Writing a blog for Hispanic Heritage Month is more intimidating than I thought it would be. I thought it was something that could be done quickly but have found the opposite to be quite true. I have sat here trying to think of important statistics to be able to share regarding Latinx populations and substance use. It makes me feel like an impostor sitting here staring at a screen not knowing exactly what to type. The more I think about it, the more important thing to share is my story. It is our stories that oftentimes help others in recovery. It is through our own experiences, strength, and hope that others can find hope for their own journey. I have not shared my story often. It is not a story that you will hear commonly in any 12-step recovery meeting because it is not a story that is traditionally welcomed in recovery circles. My name is Michael Vela and I identify as a person in recovery from a substance use disorder. What this means for me is that it has been over 12 years since I have had a toxic relationship to alcohol and pills. I do not identify with an abstinent based recovery program, and this is what makes my story different and what made the beginning steps into my journey difficult
My substance use started sometime in my senior year of college. Even then, it was sporadic and unproblematic. Truthfully, it is all a blur to me. The period in my life when my substance use and mental health were at its worst was so chaotic, I have a challenging time putting an accurate timeline together. I would describe it like this. My substances of choice were alcohol and opiates, usually hydrocodone. I could not get my hands on hydrocodone very often, so it was far and few in between, but I enjoyed them anytime I had them. Alcohol was my preferred means of dealing with life. I am not exactly sure what started my substance use problems. Suffice it to say. I am sure it was a combination of anxiety, depression, and stress. My therapist at the time believed I had post-traumatic stress disorder as well. I am probably still in denial of that now.
While working on my master’s in social work, I held down a full-time job at Cook Children’s Hospital in the emergency room, which consisted of three twelve hour shifts a week, while at the same time maintaining a full course load, and a full-time internship. This schedule was not conducive to a healthy and balanced sense of well-being. I am not sure which started first, feeling isolated, depressed, and lonely, having massive panic attacks that left me stranded on the side of the road, laying on the sidewalk, wondering what the heck was happening to me, or climbing inside the two bottles of wine every night because wine was the fastest way to get me drunk and not have to deal with all anything.
I looked for any reason I could find to go out and drink. When my friends couldn’t go out, I drank alone in my room. I was fortunate during this time to avoid any major consequences like DUI’s. My mental health deteriorated and at least I had the wherewithal to find a therapist and a doctor to help me deal with my struggles. I left out the part where I was having problems with alcohol though. I also like to give myself credit because my doctor gave me Xanax and frankly, I was quite terrified of it. That was the thing I thought was going to cause me to be an addict.
Somewhere in this crazy timeline, I graduated with my master’s and got my license as a social worker and was practicing at a local psychiatric hospital. While working in the adolescent unit, A patient asked me if I ever had done drugs. My initial response was no. When I went back to my office, the realization that I abused pills and drank alcohol made me a liar. I knew I needed to do something. I read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, never attended a meeting and did my best. I decided to give up drinking alcohol for about six months and was able to stay sober. I continued going to therapy and taking my medications as prescribed. I wasn’t sure if I was an alcoholic, and I needed to find out. The only way I knew how to do that was to test the waters. This time I set up some ground rules. I would continue to learn how to manage my stress and anxiety, take my medications as prescribed, rely on deep breathing and progressive muscle relaxation instead of anti-anxiety medications, and I would never drink when I had a stressful day. I was surprised to learn that I could drink without the need to be drunk anymore. I developed a healthy well-being and spirituality that helped form my sense of self-worth. My identity came from my higher power, and I no longer felt alone and worthless.
The difficult part of my journey was the fact I didn’t have the community support I desperately craved. No one understood what I was going through. In my professional life and personal life, I was met with “oh your so you’re not in recovery;” “have you tried prayer,” “you aren’t an alcoholic then.” My recovery was invalidated everywhere I turned. I learned through those experiences I was on my own. I watched as others could build instant connections inside a 12-step meeting, but I could not. It was unfair and I dealt with it. I relied on my spiritual beliefs and made my own path.
When I started as the program manager at the University of Texas at San Antonio Recovery Center, I decided our program needed to be a safe space for those students who are not ready to be abstinent or don’t need to be abstinent. They need a healthier perspective and relationship with their substance use, improved resilience, and coping skills, and they need community and belonging. They need recovery and a space to define it within their own context of being. In my cultural context in a Hispanic family, alcohol is engrained in a part of who we are and a part of how we connect and interact with each other. We joke that there are more ice chests full of beer at our kids’ birthday parties than there are kids at the party. Substance use disorders, addiction and recovery are not familiar terms in our language of understanding. The concept of recovery was foreign, and no one was willing to explore it with me if I wasn’t willing to acknowledge that I was powerless and needed to be abstinent. Don’t get me wrong, I do value abstinent, and 12-step based recovery, but recovery is so much more, and our communities need to be accessible to those who need the support as they work their path out.
As a result of this desire to create a safe space all students wanting to recover from substance misuse and addiction, our students came together to create a definition of recovery based off the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration’s definition. We define recovery as a process of developing and maintaining a lifestyle free from harmful relationships with substances and addictive behaviors by striving for well-being and balance between mind, body, spirit, and social connections.
I am grateful today to see more collegiate recovery communities embracing the importance of harm reduction and moderation management. I know it is not simple and our abstinent students need a safe space to strengthen their recoveries as well. Our work requires an open mind and vigilance. The mixture of recovering individuals from various paths allows for overall improved resilience, the opportunities for them to learn to support each other, and see that life in recovery is worth it.
Michael Vela, LCSW-S, LCDC
Associate Director of Wellbeing Services and Collegiate Recovery Program Manager
University of Texas at San Antonio
ARHE is grateful to those who wish to share their experiences through our blog. The views and opinions expressed in this blog post are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of ARHE.