Recently, I learned of a driver who had committed suicide. It broke my heart that he would have taken such a drastic step, certainly, but I know it is a much more common act than many people expect. I know that because I've been there. I started my career driving truck in 1993. At the time, I honestly had no business out here due to the simple fact that I was a drug and alcohol addict. Reasons for my use might be described as simple. I hated life, I hated myself, and I hated everyone else. My hate stemmed from my childhood and the torment I'd been put through being raised. I did not know at the time, but I was self-medicating due to a serious mental health issue. By this time, I had attempted suicide through alcohol poisoning -- I tried drinking myself to death, essentially. At my worst, I was drinking a half-gallon of whiskey a day.
I had tried suicide by vehicle, walking down the middle of I-5 in California blind drunk and daring someone to hit me. Add to that the risk-taking: racing my motorcycle at 180 mph, surfing my bike at high rates of speed daring gravity to do the job for me. Also: picking fights for no reason with the biggest guy in the bar, each time hoping it was my last.
If you are struggling with similar issues and have thought about giving up, reach out for help. Call or text the national suicide prevention hotline number 988; there's help available there 24/7. By the time I started driving, I was actually trying to clean up my act. I had two babies in diapers and could not bear the example I would be setting for them if nothing changed. Though I loved the work, I was sick to death of heavy highway construction, where often enough I’d get the layoff slip before I could get my family on solid ground. Minimum wage at other jobs simply was not cutting it.
My wife and I fought all the time about money, being unemployed, and my addiction. When I climbed into a truck for the first time, I was running away from life with the excuse of trying to provide better for my family. A year later, I was going through a divorce and still had not cleaned up my act. Yet I was still trying, and through the help of the VA, I checked myself into a treatment center. While the treatment helped, it was finally surrendering to Christ that helped me maintain my sobriety. But the reasons I had been self-medicating were still there. Slowly but surely, Christ helped me work through them, but the one thing I struggled with the most was anger, which became a daily struggle, one I had to learn how to control.
For the most part I have, though I still have my moments. It is my daily walk with Christ that makes it possible. I have been clean now since ’96 and do not miss my old life in any way. In 2005, after 12 years over-the-road, I quit driving truck and tried to make a life away from in the highway. In 2007, I was finally diagnosed with chronic PTSD (post-traumatic stress syndrome), the result of my traumatic childhood. With that, I began researching my diagnosis so I could learn what I could to help myself.
[Related: Driving through depression's dark valleys]
