Gallagher's Travels
Brian McAvoy
ENGL 280 – N. Williams
Gallagher’s Travels
“I’ve been refereeing hockey, did you know that? I just got my first college game. I’m fucking pumped.” Bob pauses, “Princeton vs. Brown.” He looks giddy, with a unique, childish smile. This is a high point in Bob Gallagher’s life. There have also been many low points. He says, “I didn’t get to the bottom of the barrel, I punched through the bottom of the barrel and went into the earth underneath it. But that’s where I had to go to get to where I am now.”
The entrance to Bob Gallagher’s new apartment in his hometown is a little bit cluttered, maybe even a little bit busy. His belongings are scattered throughout a space clearly too small. Dusty hockey relics litter the shelves like a child’s toy collection. There are countless pictures of his children on every end table and on top of a large television. In his book shelf are inspirational pieces along with old, beat up construction books. On the walls, the fridge, in the bathroom and all over the apartment are uplifting quotes. These framed, artistic pieces tell a story of Bob climbing out of a darker place back to a normal life.
It starts in high school at Oliver Ames in Easton, Massachusetts. “Growing up I didn’t really drink, didn’t like the way it made my stomach feel. I smoked pot, never during hockey season, only during parties.” He recalls, “I had an overall good childhood growing up. I experimented with different types of drugs, never got hooked on anything. Hockey was my big thing, I took pride in it. It gave me a big ego boost.” He adds, “I worked a lot. Dad hurt his back and had a heart attack so he couldn’t work. My brother Dan and I had to deliver The Globe and The Herald to put food on the table.” From a young age, he remembers fear. “Fear of failure, fear of success. I never had unconditional love for my parents. I learned later that children can misinterpret approval for love. You did a good job, good boy, instead of real love for a child. I had a lot of drive from seeking approval.”
Gallagher attended the University of Massachusetts in Lowell for 2 years. He left school to pursue a life he never had, he wanted status and materialism. He needed it. He fell in love at age 22 and married Elaine, they built a house and started a family, the house he considers “bigger than we needed.”
He considers himself an approval seeking people pleaser; a term popular in psychology where the subject is driven by everyone else’s approval and his/her own fear of failure. While married, he took on a lot of responsibilities. All of the pressure he felt throughout his married years took a toll. He remembers, “In 1999 I was just in a bad way, Elaine suggested I see a psychologist. He diagnosed clinical depression and prescribed anti depressants. Here I thought I was depressed, but I was unhappy. I wasn’t appreciative of what I had in my life. Not to say I was cavalier or didn’t love my kids but I couldn’t just be content because I always wanted more.”
The doctor steadily increased the dose of the anti-depressants over the course of 8-10 years, he recalls, I’d go back and visit the doctor and talk and he’d slowly increase dosage, he also prescribed a style of valium and that was awesome, I had no worries.”
Bob is the father of 3: Ryan, 22, Lauren, 18 and Cam, 16. Before Bob began struggling with addiction his family lived in a well-to-do neighborhood in a wealthy suburban town. “We built a house bigger than we needed, there’s my need for materialism again.” (Easton was ranked 43rd best place to live in the United States with a family median income over $100,000) Ryan graduated high school in 2007 and played varsity hockey under his father, who was the head coach at Oliver Ames High School in Easton. To the outside looking in, this really was the all-American family, Ford mini-van included.
After years of taking anti depressants and anti anxiety medication, Gallagher admits, “So, when you get used to (he fakes throwing a pill into his mouth) to make you feel better, it’s an easy reach.”
In the Fall of 2006, he tells me a story. “I got tripped on a break away in a men’s league and hit the post and sprained the left shoulder for the 3rd time. Went to the ER and they prescribed vicodin. I thought this is great, I can take vicodin for the shoulder; took the edge off, gave me a little buzz and I could still function. From that moment…” he stops himself to redirect his thoughts, “The 2 guys I had working for me had access to the pills. Foolishly I started buying them though one of them: opiates, percs or something.”
Admitting his weakness, Bob moves further into his plight, “That’s when it all started. I was afraid. Elaine and I knew our financial situation and she suggested we sell the house. I said no; there’s my ego. I built that for my family I will keep it. She knew my love was elsewhere, I was distant. My love was somewhere else… something in a little bottle or in a little bag that I‘d keep hidden in a desk drawer somewhere. So that all kind of kept progressing, I was making a lot of money but I was spending a lot of money.”
