Sobriety First

    Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation. ~ Saint Augustine

 

As a recovering alkie and addict, I believe I’m especially qualified to discuss the phenomenon of addiction…and its accompanying insanity.  After all, I’m not some rube who just fell off the turnip truck. 

There’s no way you can talk about alcoholism without some reference to insanity. And I’m not talking about washing your hands too much, or just being annoying.

I’m referring to an alcoholic believing  they can drink in safety.                                                           Look at it this way:

Something starts out as a vice; Then it germinates into a habit. If you’re not paying attention, it’ll blossom into a full-blown addiction.   I’m one of those people who tend to have addictive tendencies.  When I’m in the throes of an addiction, it takes center stage: I’ll obsess, rationalize and sacrifice anything for it.  Funny thing is, when I see that kind of behavior in other people, I’m quick to spot the insanity of it…but not so much with myself. 

NEVER underestimate the power of denial: It’s easy, comfortable and convenient.

Once upon a time I was a big smoker.  In time I worked my way up to a couple packs a day. Can you believe that?   What a foul, dirty and expensive addiction. 

             

 

I drew a line in the sand and made a promise to myself, “I’ll quit when they go up to a buck for a pack.”  Then it became, “Okay…I’ll definitely quit when they’re two bucks.”

In time, I achieved the impossible and managed to quit. Not because of the price, they were ruining my health.  As a result, all the pleasure was gone. 

Quitting tobacco was the hardest thing I ever did. But it can be done. I never want to do it Again.  

Anyone who tells you quitting smoking is easy is selling something.  Anyway, I’m not here to discuss the perils of nicotine. 

I’m an addict.  Seriously.  If you can eat it, drink it, inhale it, snort it, rub it into your gums, or take it by the handful…I’m all in. 

I want to focus on the twisted thought process and bizarre behavior that dominates and destroys lives.  I’m an expert on that stuff…(any alkie/addict usually is).

When I looked at step two, and its reference to “insanity” I thought it was referring to other people, and not me, because I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.

Then I realized it was talking about the insane way we alkies approach drinking.  Well, my drinking (& recreational drugging) isn’t just dubious.  It’s off-the-wall, off-the-tracks, off-the reservation, whack-job, nutcase, bat shit, barking-at-the-moon crazy.

And this brand of insanity starts to take hold at the mere thought of picking up.  I start to think that I’m special, and that I can somehow magically get away with things people cannot possibly get away with…. like drinking without any consequences.  And for the alcoholic, there are ALWAYS consequences.   When I’m nursing an addiction, I’m gripped with a distinct singleness of purpose.  I’ll do anything, go anywhere, steamroll over anyone to get what I want, and not give a damn. I want what I want.  And I want to get knee-deep, rolling-on-the-floor shitfaced:  Endlessly sitting in one position, staring at the wall with an unbroken strand of drool running from my lower lip to a big puddle on the floor.  That qualifies as being mildly insane.

Non-alcoholics (also known as, “Earth People”) are repelled, and don’t understand this kind of behavior at all (who could blame them?).

If you ever have a lapse of judgement and relate your drinking and drugging escapades to a roomful of Earth people, you can see them furtively casting glances of alarm at each other.

Don’t bother talking about that cold you had for three months, and your accompanying   green teeth – from drinking NyQuil on the rocks.

..not the lovely cherry flavored stuff, but that nasty Green Death shit that makes you wince, gag and shudder. 

Keep talking and they’ll throw a net over you. Tell those same stories to a bunch of alkies and they’ll laugh their asses off.   Not because they’re mean,  but because they identify with it.

                                                       Those are my people.

In time the most shameful, awful, humiliating and embarrassing incidents I’ve been through, (and spent years trying to hide and forget), have yielded some of my best material as a speaker.  The worse it is, the funnier it gets, and the more people relate to it.

ANYWAY

When it comes to addiction, you can forget about willpower.

All logic, reason, and any semblance of sanity goes out the window. Even though I’m an addict, and possess all the inherent insanity that accompanies addiction, I’ve witnessed some things that are so messed up as to challenge even my comprehension. 

HERE’S AN EXAMPLE:

When I was in college there was a tall, thin guy in my dorm named Bernie. 

He wasn’t exactly what I’d call a friend.  Probably because at that point in my life I was incapable of friendship.  I had a singleness of purpose. I only had “drinking-and-drugging associates”.  People who could keep up and drink & drug and see nothing abnormal about it.  To that end, Bernie was a heavy drinker, and prolific pot smoker.    

Proudly and prominently displayed in Bernie’s room was a folded American Flag in its triangular display case.  This flag carried  a special significance: It had been draped over his dad’s coffin, who was a Vietnam casualty.  That flag was obviously a sacred thing, and l regarded it with respect.

There was another guy in the dorm named Brad. As bad as I was, Brad was infinitely worse.  He was never without a drink in his hand and was always on a quest to get wasted… 

Water seeks its own level, and I hung around him quite a bit.  It also helped that Brad was a dealer.  On a side note, I got sober a few years after graduation and looked up Brad, just for the hell of it.    Evidently, he regarded my sobriety as some type of accusatory finger pointing in his direction.  He just couldn’t accept the fact that I was done. 

I looked him up a few years ago, just for the hell of it.  Instead of finding Brad, I found his obituary.  He was fifty-three years old and, “Died suddenly at home.”  The vague and comfortable euphemism for, ‘overdose.’

One day I stopped by Brad’s room and noticed a new decoration. A big American flag was tacked to the wall.I looked at it, “What’s with Old Glory?”   He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, “I bought it from Bernie for a half ounce of weed.”  This sacred representation of pain, loss and the ultimate sacrifice was now out of its case and being treated like some cheap wall hanging.  I was dumbstruck.  Bernie gave up his dad’s sacred legacy for a lousy twenty-dollar bag of pot. 

This goes down as one of the most shameful things I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s the first time I’ve ever told anyone about it…

HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:                                                    

                                      Thank God for Twelve-step programs. 

By the time I made it to Alcoholics Anonymous, I was at the end, and on my way out.  I wasn’t going to last much longer because I was mentally, physically, spiritually, and financially bankrupt.  Funny thing was, I didn’t think things were that bad, or that anyone really noticed.  Addiction and denial are a package deal. 

I need to be with like-minded people who understand what it is to make recovery a priority.  People who have been there.  People who understand what it is to live with fear, anger, shame, remorse, and self-loathing. 

I need to be with people who appreciate the humor in being so hung over you’ve found yourself sitting at a stop sign, waiting for it to turn green. 

Talent and tenacity are wonderful, but they’re no substitute for being with people who love you, and believe in you.