Dwayne Woods, an artist manager, music publicist and consultant, is also a mental health advocate. Here he shares his addiction journey within a hedonistic industry, and the benefits of getting sober.
My name is Dwayne Woods and I am an alcoholic. It has been 365 days since my last drink.
Three hundred and sixty-five days well spent. For myself and for those I love and for those who love me. Sobriety has been kind to me so far. I guess that’s what comes with being kind to yourself.
Is addiction a brain disease, is it learned behaviour or is it genetic? In my case, the answer is simple. Yes. I don’t recognise myself these days. I’m at odds with the serenity of it all. That’s just one of the many things I’m working on. I had gotten so used to self-loathing and how isolating that can be. I forget that this inner peace is normal.
This new me is a work in progress. Like learning a new language, it takes patience but you can learn a lot from the mistakes you make. I look in the mirror a lot these days. I see a survivor. A strong person. A kind person. I see my inner-child too and I’m learning how to finally comfort him.
Loving myself is a difficult part of the journey. I’m not quite there yet but I’m on the right path. I’m grateful to be here sharing my story with you. Only just over a year ago was my third or possibly fourth suicide attempt in a life full of trauma, comforted only by a melting pot of addictions.
“People are actually really weird about folk who don’t drink”
How grateful I am to the complete stranger who intervened as I thought about throwing myself in a river. I’d had enough of this life. I felt it was too much for me and I too much for it. The pain I was living with was unbearable.
My therapist reckons I have a guardian angel looking over me. Maybe she is right. I’m glad I’m still here.
Months later, on the eve of the summer solstice in 2022 I was done. Done with the drink. That was a lie I had often told myself – but something was different this time. I was analysing my life through a hyper-critical lens. I had avoided looking inward for many, many years. I was afraid to.
I’d been diagnosed with depression and an anxiety disorder two years earlier, and the meds mixed with the drink led me down a path of aggressive and impulsive behaviours. I would black-out after a few pints. I had lost all control. Internally, I was screaming for help.
I was not just done with the drinking, but with the lifestyle that comes with it. The lies, the fights, the phoney friends, the relentless drama and the mental impact it was having on me. The silence and isolation and the burning loneliness. I felt my entire life was a lie.
I went to see my GP and told him I was an addict. That was the first time I had uttered those words out loud – aside from the one time I opened up to a friend about my struggles. Even though they comforted me at the time, a few days later that friend texted me looking to see if I could help them score some hard drugs. I wasn’t even using at the time. That was a was a tough blow for me. I was in a fragile and vulnerable state and that situation sent me spiralling backward. I felt so alone in my despair. With nowhere to turn. However, a valuable lesson was learned. I always naively thought my friends would save me from myself.
One piece of advice I’d like to offer about seeking recovery is about friends and family. If you have a circle of friends or indeed family members who are also drug users or are heavy drinkers, please don’t rely on them for the emotional support you need when seeking out addiction treatment. Do it for yourself. Talk to a professional or someone in recovery first.
Other drug users or alcoholics will quite often not want to talk about something that they are most likely in denial about themselves. That’s my experience anyway. It’s not my wish to vilify drinkers or casual drug users – the message here is that you need to make careful choices, and the right choices for you.
Recovery is a lengthy process where you have to search the depths of your soul and disclose your biggest fears and darkest secrets to others. It needs to be in the right place and with the right people. It wasn’t all doom and gloom living with addiction. I did enjoy the party lifestyle for some time. Until it all came crashing down. I did manage to hold down some jobs and do some good work with my music PR and artist management agency. And I’d like to think I did some good work when I worked in a newspaper and wrote music columns too. I also presented and produced an Irish music radio show for five years.
‘Growing up in rural Ireland in the 1990s as a gay man utterly destroyed me’
I look back and wonder how the hell I even did any of those things.
Working in the music business can feel like being a piñata at times. My advice to others who may end up feeling like this is to be your own boss. Forge your own path. And avoid people who say things like the industry is ‘cut-throat’ because that’s just an excuse to normalise toxic behaviours. Call it out.
My GP referred me to a drug and alcohol counsellor and we immediately decided that in-patient treatment for 28 days was the best approach for me. There was already a huge sense of relief on my part. I had no idea just how life-changing those 28 days were going to be.
I went into the treatment centre absolutely terrified, but with a positive attitude and determination, desperate for change. I was willing to put everything I had into this recovery programme and I really did. The counsellors were just brilliant. They are literally saving lives day-to-day.
One of the biggest take-aways from that was the realisation that I am a true survivor and that I need to remind myself of that more. I had survived physical and psychological abuse as a child, sexual abuse and manipulation as a teenager at the hands of a predator and many bullies at school. I was broken. Realising that was the first step to fixing myself. There was also a lot of emotional work to be done in fully accepting myself as a gay man after years being in the closet.
Living a life constantly on edge and only really having the confidence to socialise openly and in my own skin after a few drinks. All the confidence I radiated was a lie. A mask. Growing up in rural Ireland in the 1990s as a gay man had utterly destroyed me. I started drinking at the age of 14. And in a way, I probably would have died from suicide long ago if I hadn’t found that lifestyle. Toxic as it was, it generated happiness, comfort and a false sense of security amongst other drinkers and drug users.
There’s power in speaking. I’ve never had a problem with speaking. I did however have problems with speaking the truth, my truth. The cathartic release of sharing my life story with others in a group therapy setting was heartbreaking, yet changed the course of my life forever. Shared experiences about addiction and where our individual stories had led us, really affected me in a positive way.
So do not fear going into treatment. It’s kind of like going to college – but you are the subject matter.You learn how to manage yourself and your addictions – and a healthier, better you is the reward you receive at the end. I embraced it because I had really neglected myself.
