bottom

When I was drinking, I rationalized my behavior and actions by telling myself, "I'll quit once I hit bottom." That's how in denial I was. I was admitting I had a problem, but still enabling myself to drink by saying the above.

I'm here with this post to tell my story. I do not follow AA formally. I've never been able to share offline at a meeting. Before I tell it, let me note that bottom is relative. I've read about some hard cases—people that have a choice to either stop drinking or die. They've gotten sober, picked themselves up and rebuilt their lives from seemingly nothing. I respect them. You most likely will not categorize me as being a hard case. But keep in mind, bottom is relative. This is my bottom. It is not better or worse, just different.

"My name is Lost One and I am an alcoholic. It has been one year since my last drink."

This post celebrates a year of sobriety. Mine. My anniversary is Tuesday, October 29.

October 2001 was a busy month socially. Our daughter was six months old and, for the first time since her birth, we were finally starting to get out again. On October 21st we attended a friend's wedding. I blacked out upon returning home from the wedding reception.

I've blacked out plenty of times before. Usually I would realize I'd done something stupid while in a blackout once my wife woke up the next morning. She had to tell me what I'd done.

For whatever reason, I dodged the bullet again and nothing happened after the wedding reception. We came home and I just went right to bed. October 28th, we went to a friend's annual Halloween party. Our daughter was at a sitter the weekend prior, so my wife brought her with us (in costume). My wife and daughter then left early so daughter could go to bed on time. This left me at the party alone with a friend giving me a ride home.

As I walked wife and daughter to the car that night, I will never forget her looking at me and warning me to "be careful." She knew she was essentially leaving me with an unlimited supply of beer. I assured her I would be careful, but had no clue how much I was lying to her at the time.

That evening I drank to my heart's content. The beers went down like water. I also smoked some pot. Back in college, I could smoke pot, drink beer and still function. I could no longer handle the combination.

I really only remember flashes of the evening as my blackout set in. The memories almost feel like an out of body experience. I partied along with everyone in costume. My friends note, in hindsight, they could tell I'd had too much to drink—but they'd seen me like this before.

At the late end of a long evening, my friend took me home and dropped me off. I vaguely recall being in my driveway and in his car. But I do not remember getting into the house. My friend told me he advised me to "be good" and head straight to bed.

Evidently I entered the house through the back door. After my wife heard something downstairs, she came into the kitchen to find me pissing on the floor.

Sadly, this has happened to me more than a half dozen times in the past. Everyone always thought it was funny and I always rationalized that it was a rare occurrence. Translation: not a big deal.

My wife put me to bed in the guest bedroom. She was tired of this behavior—understandably. She later heard me getting up from bed and came into the bedroom to find me pissing on the bedroom floor as well. After that, I slept through the night. I had no recollection of the night's ending when I woke up that morning. I knew I'd done something wrong since I was not in our bed.

My wife came into the room and proceeded to tell me what had happened. She was in tears and told me she could not live like this anymore. When this happened in the past, I always promised it was an isolated incident and I'd be careful to ensure it did not happen again. Now our daughter was in the picture as well. She had not witnessed my actions this time. But who was to say if she would not see me do something like this in the future?

Here I was, hung over, bracing for this discussion for the umpteenth time, feeling the pit of my stomach drop and FINALLY it hit me. "My wife is being directly impacted by my drinking. My daughter is next in line. I AM an alcoholic." There was no more denying it. I had hit bottom.

I told my wife I was an alcoholic. She agreed with me. A rush of relief surged over me upon admitting it to myself and telling my wife I was quitting.

Some friends were tougher to convince. They assumed ONE incident was driving my decision. Once I told them the whole story of my habit, they realized it was merely a catalyst.

I used to stop on the way home from work and buy a 22oz beer to drink—enroute while driving home (about a half hour drive). This was a precaution to ensure I got enough to drink. My wife was concerned I was drinking too much during the week—this helped avoid it. I'm 6'2" and, at the time, was pushing 250 lbs. It never occurred to me that drinking and driving was not only illegal, it was dangerous. How I never got a DUI while drinking is beyond me.

I was always the one wanting to drink. I had a beer huggie, bottle opener and a sleeve of cups in my office at work. We used to have beer bashes at work, so I never thought having all of these props were a little extreme. Work was often an excuse to drink. When working late or coming in on the weekends to work, I'd head out and buy a six-pack. This also made pissing while NOT in a black out a problem. Many times while heading home for the evening I was forced to stop somewhere to make a rest stop.

Those are just two other examples of how drinking was controlling my life. It took me pissing everywhere in my house BUT the toilet to hit bottom. But I finally got there. Then, in rolled the pink clouds. One year later, what have I learned? Plenty.

I am not an island. My feelings are not facts I have to act on. My feelings are something I want to feel and deal with now. My relationship with myself and with my wife has improved vastly. I have a better idea of who in the hell I am. A friend pointed out to me that I realized I was sober on Halloween—perhaps I was finally taking off my mask? My alcoholism is part of my identity. Prior to this I hid as much as I could from myself by drinking.

You can read about what else I've learned throughout this site. Why did I name it after a shitty tv show? At the time, I thought it sounded cool. But maybe I thought I was going to be talking about where I felt I was when I was drinking.

Thank you for being a part of my recovery. Here's to what's next...that will be chronicled here too. It never gets easier to stay sober. But you can be sure I'll be bitching, moaning and sharing here all about that one day at a time. Here's to today. Here's to us!