The Deeper the Teeth cut into the Key, the longer things remain the same

At 32 years old I had about 17 years experience under my belt handling Airfreight consolidations for a Freight Forwarder by LAX.  I left after eleven years to get married and start a family.  At the time I was a single mom for 10 years by choice and content with my daughter and I.  The marriage was tumultuous with hard liquor at the center with me unable to stop drinking.  Alcohol was something foreign to my DNA and bloodline.  Had I known a few drinks after work would have turned into hell on earth; I  would not have touched it.  There is no point of reference in my bloodline that has protein markers to recognize ethanol as poison.  Instead of the normal effect of alcohol, something switches inside very subtle but unstoppable.  After the third drink, the gateway to hell would open with me falling into it every time, in an effort to just take the edge off at the end of the day.  The phenomenon of ‘craving’ is a term used in A.A. when 1 drink is not enough, and a thousand is too many.  It is an ugly, evil, restless spirit that makes one thirsty for just one more to wet the lips, but blinds the drinker; to continue the motions.  But the mind is no longer mine, but an insidious evil that seems to know when to show up.  They belong to the ‘spirits’ that came out of the bottle, thus the term as a warning from past victims that knew some could not dance with the devil without getting burned.  A gateway that would open after the line was crossed, the insanity would repeat, erasing the memory of destruction from the previous night.  I usually drank when I was angry hoping to fall asleep.  I didn’t like beer or wine.  It started with Tennessee, whiskey and ended with the Russians - vodka straight, nothing else.  It was the same with whiskey.  I was a binge black out drinker, a true menace to society, with a machete in hand, accompanied by twice my normal strength when angered.  Completely skilled with whoop ass, in multiple areas: physically, mentally, verbally, and spiritually.  At the end of the long road of suffering, it turned out my neighbors thought there was a twin that lived with me.  One that left for work in the mornings well dressed, friendly and normal.  The other one was a voodoo doll holding a machete in the streets searching for a fight at night.  I’d have stints of sobriety for a while and then fall off again after a conference where the drinks would become an all consuming focus.  Until I would tap out and think, ‘fuck the conference, I need a drink.’ 

LOSS OF FOUNDATION

After multiple attempts at sobriety I was able to stay sober for almost two years, to help watch my dad suffer through cancer.  For six weeks and four days I moved my parents into our apartment for hospice care.  He was happy I wasn’t drinking anymore and back to being proud of me as I was the bread winner since fourteen along with my father.  I worked  side jobs to help my parents make ends meet for the family.  This continued well into my 40’s taking care of parents rent for years as a thank you, for taking care of the six of us as children.  My parents neither smoked nor drank alcohol of any kind.  Yet the best cheerleader, life coach, unconditional love, with true Fa’a Samoa ethical standards passed down generationally, was dying.  The protector father that taught us self-defense, and self-control from elementary to high school, well respected and feared was passing away, and I couldn’t stop it.

Two days before he crossed over, my sponsor at the time, a recovering alcoholic of 18 years, came over to finish Step 11 while my dad struggled to breath in the next room.  By now he could not speak from the cancer that was spreading in his throat.  The doctor said it was a fluke and enigma that only a few rare cases of native American Pima Indians, were also dying of throat cancer without ever smoking a cigarette.  I don’t know why that info stayed with me, but I researched it later and found the reason.  My dad died in 2010.  Although I was sober and working the program, completely involved and happy; the marriage continued with arguing over nothing, and I had the ‘fuck its’ again I don’t need this shit and picked up again, not knowing it would take 8 years to get back to sobriety.  The devil was back and out for blood.   

BREAKING POINT 

By the end of 2020 I gave up and was content to die quietly isolated alone in a tiny apartment  after work.  This was the end of a twenty-plus year Dr. Jekel Mr. Hyde, black out drinker, warrior monster body hijacker that took over mouth, spirit, and mind.  I figured, there was no way out of this private hell that terrorized my family and marriage when under the influence of alcohol.  But I could not stop with all the will power, prayers, nothing.  Because privately deep down far from consciousness, I still had reservations, maybe I could try it later after a while of staying away from it.  I wasn’t done.  For some, hitting rock bottom is the only way to get back up.  For others the bottom is raised, shortening the suffering for everyone.  I didn’t lose everything yet, but the marriage was over.  My daughters were afraid and angry, disappointed and ashamed, waiting, longing for their real fun Mom to come back.  So did everyone else.  But I could not get off the sick rollercoaster that had no exits.  A high functioning alcoholic was the term they concluded later in rehab, but that doesn’t matter.  A drunk is a drunk, hi bottom, low bottom comparison?  Is just another form of pride that separates people.      

