Stories of Hope… Richard Twist

A Soldier’s Story

“By the time the crack-cocaine and alcohol wore off, I had been awake for three days. It was September of 2011, and as I looked around at the scene under the bridge I called home for the last ten months, I realized I was participating in a lifestyle that was preparing me for death. I was barely 31 years old as of the previous month. But wasn’t that exactly why I chose to live there?

I had been slowly killing myself with alcohol and drugs for almost 20 years, and surely there was no way I’d survive another 20, right? It was at that moment that a question popped into my head, almost forcefully and without warning. Do I want to live, or do I want to die? I contemplated the question as I continued to gaze around at my surroundings. The answer became abundantly clear. If I was to continue living, it was not going to be like that. The answer, much like the question, was intrusive, almost as if someone were in my head directing traffic. Yes, I wanted to live. The first step was to find a treatment center.

I called around to a few places I heard about through a friend. “$800 to move in, $500 a week after that,” one man said. Another program representative replied, “this is a 60-day program, and the cost is $30,000. Do you have insurance?” Sure, I thought to myself. All homeless crack addicts have top-of-the-line insurance! Then I called a buddy of mine who I served in Iraq with. I knew he had recently tried a Christian-based program, which worked for him for a little while. I called them, and a man stated, “It’s $1,000 to move in and $150 a week. Can you swing that? ” No, I said. “Here’s the number for a place in Marietta called The Extension. They’ll take you right off the street with no money down, and you can start paying them when you get a job.” Finally, I thought!

I called the next day and was told by a counselor not to bring all of my stuff because there was no guarantee I would be admitted. I stopped drinking around 3 am that morning and was able to get in touch with an old roommate who was willing to pick me up and drive me there. With all of my stuff in hand, which was enough to fit in a large Wal-Mart bag, I stepped through the doors of The Extension.

“We can’t accept you here,” one of the counselors said. “You have PTSD, and we’re only a drug and alcohol treatment center. We’re not equipped to treat someone like you. Have you not been to the VA?” I chuckled a little and said, “only 20 to 30 times.” I did not qualify for benefits with the VA as a combat veteran because my drinking and drug use got me kicked out, I explained. After another 20 minutes of explanations, the counselor took me to his boss’s office, stating, “If I can’t tell you no, then I’ll let my boss do it.” His boss was JJ Bremner.

I walked into JJ’s office and explained why I was there. After a couple of minutes of explanation, JJ stopped me, stood up from his chair, hugged me, and said the two words that changed my life forever, “welcome home.” The man who decided to take a chance on a veteran who had been turned away over and over again by the organization designed to take care of veterans, the VA, became my counselor, and later my mentor and dear friend.

I spent 13 and a half months at The Extension learning about the characteristics of the disease of addiction. I was taught that I was not a bad person, as I thought of myself to be, but rather a sick person. This philosophy allowed me to forgive myself, which was the most instrumental piece to the healing process for me. I listened to the stories of fellow residents and realized that I wasn’t as unique as I thought I was. I gained hope from the residents who completed the program and consistently returned to share their experiences with us. I worked with the same man, who initially had to explain how The Extension was not the right place for what I needed, as my counselor for the first four months. He devised a treatment plan that allowed me to work on the PTSD from my combat experiences in Iraq with a counselor who specialized in trauma resolution. I worked the 12 steps of AA simultaneously, and the combination of the two treatment routes allowed me to heal from all wounds, civilian and military.

I became a whole person. Most of all, The Extension instilled a culture of brotherly love in me, which allowed me to trust another human being for the first time in many years but led me to what I believe my purpose is in a life of service to my fellow man. I started setting goals for my life based on this new realization of purpose through service. I wanted to be like the counselors who helped me. I set a goal to go to school and work on obtaining degrees in psychology. I also wanted to become a husband and new father, feeling I had failed the first time around with my oldest daughter.

As of today, nine years after hearing those magical words “Welcome Home,” I have three college degrees, work in the counseling field, and am gearing up for a Ph.D. Program. I came into the Extension with a 9th-grade education and GED. I am married to a beautiful woman who is an ICU nurse, we have two amazing children, and I have a wonderful relationship with my oldest daughter. In 2015, I witnessed my son being born, which was a dream fulfilled. Every dream I had for my life and every goal I set for myself while at The Extension has materialized. I now know that the voice in my head under that bridge 9 years ago was God. Everything that has happened since has been “A God Thing,” which is a mindset I have because of The Extension. I owe my life to the place I will always call “Home.”