I can hardly believe it has been that long, yet it sometimes seems as though that time has flown by.
For those who may not know, it was 200 days ago today when I had my last drop of alcohol.
While this may not be directly tied to politics or political action, it is directly tied to community. One of those days, very early on, I took a trip to meet some fellow Kossacks. Among those in attendance were PastorDan and Jen (Mrs. P) and Deb Brown. The kindness that these folks showed this struggling stranger gave me a boost in this battle, one that I carry with me as each new day passes.
Battling Alcoholism (originally posted 3/17/05)
My goal is to share this story with my fellow Kossacks in the hopes of helping others understand what alcohol does to someone who abuses it. Maybe, this will help someone, I don’t know…
I’ll get back to the morning of the C&J post momentarily, but first, I’d like to let you inside the events that led to that post.
Throughout my life I have had a struggle with an addictive personality, going through quitting smoking, getting off pot and various other drugs and now alcohol. My drink of choice has always been beer. Nothing else. I can’t stand hard liquor and have on occasion drank wine. My love of beer has put a tremendous strain on my life, relationships and my body, a love that started about nine years ago when I first tasted Sam Adams (I’m not blaming SA, it’s just always been my favorite beer).
Things came to a head on Sunday March 6, 2005. It was deep into the early hours of the morning, following a night in which I had drank about 10 beers (I say about, because I’m not entirely certain). My four year old daughter had awoken due to an upset stomach. My wife spent twenty minutes trying to wake me to help take care of our daughter (did I mention that my wife is 6 months pregnant? – no..). After a lengthy argument, I spent the rest of the night sitting in the dark contemplating what I had done and what I am doing.
I thought back to many incidents where beer had impacted my actions in a profoundly negative way. One occasion stands out amongst all the others. My wife and I hosted her mother’s birthday party this past January. On that Saturday morning, I had numerous errands to run, including getting the cake and the beer. On my trip, I stopped at a local pizza parlor and grabbed a six pack of Sam. Throughout the course of the trip, I had finished the beers (yes, while driving). During the party, I proceeded to put away another 10 beers. By the end of the night, I found myself in the bathroom (the only one in the house) puking for over an hour. When I was done, I found that everyone had left, as a direct result of my behavior.
These are just a few examples of how I fucked up because of beer. So, I decided it was time to stop. I was not going to have my daughter grow up thinking her daddy will always have a beer in his hand, like I did with my dad. I was not going to subject my wife to the same miseries my mother has put up with for the past thirty odd years.
So I posted my intentions in Cheers and Jeers. And to my shock, received an incredible outpouring of support from the Irregulars. Including some who realize that they have the same problem. Because of this, I was more determined than ever to succeed. If a group of “strangers” (I use quotes because, how can someone you communicate with really be a stranger?) could care enough about me and my family to express that type of sentiment, then, damnit, I should too…..
The past 11 days have not been easy. There have been MANY times when I had an unopened bottle in my hands and contemplated taking a few sips, but, I kept thinking back to those fine people who have my back and always put the beer down. It wasn’t until Saturday of last week when I dumped the remaining beers that sat tempting me in my fridge.
Over the past week I have been battling mood swings, insomnia and weight gain. But, I know it will all be worth it. For when my little girl smiles at me, or calls me silly, I’ll see her face with clear eyes and a cler mind and know that I will be there for her whenever she needs me, and not passed out on the couch at 7:30 in the evening.
I will continue keeping up the fight. I know that there are truly good people out there who care enough to check up on some guy they know from the computer who likes to make fart jokes and flick peas.
I have been invigorated as of late. I am taking up painting again, something I haven’t done in years, mainly due to the drinking. My creative mind is teeming with ideas that are dying to get out, and it can only get better with time.
I know that each day is hard and many will be harder than others, but, I MUST do this, for myself and my family.
Battling Alcoholism II: Daily Challenges
It has been 70 days. 70 days since the last time alcohol crossed my lips. 69 days completely alcohol free.
I knew when I started the road to recovery that it would be bumpy, at times unbearable. I knew that eventually those things that I tried to escape with alcohol would once again rear their heads. I knew that each day would be a test, each day would present its own difficulties and temptations.
I also know now tha I have a lot of good friends, a lot of people I didn’t appreciate before, people who are rooting for me at each challange, people who are there for me in spirit when they cannot be there to hold my hand.
Today was a day when I called on those people.
They may not have known it, but, throughout my day, I though of those friends, though of what they meant to me, what they have taught me, and today I passed a test. A very difficult test.
As I have stated elsewhere on this site, today was my daughter’s fifth birthday party. We hosted 45 people, a vast majority of whom are big time beer drinkers. I made the decision a while back that, even though I would not be drinking, I would still provide for my guests, as I do not hold their decisions against them.
I know that this may not have been the wisest decision, but not all decisions are wise.
So, this morning, I found myself at the beer store, looking through aisles and aisle of what I once held very dear, probably moreso than my family. My idea was to buy a beer that I didn’t like and wouldn’t normally drink. My first case picked up was Miller Lite, which I think it pretty much garbage (no offense meant to Miller Lite fans, if there are any). I knew with this crowd that two cases would be necessary, we were having a barbeque after all. So I tried to find something else I wouldn’t normally have bought.
I walked out with a case of Yuengling Lager. Which was my favorite beer for the longest time.
Sometimes, we do things without thinking consciously of how they will harm us, but there is a certain level on intent in these decisions. Buying the Yuengling was one of those decisions.
I had effectively made what would have been a difficult day, that much more difficult.
During the party, I spent most of my afternoon at the grill, cooking 40 chicken drumsticks, 35 hamburgers and 30 hot dogs. In the past, I would have had a beer in my hand the whole time. I knoew that could not be today, so the beer cooler was kept inside, which would have made getting beer difficult.
As the guests arrived, I noticed a number of people (4 or 5) had not come. Normally, this would be no big deal at a party this size, but today this was a problem. The missing guests were to have been the biggest drinkers there today.
I knew then that I was faced with the prospect of having a significant amount of beer left over, beer that I did not want in my home.
During the party, I only found myself wanting to partake in the drinking once or twice. It was afterwards, during the clean-up when the worst began.
I was able to get rid of most of the beer. For some reason, when you offer free beer, people tend to jump. People are weird that way.
It was when I opened the cooler to drain the water left behind after the ice had melted that I almost failed.
I saw four bottles of Yuengling sitting there. The lables half-detached from soaking in the cool water all afternoon. Those four bottles of beer called to me. I was transfixed on their green hue for a few moments. It was then that I felt a hand on my shoulder. My mother stood behind me, also looking into the cooler. She knew what was wrong and wanted to help.
I began to weep.
I felt weak. I felt helpless. I felt that failure was imminent, until I felt that hand on my shoulder.
For the brief moment; as my mother and I stood there, looking together at the beer in that cooler; that I thought of my friends. The friends that I have made during this journey.
The friends who chat with me each night, sometimes not knowing how difficult it has been, but their friendship and laughter makes it easier.
The friends who have shown me that I have the strength within myself to defeat this horrible disease.
The friends that have helped me to discover a confidence within myself that didn’t come from a bottle, but from me.
I thought of those friends and made a decision.
I reached into the cooler, grabbing all the bottles together. I turned and handed them to my mother.
I said to her, “Can you please get rid of these for me?”
I them went outside and played ball with my kid and my dog until my mother called me out to me to let me know she was done.
Battling Alcoholism III: The Cost of Alcoholism
I have been thinking back to many of the things I had done under the influence of alcohol, or in order to get myself under the influence. I will start out by stating that I was a closet drinker. Many of my loved ones were not aware of the extent of my drinking, or if they were, they did not let on to me. One of my most frequently employed methods of getting some beer in me was to take a trip to the supermarket.
For me, this seemingly normal, everyday task was nothing more than an excuse to get drunk. I would specifically go to a supermarket that was relatively far away. At the beginning of my trip, I would stop at a bar or pizza place that sells take out beer and grab myself a six pack, which I would then drink in the car en route to the store (I am not particularly proud of this fact, but I believe that honesty is best in overcoming this demon). I would sometimes make these trips two or three times a day, especially on the weekends. I would also employ this method when ordering take out, which we did frequently in my household.
So I sat down to do a little calculating. In my area, a decent 6 pack will run you about $7, $8.50 for something like Sam Adams or Heineken. So I looked at an “average” month, 30 days with 8 weekend days. I estimated over that 30 day period that I would have made 45-50 of these “trips”. I was shocked to discover that I was spending about $360 – $400 per month on beer ($4320 – $4800 per year)!
This means that I was spending half as much each month on beer than what I was spending on childcare for my daughter, on what I spent each month on my mortgage and almost double what I spent each month on healthcare. That is definitely a hard pill to swallow at this point. I think back on what I may have deprived my wife and child of in order to satiate my thirst for beer and it makes me weep. I think of how many bills were paid late, how many went into delinquency because I needed to get drunk, and I weep.
This would be hard enough to bear if this were the only cost of alcoholism, but, alas, it is not. For alcoholism wreaks havoc on all aspects of an alcoholic’s life and the lives of those around him/her.
My daughter said something to me the other day, at her birthday party. She sat down at the table with me, seeing that her uncles and aunts were drinking beers and having a “good time” and she asked me “daddy, how come you’re not drinking beer today?” I thought for a moment and replied “sweetheart, daddy isn’t going to drink beer anymore”. She smile, gave me a hug and said “that’s good daddy, I don’t like it when you drink beer”.
She has said this to me before, but only after I stopped drinking beer, which makes me wonder, why? Was she afraid to say something to daddy about drinking beer? Did I give her good reason to be afraid?
These questions are difficult to face and far more difficult to answer. I’m not sure I want to know the answer, for I know from my experience with my father, who also drank a lot, that drinking was one subject not to broached in his presence. So I ask myself, was I making my wife and daughter walk on those same eggshells that I tread so lightly upon as a child? I can’t help but think that the answer is yes. I would like to believe that that is not the case, but lying to myself at this point is counterproductive to my recovery.
So now, I have come to the realization that alcohol and my actions have created a barrier between myself and my daughter. I believe this can be overcome, for I see signs that it is being overcome with each passing day.
Unfortunately, a similar barrier exists between my wife and me, as well. I must give my wife a lot of credit. She stuck with me through some rough times, times when I was unbearable to be around, times when I was probably pretty scary in my actions. And yet, she stuck by my side. She is learning to deal with my recovery, much like I am. I know that with time we can heal these wounds, at least I believe we can, I hope we can.
There are some relationships that I cannot repair that were destroyed because of my alcoholism, friends and family members who are no so distant that it seems almost impossible to imagine being nearly as close as I once was with them. But, I will not give up. I will make the effort and hope that they will accept me, or at least understand me. That’s all I will ask.
So I have covered the financial costs and emotional costs of my alcoholism, yet one area remains undetermined. What kind of physical damage did my years of drinking do? Quite frankly, this is what scares me the most. I can save money and pay off those past due bills. I can talk out issues with my family and friends, but, can I undo years of damage to my liver, to my stomach, to my brain?
These questions remain unanswered. I have a physical scheduled for the end of the month (including blood work) to get an idea where I stand at the present.
I am finally starting to make some ground as to the emotional damage drinking has done to me, through regular therapy sessions. I am beginning to feel again, which some had warned me about, about how difficult that would be (and they were right).
I am trying to improve the overall quality of my life; eating better, drinking less soda, exercising regularly. Hopefully, this will help undo that physical damage. I know I have lost over 20 lbs so far and I feel much better physically, but only time will tell.
Battling Alcoholism IV: The First 90 Days
I have revealed a lot about myself through this forum over the past few months. I have given up my anonimity, I freely use my real name, something I would have never considered three months ago. I have opened my life to this community, revealing all aspects for inspection to newfound friends and strangers.
My main reason for doing this; during what could have been a very trying time; stemmed from the support I have received from members of the dKos community, people who have removed their veil of anonimity to reach out to me via email – and other forums – to lend words of support and encouragement.
These notes that show up regularly in my inbox have proved to me that this is a special place, frequented by special people (I know I say that a lot, but it bears repeating – because it is true). They always make me smile, these notes. To think that people take the time out of their busy lives to lend a hand of support to a stranger is astonishing and amazing, and for that I thank you all.
So, now I sit at my computer, looking back at the last ninety days, reflecting on how I have changed, how I have grown as a person, how indebted I am to those who have reached out to me throughout this journey to hold my hand along the way.
One of the biggest changes I’ve noticed about myself is that I have regained the ability to feel again, to feel real emotions again for the first time in almost a decade. I can feel love, a real love not tempered by the haze of alcohol. I feel an honest love when I look into the eyes of my daughter, who is meeting her real daddy for the first time.
I can also feel the range of other emotions that were suppressed for the better part of a decade, be they happiness, sorrow, fear or anger, I know that they are real, and that is what matters now.
Over the last three months, I have also found myself growing in ways I never could under the influence. I have made many new and dear friends, something I always had difficulty doing when drinking (I often – always – drank alone). Many of these friends are now family to me, people I would do absolutely anything for, even though I never met many of the face to face. These are some of the finest people out there, people who saw me in a weakened state and made the effort to be my friend, and believe me, I did not make it easy for them at the begining, as I’m sure they will attest to.
For their willigness to stick by me, I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude. I don’t think I could have done what they have were the situation reversed, at least I couldn’t have before they became a part of my life.
So, my reflection on the first ninety days of sobriety surprised even me. I no longer find myself focusing on the negative things alcohol has brought to my life. I find myself with so much to live for, I find myself looking forward to each new day and the challenges it will present.
I know that life will continue to be fraught with tests and sometimes I will find myself straining under the weight of the rge to go back, but I know that I am doing this for myself, for my little girl and her little sister to be, for my family and for my friends, friends who came into my life through this forum, friends who I expect to be part of my life for a long time.
I consider myself blessed to have made it this far, but will continue to move forward one day at a time, counting each new day as another small victory in the battle to save my life.
Battling Alcoholism V: A Life Changed
Six months have passed since that morning when I took a long, hard look at myself and realized that I needed to change or my life as I knew it was over. I knew that the road ahead would be hard, I had tried in the past and met with failure. My wife was pregnant with our second child, my daughter was growing to know her daddy as the guy with a beer in his hand, passed out on the couch at 8pm. This had to change, so I stopped. I stopped drinking after drinking pretty much every day for the better part of a decade.
The months that have passed since that day have been wrought with challenges. There have been many days when I thought I would stumble, when I thought I would fall back into those old patterns. But, I also learned early on to face each battle as it comes, to not look ahead, to live for that day’s sobriety.
I made it through family get-togethers where beer flowed freely. I made it through those rough nights when I wanted nothing more to break down and stop and pick up a six pack. I made it through a scary mental health episode when i wasn’t sure what was real and what came from my mind. I made it through all of that to get to where I am today.
My life has changed in so many amazing ways since I left alcohol behind. My second child was born in June, a beautiful little girl, who smiles at her daddy’s silly smiles and baby talk. My older daughter has finally met her real daddy, not that man who used to drink beer, waiting for her bedtime, so he could go to sleep. She has a real daddy now, someone who plays those childhood games that mean so much, someone who sits and reads books to her, who reads poetry and short stories to her, who draws funny cartoons for her and plays play-doh with her.
I have become a real husband to my wife, who has put up with an amazing amount of bullshit from me, enough to have driven away many, many women. I am slowly becoming the man that I know that I must be.
There are still many days were the itch comes back, when the temptation seems too strong to ignore, but on these days, I think about why I am doing this. I am doing this for my health, for my sanity, for my family.
So there they are, the words I wrote throughout this journey.
I owe so very much to those friends who have stood by me throughout, those who have cheered me, picked me up when I felt weak and those that lent their hand, their words to help carry me along the way. After all, that is what makes a good Christian, a good Muslim, a good Pagan, a good whatever you may be; the ability to help someone when they need you, that is what makes you a good human being.
And being a good human being in these times of trouble is a difficult and amazing thing.
Peace to all,
Darrell
