dabbling in cocaine every couple of months.
“At first, it was a lot of fun. And it made me feel more confident, more witty, more connected, more attractive. I don’t know if any of those things were true, but it made me feel that way,” he says of the powerfully addictive and euphoria-inducing drug.
“But about five years ago, in October 2011, something changed for me. All of a sudden I realized I was doing this stuff every day … I spent every day either doing it or looking for it. And if I wasn’t doing it or looking for it, I was in the fetal position.
“I went from fun to functioning, to the point where I’d have to spend hundreds of dollars each day just to feel normal, just to get out of bed. I couldn’t leave the house without doing it, I couldn’t make love without doing it, I couldn’t take the kids to hockey without doing it.
“In the end, it became about fear — fear of the birds in the morning, fear about getting caught, fear of not getting ahold of my dealer or fear of not getting to the LCBO before it closed.”
Brouse made what he admits were half-hearted attempts to stop his substance abuse, but his reliance on alcohol and especially cocaine always ended up thwarting his intentions and the repeated promises he’d made to his wife to stop using.
His inability to shake the twin monkeys of addiction off his back ended up destroying his marriage and the blended family the couple had built together, shattering his career in public relations and wiping out his life savings.
“I got to the point where I was suicidal. I was researching bridges to take a swan dive off of, but I really didn’t have the balls to do anything like that.”
Instead, having hit bottom, he checked into a detox centre, then spent 90 days in rehab. Coming across Recovery Day cemented his determination to rid his life of alcohol and drugs for good, says Brouse, who just turned 50 and is celebrating a year of sobriety.
It is stories like his that are at the heart of Recovery Day, says Annie McCullough, who co-founded the Vancouver event in 2012 as well as Faces and Voices of Recovery Canada, which helps other communities set up their own sobriety celebrations.
“I think people are tired of feeling like they need to hide,” says McCullough, 45, who had a “moment of clarity” eight years ago when she realized her weekend binge drinking while she deejayed at Vancouver nightclubs was a symptom of the same alcoholism she’d seen in her adoptive parents.
“The principle of anonymity within 12-step (programs) is very important because when you come into an AA room, you want to be safe, you don’t want people talking and telling your story,” acknowledges McCullough, who now lives in Toronto.
“But to stay hidden about your recovery means that you’re still in shame. We teach people when they get sober that your secrets keep you sick.
“So sharing publicly, I think, has allowed people to be proud of their recovery.”
That’s a message endorsed by the Canadian Centre on Substance Abuse, which posts information on Recovery Days on its website.
“Addiction touches everyone, and we are touched by it every day whether it be at the workplace or our neighbours or in our families,” says Rita Notarandrea, CEO of the Ottawa-based organization, noting that as of 2013, more than one-fifth of Canadians met the criteria for substance use disorder, as alcohol and drug addiction are known medically.
“Recovery Day puts a spotlight on the issue,” she says. “For those who are struggling … it gives people hope that recovery is possible. It’s real, it’s sustainable.
“And for those who are in recovery, it really celebrates the successes that they have achieved through recovery, whether it be that they have reconnected with their families or returned to work or to school, or are contributing in their communities.”
For Brouse, his year of sobriety feels like a second chance at life but one he still has to work at daily to stay on track.
That includes running a meeting at a treatment centre for men, sponsoring another recovering addict and providing his public relations expertise to promote Recovery Day, among other volunteer activities.
“Recovery is an inside job. You really have to take stock of yourself and I had to do that,” stresses Brouse, who describes disentangling himself from the grip of alcohol and drugs as “the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but also by far the most rewarding.”
“If you do the work, then you don’t live a life of shame and fear. You try to live a life of peace and joy.”