Today we’d like to introduce you to Nick Guettler.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
In many ways my story will have a familiar arc to anyone who’s seen an episode of The E! True Hollywood Story or VH1 Behind The Music, except I am not famous or uniquely talented, nor is anything I’ve done in my life particularly noteworthy. What I identify with in these tabloid series is the well-worn rise, fall and redemption formula – although the last plot point is still very much a work in progress.
I suppose it also has something to do with my former occupation as a TV writer/producer. After growing up in MN and studying film at the now-defunct College of Santa Fe, I started working in production on the ubiquitous big-budget reality shows that were a staple at the time.
I was hard worker in the way earnest midwesterners have a reputation for, but I quickly grew disillusioned with the grind of working in the field, particularly after spending several months wrangling Paris Hilton on ‘The Simple Life’. So I quit and moved to Prague to teach English for a few years, with a brief stint in Edinburgh before winding up in Bosnia for a term.
Teaching and living as an expat took its own toll, but what really started to wear me down was my growing alcohol habit. I was a big proponent of the ‘work hard, play hard’ myth, and didn’t see anything wrong with rewarding myself with drinks at the end of a long day. After spending two semesters in the deeply traumatized town of Banja Luka, I returned home to MN to take stock and figure out my next move.
While in MN, I stumbled back into television, landing in post production of the new show ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives’, ramping up its second season. I started learning the process of writing and crafting episodes, and later moved to Los Angeles with my soon-to-be wife to pursue more opportunities. Our relocation coincided with the financial crash of 2009, and after a year of struggling to make ends meet we made a snap decision to take a job in Dubai, where we would only be allowed to cohabitate if we were married.
So, we eloped in a bureaucratic proceeding at the Beverly Hills courthouse. In the middle of a months-long drunk, and a sign of things to come, I passed out on my wedding night. In the UAE, we arrived in our new hometown of Al-Ain where I quickly found the location of a secretive liquor/pork store that was open to foreigners. By then my drinking had become a pernicious all day, every day obsession. When we learned our jobs there as documentarians were actually working for a private security firm contracted by the UAE special forces, I spiraled even further into a pit of alcoholic self-destruction.
We left soon after, returning to LA where I spent the next several years cycling through brief periods of miserable white-knuckle sobriety followed by ever-worsening returns to drinking and drug use. I continued working my way towards the goal of producing documentaries, which contributed to my own artificial narrative that I didn’t have a problem because I was still showing up for work.
At home, my wife grew disillusioned by my hurtful behavior and growing distance and we eventually separated. Taking the crisis as a cue for a geographic relocation cure, I moved to New York and got my first opportunity as a TV writer. I would go back and forth between LA and NYC for several years, until on one trip home I asked for a divorce – on the day of my wife’s first book launch, in typical alcoholic narcissistic fashion.
I spent the next seven years in NYC telling myself I was living the dream I’d always wanted. I wrote, produced and became a showrunner for Nat Geo, Discovery, Vice and A&E. But deep inside I felt empty. Alcohol alone was no longer enough to produce the effect I was going for – total blackout – so I fell into harder and harder substances. After a motorcycle accident left me with third degree burns requiring a skin graft, I found the drug that would bring me to my knees: fentanyl.
My daily cocktail in the year before Covid was nearly a handle of vodka, a dozen xanax and a few bundles of fentanyl. I was blacking out weeks at a time and would regularly be shaken awake by strangers on the sidewalk or at the end of the line on the subway. My girlfriend called my family back home, at a loss for how to help me and terrified it was only a matter of time before I got run over by a train or washed up in the East River as a corpse.
I lived in constant fear of the withdrawals, desperately needing a way out and feeling absolutely powerless to control the all-consuming obsessions to drink and use. I had tried every imaginable way of quitting on my own and failed over and over. I grew gaunt and malnourished, showing signs of psychosis from the few hours of sleep I could manage every other night. I was despondent and suicidal. It had to end – I was a walking corpse.
I OD’d the first time on New Year’s Eve, 2020, and again two weeks later in my office at 10am. I had, up until that point, been preoccupied with keeping my use secret (spoiler: I wasn’t fooling anybody). So when I was hauled out on a gurney in front of all my coworkers, I knew the jig was up. I woke up in the hospital and saw my girlfriend, my best friend and my boss standing over me. The cat was totally out of the bag.
Instead of fear, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief that it was finally over. I had no idea that it was just the beginning, or how hard the next two years would be.
I cycled through a dozen detoxes and treatments, falling back into full-blown addiction several times. I remember along the way being told “no one ever gets to tell you how many tries you get at recovery.” I still felt like a failure and started to doubt that I would – or could – ever find my way back.
In 2022, my career had burned to the ground, I was broke, alone, and about to be evicted from my apartment. I entered a 30-day treatment program on Long Island, NY, sensing it was my last chance. While there, I caught a break that would change the rest of my life. I heard about a 90-day program upstate NY that was run by Catholic friars. It was technically a homeless shelter, but their reputation was an ultra-strict, spiritual secluded place that was one of the last chances for people who had cycled through multiple other programs. Everything about it sounded terrible. And just what I needed.
It was at St. Christopher’s Inn that I had what I can only describe as a spiritual experience. I eventually found my dignity and was loved into loving myself. After four months of treatment, I finally left NY and returned to MN to live with family and start life over. I worked part time as a cook at Whole Foods while attending meetings and doing service work. I worked with a Peer Recovery Specialist who helped me discover who I wanted to be and helped me become that person.
For me, the gift of recovery and sobriety was not something I ever achieved for myself. It was given to me by others who had it given to them by others. I am just one link in the long, unbroken chain stretching back generations. I became certified as a Peer Recovery Specialist and started working for an organization that helped save my life in early recovery – YourPath.
The work we do at YourPath feels more like a calling than a job or career. We help people in early recovery connect to recovery resources and treatment. We try to bridge the gap for people in jails, hospital emergency departments and rural areas. We developed new technology to make it as easy as sending a text message to get connected to all the services MN has to offer.
I chose to work in recovery because of the people who selflessly gave their time, attention and love to me. I want to be one of the people others can count on for help t0 find their own path to a recovery that works for them.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
There is no such thing as a smooth road in recovery, and while challenges have been a source of growth and strength. some of my darkest moments were before I was shown that there was a way out. I was convinced I was born with the curse of addiction, and would die with it, alone.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I specialize in helping people get connected with our technology so they can get a virtual assessment from anywhere in MN and gain access to treatment and resources in their area. I help them make appointments with our medical providers who prescribe life-saving medications to treat substance use disorder, like Suboxone. One of the things I’m most proud of was the time I spent working in the emergency department at Hennepin County Medical Center, assisting patients in the ED after overdoses and in the psych ward with same-day placement into detox and treatment.
Alright, so to wrap up, is there anything else you’d like to share with us?
I used to believe any worthwhile change had to happen on a large scale. I now believe the biggest impact we can make is on the person-to-person level, one small gesture or helping hand at a time.
Contact Info:
