Twenty-seven years ago today I checked into treatment for my alcoholism and addictions to other drugs. It was a terrific relief.
I’d known for a long time that I was an alcoholic. I was totally unaware of AA’s existence, and that there was an effective treatment for addictive disease. In truth, I couldn’t have been entirely unaware, because I’d been dealing with drunks and addicts for years as a police officer. It had simply managed to escape me that AA and other programs were anything other than a place to dump problems that turned up back on the street later anyway.
By the time my boss more-or-less forced me into treatment, I’d had most of the jackpots: divorce, foreclosures, evictions, loss of other people’s money as well as tons of my own, estrangement from relatives — all the fun things that we addicts collect along the way to perdition. My denial about my surface problems was pretty weak, and it didn’t take much for me to become accepting about treatment, then hopeful, and then enthusiastic. I ended up damned grateful to the Chief of Police and whoever advised him about how he should deal with his relatively high-ranking and increasingly visible problem.
So I got sober, haven’t had a drink or used since, and became a credit to my mother, my school, my family, my country and all that stuff. I worked in the recovery field. I talked recovery. I even became a bit of a recovery guru, writing about addiction on my own and for treatment facilities that needed a down-to-earth approach to some of their material. But, to a great degree, I was a fraud, and I didn’t even know it myself.
Secondary addictions and replacement addictions are so common in recovery that it’s easy to blow them off with a “Well, at least I’m not drinking or drugging (or whatever!), and many of our 12-step fellowships don’t help, some even refusing to talk about so-called “outside issues”. (Personally, I find it impossible to understand how any issue related to any kind of sobriety is an outside issue, but…there it is.)
Some old timers (and newcomers) might not like to think about it, but Bill W., although he helped save countless lives, families and so forth, was quite open about the need for addressing other issues when necessary. Unfortunately, even as open-minded as he was, he failed to practice what he preached and suffered from an untreated nicotine addiction that ended up killing him.
Alcoholics and other addicts are people who have difficulty facing life on life’s terms. We all know that in our heads, but too often it fails to make it into our hearts. Our members, while “sober” in a technical sense based on AA’s “singleness of purpose”, are no different than any other addicts. We are prone to having or developing other addictions that help us hide from the issues that caused us to want to turn off our brains to begin with. All of that stuff is scary, and we’re masters of avoidance and denial. Enough said about that.
In my own case getting sober was pretty much a walk in the park, to the point that I was almost embarrassed about it. There was a simple reason for that: I wasn’t really sober. I was abstinent from alcohol and other drugs. I gave lip service to recovery. I even thought I was in recovery, but I had held on to a process addiction that has been a part of me for many years longer than my chemical addictions. I simply accelerated the other addiction, and hardly even noticed the loss of the alcohol and drugs.
And I was totally unaware of what I was doing. I saw no connection between my behavior and addiction, so, of course, I failed to mention it on any number of occasions (including my 4th Step) where it might have been addressed. So I continued on my way, oblivious for many years of the fact that my addiction was pretty much stifling my recovery. Hell, I’d even quit smoking, hadn’t I? I was sober, dude, and I didn’t let you forget it.
About five or six years ago I began to realize I had issues. Already thoroughly enmeshed, I managed to mostly ignore the signs that were popping up all around me: things not accomplished, complaints from family about my attitudes and behavior, and many others. Eventually, my issues were brought to my attention in a manner I couldn’t ignore, and it became clear that I needed to start dealing with them not immediately, but instantly.
As a direct result, I lost work, a lot of money, the respect of my wife of (at that time) 32 years, and a huge chunk of denial. I began attending another fellowship, found a therapist, and started the first real battle of my life.
And, like any good addict, I started trying to do it my way again. After about six months, it became clear that I wasn’t progressing much, and I sought treatment — thirty-three years after I (supposedly) first got clean and sober, and technically without relapsing, as I was still abstinent from alcohol and other drugs!
Treatment wasn’t a magic bullet, but it did create a tiny bit of humility. I’ve been nurturing the humility, listening to other folks, and using the tools of recovery: reading, meditation, phone calls, building a support system and using it. I hit plenty of meetings, have gotten a sponsor and I’m really working on the steps. I seem to be getting better, slowly.
Other stuff’s getting better too. My marriage, now in its 36th year, is better than it has ever been. My relationships with other people are real because I’m no longer afraid to let them know who I really am. People seek me out because — I guess they want what I have! Lord knows what that is, but I seem to have them fooled. Or maybe I just can’t believe yet that I’m becoming the person I always wanted to be.
Anyway, I’m grateful for everything that got me where I am today. I’m sorry that I had to drag anyone else through the mud along with me. Hopefully, they gained from it too. That’s none of my business, and I’m still sorry. My business is trying to live the Steps in my life, especially Steps Ten and Eleven. I try to remember always that I’m just another bozo…crawling out from under the bus.
If I have a message, it’s this: don’t fool yourself like I did. You’re not really sober until you’re really sober, and “it ain’t over ‘til it’s over”. Don’t wait to hear any ladies sing — plump or otherwise.