I was on the verge of death. I could have died dozens of times. The fact that I live is a gift. Each day is a gift. Being able to look myself in the eye is a gift. Once I could not. Being able to see the world is a gift. Once I could not. I have watched sunsets in the most beautiful places in the world and I don’t remember any. The bottle obscured my reality.

I got drunk for the first time at a school camp at the age of 13. In alcohol, I found a form of escape from loneliness, shyness, and fear of rejection. After alcohol, I would become sociable, cheerful and talkative. Life used to hurt less. I was liked by friends. It was easier for me to live in a world distorted by alcohol.

In high school, I was already an alcoholic. Instead of going to school, I often wandered around bars and drank. The slippery slope began: heading down a path of crime, toxic relationships, increasing chaos, a sense of guilt, and self-hatred. Increasingly escaping from life and resorting to the bottle, and thinking about suicide.

After high school I went to study in the USA. I wanted to run away from myself. My suffering and alcoholism went there with me. I learned to organize my life between one bottle and another. I came to live in California, finished my studies, and found a job as a wine seller. How was it there? I always felt bad. I was climbing the career ladder in various companies and different countries; everything looked good on the outside, and all I really thought about was running away from myself. Alcohol used to bring me relief from suffering. At the age of 26, I started taking antidepressants, which I washed down with vodka. At the age of 30, I began to have serious sleep problems, which I also drowned.

I lived in the USA, Poland, India and Costa Rica. I traveled a lot at work: I was in over 60 countries, slept in luxury hotels, and drove good cars, often drunk. Looking from the outside, no one would say that inside me there was emptiness, deep suffering, and a sense of loneliness and being different from everyone else.

I have two small children who I love very much. However, there came a point when I realized that I could become dangerous even for my own children. I didn’t see the way out; I knew death was near. I realized I was a walking zombie that did everything mechanically and could collapse at any time. I had the impression that my brain was not working; even when sober, I had problems articulating more difficult words. As I was considering this, I realized that I had to fight for myself because of the children. I decided to go into therapy. I went to an addiction treatment center for a month.

During the therapy, I understood that I was not alone in addiction, in suffering, in all what I was experiencing. I saw that other people felt the same as I did and that we shared a distorted view of reality. I also met people who were able to stay sober for a long time, and I understood that it was also possible for me to get out of the addiction.

During the therapy, I saw “The Way”, a film about a pilgrimage along the “El Camino de Santiago”. This film inspired me to make a similar journey. I wanted to do it alone and wanted this way to be a real challenge. I decided on the Alps, on the Via Alpina trek, which only a dozen or so people march each year. It was a month of tremendous physical exertion. Having a purpose each day freed me from thinking about alcohol. The mountains cleansed me. It was there that I redefined the priorities. I recognized that what had seemed important to me was not really important. I realized that I was very lucky to be still alive, to be able to breathe and to see the beauty of the world.

I didn’t want to go back to the corporate world. I wanted to find my own way, discover what I really wanted to do in my life. I felt that it would help me stay sober. I left for Latin America in search of a path to sobriety and in search of myself. It was hard for me to leave my family – I did it in the belief that it was best for them.

During the journey, I met several people in different countries who, independently of each other, recommended the yoga and meditation school called “Hridaya Yoga” in Mexico. Guided by these suggestions, I turned back from a journey through Latin America and went to Mexico, which I had left before.

I spent several months in this yoga school. Thanks to yoga, I made contact with myself and started to feel my own heart. I realized that I had not been aware of my feelings for many years. Alcohol and psychotropics killed them. The practice of yoga and meditation was slowly waking me up to life. Sometimes during the classes, there were moments when my whole body was shaking, and barriers in the body and soul were crumbling. I was regaining my inner peace, which had been unknown to me before. I was learning to express emotions. My body was becoming less and less tense, and I learned to relax. If someone had told me six months earlier that I would end up in a yoga school, I would have laughed at them. Spirituality was a joke in my eyes. Now, however, I felt that there was a Superior Power that had been leading me and had saved my life multiple times. At that time, the idea of creating a therapeutic center for people with addiction also arose.

The addiction therapy which I took part in Poland offered mainly substantive knowledge about alcoholism. At yoga school, I was given additional tools that have been helping me recover. I wanted to use what I had got from my life. I decided to establish the center in a warm, sunny place, where help for people with addictions would combine elements of psychotherapy, yoga, and meditation, as well as contact with nature. I was looking for a beautiful place where it is warm most of the year. I found it in Sicily.

The Ranczo Salemi therapeutic home is surrounded by hills, olive groves and grape plantations. There is an immense space full of green and blue all around. The sunsets burst with a wealth of colors, painting a unique picture in the vastness of the sky and earth every evening. The beautiful view of the town of Salemi, which was founded in the eighth century BC, has a taste of some mystery. Salemi means peace. I found a room here, I found a home, and I want to share what I’ve received from life with others. I would like to be able to tell other people with addiction that life without alcohol can be beautiful; I would like to share with them the experiences that help me recover, to help them find passion or interests that will become a substitute for alcohol. Contact with nature, developing sensitivity to the beauty of the world and the feelings of other people are important elements of my recovery process, and I believe that they will also strengthen others on their path. The practice of yoga and meditation helps me regain deep contact with myself, with others and with the world. It puts me in a state of relaxation and peace; it frees me from intrusive thoughts; it releases emotions and muscle tension. Relaxation through breathing as well as developing the skills of conscious breathing ensure proper functioning and oxygenation of the body.

Therapy is just the beginning of the way. At Ranczo Salemi, we create conditions conducive to internal transformation, conditions that help people find the deep motivation to recover and let them believe that life can regain its glow. We want to show people with addiction that most of the problems we consider important are less significant than they seem to be and that establishing an inner distance from these problems helps us stay sober. We want to help them change their perspective, redefine their priorities, and construct a new life framework, as well as providing them with tools they can use to cope with the times of crisis. For people who may not be able to afford a stay in the center, there is an option of having the therapy co-funded by our sponsors, depending on the needs. I would like this place to be the beginning of a path to sobriety so that each of our guests will feel safe and calm here – a place that feels like a true home.

I drank huge amounts of alcohol for 25 years, sometimes even one and a half liters of vodka a day. I could have died so many times, drink myself to death, but I am still alive. How could I not be grateful for each new day, for the chance that life has given me, for the opportunity to help others in the recovery process? I am a non-drinking alcoholic; I know that there is still a long way to go, and I want to use my wounds and experiences to bring some light to other people suffering from addiction.

Paweł Durakiewicz