In June 2024, I entered The Bridges. I was two days sober, trapped in that hinterland of managing to get a few clean days before eventually breaking the promise that I made to myself every morning, and picking up again. I came to The Bridges on crutches. In April ‘24 I had thrown myself out of a second-storey window and shattered my tibia and fibula. That was my third hospitalisation in 12 months. I had been sofa-surfing for two years, relying on sober-houses that would ultimately kick me out, and friends who were not really friends, but had some place I could sleep.
Recovery at The Bridges was not easy. I had to confront myself. I am a very defensive person, and I am arrogant. The staff helped me to dismantle the parts of my ego that kept me trapped in a cycle of self-pity and resentment. Living with other addicts and judging myself against them was challenging. You never win by comparing your rock bottom to someone else’s. You are inserted into a situation where people are brutally honest, manipulative, needy, lost, desperate. Most of all, people just want to get well, but don’t know how. On a good day, we are willing to become teachable, and the staff were always available, without judgment, and without thanks.
I was fortunate enough to have secured funding for secondary treatment. After my initial three months, I was allowed to leave the treatment centre unaccompanied, and it was recommended to me that I sign up with Cat Zero, a charity that supports adults who are unemployed, disenfranchised, isolated, recovering - people like me. Cat Zero (a 72ft challenger racing yacht) stands for ‘Category Zero’ - a ship that can travel anywhere in the world, without boundaries. The staff there embody these values.
Although I left The Bridges at the end of November, 2024, Cat Zero kept in touch, and in June 2025 (almost a year since I hobbled into The Bridges, sweating, shaking, and scared) they invited me to embark on a 10-day voyage with them. Over the course of 500 miles, we sailed from Grimsby to the Holy Islands, then onto Blyth, North Shields, Hartlepool, Scarborough and then back to Grimsby.
I served as a watchman, navigator, engineer, deckhand and cook. Besides a one-week boating holiday in the Norfolk Broads 25 years ago, I had never been ‘at sea’. I am not the most physical or practical of people. We did overnight sailing requiring shift patterns, using a compass and the stars to navigate at night. We took turns doing anchor watch, helming the vessel, tacking sails, learning numerous knots and safely docking. At the behest of an enthusiastic Skipper and First Mate, we even found ourselves entered into a yacht race, finishing 4th out of 15 ships. Not bad for a bunch of land-loving amateurs.
At a stage in my recovery where I can be complacent, this voyage was the reset that I needed. As they say in Just for Today, I had to tackle one thing at a time, adjust myself to whatever came my way, learn something new and be unafraid. There is only so much you can plan in terms of waves and the weather - when they take an unexpected turn, all you can do is the next right thing, to stay afloat. Staring out of the bow of the ship, being watchful for obstacles, you begin to wonder at the depths of the ocean, how unpredictable it is, how small you are. You also see the little ripple that you can make. And a ripple becomes a ripple becomes a wave.