Bob is perched on a comfortable looking chair, eating his dinner with slippers on his feet. He continues, “In my head I was still performing and on the outside I was. I was doing all those things but I wasn’t so involved because of the mocus.” “Mocus” is a slang term described as the neuropsychological status of an alcoholic and its clinical implications. He continues, “I was still functioning, but any extra cash I had, pills. I cashed out both of my IRAs toward the end to put it in the business because I was confident. Pride and ego: I will do it. I withdrew over one year about 40 thousand dollars to keep my business going.” It was his retirement money.
He looks comfortable talking about his hardships, like he has had practice. Defeated, he admits, “I was hired to start a sales division at National Lumber; in February of 2008 I closed my business.”
This is the part of the story that speeds up. Like in a car crash when everything happens fast and you have no time to react. Bob wasn’t driving, he was in the passenger seat. Oxycontin was the driving force. Brace for impact.
“I did well at that job, (National Lumber) but now I am a functioning addict. I am seeing a drug abuse counselor. She was telling me to go to a 5 day detox. So I went in to tell my boss on a Friday morning that I had to get away, that I was having problems with medication. So Monday morning…” he pauses with a heavy breath and remembers. “To this day whenever I think I’m having a bad fucking day I think about that day. I look over at Lauren looking at me, with fear,” he stops to remember, “She was thinking ‘who are you? I hope you’re okay. I love you.’ But she said nothing, she gave me a hug. She had a look on her face. I’ll never forget. This is around the same time Ryan was trying to help me in his own way but I was so messed up at the time I couldn’t, as much as I wanted to, for my kids as much as anybody I still couldn’t break it. I couldn’t surrender. I hadn’t hit rock bottom.”
On that same day, the nightmare continues, “Elaine leaves with cam for school, and a car pulls up. It’s the sheriff he is delivering divorce papers; I’m going to detox, I’m scared, my world is falling apart right in front of my eyes.”
Bob does the five days at a detoxification facility in Falmouth, MA. “The second day, the counselor called me into her office, ‘your wife just called and said you’re not coming home after you leave here. And your brother called and said you’re not staying at your parents.’ She slid a book across the table and said ‘here are sober houses, start calling.’ I went to a sober house in Bridgewater and was an absolute mess because of the meds they put me on to get me off, this was August of 09, when I left National Lumber to work for a property management company. I was living at the sober house and could still work for the company because I had a company truck. I was still taking pills at a sober house, I hadn’t hit rock bottom.”
Bob lost his job after a run in with police in November 2009. He stole some guitars and tried to sell them in order to pay his mortgage payment. Police tracked the guitars via serial number and found Gallagher on the receiving end. Unfortunately, Bob was using his work’s office for a place to live.
“So now I have no place to live and no income. That’s when I moved in with my parents. November 2009. Absolute rock bottom. Now I’m sleeping in the bedroom I grew up in, collecting unemployment, dealing with divorce, I’m a mess. Emotionally and physically. I had no faith. In hindsight, when I was that bad sometimes when I went to sleep I didn’t really care if I woke up the next morning. It would be nice to just sleep… just sleep, then all this would go away
Finishing his dinner and putting his plate in the sink, he returns to the chair, slippered feet now on the ottoman. He says in a strong tone, “December 9, 2009, more important to me than my birthday. My sober date. I started going to meetings. From January 1, 2010 to August 1, 2010 I attended over 570 meetings. I was going 3 or 4 times a day. I started talking, talking as much as I listened, about my feelings and my emotions. The more I talked the more people came up to me after telling me I was helping them just by talking about what I did, helps me and confirms with me how I need to live now.”
December 9, 2011 will be Bob’s second year of complete sobriety. His emotions start to show through in an intense proclamation as he sits comfortably in his chair. “So now I’m appreciative more for everything in my life. I’m grateful. All I got to do is look up there,” he looks up at his son Ryan’s military photo atop a bookshelf, Lauren’s school picture on the right and Cam’s school picture on the left. He starts to cry. Composing himself, he continues, “And now miraculously all have to do is look over there too.” He points to two pictures of a beautiful brown haired woman, his current girlfriend Pam whom he has been seeing for over a year. He starts crying more, this time a heavier sob.
His final thoughts are wise and spiritual, “All the doctrines and religions on the planet come down to forgiveness and love. Humility is important. But the root is love and forgiveness. If you can love and forgive you pretty much have the world at your feet.”
