I have a little tradition with this space. Around October 1, I usually pull up a chair and get real with you about my life as an alcoholic.
This year’s early October column belongs to our editor-in-chief and Central Florida bureau chief, however, so consider this my annual check-in — just arriving fashionably early an issue ahead.
I used to drink a lot and I loved it. My friends and I would joke that we were drunks, not alcoholics, because alcoholics went to meetings. We were kidding, mostly, but we understood we drank our faces off. It was normal to us.
I definitely had a visual in mind of what an alcoholic looked like. Thanks, Nancy Reagan, and your “just say no” campaign. I didn’t see myself as fitting that description. My life was normal.
I did go out drinking most nights. I would black out from time to time, and then progressively every night I drank, but that was normal. I showed up to my house once bleeding from my face with my shirt and shoes in my hand, unable to recall what happened the next day, but I didn’t think anything of it.
If I felt I was going out too much, I would take a break for a week and detox. Would I be able to do that if I were an alcoholic? I didn’t think so. I’d switch to drinking the lightest beer possible to try and control the drinking and I was able to, so no problem there. Although it meant I just drank more beers.
I would say to myself, “You are only going to have three drinks tonight!” Spoiler alert: it was never three. Again, I didn’t think anything of it. It was just my normal routine.
I started showing up late to work, more often and later in the day. One time I no-call no-showed without a care in the world. When I woke up around 3 p.m., I just got dressed and went back to the bar. I was fine.
My predecessor asked me the following workday if I thought I was an alcoholic, to which I replied, “No! Sometimes I just can’t stop drinking, but it’s not like I wake up and have to have a drink.”
Things started to change for me on Memorial Day weekend 2015. I was arrested at 3:30 a.m. after 12 hours of drinking. I was embarrassed more than anything, but this kind of thing was common among my crowd, so I wasn’t too concerned that I had a problem.
The DMV and courts required I check a few self-help boxes before they let me drive again. The first was what is commonly called DUI school. I knew they randomly tested during these classes, so I planned them around my drinking schedule. Usually heading to the bar right after class.
Then I had to have an interview with someone who would decide how much counseling I would need. I found myself lying at every question. I lied about how much I drank, about how much others in my family drank. I started to see the cracks in my thinking.
They required I go to a 12-step meeting. I was petrified, so much so that I asked a friend to go with me. I walked into that meeting knowing I wasn’t an alcoholic because of my preconceived notions.
One by one they went around the room and each person said their name, that they were an alcoholic and shared something about their alcoholism.
One person said they couldn’t stop drinking once they picked up that first drink. Another would black out all the time. Another lost their job because they were late for work all the time. Another tried to limit themselves to three drinks and failed.
Suddenly, I saw myself in all of their stories. I realized my inability to stop drinking once I started meant that I was powerless over alcohol. I walked out of that meeting knowing I was an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink since.
This October 1 will mark 10 years of sobriety for me. It’s a couple 24 hours away so let’s save the fanfare for that day, but it’s still pretty remarkable to think about. Something that seemed so impossible 10 years ago is just my new normal now. It’s just the way it is and I couldn’t be happier.
I don’t tell this story to shame drinkers, quite the opposite. I envy those who can control their drinking. My husband and his friend will have a drink at dinner and sometimes not even finish it. Savages! Of course, I jest. If you can drink responsibly, have at it! I applaud you.
I also don’t do this to gather praise. I tell it for the one person who might see themselves in my words. If you feel powerless over alcohol, there is a way out. It’s scary, but you don’t have to do it alone. Reach out for help.
Stay visible, stay strong and support each other.