So how does it work? An average day in treatment consisted of a 7am start. Breakfast followed by meditation. We had our first lecture of the day then, which was usually a focus on the 12 steps or lessons about addiction. Following the lecture we would have a break and a snack followed by the first group therapy session. Group therapy usually consisted of one or two people reading out their life stories to the rest of us, or we would have to read out answers to questionnaires that had been sent out to our families about how our addictions had affected their lives.
It was tough but very eye-opening. We would also share our thoughts and feelings after hearing people’s stories. As the day went on, we would have lunch, dinner and, tea. Some yoga or drama therapy, a second group session, individual therapy and then on weekends we focused a lot on cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), chores, exercise and visitors.
Every evening was wrapped up by readings from the Big Book [the basic text for all 12-step programs] and meditation to wind to things down. It was a good healthy routine. Gym facilities were available.
We were not allowed to have phones. This was way more difficult than I thought it would be. I found myself fighting another addiction. We had time allocated to call our families or loved ones via a landline. Most of all, I missed listening to music, but it was all for my wellbeing.
CBT also helped reinforce my journey toward recovery. Being able to sit with my thoughts, control my negative emotions and change the way I view the world and myself really opened me up to the idea of a sober future. This is my story but I am aware it doesn’t work like this for all addicts. Everyone’s circumstances are different. So everyone’s process and recovery stories will be unique.
It was suggested in treatment that I had ADHD. A few people had mentioned this to me over the years, but I was too busy feeding my addictions to care. I discussed it with a counsellor and so many lightbulbs went off. Since childhood, I have always known that I was different. I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere. It’s been like that for most of my adult life too.
Fidgety, hyperactive, intense, emotional, impulsive, lacking concentration, selfish, not applying myself and so on – this kind of language used to isolate me and make me feel like a weirdo, but now it started to make sense. And there is nothing wrong with being weird. Of course.
I just want people to know that they can beat whatever it is they’re addicted to.
There was also a discussion in treatment about self-medicating undiagnosed mental health issues and how that can lead you down the path of quick fixes – which can in turn lead to addictions.
I actually cried at that moment, for the first time in a long time. Genuine tears of relief. I felt seen. I also felt for the first time that I was in control. What I had, had a name – and I can seek help and support for it and not have to live my life through constant apologies, masking, and of course self-medicating. It’s been exhausting.
Here I am back in lovely Leitrim. One year sober. I have travelled the world with my work, and don’t remember a lot of it. I wasn’t just running away from my demons, I was sprinting through life with no destination in sight.
I’m 41 now and living at home. But I’m sober. I’m creating memories worth remembering now and I’m starting over, again. I have arrived. Sobriety was the destination. As I prepare to step back into the real world and return to college and to give the music industry another try with a clear and focused mind, I just want people to know that you can beat it. Whatever it is you’re addicted to, you can regain the power you need to live a life without it – be that heroin, alcohol, internet addiction, food addiction and so on.
People and places from your past can be obstacles in sobriety. If it’s going to interrupt your recovery, don’t pursue it. Drop it, leave it, run from it and move on. Only give something or someone your energy if they support you and applaud you. If someone understands and embraces the new you, then keep them close. I don’t recommend going it alone. I was lucky to have the support of my amazing mother. Find someone safe to open up to, and allow them to be there for you.
Irish society has a long way to go in terms of combating addiction stigma and the classist attitudes that go with certain drugs. We need to be more compassionate. There is so much room there for learning how to deal with people living with addiction.
And anybody can recover from addiction, at any stage of their lives. Within the right environment, addicts can make a complete recovery and flourish at life. My friends and family often ask why I still work in the music industry. The answer is because I love it, and I’m very stubborn. I’ve wanted to work in music since I was a child. The industry can at times be toxic, but it’s not always that way, and it has provided a stability in my life that saved me from myself.
One thing I’ve learned about addiction is that there are many, many addicts out there who appear to have their shit together. Addiction has many faces. Lots of high-functioning folks are working and maintaining a life with hidden (or not so hidden) addictions. I think society’s view of what an addict looks like needs to change. I also think society’s view of addiction as a whole needs to be de-stigmatised and revisited. Especially in this country.
That’s my mission now. To help others and fight the stigma. To generate visibility. To educate.
I’ve completed a diploma in addiction studies and have attended mental health workshops and courses in the last 12 months. I hope to bring my experiences into the music industry too, in order to deal with the hypocrisy and lack of understanding around these issues.
I’m also working as a mentor with the amazing and essential service Minding Creative Minds. The mental health system in Ireland is not fit for purpose. I’ve waited a year for an ADHD screening and now have to wait “up to another year” to see a specialist. In saying that though, you might be surprised by the resources out there to support addicts. Starting recovery is relatively easy. For me it was as simple as confiding in my GP – and two weeks later I was in a treatment centre, one of the toughest yet most liberating experiences in my life.
The destruction that comes with addiction is hard to shake off. That’s the real test. You need to move on from the past. I know that’s a cliché, but it has weight. Sitting amongst the rubble of the mess you have created is not healthy. Don’t fear change.
Sober life in Ireland is difficult. People are actually really weird about folk who don’t drink. They never ask you why you drink, but when you don’t drink everyone wants to know what’s wrong with you. I have to laugh at that. I do think my life would be easier living in a country where alcohol wasn’t battered into the culture – but I’ve run from my problems before, and that got me nowhere.
I’ve found love and new friends and opportunities in sobriety. In recovery, they say you should look after a plant for a year before creating any new relationships. Well, this summer I cultivated a whole garden of flowers and herbs and I’m stepping back out into the world now.
On my terms. One Day at a Time.
This article was first published in the Sunday Independent newspaper, 17th September 2023, and has been kindly given permission for use by the author, Dwyane Woods.
