How did he survive years of madness and all that cocaine? There can only be one reason, and thank God for that

Here I am. Still here. Sometimes I wonder why and how … but I guess that’s not for me to know or understand at this point.

Why didn’t my heart stop or blow up when I did all that cocaine? How did I not fall asleep and never wake up, mixing all those pills with alcohol? How could I have driven drunk so many times and not had a horrible accident? Killed myself or someone else?

How could I have jumped off of a motorcycle that got hit head-on by a pickup on The Black Canyon Freeway in Phoenix at 70 mph and not died? Witnesses claimed it looked like “something grabbed him and set him down.”

Twenty-seven addicts walked into that treatment center with me, and why did I make it? Why this far? So many of them did not make it. So many of them are dead and gone.

Three of us, to my knowledge, are still here. Still sober. Why me? Why did I not take my own life in my horrible seasons of suffering? Why did I not drink or use again when it would have been so much easier than facing life on life's terms?

So much easier than all the therapy, working an excruciatingly honest spiritual program, and making amends. Embracing change and accepting responsibility for all the damage I caused to others and to myself. Trudging every small step after small step as I rose up from the ashes to try to build a new life from almost scratch. All the tears. The waves of rage and sorrow.

My God how long the nights and days could be. The seemingly endless hours that crept by, waiting for the self-destructive urges to pass. Waiting to be restored to sanity. But for how long?

Here I am. Still here because. Because of what or why? The only answer that has ever made sense to me — I am here and sober because of the grace of God. I am here and sober because for some reason … something inside of me wanted to be alive just a little more than it wanted to be dead.

That’s how it started, and it grew from there. One day at a time grew into weeks, months, years. Momentum. Hope and faith. Unknown and untapped reserves of resolve, strength, and courage. It takes all three to make it through the fire, and we all have the same shot at them.

All of us. Equally blessed. Equally loved.

The grace of God belongs to us all, yet so many turn away from it. I’ll never understand that, and I’m not meant to. What the hell do I know about another person’s path?

I may think I know what's best for them, but I do not. Not really.

Hell, I don’t often know what’s best for me. What I do know is this: My best thinking nearly got me killed. I can’t change the mind I have with the mind I have. Some of the best things that have ever happened to me came from some of the worst times in my life. I can’t save myself, let alone anyone else, and I have no right to judge anything or anyone.

In truth, my life is none of my business. It’s God’s business. And gratitude waters the garden of peace. I must stay grateful, or be swallowed by fear. That’s my bottom line.

I’m still here. So are you.

Shawn Bitz of Rapid City is an author, singer-songwriter and musician and an occasional contributor to The South Dakota Standard.

Photo: Sunrise over Yellowstone Lake, public domain, wikimedia commons

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