- Alcohol
My name is Alex B. and I am an alcoholic. When I reached a year of sobriety, my mother told me that I was her “hero.” That baffled me, because to me, the heroes were those loved ones who stuck around and loved me unconditionally as I spiraled uncontrollably downward into worse and worse alcoholism. So, I guess the real heroes are all of us on the recovery journey: the addicts themselves, the families, the sponsors, the friends, the doctors, the counselors. It takes an army of heroes to battle this disease.
My journey through active alcoholism was quick and painful. I began drinking around my senior year of high school and immediately drank alcoholically. For a few years I was able to hide under the delusion that it was “partying,” but I was the only one who believed that was true. I had all the typical alcoholic consequences: trouble in school, fractured relationships, trouble with the law, car wrecks, lost jobs, and eventually no money or home. In two years, I lived in four time zones of the US while trying to run away from my alcoholism. From California to Maine, that same alcoholism still followed me. This all happened before my 21st birthday. Alcoholism and its ensuing consequences are not reserved for those over 40, as I so casually believed. I was “immune” because I was in college!
To put it simply, I drank because I liked being drunk. I drank for oblivion. I drank to forget my feelings of insecurity and “otherness.” When I was drunk, I could go to any club, walk into any party, and talk to anyone. It was as if I were taken out of my clunky, awkward shoes and placed into the shoes of some “suave” guy. Little did I know that was just a false sense of confidence, and I actually looked like a fool while drunk!
Eventually my drinking was an all-day, everyday thing and no one was in my life but the bottle. I pushed everything else away. I would spend my money on booze before I would buy food. Luckily, I still had people in my life who cared about me enough to take me out of college and get me into treatment. It took me a few false starts before recovery really stuck. I went on a two month wilderness program that took me through the mountains of Utah and Nevada. That journey truly gave me an understanding of my Higher Power. Watching myself create fire from sticks and stones gave me an incredible sense of the overwhelming power of nature and the universe.
This time around, from day one I attended meetings regularly, hung out with other people in recovery, and found my new passions. Within six months of sobriety, I had completed the 140.6 mile Ironman triathlon. I credit my God and those around me for getting me to that finish line; had it been up to me and my lackadaisical willpower, I wouldn’t have gotten there. I have returned to college and recently made the dean’s list. I am interning for a federal judge. All of these things are not of my doing; they are the incredible result of living a good life and doing the “next right thing.” They are the result of finally asking for help, the one thing that I actually give myself credit for. I asked for help and help I surely received.
One of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned from recovery is that it’s not all about me. Tough lesson to learn? You bet. But in the end, that lesson has helped me curb the anxiety that led me to drink in the first place. When I drank, I walked around thinking that everything was about me, everybody was looking at me, and everyone was out to get me. It was all me. I drank to escape that sense of paranoia and selfish fear. Today, I understand that it’s not all about me. I try my best to act selflessly. If I am feeling down, the best way to change that is to reach out and help someone else. Hold a door open for them, thank them for doing something nice, or spend five minutes talking to an old friend. It’s amazing how much of something so little can change my attitude toward each day.
Speaking of days, one of the most important tools I’ve learned in recovery is to take it one day at a time. You will hear that said over and over in meetings, but it’s not until you really apply it to your life that you will understand just what it means. It means living in the moment and not fearing what may happen. Lord knows us alcoholics tend to focus on the worst possible scenario. In the same sense that I mentally divided the Iron Man up and raced it “one mile at a time,” recovery from addiction is all about one day at a time. I know you can stay sober for the next 24 hours, and after that you can decide all over again.
It gets easier. Those 24 hours add up quickly, and before you know it, you’re a changed person. In the eyes of those around you, you will become a hero. Open your eyes up to the heroic actions that occur daily around you. See the hero in the parents or siblings who stayed around through the worst of times. See the hero in the counselor who didn’t give up on you. See the hero in that newly sober person who comes in, shaking and miserable but asking for help. Heroes and heroic deeds are all around us; we just have to open up our eyes, minds, and hearts to see them.