10 Years Sober: Day One

An Excerpt from 10 Years Sober by Lance Lang

Hitting Rock Bottom

April 6, 2011, was the day of my radical transformation. I was living all by myself, having pushed everyone away. My girlfriend Ally had finally moved on. Friends had given up on me. And I was guzzling upwards of 50 pills a day.

I was so hooked on opiates that I would roll over in the middle of the night and take a handful of pills just to fall back asleep. My body was not my own; it was simply a vessel that kept itself functioning solely so it could seek out its next fix.

This level of addiction didn’t happen overnight. It took ten years, the last couple of which were absolutely brutal.

The Daily Cycle

I had a morning routine just to get myself to a place where I could function at work. Once there, it was Red Bull and vodka at 9:30 a.m., maybe three or four lines of Oxy off my desk, and a handful of Lortabs. That would get me through a couple of hours.

By 11:30, it would start wearing off and my mind would begin racing about when I would take my next round. I would start setting up pickups with my dealer, sometimes leaving in the middle of the workday to drive across Oklahoma to meet him.

Or I would hit more Oxy off the desk and take another handful of Lortabs to finish the day. Then I’d come home, repeat it a couple more times, and nod off through a Netflix documentary.

That was a good day.

On a bad day, my addiction led me to break into co-workers’ homes, steal money from everyone I knew, pawn jewelry, rob my grandparents, and commit countless other despicable acts. All just to stay medicated. I was enslaved, pathetic, lonely, and a physical wreck.

A Confrontation

That all led up to April 6, 2011, when my uncle knocked on my office door, dragged me into his office, and finally told me who I had become.

“You are a liar,” he said. “You’re a cheater. Everyone here hates you. I know you’re doing illegal things. Your family is worried sick. You’re a wreck, and if you don’t get a plan, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, then this is over.”

I had been confronted before—by my parents, Ally, her family. I had been caught stealing, lying, and worse. But what I had never done until that moment was truly confess.

That was the day I stopped running.

The First Confession

I was scared. Scared of withdrawals. Scared of what my body would do if I stopped. I had no concept of sobriety. I had hardly even heard the word and certainly had no idea what it meant.

I thought I would take pills every day for the rest of my life. Somehow, in my twisted mind, I believed I could manage it.

But I was lonely. I was depressed. And more than anything, I was deceived.

Thankfully, on that day, I could finally see the truth. With my back against the wall, I was able to utter the first few words of confession:

“I’m hooked and I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”

I started crying. My uncle didn’t know what to do with me, but Jesus did. In that moment, something clicked. I believe confession began to loosen the chains of bondage I was in. All the walls I had built, all the excuses I had shouted to drown out the truth about myself—began to crumble.

For years I had lived half-truths. But that day, I laid it all out for the very first time.

Detox and Surrender

My uncle got me help, and I went into detox just days later. I’ll never forget being there on Easter Day in 2011. My parents are pastors, and after leading services that Sunday, they came to see their son in a state-funded detox facility, dressed in medical scrubs and full of medication.

Over ten days, I was slowly weaned off drugs and alcohol. I smoked cigarettes and tried to stay alive while my mind raced in its old cycles.

I convinced myself—and tried to convince everyone else—that I was fine, that I could stop after detox. I even convinced my parents to let me spend one night at home before going to treatment.

That night, I paced the house, chain-smoking, withdrawing from the detox meds, and frantically texting my dealer who wasn’t responding. It was one of the longest nights of my life.

But it ended in surrender.

Day One

The next morning, I took the step. I went to treatment.

And that was Day One.

You can order the book 10 Years Sober or explore its accompanying ten-day scripture reading plan on YouVersion.