I am Santa Claus. Well, not really, but I am to my six-year-old son. For the last seven years since my time at treatment I have been able to be, do and have all the things I was afraid of. You see I grew up in dysfunctional home where there was no magic of Christmas or no Father’s Day. I did not have a dad around and my mom was always working, so I easily learned how to escape the pain of my family and to escape who I was and where I was. Drugs and alcohol were the fastest way to freedom until they eventually became my prison.