2003-02-08
I am a firm believer in what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Nietzsche was on to something there.

We each have our demons screaming in our ears. Telling us what we can and can not do. Who we are and who will we never be.

We all got some skeletons in our closet.

Six years ago, after ingesting a bottle of Goldshlager and more than enough tequila shots, my roomate found me on my apartment floor - unconscious. She rushed me to the emergency room.

I spent a week in the hospital.

It wasn't the first time either ... nor was it the last. Before this, I had been to the emergency room three times for alcohol poisoning. After this, I still had a few more trips to go before I came to my senses.

The pivotal thing about this trip was that I went to my first - and last- AA meeting. It was right after I got out of the hospital - before I even went home - I went to this old Baptist church hall where they held AA meetings 24/7. The place was packed. I sat in the corner and tried to be as small and invisible as possible.

That was until the leader, a man that looked like he was more comfortable on a Harley motorcycle than anyplace else in the world, pointed at me and said "You're a newcomer. Stand up and tell as your name."

So I did.

And there was dead silence.

"And why are you here?", Mr. Hell's Angel asked me.

Dammit. I didn't want to say this. But, being on the spot and feeling the pressure I said, "Because I'm an alcoholic".

But I didn't really feel comfortable saying it. At the time, I figured it was because I was in denial. That's what everyone told me at least. And, since everyone told me, I thought they must be right.

So I stopped drinking. Entirely.

Not a drop. Thinking this would cure my problems. Make me a better person.

But it didn't. The only thing that happened was that my friends ostracized me. The same people who convinced me to stop drinking because they cared so much about me ... now completely avoided me. I became a pariah to them.

I understand now why they did that. And I'm not angry. I had confused "drinking" friends with "real" friends. Drinking friends are the people who will order your shots, dance on tables with you, and stay up until 2 am getting trashed out of their mind with you.

Real friends are the ones who will be there in the morning when you're throwing up in the toilet.

Or better yet, real friends wouldn't let you drink that much in the first place. They care about *you* more than having a good time.

Real friends are there even when the tequila isn't.

I was really young then. I hadn't made this distinction yet. I wouldn't realize this until several years later.

Anyway, the drinking stopped. Only to be replaced by drugs. Or, if it wasn't drugs, it was something else.

I started to notice a pattern here ... and actually went to a drug and alcohol counselor. At our first - and last - visit I told him that I didn't think substances were my problem. I think they were tools for my self destruction. That, if they weren't there, I would find something else to hurt me. Take away the alcohol, I'd use drugs. Take away the drugs, I'd stop eating. Take away the food, well ... I'd be dead which I think, subconsciously, was my goal anyway. I just didn't have the balls to do the job right.

Treating my substance abuse wasn't the answer here ... because substances weren't the problem. It would be like holding a rope responsible for hanging a man. It's just what I used to get the job done.

He, like the others, said I was in denial. I couldn't accept the fact that I could never drink again. I wanted to make up excuses.

He yelled at me and told me to come back when I decided to accept my alcoholism.

I never came back.

But I did go to the university library. I began to research what it meant to be an alcoholic. What drove people to drink. What were the most effective programs to help them stop.

I knew that there was more to this than simply stopping drinking. It was like putting a bandaid on a gaping hole in the chest ... you underestimate the extent of the problem. You're treating a symptom of the real issue ... not the problem itself.

I found out that AA really isn't that effective. It has a very high failure rate. I think the reason for this is because we treat the physical addiction while ignoring the emotional addiction. It's considered a success if you don't drink ... but what happens if you transfer your addiction to something else? Now instead of drinking you smoke six packs a day, work eighty hours a week, or eat until your body starts to resemble a small hot air balloon.

Are you any better off?

Before I was able to drink normally or live properly, I needed to address the gaping wound in my chest, so to speak. Needed to figure out why I felt so empty. Needed to realize that nothing I put into my body would fill up the hole in my soul. Only I could do that. Only I could make myself whole again.

But I digress. I bring all this up because I wanted to show someone that I know what's she's going through. I mean, I know the best that I can from my own experiences.

It's a lonely and dark road to travel down ... littered with broken friendships, nights crying yourself to sleep, and days when you think you'll never feel better.

But I'm here to tell you that the friends that leave you - weren't really your friends anyway ... and you're much better off. The friends you make now are the ones who will stand the test of time.

And, although you may cry yourself to sleep , it's only temporary. Trust me. You won't always feel this way. For now, as weird as it sounds, embrace this moment. Scream as loud as you can at the top of your lungs. Cry until you can't cry anymore. Believe me, having been there, it really does make you feel better.

Lastly, brighter times are ahead. Even after the blackest of night, the sun always rises. This is a great metaphor for life.

Hang in there ... and make sure you packed your sunglasses. When your morning comes, I have a feeling you're gonna need them.

last - next

archives - newest - email - book - profile - notes - design - diaryland