Walking in Sober Boots

Foreshadowing, circa 1992

November 28th, 2015

In the fall of 1992 I’d just declared my major in English and was taking a few literature classes as well as a 200 level poetry writing class. I wrote the following poem about my grandfather and his battle with the bottle. Little did I know that 20 years on, I’d be struggling with the same problem.

Keys Clunking

Hunched over the typewriter,
I speak to those after me
On the paper.
The breeze blows
Through the window,
Cooling the sparse room,
With its pair of beds
And that junk in the corner.
I recall the image
Of the old man over his machine
In the dining room of the old house
Where mom grew up.
A gray cardigan sweater
Draped over his body
Nearly touches the Camel, unfiltered
Cigarette burning in his ashtray.
Hints of bad whisky,
Whatever was cheep at the “sto’e”,
Mingle with the smell of smoke.
Only a drop of the poison remains
In the bottom of the shot glass
No matter how hard he tries
That final drop always dries
In the glass when the pint is empty.
In this house there’s not a sound,
Save the clunking of the keys,
Invading the silence.

— DED 1992

© @soberboots
Intention provides meaning

November 23rd, 2015

Two months ago today, I walked into the old sanctuary on the grounds of a local Presbyterian church. The worn but functional building is no longer the main place of worship and now serves as a meeting place for a variety of groups and activities. I was there for the Wake Up East meeting of AA.

I’ll never be able to fully express the sheer terror that I felt as I sat there, defeated and worn out like the floorboards of that hall that are covered in places with blue masking tape. I knew that I’d reached the end of the line. As I sat there before the meeting started I felt completely alone.

I was no longer willing to hang on to the idea that I might be able to moderate my drinking. The past several years had already proven the impossibility of that plan. I was starting to accept that reality. And still, abstinence seemed impossible.

(more…)
Escape

November 11th, 2015

I grew up in the country and spent my formative years close to the land. Everyone I knew hunted and fished. Friends lived on farms and had livestock and horses. After school and on weekends, my time was spent outside, usually with a bb gun and a pair of boots.

Farms were a big part of life. It felt like everyone had a pickup, usually with a gun rack in the window. My first jobs were on farms — bailing hay, painting barns, painting fences with creosote, splitting wood, and shoveling shit. The woman I lost my virginity to lived on a pig farm.

(more…)
I am @soberboots. I stand on my feet. I don’t crawl before anyone.

November 5th, 2015

Yesterday, after a couple of days of agonizing debates between the committee members in my head, I changed my handles on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr.

After I started posting about going to an AA meeting publicly on this blog, I began to have some misgivings. These misgivings are rooted in two things: a sense of self-protection and the debate around anonymity in recovery.

I’m really new to this and I don’t know how people will react — although the cat is out of the bag for the most part. (more…)
Surrendering to saying, “I’m an alcoholic”

October 30th, 2015

After going to that AA meeting on the 23rd of September, I decided that I needed to commit myself to sobriety. I knew that this meant getting past my angst with the first step.

We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.

See, I truly didn’t believe that I was powerless over alcohol. And I was positive that my life was not unmanageable. As I mentioned in my last post, I had not lost anything. I wasn’t “at the bottom.” I still had my wife, my house, my car, my job, my son. I had everything.

(more…)
“It’s taken a long time for me to get here”

October 28th, 2015

I haven’t written about this yet for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted to make sure that I didn’t put any artificial time limits on myself — I didn’t want to declare that I was taking a 30/60/90 day break from booze. Secondly, I wanted to see how this worked out. Finally, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. I’ve learned that I don’t have to be ashamed because I’m taking positive action to make my life better.

I’d been suffering for a long, long time and I secretly knew it was time for a change, but I couldn’t bring myself to make the change. On September 21 of this year, I woke up full of regret. The night before, I’d had several glasses of bourbon, several beers and half a bottle of wine. I didn’t count my drinks anymore, but I knew it was a lot. The recycling told the story. I was fuzzy on the details of the night before, but I knew we’d had some family over for dinner that I’d cooked and I was reasonably sure that we’d had a good time, that I hadn’t been an overt ass or hurt anyone, and I didn’t burn dinner. I may have served steak that was so rare it was blue in the middle though.

(more…)
Reflections after 31 Days without a Drink

July 26th, 2013
Update: This is a post from another blog. I migrated it to this blog because it’s an important part of my story. This was posted just over three years before I fully surrendered and accepted that I am an alcoholic.In September 2015, I began abstaining from alcohol and attending regular meetings.

When I started my alcohol fast, I was not sure that I’d make it a day or even a week – let alone 30 days. Those first few days were not easy. I struggled. The 5 o’clock routine of grabbing a drink was ingrained, and felt like it was etched in stone, but it wasn’t. With a great deal of self coaching, I got through it each day. Before I knew it, a week had gone by.

Over the past month, I’ve spent a lot of time reading and learning about alcohol as a drug, and alcoholism as a disease. The term alcoholism carries a great deal of stigma and it really shouldn’t – it is a disease that is caused by physiological and neurological responses to alcohol in a subset of the human population. There are a number of factors that are believed to contribute to alcoholism which include insufficient enzymes in the liver and brain chemistry, decreased numbers of dopamine receptors in the brain, and genetics. And yet, there is no single test that can determine whether a person is or is not an alcoholic.

