Sanity and Sobriety, Pride of Purpose: Reflections on a Year Past

Step #1:  DONE. Today marks one full year on my quest to stop drinking, and I could not be happier or more proud of myself than I am right now as I sit and type these words. I have spent the last few weeks sorta collecting my thought into a pool with a singular purpose: To reaffirm belief in myself and my progress. You may have thought I would write this as part of a healing process. Nope, this is a purely selfish act on my part. It is about me, what I have accomplished and the future. Sure, there all kinds of people in my support group that deserve credit; they will be acknowledged.

Why did I stop drinking, BAM!, just like that? Doctor's orders? Blew'em off. Family pleas? Nope, weren't there and I would've blown them off also. Wanted to stay alive long enough to see my grtandkids? Didn't care. Time to set a good example for my grown boys? Nah, I would've done that long ago. So, why did I stop? Pretty simple, really: I wanted to. I was tired of "having the flu". It seemd like a never-ending mountain that I chose as my task. How does someone go from a GALLON of vodka every other day, to not an ounce, semmingly overnight? I'll tell you, it was harder than I would have ever imagined, but it had an easy flow along beside it.

When my trek first began, I knew my support group would back me up, but in essence they were worthless. I don't mean that in a horrible way. It is just that if I wanted to drink, I would have. Plain truth. I promised no one nothing, except myself. This project was mine and mine alone. No Alcoholics Anonymous, no rehab centers in the mountains of Colorado, no warm, steamy weather of Florida. The last thing I wanted to do was try and recover while listening to all the horror stories you hear at AA meetings, or the reasons why I was an alcoholic from the doctors at a rehab facility. Those places would have sent me back to drink faster than a luge run at the Olympics. I made myself a promise, and I was gonna do it on my own terms. I'm 48 years old. I didn't need a doctor who only drinks decaf or diet soda to tell me what alcohol does to my system. I knew what it was doing to me, and I finally chose to stop. And I didn't need a bunch of people just like me to tell me what alcohol did to their lives. I knew. It was my life, after all. I screwed it up, and I was bound and determined to fix it, by myself.

As an alcoholic, you lose all manner of trust and respect among your circle of friends. Damned if I wasn't going to get that back. My spouse never knews the bounds of my situation. I came clean with her. I told her exactly where I hid the bottles. I 'fessed up that I drank more each day than (I thought)  she knew (she knew). Every time I spoke or visited with my parents, they couldn't understand a single word I said. I couldn't hold a semi-intelligent with any of my cats, for cryin' out loud. They would go to Momma and say "What the hell did that mean?". I missed out on a whole lot of things from the age of 17 to 47. Alcohol was a major factor in the disengration of my first marriage, and I'm surprised it didn't contribute to the demise of my current marriage.

I never set out to prove whether or not alcohol is a disease, a learned behavior, or a chosen lifestyle, but my view on that was inevitable. I firmly believe it is one part of each, in varying degrees. The disease part of the equation is the least; it is a by-product of the other two. Learned behavior is the primary culprit. My maternal granfather and 3 uncles closest to me all drank to excess. It killed my Uncle Gary, my mom's youngest brother. According to my Dad, his Father was known to pour down a few, but I never really knew him, let alone see him drink. Alcohol was always a part of family gatherings, so I learned about alcohol. But, who where the primary teachers? The parents of my friends growing up. Alcohol was always prevalent in certain households, and it was so cool to go back to school on Monday and tell your peers that you spent all day Sunday puking your guts out. I was stylin', yes sir. So I learned about alcohol from my family, but I learned how to drink to excess from childhood friends and their parents. Alcohol took the life of my best friend, his only sibling and their parents, as I would find out later in life.

After I joined the military, things got worse. Compared to today's standards, there was a very high tolerance for drinking among the troops. In fact, sometimes it seemed like you had to, just like high school. I never smoked a cigarette until I enlisted in basic training,  and the reason was simple: If you smoked, you got a 5 minute break during your studies to "light 'em up". So I started smoking to get outside. That simple. After all that, the learned behavior became a chosen lifestyle.

