Twelve

January is a very special month for me. This is when I get to mark down another year of sobriety. 2017 will be my twelfth year without a drink. There was a time in my life where I thought that would never be possible. There was also a time in my life where I couldn’t envision wanting to quit.

I was the ringmaster of the rock n roll party in my younger days. I had the apartment where all the real rockers, wayward rockers, hangers on, and college friends could party. If I wasn’t getting loaded with my band I was getting loaded with my radio friends and co workers. Sometimes all my circles overran the place at the same time. We had the other band members apartments to party in as well. The party never stopped. Somewhere in the midst of it all I landed a couple of college degrees, experienced a immense amount of life lessons and collected some great war stories. There were plenty of good times. There were also plenty of poor decisions. I wrote some good songs. Relationship dramas were rampant. Booze took away the pain of the hopeless relationships. It numbed the broken heart. It never made a crazy girl any less crazy. No matter how much I drank she stayed crazy.

I had the highest tolerance in the room at any given time. Getting other people to try to drink toe to toe with me became a rite of passage. The drinking challenges were pretty much instigated by others. “This dude said he could out drink you…” is typically the way it started. Then I had to go knock someone down off their pedestal. It was the typical bravado thing. We were all friends so there wasn’t a violent or menacing flair about the whole thing. My “shot glass” for the shot contests wasn’t an ordinary shot glass. It was a special glass I used that was the equivalent of approximately five shots. So when people took me on in “shots” we were each taking five at a time. One time I buried a British buddy who issued the challenge by stating, “Let me show you Yankee #%&@ how a real Englishmen drinks.” It ended with him throwing up in my sink and my apartment being filled with the chant of “USA”.

I bring up the past history no so much to brag but to explain the beginning. Alcohol was quickly becoming the sun in my social solar system. My life would orbit around the perpetual buzz and beyond. Alcohol the one constant through all the roller coaster rides that would follow. There are many complexities, anecdotes and side stories throughout the journey. There are only so many words can fit into this summary of events. I am sharing the abridged version.

My life went through several changes. After roughly four years my steady radio gig changed to a limited freelance type of arrangement. I moved back in with my parents to reboot myself for the next chapter. The wild parties weren’t happening. I stopped pursuing a professional music career. Drinking outside of the house was much more common. I made some more poor relationship choices. The radio gig eventually stopped all together. I also decided to enroll in college (again) to pursue a business degree. I started another line of work. Promotion opportunities at work happened fast. College Algebra was killing my chances for another degree. I eventually quit pursuing the business degree so I could start working my way up the ladder with my employer.

I was always highly functional. I didn’t go to work drunk. I never drank at work. There was never a time where I called in “sick” because I drank too much. I was not an angry drunk. I was quite the happy drunk. No one minds being around a happy drinker. There were moments of weepies, but only in private or in the company of a singular confidant that was cool with listening to my teary eyed ramblings.

Genetically I was given the “gift” of mass consumption tolerance. I never puked from drinking. Many people find this hard to believe. It’s the truth. Mentally I was in tune with my body much like an athlete. I knew what it could do. I was an Olympic drinker. I didn’t get the pounding headaches associated with hangovers. I got tired and lethargic sometimes but pushing through the next day with some caffeine and water solved the problem.

The new job is where I met the woman I fell in love with and eventually married. We went to a bunch of concerts. The shows took the place of the house party drinking. Getting hit with a crowd covering beer geyser spit from the stage by Zakk Wylde was one of the highlights. One of the less stellar low lights would probably be the guest background vocals I did with an old friend’s band. Tequila was pouring down everyone’s neck. I hadn’t been on a stage in years. I got up to sing backgrounds on “Runaway” by Bon Jovi. I saw four of everything as I peered into the room through the stage lights. It was bright, dark and blurry all at the same time. I pointed to my wife as I sang. Instead of wowing my wife with my rekindled rock n roll swagger, I over shot my guesstimated pointing zone and wound up pointing more in the direction of our mutual buddy Phil….missed it by that much. Check out the movie Mall Cop. I can relate to Paul Blart. Oddly enough my professional career had previously been in retail loss prevention. Life imitating art is a reality.

The demands at work became more challenging. Now I had real job stress. I couldn’t escape it. As soon as I got home it was time to open the bottle, crack the can, twist the top, play some video games, watch some movies, tv, jam on my guitar, etc. I needed to drink to feel the numb and then drink enough to get through a night’s sleep without having to think about anything. I learned that having difficult conversations while being under the influence didn’t usually lead to best word choices or cohesive thought patterns. It also didn’t help the situation when both parties might’ve had a few too many.

There were times I tried to think about what it would be like to live a sober life. This usually entered my head when I was really drunk. A big catalyst for pushing this forward was the Sandra Bullock movie, “28 Days”. If you are unfamiliar with the movie, Bullock’s character is forced to check into in a rehab facility for alcohol abuse.. I remember having teary eyed conversations with my wife about not being able quit unless I went away some place. That was impossible because leaving work for for a month would bring too many questions. I was also afraid because I remembered visiting a friend at one of those facilities. There’s a lot of intense stuff going going down in those places. It’s serious business.

