A funny thing happened on the way to ...
I became a drunk.
It's not a pretty word. It's not a pretty phrase. I can think of a lot of words that can be considered pretty: mellifluous, dressage, perspicacity. There are some phrases I consider especially beautiful: "For God so loved the world..." and "O'er the mountains of the moon..." spring to mind.
"I became a drunk" just doesn't cut it.
So what happened? I wasn't supposed to be a drunk! I was a college-educated, mid-level executive who wore suits, owned his own tuxedo, could hold his own in both professional and personal gatherings. Sure, I had been a little wild in my 20s, hadn't we all? But, I had moved on from the long-haired wild man of my youth. I was well entrenched in my church community (too many details would break anonymity), I was trusted by my employer with sensitive information that some in top level leadership did not have, I had and still have a great family. How could things be so wrong?
The truth is that it doesn't matter. It's not why I'm an alcoholic that matters. What matters are the choices that I make now to deal with the fact that I am an alcoholic; that I have the disease of alcoholism.
Maybe you think that "those people" just need to get a grip and "exercise a little self-restraint." Toward the end I even had an HR person at a major medical institution tell me "if I were you I just wouldn't have had anything to drink during the work week." Well, if I could do that then I wouldn't be an alcoholic, would I?
Even if you decide to discount a physician's opinion written more than 60 years ago before much of what is known about alcoholism today was known and which can be found in the the book Alcoholics Anonymous, a cursory search of the relevant documentation should serve to convince you that alcoholism is a disease. It's a disease as certainly as diabetes, coronary disease or cancer. The major difference in my opinion, a difference that I think continues to foster the stigma that follows the disease, is that there is no definitive medical test that can confirm the diagnosis of alcoholism. It is a disease diagnosis that only the patient can confirm.
When I'm doing an analysis of a computer system I look for the telltales that point me to where the problem lies. Is it a virus, is a start up service hiding a worm inside normal system files or am I looking for hidden data that may be illegal or point to other problems? In the end I expect to find something specific that can be addressed.
A physician or abuse counselor, a worried spouse or other caring person can also see telltales in the alcoholic. With the alcoholic, though, there is no point to which the doctor or anyone else can point and say "Aha, there it is! You have the disease alcoholism." It's only when the patient reaches the point where the plaque on the wall that begins "We admitted we were powerless..." becomes utterly and absolutely the reflection of what the patient sees in the mirror that the diagnosis is made.
For me the diagnosis is made. And you know what? The phrase "I became a drunk" isn't so ugly anymore. That I can say or write that phrase about myself without resorting to the barroom humor of "I drink, I get drunk, I fall down, no problem" tells me that I have turned the corner. I have done the 1st Step completely and honestly. "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol -- that our lives had become unmanageable."
Until next time ...
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
I will not go gently...
Don't let the bastards get you down. On the outside I've always been a confident, relatively successful guy. I've changed career paths twice -- in the same industry and same employer and have had a measure of accomplishment. That's why it feels a little odd to be feeling a sense of fear as I start this blog.
After a number of years in publishing as an editor, and an equal number on the technical side of the publishing house as a systems administrator and manager, I started working information security almost 20 years ago when my company needed to provide Internet access to its employees and it fell to me to make it happen. A couple of Linux servers created from spare equipment, a connection from a service provider and some hard work later we had a DMZ, mail server and firewall up and running and my career in InfoSec was launched.
A lot has happened since '93, much of it good. But the most important thing I've experienced happened on a very personal level and has had a tremendous impact on my life. It also is the source of the fear I mentioned.
I was always a bit workaholic, managing to maintain a paying job continuously since I was 14 except for about a year and a half in college. As an adult the industry I joined while still finishing university also helped me bring to realization another -holic facet of my life -- alcoholic.
Drinking hard was part of the culture of my industry and I thrived in that culture. Work hard, drink hard, repeat as necessary.
I moved into technology -- not my original major -- after just a few years. My industry began to computerize in the late '70s and by the early '80s I had enough exposure to realize that I had a talent for that side of things. A little training, experience and luck brought me an early-career transition and ever-increasing responsibility and stress. I no longer worked just a regular day before heading off to family, friends and booze. Work became 24/7/365 for almost 15 years and my drinking increased with the stress. My family began to suffer and so did I, but I ignored the problems alcohol was making worse with the all too familiar "you would drink, too, if..."
