Entrepreneur, marketing director, video producer and corporate president, this is only a partial list of my supposedly impressive credentials. Now, let me take off my mask. Without that mask I was a self centered, prideful alcoholic and drug addict. Yes, that was the real me. Notice I said the past tense “was” the real me.

The following is just a fragment of the story of how I started my downward spiral into addiction:

I was raised in a middle class home, the son of a minister. Yes, I was in many ways the preacher’s kid you hear about. I was rebellious and usually in some kind of trouble in our small Iowa town. I assumed preacher’s kids were supposed to live up to that reputation because everybody told me that preacher’s kids were the rowdiest.

My life changed however from the normal boyhood pranks when I was 16 years old. During my summer vacation, I took a bus trip to visit my sister in central Illinois. About two hours from my destination, the bus broke down and we were informed that we would have a 12-hour layover that night. As I sat in the bus station, a man approached me and started a conversation. Amazingly, he knew my mother. He had gone to school with her and even knew the church organist from where my father had been an assistant pastor in Illinois. He then suggested that I come over to his house to spend the night instead of staying in that smelly old bus station. I think you know what happened that night. I was molested all night and brought back to the bus station the next morning. I was ashamed and angry with myself because I did not run or fight back. I just knew it was my fault.

Two months later in high school, I drank half a bottle of vodka. I liked it because I didn’t see the man’s face anymore and I didn’t feel that guilt and shame. For the next 31 years there was a lot of alcohol, drug use, and promiscuity in my life. In fact more stories than I care to share with you. I protected my guilt, shame, and low self-esteem with a wall of false pride. I had to be successful in business. I had to be seen with the best looking women. I had to look good, be the laugh of the party, and the craziest, anything to cover the pain. I wore a real good mask, I was a good con man, and I fooled a lot of people who trusted in me and wanted to help me.

Sixteen years ago on an overnight business trip to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I ended up in a blackout at the Honolulu, Hawaii airport. My father flew out (on Father’s Day) to bring his humiliated “little” 46-year old boy back to Florida.

I knew then, that if I didn’t agree to get some help, I was going to lose my wife and my family. I didn’t want to be alone again. I was really scared. I pushed past my fears of dealing with the many painful issues of my past that were causing the addictions and I got the help I needed. Now 16 years later, here I am, alive and happy as an ordained minister and a Certified Addiction Counselor. Being blessed during the last 14 years to be the Executive Director of Life Recovery Ministries, Inc. in which thousands have come through the doors of LRM seeking the freedom that they have seen in me. They have heard my story on the radio, conferences, speaking engagements and in newspapers. Most of all until this website, our clients have been all referrals from others who know of the success stories of those who choose to walk past their pain and fear through this recovery ministry.

The Lord said I should share these words with you and I am being obedient to His request. I know many of you have had a much tougher life than I have. Many of you have been raped, verbally and physically abused by the very ones who were supposed to love and protect you. Many of you have been abandoned and come from homes broken apart and devastated by alcohol and drugs. Right now you may be feeling guilty and ashamed from the pain inflicted upon you or the pain you have since afflicted upon others. Those feelings of guilt, rejection, worthlessness, and being unloved can soon end. I pray my words will give you a renewed hope and a direction for the inner healing of your pain.

You are loved,
Dana