I'm an alcoholic. I've never admitted that publicly - I mean, openly, without reservation, without question. I AM an alcoholic. I'm not a successfully recovered alcoholic (if there is such a thing). I'm a relapser. I'm a binger. You put one drop in me and I become unintentionally suicidal. I'm also dual diagnosed - depressed, anxious... but what came first? Was is it the depression that caused the alcoholism or was it the other way around? I'm not sure it matters at this point.
The reason I'm writing this is because I'm tired of secrets. I'm tired of cover-ups. I'm tired of holing myself in hotel rooms, drinking 3 liters of vodka in a day, having to call 911 and then being told by the hospital that they can't treat me anymore because I've been there 5 times in 2 weeks.
I've been drinking for ten years now. My ex-wife left me years ago and I can very clearly tell you that's when I crossed the line. It wasn't her fault... she had her own issues. But I took it hard. One bottle of scotch in a weekend quickly became a half liter of vodka each night. That quickly become one liter a night. That became a drink in the morning just to function... until I got off the train, ran home for another drink before I got sick.
After five years of this (I was a daily drinker in only six months), I knew I had a serious problem on my hands. I wasn't choosing to drink. I HAD to drink. And I did ask for help, but I was asking in all the wrong places. AA was too spiritual. I was too smart for RBT. Therapists simply didn't understand the abuse I endured as a kid from my step-dad; that my mom was enabler; that my real dad left when I was little. There was always an excuse. I should mention, to be fair, that my parents were only acting the way that they learned from their own parents.
But that's history. What's gripping me now is that I've been trying hard for three years, through AA, to get sober. I get three months and I relapse. I get four months and I relapse. Each time I rebuild my relationships - whether with friends, family or coworkers - I then relapse and destroy them again. It's gotten me into legal trouble, six detoxes (at least), three "sections", countless hospital visits and admissions. When does it end? When I'm underground?
I have a son... a three year old who lives with his mom because his dad is too irresponsible to take him unsupervised. I try to keep up with child support, but eventually I'm going to lose my job again and all of that will be in jeopardy. Long term - I want to see him grow up, be successful, graduate, make something of his life. And, hopefully, skip this disease. His mom is wonderful, too. She's done her best, endured my relapses, and tried to stabilize a loving home for this little boy of mine. But it's been a roller-coaster.
What's really destroying me this time is that I had a friendship that was like no other I've had in my life. I had a real connection with someone special - someone who shared my experiences and who trusted me... trusted my advice, trusted my ability to listen. I grew close to the family, I made sure the person knew that she wasn't alone and that we would, if we worked at it, get through this. In fact, we made a pact - should either of us be in trouble, find that we couldn't handle the stress, couldn't handle family or relationships or life - that we would immediately call each other and find help. I broke that pact in a big way.
Rather than ask for help, I pushed her away. I pushed my sponsor away. I pushed my family, my son, my ex away. And all my friend wanted to do was help - to save my life. But I wouldn't allow it. I was ashamed, embarrassed, drunk... and I didn't want my friend to experience any of that. Had I simply picked up the phone, I would've had help at my door within minutes. Instead, my disease had already taken over and told me - No. I feel like I broke her heart. The remorse is overwhelming.
I had a slight disagreement this evening with my ex. She said that no one put a gun to my head and made me drink. Well, I don't believe that... not entirely. And I think that's what's misunderstood about addiction. For some of us (not all), the choice isn't there. When you've been drinking for years, wires criss-cross. There is no choice. When the brain tells you that you're going to drink, there's no arguing. Not only have I experienced it, I've seen it with many of my friends. Ask an alcoholic, "why did you pick up again?" The answer is usually, "I don't know."
But again, whether we know why we relapsed or not, we still have to face the consequences (should we survive). And I'm having a real problem with this one. I violated a trust that took months to build and, only if I'm lucky, will rebuild. And for that, I am incredibly sorry. I can hear the hurt in her voice and the look in her eyes is entirely different. There's no more talking like we used to and the confidence is gone. I'm crushed and I'm sure she is too. And don't think I'm claiming to be the victim here - this was my doing. There are no words to truly express how horribly I'm feeling right now.
I do know one thing... mending can happen IF you're willing to work at it. I asked a dear friend of mine tonight what to do. I admitted (VERY unusually for me) how I felt. The advice went beyond "one day at a time". She told me to let someone else row the boat for a while. I hadn't thought about doing that... to sit in the middle, meditate, heal my own heart and then let my navigator take me to my destination when, and only when, he or she thought that I was ready. Scary thought for an alcoholic or addict - because we want things NOW. I want the pain gone NOW. I want to hit landfall, leap from the boat and have everything perfect NOW. But that's not how life works.
There's so much work to do, yet all I can do is put one foot in front of the other. Slowly, surely, the solutions will come. Things will mend. Patience, however, is not one of my best virtues. I had better start practicing, though.
If you've read this far, then you now know my story.... or parts of it. You know why I disappear the way that I do and why I'm high one day and low the next. I don't mean to be this way. I didn't choose this lifestyle and I need to learn NOT to be ashamed of this. Yet, I still have to take responsibility. I need to work at this, just like any other medical patient, to keep this in remission so I don't betray the people I love any longer. My heart is broken to know that I violated my friend's trust the way that I did. Who knows how long it'll take to mend? My hope, however, is that coming clean will be the first step in the process. And to ALL those that I've hurt, I apologize.
Lastly, I'd like to thank a certain nurse that planted this seed in my head. She took the time to sit, talk candidly about her own experiences, and it made me want to open up. No more secrets. No more lies.
I recently posted on my page the song "You Got No Right" by Velvet Revolver. One of the most powerful lines, I believe, is "Funny when I'm here I find myself... inside a paper cup. Without a warning or a reason it's a treason with no answer." I'm tired of the paper cups, the detox drugs, the foggy head, the librium legs - and especially the treason of this disease. I know myself when I'm clear headed and that, frankly, I'm a pretty damn nice guy. I simply need to maintain that. And if I can maintain it, then I have a pretty good shot at life.
To my family, friends, and especially the one I betrayed - I am deeply, deeply sorry. Like she said, "Forgiven, but not forgotten." I understand that. But I'm willing to work at this. And I feel like I just took a big step. If you want to judge me for my actions, that's you're right. I'm putting my bat down, though. It's time to stop beating myself up, to admit what I am without shame, and move forward while asking for help. For once, I've hit something that I just can't beat solo. I would never suggest anyone else try it alone. So why have I been? It's impossible.
Time to drop the pride, the ego, the over confidence... and admit, for once, that I can ask for help and "that's okay."
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