About Sober Speak and Founder John M.

Where I Came From

I was born in Bangor, Maine. Air Force brat for the first six years of my life.

My dad was stationed overseas when he met my mom. She grew up in Glasgow, Scotland. About an eighth-grade education.

They came back to the States, had me, and eventually split up. We settled in the Dallas area. Just me and my mom.

No brothers or sisters. Just us.

Around 10 or 11, I started noticing things were off.

She would stand at the stove and turn it off 30 to 40 times in a row. Saying the word out loud each time. She would do the same thing with the front door lock.

Over and over. I did not know what OCD was. Nobody talked about that stuff when I was a kid.

I just knew it was weird.

By the time I was 14 or 15, she was anorexic and bulimic. Down to 75 or 80 pounds. She had no idea what she looked like.

I was embarrassed. I was scared. And I wanted out.

At 17, I went to my first party where beer was served. I got drunk that night.

And like a lot of you, I thought I had found the answer.

I knew even then that if I had one drink, it was on for the night. I would get in my little Honda CRX, bought with embezzled money, but that is a different story, crank up the Eagles’ “Desperado,” and drive down LBJ.

Right when it gets to the part about letting somebody love you before it is too late, I would just start bawling my eyes out.

You do not want somebody like that driving down the highway. The Department of Transportation does not recommend it.

All I wanted was to get out of the house. I found my way out through alcohol.

Eventually, my mom and I split off. She went to California.

There was a point where she did not know my address. I did not want her to know it.

How I Got Sober

My first meeting was in 1986.

My sober date is 1989.

That gap tells you something.

In 1989, a man named Bob came up to me and asked if I had ever worked the steps. It was one of those “I could have had a V8” moments.

That is a great idea, I thought. Let’s do that.

Bob has been my sponsor ever since. I still call him my temporary sponsor.

I have been trying him out since 1989, and it is going okay so far.

He took me to the Al-Anon room at the Carrollton Group. That is where I got sober.

We got on our knees. He had me read the Third Step Prayer on page 63.

In it, you offer yourself to God and ask to be built with and worked through however God sees fit.

That was the beginning.

I have not had to have a drink since.

My Mom

About six months into sobriety, something told me to go find her.

My sponsor sat me down first. He said, “Keep your side of the street clean.”

I had a whole script in my head of what I wanted to say.

I found her walking across a parking lot. Rail thin. I called out from about 30 yards away.

Mom. It is me. It is Johnny.

She looked at me. A haunting in her eyes. She finally figured out who it was.

We had not seen each other in about three years.

I was expecting a hug.

She said, “I hate you. Get out of my life.” And she turned and kept walking.

I got back in my car. My sponsor told me later he was afraid I was going to drink that night.

I never even thought about it.

A few years later, I went back to school. Dean’s list.

Nobody on my mom’s side of the family had ever graduated from college before. When I had my graduation announcements sitting in the backseat of my car, something told me to go find her again.

I drove back to those streets. People in the shops knew her. They said they had not seen her in a couple of weeks.

I started calling hospitals. Parkland Hospital called me back.

She was there. She wanted to see me.

She was 78 pounds.

She told me she wanted to throw herself out the window.

We sat at a table together. Halfway through, I said, “Mom, whatever was between you and me is not with me anymore. I want you to be happy and joyous and free.”

She looked at me and said something she had never said before in her life.

She said, “There is something different about you. I think it might be this God you talk about.”

She had been an atheist her whole life.

She got out. They got her on some medication. We started seeing each other once a week.

She got some new teeth through county assistance, a car from my aunt, and a pair of glasses. She told me it had been the best year of her life.

She developed her own relationship with God. At night she would sit down and pray.

Dear God. This is Twig. Having a good day. Love, Twig.

She called herself Twig.

One day, she called me. She was in pain. I took her to the emergency room.

A couple of days later, I was standing next to her bed. She put out her hand. She smiled at me.

