And for those with some longer-term sobriety, what were the first non-drinking moments that you remember being proud of, excited about, or just in awe of?
My favorite part about life now are the mornings. I love waking up. I am in awe of everything. When I was in my disease, hung over, I wanted to die upon awakening. I hated the sound of the birds and the sun shining through my window when I was hung. I would be all sweaty as my body was expelling the toxins. My heart would be racing, I would be beyond thirsty. Depending on what I did or said the night before, would be the deciding factor as to how I experienced another day of hell
Most nights I didn't do or say anything. I was a for a long time a functional at home night drinker "to calm the nerves" who managed and practiced the art /delusion of controlled drinking-by control I mean that I measured out each drink, only bought that amount, and knocked myself out with sleeping pills or Nyquil so that I wouldn't be tempted to go to the store to get more. That's not control, that's someone who is powerless. Even when I didn't cause any wreckage I still felt demoralized and sub human. Waking up with bruises from bumping into things, just really humiliating myself in front of myself.
"I don't understand, my life doesn't look like a alcoholic?! Look at uncle Joe, that's a real alcoholic, not me." But why did I keep repeating this over and over and over?? What is the way out? I didn't say to myself that I was alcoholic while I still had all my stuff, my apartment, my career, my friends and family. All these things and people kept me afloat for a very long time. Not having any real repercussions from drinking just a series of demoralizing and embarrassing events that added up and took from my soul.
But like the BB says:
The fact is that most alcoholics, for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called will power becomes practically nonexistent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink. BB pg 24
I could NOT bring into my mind with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation while I was at the store or on the way to the store to get my drink. I didn't understand that I was completely powerless to not consume the very thing that was destroying me. Again, I suffered many years as a functioning drunk. I have sponsored many high bottom drunks-they too can recover if they have the capacity to be honest with themselves. Park ave or Park bench. Only a real alcoholic knows the pain of living that way.
You don't have to end up losing everything, go to prison or lose the family in order to get well. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perception. I had to lose almost everything and everyone to become teachable. My mom, my biggest enabler, wasn't able to keep me afloat anymore because she was dead. I lost the guy that was supposed to save me from me, and proceeded to lose the career in which I placed my identity.
I ended up at a distant cousin's house, renting a room, ex took my dog and car so I had to ride the bus to my waitress job I could barely handle. (sounds like a country song!) A huge fall from grace! I drank on my way there to stop the shaking. I couldn't even really get that drunk anymore. I was living in a town that was notorious for crime, definitely not the prestigious Napa Valley I worked in and was raised in. I prayed each day that I would get hit with a stray bullet while I sat at the bus stop. I would scream at God..."JUST F***ing kill me!!" "Can't you see I am worthless! I can't do this!! I want my mom!!" "Why are you doing this to me!!"
He answered my prayer but not in the way I thought. I wanted to die everyday so I said "F-it" I will just keep doing this until I die. The night God said "enough" was pretty much like every other night. I was outside having my last drink of the evening, waiting for the Nyquil to kick in....all of a sudden I felt the hands of death around my neck. I felt that I was being choked out. For one split second. I didn't want to die anymore. I found some will to keep going. The Nyquil never kicked in. I instead spent the night on the phone with my favorite boy cousin who talked to me about AA. The next day I woke up and couldn't breath as I poured out all the remaining vodka and threw away hidden bottles. I called the last of my family that I still kinda had left, and was honest for the first time about my drinking.
Here are some of the methods we have tried:
- Drinking beer only,
- limiting the number of drinks,
- never drinking alone,
- never drinking in the morning,
- drinking only at home,
- never having it in the house,
- never drinking during business hours,
- drinking only at parties,
- switching from scotch to brandy,
- drinking only natural wines,
- agreeing to resign if ever drunk on the job,
- taking a trip,
- not taking a trip,
- swearing off forever (with and without a solemn oath),
- taking more physical exercise,
- reading inspirational books,
- going to health farms and sanitariums,
- accepting voluntary commitment to asylums - we could increase the list ad infinitum.
We do not like to pronounce any individual as alcoholic, but you can quickly diagnose yourself. Step over to the nearest barroom and try some controlled drinking. Try to drink and stop abruptly. Try it more than once. It will not take long for you to decide, if you are honest with yourself about it. BB pg 31-32
When I read this I was like "what? you're not gonna try to keep me from drinking? You're not gonna threaten me or try to force me not to drink??? I thought this sponsor woman was supposed to fix me and keep me from drinking? NOPE, I have to go to any lengths. I didn't stop until I stopped. It couldn't have been told I was an alcoholic, I had to diagnose myself. I had to take the separation from alcohol I was giving in that moment of not wanting to die, and build on that. I could stay stubborn or I could die of alcoholism. It was my choice. The death of an alcoholic is slow and demoralizing. Most of us die old, full of rage and anger, resentment, fear and regret. This manifests into diseased bodies, diseased minds and diseased souls.
No one was gonna do this for me. People in the fellowship would be there for me, encourage me, show me how to work the Steps, but beyond that would have been just another codependent nightmare to keep me afloat. My sponsor didn't offer me rides or try to fix my problems. She told me to be grateful I had legs to walk to work and taught me gratitude. I was to take suggestions and learn to trust God. She could offer me direction, but she couldn't keep me sober. NO HUMAN POWER, not even my own could keep me sober. Only God could and would if He were sought.