Some people can drink.  I used to be one of those people until I crossed an invisible line of no return without knowing.  Only a Power outside of human aid could reach me and I knew it.  But could not stop the madness.  

In 2020 when alcohol sales spiked by 40% during the beginning of Covid, something tragic happened to family in San Pedro.  That tragedy broke me and I no longer could handle a job, life, people nothing, it was all too much.  By this time the divorce was years ago and I was completely addicted to alcohol and dying quickly. 

DIVINE INTERVENTION - Cast your Bread upon the Water…

Prior to thirty-two, I wasn’t much of a drinker, basically a cheap date, as I don’t like the feeling of losing control of my senses.  But I was miserable in an bickering marriage that I wanted to drown out with a drink.  Some kind of relief but didn’t realize I was allergic to it.  With a track record of overcoming tons of obstacles, I thought this would be the same as anything else to stop.  Alcohol insanity has a two-fold effect on someone allergic to it.  For many like me, it taps into the spirit realm, and triggers a biological phenomenon of craving.  1 drink is not enough, and a thousand is too many.  A spiritual & physical hijacking.  

10 years prior, my brother and I were part of a Kids Camp Ministry at the church we attended.  Such an exciting time for kids between 8-12 years during the summer for a week in the mountains.  Activities and chapel with skits to tell Bible stories along with other fun stuff, horseback riding archery, swimming, night hikes and singing.  Our home was right across the street from the church we belonged to. This was the hang out spot that had no T.V. just music, books, coffee and conversation that hosted a grip of teens and young twenty & thirty year old from church.  The house was a magnet for music and lively conversations separating the Fakers at church.  Those were the ones that needed a T.V. at a party.  Really?  Learn some social skills, turn off the TV and practice how to have a decent conversation.  Ray Charles, classical baroque, praise and worship, and the blues was the normal music that spilled into the streets - neighborhood approved.  I had a lot of fun memories before drinking.  We were like these beatnik, well dressed, hip, fun, happy, an attractive group of celibate wanna be theologians.  The goal was not for prestige but for the connection to God based on Scriptures and not the traditions of men.

One of those kids grew up, and became a very successful businessman that neither my brother nor I, had seen in decades.  A random encounter downtown Long Beach between my brother and Seth led to the question, “How’s your sister Terry doing?”  My bro let him have the truth.   Seth gave my brother his card and said, “Have her call me.  I can help.”

Two weeks later, October 14, 2020, Seth Blackburn, the kid from kids camp, now a successful young man, is the owner of Roots Through Recovery, a premier Mental Health Facility for Addiction in Long Beach.  We had no clue.  I called my employer the day before and quit.  It was time to take care of myself.

REHAB / SOBER LIVING / MENTAL HEALTH 

Seth’s question, “Do you want your Life or your Career?”  The first time he asked I said career and hung up.  The following week, I called back and said, “I want my Life, forget the career.”    The entire cost of the Sober Living and PHP was $300K.  I was given a rare scholarship because he believed I was worth it.  I didn’t pay anything.  In return my gift is to remain sober and help others along the way of life that get lost and need help to find their way back to sanity.  I sponsor others, and attend panels at Rehabs in the ghetto to share hope that if I can make it,  you can make it too.  

Seth drove me to Santa Monica that morning, to check into Rehab.  Something I would have never done on my own.  I could barely finish the Intake process as I was sick and 30 lbs. underweight.  My vital signs were spiking weird and basically they said I was having a stroke.   I said out loud, “I didn’t come this far, or go through hell to die in this chair.  Hurry up and figure it out.”  Then everything went back to normal, as they gave me a plate of food that I could barely eat, as it felt like glass in my throat from the years of straight vodka that burns the lining.  I was truly the most exhausted I’d ever been in my life the day I walked through those rehab doors and dropped my bags. I was done.   

I said a prayer under my breath, “Please don’t let me take any of this shit home with me.  Please take all of this messed up situation I’ve caused and have it.  You can have it.  Let’s trade.  Whatever happens here?  Please help me find the source of the rage that comes out when I drink.  Help me to stop craving that shit.  Thank you for sending Seth.  I surrender, show me what You want me to do.  I’ll follow.  Amene”  I didn’t want my family to have another jacked up holiday season and thought it was the best time to get help.  

I completed the full 90 days of Rehab.  The only way I could find quiet time alone, just me, God, coffee, cigarettes and Bible to study - was an hour before breakfast, before the house woke.   I found a table tucked away to read, pray, and study by myself before the day got started.  I’ve never stopped reading or studying the Word since my twenties.  It was the only anchor that was still there that I held on to through the years of drinking.  Every other bridge was burned.