And then her eyes rolled back.

I ran to the nurse’s station. Shannon, my girlfriend at the time, the lovely Mrs. M, called me right then.

She had been researching what might be wrong. She said, John, I think I found somebody who can help.

I said, “It is too late. I am watching her die right now.”

I gave the eulogy at her funeral.

That week, I felt grief like I had never felt before.

But I never felt one second of regret. Not one. I knew we had patched it up.

The process of Alcoholics Anonymous had done that. We had mended.

When I went to clean out her closet, I found a shoebox in the top-right corner.

Inside it were every single Mother’s Day card I had ever given her.

She saved every one of them.

That is what the promises look like. That is what extravagant looks like.

The Life I Did Not See Coming

I did not have the best role models growing up. That is putting it kindly.

So when I tell you that by the grace of God I have been married to the lovely Mrs. M for over 25 years, I want you to understand what that means to me.

Shannon has been my partner in all of it. She was in that hospital room. She has been right next to me for every chapter of this thing.

We have two kids. One is 23. One is 20.

Both of them are adults now and doing well in the world.

Neither of them has ever seen me drink.

I do not take that lightly. Not for one second.

When I think about where I came from and what I was headed toward, and then I look at what I have today, it does not compute. It should not be possible.

And I know that. The only explanation I have is the one I keep coming back to.

God picked me up by the scruff of the neck and dropped me in Alcoholics Anonymous.

That is the whole story.

About the Sober Speak Recovery Podcast

I launched Sober Speak at the end of 2017.

Shannon encouraged me to do it. I felt a pull and decided to trust it.

The idea was simple. Put a mic in front of people and let them share their experience, strength, and hope. Like a speaker meeting you can take with you.

We have crossed 3 million downloads. The show reaches people in over 200 countries.

Sober Speak has been cited as a resource in multiple published books on recovery.

I do not say that to brag. I say it because it still makes me stop and think.

I am not special. I am not different from anyone who has ever walked through those doors.

I am just another bozo on the bus.

I am just a guy who said yes when the pull came.

What the Sober Speak Podcast Is About

Sober Speak is built around AA and the 12 steps.

Al-Anon members, people in other anonymous programs, and anyone in early recovery are welcome here. No pressure. No judgment.

My job is to provide a platform for the amazing stories of recovery all around us.

I am one voice. Take what you want. Leave the rest at the curb for the trash man to pick up.

You

I want to say something about the people who listen to this show.

I think about you a lot. More than you probably know.

Over the years, I have heard from people who were incarcerated, and the podcast was their only meeting. No program available. Nobody would join them.

Just a phone or a tablet and this silly little show. I have heard from people who listened to every single episode when they first got sober. Every one.

Just to get through the night. People who were on life support and came back. People who have lost a child and needed somewhere to put their grief.

People who found a guest on this show and it turned into a real friendship. People who emailed me from Switzerland, Nepal, London, Ottawa, and prison units all over the country.

I have watched people get sober. I have watched people rebuild their lives.

I have watched people give the gift of their sobriety to their parents before those parents passed.

I do not say any of that to take credit for it. I am not the one who did that.

YOU did that. God did that. The rooms did that.

This show was just something to listen to on the drive to work.

But here is the thing.

There are SO many things you could be doing with your time. So many.

The fact that you spend any of it with my silly little podcast is one of the greatest honors of my life. (I mean that.)

You have allowed me to be a small part of your journey. I do not take that lightly. Not for one day.

I read every email. Every one.

If something on this show has meant something to you, I want to hear about it. Hit reply or leave a voicemail.

A Note on Anonymity

We are not affiliated with AA or any 12-step organization. We do not speak for anyone but ourselves.

Want to Contact Us

Email us at john@soberspeak.com or leave a voicemail at speakpipe.com/SoberSpeak.

I read every email.

May God bless you and keep you until then.

In service and gratitude,

John M.

Texas