This is an excerpt from my first book, Faith by Fire. I am putting this here to stress the importance of avoiding alcohol during stressful situations. When we lost mom, I immediately turned to the bottle for comfort which, as in most cases, turned out to be catastrophic. Please, I’m begging you, do not lean on the bottle for support; you will eventually fall.
What Definitely Didn’t Help
Before Mom’s death, I was an avid user of alcohol. After
her death, I became an addict. Do I blame Mom’s
demise for my substance abuse problem? No. I had been a
partier for years and definitely knew my way around a bar.
But I had more control back then. After her death, alcohol
felt more like a need than a want. Where it was once a
temporary relief from the stressors of commonplace life, it
slowly manifested into something much worse.
Treatment was a blessing in disguise; I just didn’t know it
at the time. It allowed me to speak and think my way through
all the chaos, as well as concentrate on ridding myself of
something I never really needed in the first place.
Immediately after completing my stint in treatment, I
made a goal to stay sober for a year. It was rough going from
time to time; nevertheless, I did achieve it. The problem was
that after attaining that goal, I never set another. I didn’t
decide to stay clean or go another year, and with no more
goals to shoot for, it was only a matter of weeks until I was
popping a top again.
Depression, chased with additional depressants, yields a
black hole; it’s basically swimming in agony while thirsting
on death. Alcohol is exactly that. I loved it and hated it all at
the same time. I remember drinking a beer or a shot, all the
while my subconscious saying “this is exactly what you don’t
need.” When you repeatedly tell yourself all day that you’re
not going to drink, yet you eventually find yourself pulling
into the nearest liquor store or bar, you have a serious problem.
My alcoholism went in spells. I’d be good for a few
months, begin to feel like I could handle it again, start back,
and within a matter of days be worse off than I was when I
last quit.
In early 2009, we were transferred from Minot, North
Dakota, to Okinawa, Japan. Like most addicts I figured a
change of scenery would help me decrease the alcohol intake.
Not a chance. Fleeing from addiction doesn’t lessen the
thirst. It was only a matter of months before I was drowning
in alcohol again.
I hated alcohol every time I was sober, but loved it
while consuming it. Writing this book has been both healing
and challenging. Recounting the sources of depression
can sometimes pull me in a direction I can’t afford to go.
Depression makes me thirsty; drinking makes me depressed
… it’s a revolving door. Eventually, I realized I had to stop
the drinking forever or lose everything I have worked so
hard to achieve.
NOTE: My intention is not to tell you what to do; however,
if there is one tidbit of knowledge you gain from my experiences, let it be that alcohol only makes things worse. The
loss of a loved one is depressing enough, alcohol in addition
can be devastating.
I now realize that the majority of pain and suffering I
experienced was only enhanced by the effects of alcohol.
Some people can drink and enjoy it without experiencing its
negative effects. I’m not so lucky. But where I once felt regret,
I no longer allow myself to. Each mistake I’ve made in my
life has become a source of outreach I now use to help others.
Alcoholism has simply become another tool in my arsenal.
SAS 