TUPELO — Thirteen years ago, Chad Clardy dove into recovery, and he hasn’t come up for air since.

“Recovery has been so good to me,” said Clardy, who now has a fulfilling career, a wife and family.

For nine years of his life, Clardy, who grew up in Corinth and now lives in Tupelo, misused alcohol and a host of substances, but an addiction to pain pills nearly cost him his life and his freedom.

“I didn’t care about dying,” Clardy said.

His addiction didn’t start that way. When he had his first dose of pain medication as a high school senior, it was like someone turned a switch in his head — a very common experience among people who are vulnerable to opioid addiction.

“I want to feel like this for the rest of my life,” Clardy remembered thinking. “I didn’t see it as a drug problem. This was a solution.”

But that sense of well being evaporated, and his addiction turned him into a liar, thief and manipulator. He poisoned relationships. He overdosed multiple times. He nearly went to prison.

Clardy, who will celebrate 14 years of sobriety next May, accepts accountability for his actions, but he can see addiction more clearly now.

“This is a biological disease with social features,” Clardy said.

Clardy’s addiction journey began at 14 when he discovered alcohol. It made him feel normal, and he wanted more.

“I immediately knew that this was my comfort,” he said.

Through high school, he was able to make good grades and remain active with the football and basketball teams. He would confine his drinking to the weekends. He went on to experiment with other drugs, including cocaine and mushrooms.

His misbehavior was impossible to conceal in a small town, but his weekend hijinks were largely excused as “boys being boys.” Because he was functioning well at school and in sports, no one wanted to believe he had a problem.

In hindsight, Clardy had a number of risk factors that made him vulnerable to addiction. He had family members who struggled with addiction.

“I was always apart,” said Clardy, who was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, too. “I just felt different.”

His first taste of opiates came when he was prescribed pain medication when his recovery from knee surgery lagged during his senior year of high school.

“It just didn’t just help the pain,” Clardy said. He remembers being energized and able to focus, a warning sign professionals now watch for as a red flag for addiction potential.

Through his senior year of high school, Clardy maintained a four to five pill-a-day habit. He ended up stepping away from the pain pills, detoxing himself when he went to the University of Mississippi. But he didn’t walk away from drugs.

“I went out every night drinking and taking anything I could get my hands on,” Clardy said.

He was arrested on misdemeanor charges including public drunk and DUI. He ended up selling Ecstacy insteady of going to class. Finally, in the middle of his third semester, he packed a backpack and drove home to Corinth.

He got his first dose of tough love when his dad refused to let him in the house.

“It was almost brutal, but it was what I needed,” Clardy said.

He moved in with his mom and found a job loading trucks. One night when his knee was aching, he took a pain pill.

“This time I was not stopping,” Clardy said. “I had a bunch of excuses and no good reasons.”

From that point on, it was all about getting more. If someone casually mentioned they had taken pain meds after surgery, he was figuring out where they lived and how to get into their house. He duplicated physicians’ prescription pads.

He started selling to support his habit. He impersonated narcotics officers to trick pharmacists who might otherwise challenge a forged prescription for an accomplice. He organized other addicts to get more and more pills to fuel his 20 to 25 pill-a-day habit. He connected with shady people.

“It was all about fueling the addiciton,” Clardy said. “At no point did I consider myself a dealer. I was just trying to stay high.”

During this period, he worked different jobs and taught Sunday school. His dad wasn’t fooled. When a family acquaintance commented Chad appeared to be turning his life around, his dad was blunt.

“Chad is the bad influence,” Clardy said his father told the man. “Keep your kids away from my kid.”

Clardy racked up more DUIs. The Mississippi Bureau of Narcotics was investigating him, and he drew others into criminal behavior. All that mattered was getting more pills.

“I couldn’t get out of bed and brush my teeth without taking something,” Clardy said.

Just before he was arrested on May, 16, 2004, he said the first genuine prayer he uttered in years.

“I had a sincere desire to not wake up the next day,” Clardy said. “I couldn’t do it any more.”

Two days later, his prayer was answered, just not the way he anticipated. He was arrested by the Mississippi Bureau of Narcotics on three felonies. With charges pending, he went straight into medical detox programs.

Four days later, his dad picked him up to drive him from the medical facility to long-term treatment run by a community mental health center.

“‘I’m glad you’ve gotten help,'” Clardy said his dad told him. “‘I’m proud of you,’. . He supported my recovery, not the disease.”

The initial weeks in treatment are hard for people recovering from opiate addiction. For some people, it can take six weeks to start physically feeling well. During that time, it’s hard to focus on the mental work in group sessions.

“It’s like the flu times 10,” Clardy said.

When the fog cleared, Clardy began turning the light on all of his issues. He had a good counselor during rehab who listened and cared, but challenged him.

“He didn’t give me any outs,” Clardy said.

Clardy stayed in inpatient treatment for six and a half months, much longer than most people are able to stay now. A typical inpatient treatment runs 28 days because that’s what most insurers will pay for.

The end of inpatient treatment was just the beginning of his journey.

“When I left treatment on Dec. 3, most of my days were still eaten up with wanting to use,” Clardy said.

On Feb. 10, 2005, he went to court. Because of his age and lack of a felony record to that point, he was sentenced to one year of house arrest and four years probation and was able to enter a diversion program. His 6 1/2 months in rehab counted as part of his sentence.

Meetings with others in recovery through 12-step groups were his lifeline. He went to meetings every day, sometimes twice a day, for more than a year. He still attends meetings every week.

“My life was so full of recovering people and things,” Clardy said.

Clardy remembers being blown away that people he knew and respected in the community were in recovery, too. They had been sober for decades and rebuilt lives that were honest and nurturing.

“I want that,” he remembers thinking.

After more than a year sober, Clardy got his first job in the recovery field. He went on to train as an alcohol and drug counselor.

He has worked for both private and community-based programs. He currently serves as director of community outreach for LifeCore, which provides community mental health services including addiction treatment.

“Sobriety isn’t a job,” Clardy said. “It’s become my life to help others connect with others in recovery.”

Step by step, Clardy rebuilt his life. He has been married for five years. He and his wife, who have been together for 12 years, have raised her four sons. He can go to Grateful Dead concerts and sit and have dinner while others drink a glass of wine without feeling his sobriety is threatened.

“I live a full life,” Clardy said.

Clardy has never come close to relapsing. He attributes that to an extended stay in rehab that kept him away from temptations and stress while his brain healed. He also credits a commitment to walking through the 12 steps.

“I can’t tell you the last time I wanted to do it,” Clardy said. “My sobriety keeps the door open to self-discovery.”