I went to church as a teen with my family, and one thing they continually taught was free agency. Each human being has the power to make their own decisions. So, my choice was to drink or not to drink, and I chose the former. Little did I know what evil I had awakened. As a single man trawling the world with the United States military, things started to get out of control. After I got married, I knew my wild ways would disappear (insert big stupid laugh here). They only went into hibernation. When it awoke, it was hungry. I retired and went to school, where I had way too much time on my hands, and so I filled the time and empty hands with a bottle. It didn't matter which bottle was in which hand, as long as they were together. Again, a chosen lifestyle. My middle son doesn't drink, but my two other boys do. The oldest is not my biological child, but he is my son nonetheless. How can someone tell me it's "in your genes", when Darin does not have my genes? It is because he learned it from me, as did my youngest son Travis. The chose their lifestyle based on my example. On the other hand, Steven chose a lifestyle that was far different than what he could have inherited from me. Rarely drinks, but I proudly tell anyone within earshot that he is serving his country as his Father did.

Alcoholism is not a disease, it is a learned behavior, and a person chooses to maintain that behavior, until they die or change. I don't know if my support group knew that, but I figured it out rather quickly. You can't fix a disease, completely, but you can change behavior. That is what I chose to do, and I am so much healthier, happier, and confident in my life right now. I show my peacock feathers when someone asks why I choose to not drink any longer. If they want to hear it, I gladly tell them, and I know my pride-in-self and confidence shows through like a sheer curtain. And that's OK. I will not lecture, or describe the "sins" of drinking. They should know, if they are asking. Surprisingly, most listen intently (yes, they do; I would know if they were just placating me), and they profess good wishes and good luck on my continuing journey. That, right there, is a major reason I am able to continue to do well. Pride.

When a project this immense goes into effect, a support system  is essential. Mine consisted of my spouse, my family, all my friends and my former spouse. Just the fact that I knew they were there provided a comfort level I had never had before. I knew they would come running if I started to falter, and in a weird way that made it easier. Not only did I not want to break a promise I made to myself, but people were rooting for me to succeed. It made me that much more determined. And, boy, have I reaped the benefits. I can hold intelligent conversations again, I make sense, I don't mumble my vocabulary. I was once an intelligent person, only fogged out by alcohol. Now that the fog has dissipated, things got scary for awhile. Much of my memory is gone because of an unrelated illness. But the memories I have retained are very unsightly. I will not discuss these things. Just believe me when I say that they aren't nice.

Back to the essential support group. I was so mad at them at first. Why didn't someone shake the crap out of me and yell STOP! Norman, you're killing yourself? Why was I enabled by certain factions around me? Where in the hell were they? One single person actually confronted me. My former spouse, Tami, told me to choose between her and my three young boys, or the bottle. I grabbed the bottle and ran as fast as I could. Left my boys behind, growing up without me. Some things in life you do are so freaking horrible that you don't even want to acknowledge that you were responsible for a crime like that. I was responsible. Later on in my downward spiral, loved ones from my Ma, Dr. Kawachi (primary care doctor), numerous emergency room doctor's and my spouse, Nickie, tried to talk to me about my situation. All to no avail. See, I knew I had no problem, but they sure had one. Leave me alone, I'm fine, I would manage to mumble out. Mind your own business. I am not throwing blame around. After all, what could they do? I had already ignored one ominous warning. Why would I heed another, that didn't have my children at stake?

At last, I chose the one thing that mattered: my heart. I pulled up my britches, rolled up my sleeves and went to work on fixing ME. Do not get the wrong impression, please. I am not, by any means, fixed. But I am repairing myself. It is imperative that I view my situation as a lifelong repair job. I simply cannot afford to let my guard down, for even a split second. I am well aware of that, and I accept  that. At times, it becomes physically and mentally exhausting. Over the past year, there have been a few situations that have arisen that if I had chosen to have a drink no one would have said a thing, just because of the gravity of the issue. But I came to know one important truth: If I had just one drink, I would have had 21 drinks. No thanks.

For all those who provided support this past year, no measure of thanks is appropriate. It is immeasureable. This group was not particularly visible or vocal, but they were strong for me. I could feel the strenth that enveloped me. To all those I have hurt, embarassed or humiliated in years past, my profound and sincere apologies. I am in love with the new and improved Norman. I hope you are, also. Today, I celebrate my first birthday. My best gift on this day is the pride my Father now has for me. I am his son, and he will tell everybody. That is one gift I can't wait to unwrap next year.