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Drug And Alcohol Rehab

Music has always been part of me, and becoming a solo artist was my ultimate goal. But in the years before I nabbed a Motown record deal, my life was on a downward spiral of self-destruction, deferring my dreams of a singing career. My story is far from a rags-to-riches tale: I grew up in a middle-class, two-parent home with an engineer father and bank-manager mom in Detroit's suburbs. And I felt the expectations that come with being the eldest of four children and the only son. Ironically, I was the one in desperate need of a big-brother figure.

As a child, I had low self-esteem and was introverted and shy. Singing was the one thing that helped me come out of my shell. I'll never forget how alive I felt after I mustered the courage to sing George Benson's "On Broadway" for my middle-school class. All that positive attention boosted my ego a bit. But my insecurity had little to do with adolescence and everything to do with being a victim of sexual and emotional mistreatment. Early in my childhood I was sexually abused. And I grew up in a dysfunctional home. Now I see that those experiences led to my retreat into drug and alcohol addiction.

For as long as I can remember, there was alcohol in my home. At 11, I polished off beers left around the house. Then I sneaked cans to drink with my peers during and after school. I used any substance marijuana, cocaine, over-the-counter drugs--that helped me escape my pain. I was introduced to cocaine while working after school at a shoe store. Older coworkers were doing it, and I was glad to be welcomed into the fold. That unhealthy camaraderie comforted me.

Soon I began stealing from my family and friends to support my habit. Eventually my parents stopped enabling me and, when I was 19, kicked me out. On the streets I was surrounded by others like me. I worked harder than the average nine-to-fiver for my next fix. I'd donate blood for $10 or pawn personal belongings or items I'd stolen.

In time my addiction wore me down physically, emotionally and spiritually. I was destitute in every part of my life. On several occasions I admitted myself to rehab centers. There my music was therapeutic; I'd sit at the piano and play, and that is where I developed many chord progressions that were included on my first CD.

The last week before I became sober, I was discharged from a treatment program for drinking in the facility. It was July 23, 1990--my birthday--and I was sleeping outside in downtown Detroit watching the bright lights and people living, something I hadn't done in nearly ten years. That night I had my last drink. I went back to rehab with a new commitment to release my past and begin my road to recovery and healing. I was allowed back to the program because I had broken the rules only once.

After 30 days I was released from treatment. I reunited with another former addict, a man I'd admired who had cleaned himself up and gone back to school and was doing well. He and others helped me become aware of my spiritual path. They encouraged me to face and accept my past without fear. After a few years, I began attending church, where I joined the choir--which helped me both spiritually and professionally. And though my family has been dysfunctional, we are all in the recovery process and have changed for the better.

Throughout my addiction, music was always there. If I had any identity, it was my relationship with music. Now in my shows I take a moment to testify to the audience about where I've been. I don't regret my past: It's the foundation that has let me live a better life and fully appreciate my calling.

Kem's works are Kemistry and Kem Album II (Motown).

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