After a few weeks of my daily morning routine, other women started showing up.  I told them, “Y'all gotta go somewhere else, there’s plenty of tables over there.”  But they wouldn’t leave and started asking questions, that turned into exciting shocking, “no way!  What?  Show me where it says that?”  Weeks turned into months and by the time I left, 80% of the house was up an hour before breakfast to learn about an amazing powerful God, misinterpreted by the masses.  

I got along with the staff because they knew I wasn’t there to fuck around like most and welcomed the hard questions to find the root cause of why I drank.  A few counselors needed help with templates, so I created spreadsheets for them to do their job.  LOL  Many were there to get out of the rain, running from the law, or a weird vacation without drugs.  I took directions, listened to advice, and reviewed the notes at night before bed.  I met a grip of beautiful women all derailed from life from some awful sexual abuse from childhood that ruined their self-esteem and mental worth.  Many became promiscuous not because they wanted to, but that part of their being was ‘switched on’ before puberty…that’s all chemistry sexual hunger activated prematurely.     

The 1st year I had to give up my apartment while in rehab and lived in a Sober Living mansion with other women.  Mental health classes at Roots Through Recovery provide coping skills to deal with addiction and trauma.  I had the highest level of PHP that equates to 40 hours a week of intensive uncover, discover and discard meetings.  Years of tears, finally escaped leaving behind peace.  The classes provided tools usable in real life, that  I took with me and use regularly.  Lessons from Sober Living: How to spot fake women that envy your blessings?  They are usually the ones that refuse to do the work and remain stuck on stupid.  Fuck them. Lesson Learned. 

CHANGE 

In 2021 a handsome, friendly, young man from Santa Monica offered me a position to level-up his team, and educate them with ocean exports.  It was my first job back to the industry after leaving in 2015 to teach.  It was also my first time back to work sober in over two decades.  We had lunch in Culver City, and I shared my story with him.  He took it all in, gave me a compliment for endurance and hired me.  

A month later working as a Shipper of export finished goods, my boss handed me a CBP letter for about $14K of Detention and Demurrage charges.  He asked, “Do you think you can do something about this?”  I did.  And we won with Customs which is almost impossible to do.  They are NOT an ocean carriers, this is CBP that usually mitigates only.  But hell to the No - waiving is not an option!

The reply letter from CBP to my rebuttal of their original demand letter, Waived all charges.   They also acknowledged their own error based on the evidence I provided them as proof.   Can you believe that!  They waived it completely, and instead of charging the base minimum fine that is usually applied; CBP made an exception to their own rule, and charged, below the minimum threshold, asking only for an “administrative fee” a meager $450 to call it a day, case dismissed.  That doesn’t happen in real life.  But it did and I have the letters to boot. 

Dec 2021 - Finally published a story I made up for one of my daughters when she was little.  Pick Me, can be found on Amazon but there are a few grammatical errors I need to fix.  However, if it were flawless it would not be me.  This was a goal that was delayed 20 years due to alcohol.  Finally realized. 

Jan-2022 - Bunkie from Rehab, another business woman, she went back to the drink and couldn’t stop the chatter in her head.  So she blew it off.  She was 31.

Feb-2022 - Meth-head junky from rehab, relapsed overdosed.  Left behind 4 babies.  She was 26.  

2023 - 80% of the women that went to the same Rehab during that period, didn’t make it.  My counselor in rehab said, the chances of long term sobriety after rehab is less than 3%.  As far as I know of the 100 women that came and left, there were only two that made it.  An older prostitute turned Cinderella, finally got sober and died sober in 2023.  Ms. Teresa firecracker from rehab.  I’m the last one standing sober from 2020.

2022 - Created a YouTube channel to share a lifetime of personal topics of interest from decades of studying, I asked God, “What am I gonna do with all this information? I don’t think I’m supposed to die with it, but pass it on to help someone else right?”  The answer came from one of my direct reports who shared her Korean cooking side gig YouTube channel and encouraged me to do it.  Being on camera or pictures, I’ve always hated since childhood, and preferred to be the photographer.  But they pushed, ‘Get out of your comfort zone, you have a wealth of knowledge to share and you simplify it in a way that is easy to follow.’ EZ336 my YouTube stands for Ezekiel 3:3-6 check it out if you want.  I’ve had no time to video, but hopefully soon.  I cuss a lot in the videos - be warned.  

