Sixteen months ago my life crossed paths with Eddie McDonnell at this exceptional place called Veritas Villa. My son spent 30 days at "the Villa," as Eddie refers to it, which is an alcohol and drug rehabilitation facility. Eddie acknowledged his shortcomings, used his life as a lesson, and became a humble, proud, and dedicated counselor. He is an alcoholic first; a man of humility second; and, last, a positive force in his profession. He sees addiction as a three-fold disease: mental, physical, and spiritual. Buried under booze for so many years, this rough and tough looking Irishman revealed some well hidden scars that gave me a deeper insight into the courage it takes to work with people who suffer from this disease. It still puzzles me how he somehow survived some of the experiences that led him to recovery.

He came to the Villa in 1984, left, and eventually returned because he believed that alcohol's grip was tightening and God had worked through Jim Cusack, its director, to reach him. Like most residents, he thought he could do it on his own. "Jim," he says gleaming with affection "was like the James Cagney of my youth, a tough guy, but a square guy. A guy that could walk the walk he was talking." Being a fan of Cagney, I envisioned Eddie mesmerized by The Public Enemy and Angels with Dirty Faces, watching the gangsters in scenes that reminded him of his neighborhood. Eddie's drinking caused a broken relationship with his father, so he turned to Jim as a mentor. Jim was easy to talk to, always available, and provided the kind of attention that Eddie lost growing up.

The bottle was always there to numb the shyness and give him confidence and self worth he lacked. Eddie came from a neighborhood that saw drinking as a way of life. Eddie's first drink was over a girl. "With a drink in me, I had the courage to hold her hand, and my life changed that day." With conviction, he felt the power of alcohol take away his shyness. As he grew up, alcohol became a magnet for negative attention, but attention nonetheless. He recollected an incident that confirmed his "blackout drinker" persona. "I remember it like it was yesterday," he said with half a smile, "eight of us about 16 or 17, went out drinking and woke up in a holding cell." He knew it was the summertime because they were all wearing undershirts. There was reflective look of amazement on his face when he said, "We all looked at each other and no one could remember what happened." In his tough guy voice, he bragged about the likelihood a fight took place because there were blood stains on the shirts and some bruised knuckles. Eddie still feels it hard to believe that eight kids, teenagers, coming from the same neighborhood acted as if it was no big deal and had laughed about it.

"Where I came from, drinking was accepted and our idea of an alcoholic was like an old combat veteran you may give a couple of dollars to or somebody sleeping under a bridge." Eddie was naïve because of the images he had growing up and it made me think about how people like Eddie didn't see this behavior as a problem. We all can remember a relative or friend that drank too much at parties, family gatherings, or for no reason / occasion at all. Remember how accessible it was in your parents' liquor cabinet when your friends came over? Maybe some of the reasons that Eddie needed alcohol were similar to someone you knew, but you couldn't recognize the signs or symptoms of an alcoholic. Sometimes, our perceptions of acceptable behavior can be distorted to what may be really happening.

During counseling sessions, Eddie makes residents feel comfortable by sharing his own experiences, some words of wisdom, some suggestions, and support. I could see a compassionate soul beneath such a rough exterior. He believes it's about one-day-at-a-time and getting through that day without needing a drink. He shares the role of the family in the recovery process. "It's a family disease and sometimes the family is sicker then than the addict. They are either covering for him or blaming themselves." He encourages the family to be supportive, which is not the same thing as enabling or spoiling. "I believe I come off as trustworthy. What you see is what you get." Eddie was a steady force and people trusted him because he was honest and straight forward. He knows the excuses: the bad boss, the bad parents, the bad spouse. It's the "Blame game," he says fearlessly. He doesn't justify their stuff; he uses what he has learned to get them to take responsibility for their life. By putting it back on them, he hopes he can help them realize it's no one's fault but their own. He knows that a good listener cultivates self esteem and makes them feel important. "I think there is a lot of shame and guilt in an alcoholic's life, and I want them to know I had shame and guilt the same as theirs, but I overcame it." In the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, the 4th and 5th steps of the 12-step program have a lot of questions that are meant to get the pain out. "Leave it on the mountain," is a saying that they have at the Villa. To me, it means that leaving your baggage, your pain and your faults, will make it a lighter and easier road to recovery.

At the end of the day, Eddie thinks about his accomplishments and how far he has come in his struggles. He began to reminisce about the behavior of an alcoholic. "Resentments lead an alcoholic to drink and I live every day with stuff like that." Eddie feels adamant that what people take for granted is something so different for addicts. Alcohol played a big part in his life, but it did not destroy him. It was strength of mind and purpose that kept him going back to the Cusack's way of dealing with life's obstacles and challenges. He dealt with anger from being high all the time and never having anyone hassle him, to acknowledging his immaturity, and how effortlessly his feelings could get hurt. "Happy" to Eddie is strange word. He's not so sure he wants to be happy. Being content is the way he described his place in this world. It's comfortable to him. "Happy is too up because it's a feeling I associated with drinking." He accepts the level he's at right now because it feels right.

"An alcoholic never gets to know himself until he stops," he says, "and at 50 years old, I think I know myself a lot better." I have seen Eddie in action with his "out of the box" approach and he truly walks the walk he talks. Speaking from my experiences and my conversation with him, Eddie is not only humble, proud, strong minded, and confident, he's a man that makes a difference. The gift to help those who have struggled and always be there for support is PRICELESS!!