ENGL 280 – N. Williams
Gallagher’s Travels
“I’ve been refereeing hockey, did you know that? I just got my first college game. I’m fucking pumped.” Bob pauses, “Princeton vs. Brown.” He looks giddy, with a unique, childish smile. This is a high point in Bob Gallagher’s life. There have also been many low points. He says, “I didn’t get to the bottom of the barrel, I punched through the bottom of the barrel and went into the earth underneath it. But that’s where I had to go to get to where I am now.”
The entrance to Bob Gallagher’s new apartment in his hometown is a little bit cluttered, maybe even a little bit busy. His belongings are scattered throughout a space clearly too small. Dusty hockey relics litter the shelves like a child’s toy collection. There are countless pictures of his children on every end table and on top of a large television. In his book shelf are inspirational pieces along with old, beat up construction books. On the walls, the fridge, in the bathroom and all over the apartment are uplifting quotes. These framed, artistic pieces tell a story of Bob climbing out of a darker place back to a normal life.
It starts in high school at Oliver Ames in Easton, Massachusetts. “Growing up I didn’t really drink, didn’t like the way it made my stomach feel. I smoked pot, never during hockey season, only during parties.” He recalls, “I had an overall good childhood growing up. I experimented with different types of drugs, never got hooked on anything. Hockey was my big thing, I took pride in it. It gave me a big ego boost.” He adds, “I worked a lot. Dad hurt his back and had a heart attack so he couldn’t work. My brother Dan and I had to deliver The Globe and The Herald to put food on the table.” From a young age, he remembers fear. “Fear of failure, fear of success. I never had unconditional love for my parents. I learned later that children can misinterpret approval for love. You did a good job, good boy, instead of real love for a child. I had a lot of drive from seeking approval.”
Gallagher attended the University of Massachusetts in Lowell for 2 years. He left school to pursue a life he never had, he wanted status and materialism. He needed it. He fell in love at age 22 and married Elaine, they built a house and started a family, the house he considers “bigger than we needed.”
He considers himself an approval seeking people pleaser; a term popular in psychology where the subject is driven by everyone else’s approval and his/her own fear of failure. While married, he took on a lot of responsibilities. All of the pressure he felt throughout his married years took a toll. He remembers, “In 1999 I was just in a bad way, Elaine suggested I see a psychologist. He diagnosed clinical depression and prescribed anti depressants. Here I thought I was depressed, but I was unhappy. I wasn’t appreciative of what I had in my life. Not to say I was cavalier or didn’t love my kids but I couldn’t just be content because I always wanted more.”
The doctor steadily increased the dose of the anti-depressants over the course of 8-10 years, he recalls, I’d go back and visit the doctor and talk and he’d slowly increase dosage, he also prescribed a style of valium and that was awesome, I had no worries.”
Bob is the father of 3: Ryan, 22, Lauren, 18 and Cam, 16. Before Bob began struggling with addiction his family lived in a well-to-do neighborhood in a wealthy suburban town. “We built a house bigger than we needed, there’s my need for materialism again.” (Easton was ranked 43rd best place to live in the United States with a family median income over $100,000) Ryan graduated high school in 2007 and played varsity hockey under his father, who was the head coach at Oliver Ames High School in Easton. To the outside looking in, this really was the all-American family, Ford mini-van included.
After years of taking anti depressants and anti anxiety medication, Gallagher admits, “So, when you get used to (he fakes throwing a pill into his mouth) to make you feel better, it’s an easy reach.”
In the Fall of 2006, he tells me a story. “I got tripped on a break away in a men’s league and hit the post and sprained the left shoulder for the 3rd time. Went to the ER and they prescribed vicodin. I thought this is great, I can take vicodin for the shoulder; took the edge off, gave me a little buzz and I could still function. From that moment…” he stops himself to redirect his thoughts, “The 2 guys I had working for me had access to the pills. Foolishly I started buying them though one of them: opiates, percs or something.”
Admitting his weakness, Bob moves further into his plight, “That’s when it all started. I was afraid. Elaine and I knew our financial situation and she suggested we sell the house. I said no; there’s my ego. I built that for my family I will keep it. She knew my love was elsewhere, I was distant. My love was somewhere else… something in a little bottle or in a little bag that I‘d keep hidden in a desk drawer somewhere. So that all kind of kept progressing, I was making a lot of money but I was spending a lot of money.”