When I began the exercise of a 30 day break from alcohol, I was concerned that I may be an alcoholic. I never declared that I was an alcoholic and I have not been to an AA meeting or to see any counselors on this topic – though I have discussed it in the past within the context of counseling. The truth is I really don’t know if my drinking was the result of habit or disease. I tend to think that it was habitual stemming from something other than physiological addiction. I base this on the fact that I did not have significant withdraw symptoms when I stopped drinking on June 24th.

I learned a lot about myself and my drinking:
- I learned that I didn’t have to be a slave to booze.
- I learned that I could find other things to do to relax and that not drinking gave me a feeling of liberty.
- I learned that I have a lot more patience for my 5-year-old son when I don’t have booze in my system.
- I learned that I sleep a shit-ton better without booze in my system.
- I learned that I communicate better when I’m not drinking.
- I learned that I can and do have a good time socializing with people (who may or may not be drinking) without drinking myself.
- I learned that I generally feel better without drinking.
So, here I am after 30 days (31 actually) and I’m thinking that soon I’ll be ready to test the waters. I never said I was planning to abstain forever – though the thought has crossed my mind on several occasions. I would like to be a social drinker – someone who can have a few drinks with friends over dinner and not end up as a total mess a the end of the night. I would like to limit my intake to be with the recommended number of drinks per day for a man (2–3), but I do not want to be a daily drinker.

Time will tell how this plays out. It may play out well, or it may become a problem again. If it becomes a problem again, it may be an instant problem or it may become a problem over time. I don’t know how my body will react to the drink at this point.

What I do know is that if it becomes a problem, abstinence will decidedly be on the table for consideration – and that wouldn’t be nearly as horrible as I once thought.
25 is not 30

July 20th, 2013

Having a Laugh with Schwinger
Photo by Marvin Joseph

Update: This is a post from another blog. I migrated it to this blog because it’s an important part of my story. This was posted just over three years before I fully surrendered and accepted that I am an alcoholic.

Calculations have never been my strong suit. When I announced my plan to go on a 30 day alcohol fast, I didn’t look at the calendar. Today is July 20th. Day 25. It’s also my fraternity brother’s surprise 40th birthday party with the boys.

When I first realized that I would be 5 days shy of the 30 day goal, I panicked. How the hell was I going to get together with my old crew – a crew with which I’ve got many ~~hours~~ ~~days~~ years of drinking history — without taking a drink? Early on, I discussed it with Mrs. TKD and even she said, “Maybe you should give yourself a break on that day.”

I thought about it. I admit it sounds like the wise choice. Why set myself up for failure? What would one day hurt? I’d be close to 30 days – a number that was arbitrary anyway. And I could pick it back up again on the 21st. Maybe extend an extra day to make up for it?

All of this was rationalization.

When I started this, I recognized that I’d been putting it off for a long time because there was always “the next big event” and I was stymied the Fear of Missing Out. I recognized that there will always be something on the calendar that would normally involve a drink or ~~two~~ six and that I needed to just commit.

Roundstone, by Andrew Spell

And so, I made the commitment and announced it to the world.

I’m sticking with this commitment today. While I would love to share a cold one with buddies today, or enjoy some of the fine rye whiskey I bought to commemorate my friend’s joining LONLYBNO (league of no longer young but not old), today is not the day. Today is day twenty-five.

25 is not 30.
Twenty-one

July 16th, 2013

Bottles

Update: This is a post from another blog. I migrated it to this blog because it’s an important part of my story. This was posted just over three years before I fully surrendered and accepted that I am an alcoholic.

21 days.

It’s been 21 days since I publicly resolved not to drink alcohol for 30 days. Three weeks in to the exercise and I’m feeling great. It hasn’t been without challenges, but over the past few weeks, those challenges have diminished.

Rarely do I find that I’m thinking about taking a drink at the end of the day, and when I do, it passes quickly. I haven’t had any headaches since the first week. My sleep has continued to improve. I get a full night’s sleep most nights, with only the occasional need to get up for a bathroom visit. I am finding that I wake a lot earlier on my own, because I have to pee. But I feel rested and pretty much ready to get out of bed.

I expected my weight to drop significantly. That has not happened. I suspect this is because I also kicked up my training for my MS ride at the same time. As a result, I believe I’ve dropped pounds in fat but put them back on as muscle. I’ll take muscle weight over fat any day.

I’m significantly more present and available to my family. The irritability seems to have passed. I find that I’m more in tune with Mr. Grey and communicating better with Mrs. TKD. I’m increasingly hopeful and happy about things, with a new sense of freedom.

So, I’m headed into the next week and I’ll have some decisions to make. On day one, I was pretty sure that if I made it to 30 days, I’d have a drink on day 31. Now, I’m not so sure. There’s a part of me that’s still looking forward to being able to have a beer socially, but there’s also a part of me that’s afraid of not being able to do that – not being able to keep consumption in check and throwing away several weeks of positive change and energy.

It’s a healthy fear.