Fortunately, or unfortunately, I proved to be a highly functional alcoholic. No blackouts, no DUIs, no legal troubles or workplace troubles of any kind until the very end. Instead, I kept getting more responsibility and more stress, all lubricated with my favorite beverage.
Over time I've had the opportunity to make a difference at a lot of organizational levels in multiple industry groups. I've been comfortable working from the boardroom to the maintenance shop. Implementation and application of technical solutions; creation and management of administrative controls; regulatory compliance; incident response and analysis; forensic data capture and management; I was working in all of these areas while in active alcoholism. I still work these areas, but now in active recovery.
By any calculation I spent the better part of the past 35 years drinking alcoholically. I probably would already be dead or closely approaching death from an alcohol-related cause except the day came that I finally reached a bottom that made realize that I wanted to stop digging; I just had to find out how. That's where the title of this first post takes on meaning. I have given this damn disease too many years and hurt too many people who love me to let it continue and I will not let it take the rest of my life without a damn good fight.
I'm no expert in recovery, not even my own. But after a little more than a year I've just reached the point where I know a little of how little I know. So sometimes I'll be writing about recovery from my perspective, the only one I have, and sometimes I'll be writing about the Information Security world, which I know a little better. I hope you will join me on the journey and enjoy the ride.
After a number of years in publishing as an editor, and an equal number on the technical side of the publishing house as a systems administrator and manager, I started working information security almost 20 years ago when my company needed to provide Internet access to its employees and it fell to me to make it happen. A couple of Linux servers created from spare equipment, a connection from a service provider and some hard work later we had a DMZ, mail server and firewall up and running and my career in InfoSec was launched.
A lot has happened since '93, much of it good. But the most important thing I've experienced happened on a very personal level and has had a tremendous impact on my life. It also is the source of the fear I mentioned.
I was always a bit workaholic, managing to maintain a paying job continuously since I was 14 except for about a year and a half in college. As an adult the industry I joined while still finishing university also helped me bring to realization another -holic facet of my life -- alcoholic.
Drinking hard was part of the culture of my industry and I thrived in that culture. Work hard, drink hard, repeat as necessary.
I moved into technology -- not my original major -- after just a few years. My industry began to computerize in the late '70s and by the early '80s I had enough exposure to realize that I had a talent for that side of things. A little training, experience and luck brought me an early-career transition and ever-increasing responsibility and stress. I no longer worked just a regular day before heading off to family, friends and booze. Work became 24/7/365 for almost 15 years and my drinking increased with the stress. My family began to suffer and so did I, but I ignored the problems alcohol was making worse with the all too familiar "you would drink, too, if..."
Fortunately, or unfortunately, I proved to be a highly functional alcoholic. No blackouts, no DUIs, no legal troubles or workplace troubles of any kind until the very end. Instead, I kept getting more responsibility and more stress, all lubricated with my favorite beverage.
Over time I've had the opportunity to make a difference at a lot of organizational levels in multiple industry groups. I've been comfortable working from the boardroom to the maintenance shop. Implementation and application of technical solutions; creation and management of administrative controls; regulatory compliance; incident response and analysis; forensic data capture and management; I was working in all of these areas while in active alcoholism. I still work these areas, but now in active recovery.
By any calculation I spent the better part of the past 35 years drinking alcoholically. I probably would already be dead or closely approaching death from an alcohol-related cause except the day came that I finally reached a bottom that made realize that I wanted to stop digging; I just had to find out how. That's where the title of this first post takes on meaning. I have given this damn disease too many years and hurt too many people who love me to let it continue and I will not let it take the rest of my life without a damn good fight.
I'm no expert in recovery, not even my own. But after a little more than a year I've just reached the point where I know a little of how little I know. So sometimes I'll be writing about recovery from my perspective, the only one I have, and sometimes I'll be writing about the Information Security world, which I know a little better. I hope you will join me on the journey and enjoy the ride.
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