Bob is perched on a comfortable looking chair, eating his dinner with slippers on his feet. He continues, “In my head I was still performing and on the outside I was. I was doing all those things but I wasn’t so involved because of the mocus.” “Mocus” is a slang term described as the neuropsychological status of an alcoholic and its clinical implications. He continues, “I was still functioning, but any extra cash I had, pills. I cashed out both of my IRAs toward the end to put it in the business because I was confident. Pride and ego: I will do it. I withdrew over one year about 40 thousand dollars to keep my business going.” It was his retirement money.
He looks comfortable talking about his hardships, like he has had practice. Defeated, he admits, “I was hired to start a sales division at National Lumber; in February of 2008 I closed my business.”
This is the part of the story that speeds up. Like in a car crash when everything happens fast and you have no time to react. Bob wasn’t driving, he was in the passenger seat. Oxycontin was the driving force. Brace for impact.
“I did well at that job, (National Lumber) but now I am a functioning addict. I am seeing a drug abuse counselor. She was telling me to go to a 5 day detox. So I went in to tell my boss on a Friday morning that I had to get away, that I was having problems with medication. So Monday morning…” he pauses with a heavy breath and remembers. “To this day whenever I think I’m having a bad fucking day I think about that day. I look over at Lauren looking at me, with fear,” he stops to remember, “She was thinking ‘who are you? I hope you’re okay. I love you.’ But she said nothing, she gave me a hug. She had a look on her face. I’ll never forget. This is around the same time Ryan was trying to help me in his own way but I was so messed up at the time I couldn’t, as much as I wanted to, for my kids as much as anybody I still couldn’t break it. I couldn’t surrender. I hadn’t hit rock bottom.”
On that same day, the nightmare continues, “Elaine leaves with cam for school, and a car pulls up. It’s the sheriff he is delivering divorce papers; I’m going to detox, I’m scared, my world is falling apart right in front of my eyes.”
Bob does the five days at a detoxification facility in Falmouth, MA. “The second day, the counselor called me into her office, ‘your wife just called and said you’re not coming home after you leave here. And your brother called and said you’re not staying at your parents.’ She slid a book across the table and said ‘here are sober houses, start calling.’ I went to a sober house in Bridgewater and was an absolute mess because of the meds they put me on to get me off, this was August of 09, when I left National Lumber to work for a property management company. I was living at the sober house and could still work for the company because I had a company truck. I was still taking pills at a sober house, I hadn’t hit rock bottom.”
Bob lost his job after a run in with police in November 2009. He stole some guitars and tried to sell them in order to pay his mortgage payment. Police tracked the guitars via serial number and found Gallagher on the receiving end. Unfortunately, Bob was using his work’s office for a place to live.
“So now I have no place to live and no income. That’s when I moved in with my parents. November 2009. Absolute rock bottom. Now I’m sleeping in the bedroom I grew up in, collecting unemployment, dealing with divorce, I’m a mess. Emotionally and physically. I had no faith. In hindsight, when I was that bad sometimes when I went to sleep I didn’t really care if I woke up the next morning. It would be nice to just sleep… just sleep, then all this would go away
Finishing his dinner and putting his plate in the sink, he returns to the chair, slippered feet now on the ottoman. He says in a strong tone, “December 9, 2009, more important to me than my birthday. My sober date. I started going to meetings. From January 1, 2010 to August 1, 2010 I attended over 570 meetings. I was going 3 or 4 times a day. I started talking, talking as much as I listened, about my feelings and my emotions. The more I talked the more people came up to me after telling me I was helping them just by talking about what I did, helps me and confirms with me how I need to live now.”
December 9, 2011 will be Bob’s second year of complete sobriety. His emotions start to show through in an intense proclamation as he sits comfortably in his chair. “So now I’m appreciative more for everything in my life. I’m grateful. All I got to do is look up there,” he looks up at his son Ryan’s military photo atop a bookshelf, Lauren’s school picture on the right and Cam’s school picture on the left. He starts to cry. Composing himself, he continues, “And now miraculously all have to do is look over there too.” He points to two pictures of a beautiful brown haired woman, his current girlfriend Pam whom he has been seeing for over a year. He starts crying more, this time a heavier sob.
His final thoughts are wise and spiritual, “All the doctrines and religions on the planet come down to forgiveness and love. Humility is important. But the root is love and forgiveness. If you can love and forgive you pretty much have the world at your feet.”