“But what about the real alcoholic? He may start off as a moderate drinker; he may or may not become a continuous hard drinker; but at some stage of his liquor consumption, once he starts to drink. Here is the fellow who has been puzzling you, especially in his lack of control. He does absurd, incredible, tragic things while drinking. He is a real Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde.” - The Big Book
So I am now 36 days sober. If you told me I was going to part with my drinking career with such ease after 14 years, I would have probably told you to go and admit yourself. Declare you crazy. I’m not interested in such words. Scoffed at sobriety. After all white wine was my baby. The hilarity of it all, is in the insanity I face at taking even a single sip. My father said to me. Four years back. One drink for you, is one too many. But I told him to fuck off. Wrote him off as no fun, to me he was a total bore. Though he was right. I look back now and wish I could have only seen this sooner. It would have saved my mothers pay cheques. Me, severe heart ache. The soft skin on my wrist, scarred, never coming back. Trips to different therapists. Who’s words would temporarily fix me. I think in total she spent half a years salary trying to save me, get down to the bottom of it. Was I truly a lost cause? Rotten to the core?
You’ve read probably numerous times now. My final demise. I lost the only lover, I ever truly loved. That is what opened my eyes. Forced me through that door. Though this journey is for me, only me. Never him. You see. I don’t understand how I have been so blind. My only true problems have been upon getting to the bottom of the bottle. Sober – I am kind, in control, loving, in love with life and put others needs before my very own. Drunk – I am insecure, angry, volatile, sometimes violent, always suicidal. Though it is always deflection of me hating myself. I had put all my focus into his drinking problems, the shakes, the never ending bottles of wine, the drinking every day. I hadn’t realised what it was that classed you as an alcoholic. I would have never, even dreamed of classing myself as that. I don’t drink in the mornings, I don’t drink every day. I certainly do not have the shakes. Yet alcohol has always and forever bought me to my knees. I’ve always known it to be a problem but I will bow down to it, albeit unwillingly. Towards the end we discussed getting sober. A month, a week, never. It was all over. You see king alcohol won over his disciple. I’ve lost him. I’ve been gaslighted. Apparently, I am the crazy one. For wanting to get sober nonetheless. For realising that it was alcohol that caused the mess. At the heart of it we were very happy. Talking regularly of a beautiful life. But he drowned it out. Onto his next drink ticket. He can block me out whilst being merry. He’ll discuss it over bottles of wine with his mother. Slander me. I only ever got answers from his brother. Who blamed me for the drinking. Yet where was I? When he was smoking brown? I wasn’t in his life. I wasn’t even in the same town. Trying to save someone, who won’t save themselves, has been my greatest mistake. Forgetting my life is my own journey. My path is not the same as his to take.
So I sat there. In this about-to-collapse plastic chair. Removing all the split ends from my hair. One by one. Determined to ensure by the end of this hour and a half they were all gone. ‘It’s her first ever time’. I was fresh meat. Though greeted with such love and care. ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’. ‘I am not an alcoholic. Just someone who hates their life. At my wits end. Full of despair’ ‘Listen to the similarities. Not the differences’. And so it began. Then the woman giving the chair spoke. Something in me lifted. With her story. Something in me began to resonate. ‘I am not fucking crazy’. ‘It is the drink that takes me there’. I inhaled every share. As if I was living it. Then all the memories came rushing back. It was almost too much to bare. When I left. My mother held me. I cried into her arms. Just like a baby. I couldn’t sleep that night. My brain was wired. I turned to my mother. ‘It all makes sense now. I no longer have to be a liar’. At first it scared me. Having to admit. Then it became easy. The results were speaking for themselves. Now it is so loud. It is almost deafening. I’ve finished my Step 1. I've admitted that I am powerless over alcohol. Here comes the reckoning. A lot of my friends don’t understand. ‘You’ll be able to drink again one day. Don’t worry’. Though I won’t. I am powerless over alcohol. To have that first sip. Would be to sell my soul. For the first time in my adult life. I feel somewhat in control. That is the beauty of this programme and it would be insanity to stop this progression. I’ll continue my path to sobriety. Till my bones get tired and my skin grows old. You will forever remain my lover, that I no longer have to love.