When I look back on my journey, I’m reminded of how much can change when you are able to ask for, and receive, help. My name is Dr. Christopher Schenewerk. I am a physician, a father, and a person in recovery from alcohol dependence. During my time in rehab, a therapist offered me advice that has stayed with me: “What if you wear it on your sleeve? The amount of people you will touch by telling your story will be more than you can imagine.”
Those words became a guiding principle for me. This is my story:
Before recovery, my life was anything but truthful. Lie, lie, manipulate, lie — behaviors you might commonly hear about from people living with addiction. All I did was lie to myself and everyone else. Addiction is a disease of the mind. It makes you wear a mask, creates a false reality, and convinces you that you’re okay while the world around you crumbles. Addiction is the only disease that tells you that you don’t have a disease. Addiction is cunning and powerful. It fools you into submitting to it and makes you believe you’re stronger than it is. The enemy doesn’t have to bring you to rock bottom — it only has to turn you in the wrong direction, and once you’re there it’s hard to leave the path.
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For years, I was “the fun guy,” the life of every party. I was the social chair of every group since high school, and the one people relied on to have a good time. But over time, the fun faded. Addiction isn’t about having fun; it’s about survival. One drink was too many, and a thousand was never enough. Things began to spiral when I was 40. My first wife, the mother of my two boys, asked for a divorce after 17 years. I told myself I could handle anything. I was a doctor, after all. But instead of leaning into healthy coping mechanisms, I leaned on alcohol.
The disease of addiction convinced me I was fine. I wasn’t drinking at work or on call, so that stigma of being called an “alcoholic” couldn’t apply to me, right? But in reality, I was drinking a fifth of alcohol or several bottles of wine nightly, with the consequences to show for it. My personal life unraveled. I lost friendships. My boys chose not to be around me. My second marriage became toxic. Things came to a head one night when I decided I couldn’t go on. I sat at the edge of my deck overlooking the lake, bottles of wine in hand, ready to drink myself into oblivion. That’s when I heard my name. A state trooper, my neighbor, showed up, responding to a 911 call I didn’t make. He saved my life that night.
But even that wasn’t my turning point. Addiction convinces you that you’re okay when you’re not, so I believed I was okay. My breaking point came a couple of months later when I spent the night in a drunk, hallucinating fog. The next day, my second wife told me she was afraid I was going to die. She had already informed my colleagues, packed my bags, and prepared me to get help. For the first time, I listened and even acknowledged, “I need help.”
On November 8, 2018, I entered rehab. Walking through those doors, I knew my life was going to change, but I didn’t know if it would be for better or worse. I felt mentally, emotionally, and spiritually bankrupt. I went through four days of detox before entering a residential treatment program.
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It took 11 days before I could admit I had a clinical dependence on alcohol. Rehab helped me begin to understand the power of fellowship and honesty, and the program taught me that addiction isn’t just about the drinking; it’s about the thinking. I spent four weeks in St. Louis and two months in San Diego. During that time, I started journaling, a practice I’ve continued to this day. I learned that recovery is a process – it’s about showing up every day, doing the work, and accepting help from others who’ve been there.
After rehab, I began my journey with VIVITROL, a medication-assisted treatment (MAT) that combines a monthly injection of a medication called naltrexone with other sources of psychosocial support. VIVITROL gave me a lifeline. It helped treat my dependence on alcohol and helped me stay grounded so I could get through the toughest moments of my recovery. It gave me the clarity to focus on the work I needed to do on myself without the constant presence of alcohol. Now, as a healthcare provider, I see the potential of this medication every day. The commitment to the injection isn’t easy, but those who find it helpful tend to stick with it. It gives them the time and space to build a foundation for their recovery.
Two months out of rehab, I started an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) group called The Three Amigos. Our first meeting had four people. Today, we have 40 to 50 people attending every Friday, and we’ve expanded to six meetings across the area. The meetings are a cornerstone of my recovery. AA taught me that recovery is about connection, and with VIVITROL I was able to engage in that connection without the distraction of wanting to drink. AA also taught me that an addict can recover with the help of another addict – the fellowship is what keeps us going.
I’ve also had the privilege of helping others through my role as Medical Director at the Illinois Recovery Center and the “Walking Together” program at Memorial Hospital. Walking Together connects people living with addiction who come into the ER with resources and peer support. It’s about treating addiction as the illness it is and giving people a chance to recover. Last month, we treated a little over 90 patients through the program, offering them a path to recovery instead of a revolving door in the ER.
Addiction remains deeply misunderstood. It’s a lonely disease, surrounded by stigma and judgment. People see it as a moral failing instead of a chronic illness. Addiction will shorten your lifespan more than heart disease, cancer, or stroke. And before it kills you, it makes you miserable. Changing the culture around addiction is one of my goals. We need to stop blaming those who struggle with addiction and start helping them. Recovery is possible, but only if we’re willing to support each other.
Now six years sober, I’m living proof that recovery is possible. My life today is unrecognizable compared to where I was. I’m back to being the person I was meant to be — authentic, honest, and present. The journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it.
To anyone struggling with addiction, my message is simple: Stop beating yourself up. Ask for help. Go to a meeting. Find the support that works for you, it could save your life.
Photo: axelbueckert
Dr. Chris Schenewerk MD, was a patient taking naltrexone, is in long-term recovery and now prescribes naltrexone. He has written a book on his experience and started his own AA meetings, which has now grown to six in his area. He is a medical director of the newest inpatient rehab facility in his area, which was quite a feat following his recovery journey.
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