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 ...
