The Gobshites were back up at the Blackthorne again for Memorial Day weekend, and by most accounts, it was another good time. I'm getting a lot of details second hand because, although I was there, I was pretty much blackout drunk for most of the weekend. This is a very painful thing for me to admit, maybe the most painful thing I've ever had to face. But here it is: I'm an alcoholic. It's not like I haven't seen the signs before, but this weekend showed me, through probably one of the most humiliating experiences I have ever had, that I finally need to face the facts and take action. I embarrassed myself, I embarrassed my friends, and I caused undue worry and concern for people who should have been spending their time enjoying each other's company and the long weekend.
Depression, ADHD, Co-Dependency, and whatever other issues I have are generally seen as being caused by external influences, be they learned behaviors or chemical imbalances or whatever. Alcoholism can only really be caused by one thing: Picking up a drink. There are studies that link family members and DNA and predispositions, but that only measures the potential for someone to develop a drinking problem. Predispositions mean nothing if you avoid alcohol altogether. As I mentioned in a previous post, I made a decision in college to stop drinking, which I did for quite a few years. I saw myself heading down a very dark path, and I caught it early enough to do something. After a while, when I thought it was safe, I decided to begin moderately consuming. And that worked, for a time.
This time around, I saw the signs plenty. I knew where I was headed. And I just didn't care. I wanted the numbness and the escape. I wanted to completely withdraw from my worries and sadness and disappointments. There are plenty of safe, healthy ways I could have dealt with my issues, but I took the easy way out, no doubt about it. For months now, I've repeated the completely delusional mantra to myself: "Okay, tonight I'm gonna keep it in check. Only two or three this time." Of course, anyone who has seen this before knows that "This Time" is never going to happen. Denial is a bad bad thing.
In addition to family history, research shows that people who have had gastric bypass surgery also have a higher risk of addiction than the general population. So I've got that going for me too. The thing is, even with those factors, it did seem like I was in control of it for a time. I really couldn't tell you what the turning point was, or when. But at some point, I crossed an invisible line between social drinker and problem drinker. I know other people could see it, because they said things to me. But I didn't listen. I was sure I could get it back in control.
Well I couldn't, and I'll never be able to. This is not self-pity, it is a realization of a cold, hard truth. I am an alcoholic, and I can't drink any more. I may have been in a high risk group or two, but I chose to take the risk, and I lost. And all of the rationalization I've been doing means jack shit. I'm solely responsible for where I ended up with alcohol. I hear the term "abusing alcohol" a lot. I don't believe there's any such thing. Alcohol doesn't have feelings, you can't hurt it. You can only hurt yourself. And those who love you.
And to those who love me, believe me when I say I get it now and I'm sorry, and I hope you stick with me.
Time to go meet Bill W...
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