‘You gotta talk about it’: Shawn English speaks about three years of being clean
Shawn English recently weathered a storm.
Having fallen behind on payments, English was about to have his car impounded – a car that he earned providing personal care to homebound seniors and riding his bike in sub-zero temperatures to get to his other job at a gas station.
English, who spent 37 years in addiction and in and out of institutions and prisons, who lived on the streets, who sold drugs and guns out of a church, who was a “garbage disposal who took anything not to feel,” was ready to throw away more than three years of clean living.
“I was frustrated. I was stressed out. I thought I let myself down. My little self started to kick back up, like ‘OK. Let’s do something to get your car back.’ I was getting ready to make a conscious decision to do something real bad,” he said. “I was getting ready to start doing a lot of crazy shit.”
This storm was different, though.
This time, he had a home, a job and people who relied upon him.
So, instead of reverting to his old ways, instead of “hustling” to make money, English confided in a supervisor at work.
“I’m not permitted to ask questions, but I told him if he needs me anytime, pick up the phone and call,” said Dana Mattern, supply chain manager of the Meadows Racetrack and Casino. “I said, ‘Don’t let a bad situation lead you back. I’m willing to listen.'”
Mattern’s willingness to listen, and English’s willingness to talk, prevented him from relapsing, said English.
“I tell people, ‘I ain’t better than nobody. I just know where I been and I ain’t trying to go back there,'” said English. “That’s why I say, ‘Share your experience.’ Where you been, you can help me. Where I been, I can help the next. It’s a domino effect.”
English, 53, was raised in Uniontown by his grandparents until he was 9, when his mother came from Washington, D.C., to take her son home with her.
Two years later, in 1975, English entered a cycle that would last almost 40 years.
Living in detention centers, prisons, penitentiaries, shelters, the streets, group homes. Taking Valium, PCP, speed, alcohol, marijuana, cocaine, crack, heroin.
Celeste Van Kirk/Observer-Reporter
“I’d do good two years. I’d get bored, mess up. I’d do good for four years, mess up. Good for 18 months, mess up. It was a constant battle with me,” he said. “I used to pray real quick, 11:30, 12 o’ clock at night, like, ‘God, you can take me out anytime you want to. I know what I’m doing is wrong.'”
In his longest period of recovery, English got a job in the mail room at the Department of Labor, where his cousin was a supervisor. For six years, he worked and stayed clean, until he got bored with that type of life.
One day during lunch, he walked to a street where he knew some old friends would be hanging out. He didn’t go back to work for eight days.
English was back in the cycle.
Though he kept his job for a while, English was often late, or didn’t show up at all. Eventually, his cousin told him he was being let go.
In 2015, he was drinking in a friend’s basement when he considered suicide. He called an uncle, who came to pick him up and bring him back to Uniontown. But English was soon kicked out of the family home when they discovered him drinking. It was one of his toughest blows, but it was the step that put him on the path of recovery.
On March 3, 2015, English moved to the Washington City Mission, a Christian-based homeless shelter that provides employment and recovery opportunities. It was the last day he would take drugs or drink alcohol. The next day, he went to a 12-step meeting. He continues to attend at least five meetings a week.
“After 30 days (sober), it ain’t about the drugs no more, it’s about what’s really going on – the mental illness, the abuse, your childhood,” said English. “That’s why I got high. I was poor, I was skinny, my mom put me away, don’t know who my dad is. … After 30 days, the drugs are gone, then you got to talk about what’s really going on in your gut. ‘Can I satisfy this woman? Can I do this job? Can I walk down the street and be proud of who I am today?’ At meetings, we talk about, how did we get here? When did we cross the line? Why we can’t feel love? I got to keep my meetings because they save my life.
“Some of us need outside help. We’ve got to go talk to people. If you don’t feel comfortable sharing with 30 people, find somebody, a counselor, psychiatrist. You gotta talk about it.”
Breaking the cycle, he said, takes time and honesty with yourself. And it isn’t easy.
Celeste Van Kirk/Observer-Reporter
English said he’ll never get to a point where he no longer worries about going back to his previous life.
“If a person say they not scared, they lying. I’m scared every day ’cause I know me. I don’t want to feel nothing. But this is life. This is reality. You gonna feel things. And Rome wasn’t built in a day. So I’m not going to get well in a day. I got 37 years of addiction. I got three years of sobriety time. It’s not balancing,” he said. “That’s like getting a job, everybody else been on the job for 10 years, you’re new man on the block. You got two years. It’s not balancing. You gotta wait your turn.
“So I went through the storm, and I’ll go through another, and then another after that. But I ain’t giving up.”
English was honored for his work in February by Pinnacle Entertainment, parent company of The Meadows.
“He’s one of the hardest-working guys I have. He’s the first one to admit if he’s made a mistake. … Anything you need, you’ll get it from him,” Mattern said. “He’s humble about being recognized. He said, ‘I’m just doing my job.’ I said, ‘That’s what is great about it.’
Though his job keeps him busy, and he recently took on another, English is known in Washington’s recovery community. He has helped several people get into rehabilitation facilities and is asked to speak at recovery events.
“I’m very grateful somebody want to hear something I got to say. I got good people in my life, I got family back – everything I always wanted when I was in the streets. All you gotta do is work for it,” he said. “Got a roof over my head. Got food in the refrigerator. I’m happy. I’ve never felt this good in my life. And it’s getting better and better.”
Celeste Van Kirk/Observer-Reporter