2023 - Sponsorship for women in business struggling with alcohol.  2nd Children’s book in progress, out next month: August 2024 Noah’s Ark, How the Animals knew where to go.

2024 - Moved to Phoenix, AZ to help a business acquaintance grow his company.  Moving and divorce are at the top of my list of stressful situations.  But I did it, even drove the truck myself to AZ and back to CA.  A month ago we won a D&D dispute in the amount of $17,640, waived by a carrier notorious for never bending - ZIM LINE.  This doesn’t happen either in real life.  But it did.  

On July 22, 2024, I quit Cyclone Shipping as things did not work out, which leads me to the present moment.  Although I’m renting a room from a lovely family in a nice area, this is not my home.  With my things still in storage for six months, waiting for the break, to offer Master Classes in SCM & Logistics, hopefully I’ll have time to do what ’ve always enjoyed; Writing and Teaching has been with me since childhood.    

Relationships with all three of my daughters have been restored.  I made my amends to Mr. Silverstein, family, friends, siblings, my faithful Mom and business colleagues I hurt while drunk.  When the moments of opportunity to apologize are present, or to right a wrong, I will beeline to that person and apologize for being a fucken jerk.  I’m sorry I hurt you, how can I make this right?  Regardless of the answer, action is needed to free that person and myself.  Another layer cut in the key that was needed to find freedom within.  

Today I’m not afraid of shit.  Money no money, job no job, home no home because I have found an incredible sustaining Truth.  A power that has kept me all this time through hell and back.  No weapon formed against me will prosper when there is a divine purpose at work - nothing can stop it.  I’ve been kept by a host of angelic beings through situations that normally end in suicide.  Most people today have no idea why I’m always happy, upbeat and content.  Because I was given an opening, a second shot to finish the walk of Life without any distractions.  Bravery is looking into the mirror to find the true flaws, and taking it to the heavenly manufacturer for assistance and guidance.  Asking, how do I adjust my internal knob to: happy?  By letting go of the wheel completely without fear.  This is my final leveling up test of faith that has a 40 year milestone this October in Trade & Logistics.  It’s also my 4th year of sobriety from alcohol.  Sometimes things are meant to bother us to action, that sets our feet in the direction of the path we were born to walk.  

I quit Cyclone Shipping to pursue my real job: which is helping addicts, depressive people, angry people, insecure, lost people, and business people find their way back to who they really are.  Not to walk alone in suffering.  My closest road dogs are a group of unlikely friends from Alcoholics Anonymous that always have my back.  A fun group of sober minded people because we get it.  Once out of depression, a smart person won’t return, if joy and laughter is the gift of surrender.  

Trying this without any money is real faith, but I am confident, The same God that kept Noah, and Jonah, is the same one who rescued me from a lonely prison of dark waters.  Someone asked me last week if I still think about drinking?  My answer. I don’t have another run in me.  If I pick-up I will die without any fa’aaloalo (respect) for the one that saved me?  What kind of thank you is that?  My all consuming thoughts are usually what do I have that can help someone else that is in trouble?  Whether lack of skill sets for the job, or addiction or basic common sense.  I’m here to help, however I can to those that need KEYS to freedom in business or addiction.  

MOVING FORWARD

October is my 40th year in Trade.  That’s a great accomplishment without sleeping around, in a male dominated industry.  As a woman of integrity, my actions are the reflections of what I believe in.  40 is the number of change do something different.  I’ve had my alcohol slip ups, but getting back up is the key to finishing the race of life that can only be traveled alone.  Today I sponsor women, and attend panels taking the message of hope to rehab centers and half-way houses for men only, in the ghetto.  I do this with Longshoremen and other sober members of A.A. that know the hell and have the keys to freedom for those that want it.     

I made it through the dark tunnel that had a pin needle light at the end.  Today there are many still stuck without any light or direction to help them.  My gift is to provide some flashlights and words of encouragement yes your ass is worth it.  No you are not alone in the struggle.  Yes there is a wealth of help if you want it.  No you don’t need to do that anymore, Yes you can be free and happy.  I wanted sobriety, so I shut up in group, took notes, asked questions when needed, and trusted God that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  

Since waking up in 2020, my dreams that were put to the side, to make other companies rich is over.  My turn not to settle for anything less than my worth.  And if I’ve offended you in business, (I’m sure there are some) if I was drunk, I am truly sorry for making you feel some type of way.  Thank you for reading.  Truthfully bold without apology, but respectfully, 

Terry Leifi-Silverstein,

Badass grateful sober daughter of the Most High Uncreated God of Creation: Leo is my real  name.