If God Were an Apple Tree : Being an Alcoholic or an Addict Doesn't Turn Apples into Pears

My name is Doug Llewellyn. At the time of this writing, I'm 73 years old. My wife Wendy and I share a large, blended family. Together, we had eight children, though heartbreak touched us early when one passed away at just a week old. Wendy had seven children of her own; tragically, her oldest died at 23 — the same age as the impaired driver who caused the accident.

Wendy was born in Winnipeg in 1955. I was born in Montague, Prince Edward Island, in 1950. We met through our shared journey of recovery from addiction over 40 years ago. About eight years after we met, we got married — and to this day, it remains the best decision I ever made.I grew up in a family of eight: four boys and four girls. One of my sisters, a twin, died young. I was the middle child, and I lived out that role with every bit of its chaos and confusion. Trouble and I became close companions early on — where you saw one, you’d find the other.

When I drank, alcohol completely owned me. Whatever wild idea came into my alcoholic mind, I followed through. I was in and out of jail regularly. I even broke out of jail more than once — and once, I broke in. I started a riot in Georgetown Jail, participated in another at the old Dorchester Penitentiary when it was still Maximum Security in the 1970s, and escaped from the Cape Breton County Jail as well.From 1967 to 1978, I attended 12 Step meetings, but the message never seemed to stick. I truly believed I was different. I didn’t want to stop drinking or using drugs — in fact, I didn’t even want to live. I hijacked a car ferry at one point, completely lost in my addiction.Eventually, it all came crashing down. A judge gave me a choice: go to a halfway house in St. Eleanors, PEI — or face being charged under the Dangerous Offender Act, which could have meant life in prison. That moment became the turning point in my life.And from that point on, everything began to change.