My cousin, we'll call him Tom, called me one Monday morning several weeks ago and said, "Well, Rick's in the hospital again." I asked him what happened this time and he said that Rick ran out of booze and the withdrawals were so bad that he called an ambulance. This was like the 10th time it's happened to my cousin's brother-in-law in the past 12 months. It's really sad to watch someone drink themselves to death.
My cousin Tom and I talked a little more and then he told me the story of how Rick ended up where he was. It was a long, slow, progressive road that landed him in that pit. It wasn't long into the story that I realized, Rick's story was the same as mine, but I wasn't as far down the tracks -- yet.
He said Rick started drinking in his early 20's because he wasn't happy with how his life was working out. And a few years after drinking on a regular basis, he started to have trouble with anxiety. Paralyzing anxiety. Fear of driving, fear of crowds, fear of being alone, fear of dying... etc. The only way Rick knew how to silence the fears was to drink some more. But even though it pushed back the fear for a night, it fed the army of anxiousness and that army waged war on him each following morning -- even stronger than the day before. The only way he knew to fight back was to drink even more. It's a viscous cycle. And over 20 years, Rick had progressed from drinking a few beers a night to drinking a 5th of vodka a day and taking sleeping pills to boot.
I hung up the phone with my cousin and couldn't stop thinking about Rick and the track he was on. It leads to nowhere -- at least nowhere good. And, I realized, I was on that same track... just a few miles behind.
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I started drinking beer to drowned my sorrows in the midst of a failing professional baseball career. I couldn't understand why the better I played, the harder the organization made it seem for me to succeed. Sometimes after pitching a great game, they would put me o the disabled list for no reason and I wouldn't get to suit up for a game for over two weeks. It really bothered me. My teammates would take me out to get drinks to "help me" deal with my sorrows.
Then I got married to the love of my life. And surprisingly, it wasn't the fairy tale bliss that I always imagined marriage would be. So I started drinking some more to deal with my unmet expectations and disappointment. After about 5 years of drinking on a regular basis, I started having anxiety. For no apparent reason. Though looking back now, I can see how the more I drank, the more anxiety I had.
All this time though, I was a great closet, functional alcoholic. I never drove after drinking, I never missed my kid's sporting events, I never missed work, and never missed church. I hid the fact that I drank as a habit from everyone who knew me. People close to me knew I drank beer from time to time but nobody other than my wife had any idea how much or how often I actually drank. I wasn't interested in getting drunk or partying by this time in my life, I just wanted to drown out my disappointments and silence my anxious thoughts. And it worked. When I drank I was care free and fearless. It was only when I was completely sober that I was depressed and scared out of my mind. But I knew how to fix that, start drinking.
A little over 3 years ago, my wife and I had our 4th child. Our third daughter. 8 Weeks after she was born, we learned she had a life threatening liver disease. Talk about throwing fuel on the fire of someone who is struggling to be happy, fearful, and riddled with anxiety. This took a big toll on me. Two years in and out of hospitals, long stays in the Ronald McDonald House, and the realization that we would probably have to file bankruptcy and lose our home of 10 years only gave me more reason to drown my sorrows in the bottom of beer cans. I thought it helped me worry less. I thought it calmed my fears. I thought I was happier. I wasn't. What I used as a cure only made things worse.
--
I couldn't stop playing the story of Rick's life over an over in my head as I tried to make a sandwich the day my cousin called me. I felt under attack by anxiety and I had to sit down because I was lightheaded and worried I would pass out in the kitchen. That worry wasn't unusual in itself as after years of drinking, I never felt good physically -- which only fed my anxiety even more. Usually, I would start drinking to calm my mind and to try to make myself feel better. But as I continued to think about Rick, and the track he took to get him where he was, I couldn't help but realize I was on that same track, and this train was heading to a bad place where I didn't want to go, and I needed to get off. Now.
During most of my "drinking career" I never really considered myself an alcoholic. I mean, I functioned in life normally. I had a house, a wife, kids, a job, never in trouble with the law, a faithful church goer, a youth sports coach... etc. I never showed up to functions under the influence, never missed work or important dates because of drinking, I thought I had it under control. Other than being anxious and not feeling so well physically, nobody in the outside world could even tell I had a problem. But over the last several years, I started to really think I might be an alcoholic. I mean, when you start hiding empty beer cans instead of throwing them away so that your wife wouldn't realize you had drank so much that week, or when you refill the same case of beer with a few cans before regular company comes over so they won't know you had emptied the whole case since their last visit, or when you start rotating which gas station you visit to buy beer so that the cashiers won't think you have a drinking problem... you might have a drinking problem.
And the day my cousin told me my own story via Rick's story, I decided enough is enough. I had to get off this train before it got any further down its tracks. I called my cousin back and told him the truth about my drinking. He suggested I go to A.A. and at first I resisted the idea. I told him I would work on it on my own and if that didn't work out I would consider A.A. After thinking about it for a while, I decided he was right and if I was going to be serious about getting off the crazy train, I needed to be willing to have some accountability. So, I called my cousin back and asked if he would drive me to a meeting that night. That may sound crazy but I was scared. I couldn't remember a life without beer and the sheer thought of it had sent my anxiety into overdrive. Thankfully my cousin was happy to support me and drove me to my first meeting. And I am so thankful he did.
I haven't had a drink in several weeks now and I've gone to A.A. meetings daily. What an incredible support system they have. It's so encouraging to see people living their best life now, without alcohol. I knew form the first meeting that I wanted what they had -- peace, joy, and sincere happiness. And they have all that without alcohol. So far, I feel great. I feel healthier physically and mentally than I have felt in a very long time. I've lost 12 pounds and haven't had any issues with anxiety in weeks! I like the way I feel right now.
I can't say I will never drink again, but I won't drink today. And tomorrow when I wake up, I pray God gives me the strength to make the same choice tomorrow. I will choose to walk the high road, one day at a time, with God at my side instead of riding the train to nowhere with a bottle in my hand.
God bless.
I'm Just Clay