I don’t believe alcoholism is a disease. I don’t mean to anger those who feel otherwise. People can’t “catch” alcoholism. You don’t suddenly develop some cellular metabolic changes that cause an outbreak of alcoholism in your bloodstream or organs. Environmental factors (upbringing, family history, etc) can play a role in someone’s decision to start drinking.These factors are still only contributors. I have known teetotalers who have lushes for kids. I also know lushes who have straight edge kids who will never touch a drop. The decision to drink alcohol lies squarely on the shoulders of the person who decided to take the drink. How they handle it (or how it handles them) is played out over time. The results come from the choices we make. Addiction (both physical and psychological) can happen real fast. It’s a dangerous game. It’s a game I chose to play. It’s nobody’s fault but mine.

Now I want frame this up by clarifying some very important points. I don’t have a tragic story of hitting rock bottom. I never landed on skid row. I was never at risk of my wife leaving me, etc. There was never a moment where I was about to lose it all. There was never a doctor that said, “One more drink will kill you”. In actuality, most people don’t have those stories. Most alcoholics are well functioning members of society. There isn’t a big ruckus. Most alcoholics are busting their butts out there and providing for their families. They appear to be in control but internally they are out of control. That’s why it is a very private struggle for most people. The awakening is also a very private thing. For me, the true awakening came in January of 2005.

I got home from my job. My wife had to go to work early so she went to bed. I was off the next day. I was sitting in my classy blue sectional recliner. I already had a few drinks in me. My oldest daughter was approximately five years old. I heard her say, “Here you go Daddy.” I looked over and saw my beautiful baby’s smiling face. She was so happy and excited. She put my big bottle of gin and my big bottle of whisky on my armchair and said, “Here’s you drink.” She pranced away so happy. She thought she was helping her daddy. What she wound up doing was helping our family’s future. It broke my heart to think that this is what my children knows. I knew it would stop right then. There was only one way it was going to happen. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t some talented counselor in a white jacket . It wasn’t a clinic. It was someone who I typically didn’t ask much of for myself because other people out there had “real problems” like cancer, starvation, ALS, etc. They needed his help more then me. Then I realized this was the only way. It was time for Jesus to do what he does. I had to let him take it.

I turned my head up. I remember the way the pointy white textured ceiling looked through the unfocused lens of tears. I spoke to the heavens and told the Lord that I couldn’t do this anymore. I asked Jesus to come in and do the heavy lifting. I needed his help. here was no bargain or promise made by me. I opened my heart and asked him to please take the addictions from me. The drink I finished before that prayerful cry for help was the final drink.

There was no need for any sort of announcement over the ensuing weeks. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I wasn’t prepared for questions. I also wanted the freedom to fall flat on my face and fail under the radar if I couldn’t keep up with the sober world. People can put extra pressure on themselves by letting too many people know what’s going on. I didn’t tell my wife what I was doing either. I was just hoping she wouldn’t ask me if I wanted a drink. She always made the best drinks around. I dodged the eventual offer with an evasive, “I’m good.” I probably made myself a fake drink with just coke in the glass that first night. I did clue my wife in at some point. It had to seem like a crazy out of the blue thing for her to process.

Within a couple of weeks of committing to sobriety another big life change put me to the test. There were massive cuts at my company. I was one of them. A decade of employment was gone. Just a little extra stress. Trying to stay sober and being unemployed at the same time, good times. I drew earthly inspiration from the song, “Breathe” by Anna Nalick.The first time I heard it was right around 3am. From that moment on it became my soundtrack about moving forward.

Pops dropped by for our customary backyard beer and shooting the breeze sessions one day. I filled an empty beer can with water so I could pretend I was throwing back a few cold ones. Again, I needed the freedom to fail. I repeated the “water beer” thing many more times in the next several months. Faking drinking beer was surreal. All the pressure yet none of the pressure at the same time.

I feel like God started rebooting everything at that point. Eventually I landed a new job. I managed to stay on track with my sobriety commitment. I grew a beard so I could see a different person in the mirror. I only drank water at this time. I didn’t want sodas or juices. I felt those flavors might trigger me to drink since they are common alcohol mixers. After a year “on the wagon” my family moved to a different state. The move air lifted me from all the old stomping grounds. Many of the situations that could have triggered a relapse were no longer around me.

Sobriety has a chain reaction. My wife and I have been married for eighteen years now. The sober me has the longest tenure in our relationship. My sobriety gives her a stronger partner. She can lean on me when we are navigating through the ups and downs of raising four children. Our family has grown in our faith. How many times would I have failed my loved ones if I was still drinking? Where would I have lead this family I love so dearly? I shudder to think of what might have happened if I continued down the road I was traveling.

As the years go by I get further removed from any mental Southern Comfort whisper that might occur in times of stress. I still remember the taste of whisky when I listen to a George Jones song. That’s hard to forget. It’s also really easy to not go back. Through the grace of God the alcohol albatross has been removed from my neck. Through the power of God all things are possible.My sobriety is a gift. My family is a gift. They deserve the very best of me.I still listen to the voice of Anna singing those words to me:

“‘Cause you can’t jump the track
We’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, boys
So cradle your head in your hands

And breathe, just breathe
Oh breathe, just breathe”

Year twelve is here. I look forward to next January when I write about year thirteen.
I will close with a couple of lines I found in a Catholic prayer. I think it sums it up best.

Thank you Jesus, for everything that’s in my life and everything that’s not. Amen. 

The song “Breathe” by ANNA NALICK  Published by
Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, IMAGEM MUSIC INC