Dedication
The telling of stories through the Bottomless to Sober blog is a project dedicated to Ian Matthew Carey. (April 6, 1978 – April 28, 2020)
Ian was a beloved member of the recovery community in Louisville, Kentucky. He was a gift and a light not just to me but to many others. I have had conversations with many who knew him; they described him as kind, generous, loving, and incredibly funny. Ian had one of the biggest hearts I ever encountered, and in the brief time I knew him, his passion for helping others touched me. He was an incredibly humble person, understanding the depths at which the disease of addiction truly united so many of us. In his own eyes, Ian was no better than anyone else. He served in the military for ten years before working in a rehabilitation facility. At the end of his life, Ian was attending Spalding University in Louisville with the aspiration to become a social worker. He received his posthumous degree on September 16, 2020.
Ian did spend many years afflicted by his addiction. I had both the privilege of being with him in the months of his life when he was sober and hopeful for the future, and the hardship of being there right up to his final hours. I wiped away his tears in those last days; I wept then myself, feeling in my heart that it was a matter of time before he was going to transition. I felt the hope leaving him and leaving me.
Watching active addiction take over a person you love is brutal and something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Every time Ian had been in a battle with his addiction throughout his life, he was able to fight it off, get back up, and keep moving forward. This time it was different. He was sick, and he was tired.
The moment Ian died, I felt a part of me die, too. Every. Thing. Inside. Me. Was. Gone.
So I thought.
I screamed, I cried, I shrieked, I was paralyzed. At that moment, our dreams of a future vanished. Everything I hoped for was ripped from me. I was utterly devastated and horrified. Horrified at a life without him, horrified that God would take him from me, from the world, from his family, and from every soul he touched.
I spent the better part of the following eight months in and out of hospitals, struggling, traumatized, and defeated.
Then, in November of 2020, I realized that I had to stop fighting everything and everyone, that the fact was I had not died. I hesitantly accepted that I have a greater purpose, that I was supposed to live a sober, healthy life. I decided to completely change my life, terrifying as that was, and free myself from everything that kept me from being me. I chose sobriety and life.
Telling a story is one of the most powerful ways in which to inspire others. Ian lived a life of service, inspiring others through his experiences. I hope that this site, by telling my story and those of others, can help inspire other addicts to change their lives.
“You are not your illness. You have an individual story to tell. You have a name, a history, a personality. Staying yourself is part of the battle.” — Julian Seifter
“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love