Death or Relapse

Today I turned 20.

Not 20 years old - 20 years sober.

20 years ago I hit bottom and dragged myself into my first AA meeting. Scariest thing I've ever done. 

I had always been able to quit drinking for "short spurts." Whenever I felt I had lost control, I would hang up the bottle for 30 days (Note: If you find yourself having to do this, just remember, normal drinkers, aka "normies" or "non alcoholics", have no need for such action... ever.). My logic was that if I could quit for a month, I could quit forever, therefore I wasn't an alcoholic (Another Note: if you think this is true of your drinking, you're already well into your addiction).

In June of 2003, I had the last of such attempts. The difference this time around: I couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put the bottle down, even for one day. No more denial, I needed help.

I cracked open the phone book (we had internet, so I'm not sure why I grabbed the phone book) and found the number for the AA Hotline. The person on the other end informed me of a "New Comers" meeting that night, just a few miles from my home.

I'll never forget driving driving around the corner and seeing all the people crowded around the front door of the hall, engulfed in a plume of gray cigarette smoke. I didn't know you had to arrive early to save a seat, so I wound up in the back, in the section of the hall that the regulars affectionately referred to as "death row."

I don't remember much from that meeting. I remember it was hot - June in Southern California with no AC - it was crowded, and these people were strange. All I wanted to do was get out of there and climb back into a bottle.

The other thing I clearly remember were the chips -- 30 day chips to be specific. I'm sure people took 60, 90, and 6 month chips that night, but I don't recall those... I remember the 30 day chips. 

"I've done 30 days before," I thought. "If they can do it, I can do it."

Then I went home and promptly got drunk. 

But a funny thing happened for the first time in my drinking career -- It didn't work. That single meeting put just enough Program into my head to ruin my drinking! I was disgusted with myself. I had done the hardest thing in my life by walking into that meeting to ask for help and here I was, back where I started, with a bottle in my hand.

The next day, I went back to that AA Hall. The date was June 6 -- my sobriety date.

It's not been a perfect two decades. I've made a lot of mistakes and regrettable decisions. I've had to apologize over and over again for boneheaded plays both in and out of sobriety; shame has become a familiar foe on my winding journey through the minefield of life. 

If given the chance, would I want to go back and do it over? Correct those missteps? Nah, falling down is how we learn -- To erase my past mistakes would be to erase my current wisdom.

Yet, as I look back over the last two decades, it occurs to me that everyone who helped me in my early years, everyone who showed me how to stand on my new (wobbly) recovery legs, all the people who I looked up to as pillars of sobriety, with few exceptions, are all dead or relapsed. The names rush back to me... Cowboy Larry, Hotrod Dan, Old Man Dan, Keats, Réal, Brock, Clint, Gabe, Derek, Tom, etc. etc. etc.... those who were key to me in my early sobriety are all now absent from the rooms for one reason or another. Gone. Only the memories of them remain.

Not me. I'm here. 20 years. Who knew? Volumes could be written...

To quote Cat Stevens, "Look at me, I am old but I am happy."

Happy Birthday to me.