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The Struggle to Accept

In my younger days I could handle my drink, so much so that I was in fact complimented on it by some of my colleagues. It was never a problem.

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In my younger days I could handle my drink, so much so that I was in fact complimented on it by some of my colleagues. It was never a problem. Yes, very occasionally I’d have too much but the lads and I were young and high-spirited. My teens slipped into my twenties and it was party time and life was good. Then in my thirties I got married. We were both professionals and career prospects were good. We’d settle down and have the statutory 2.3 children, a detached house, holidays abroad and live happily ever after. Things didn’t go to plan and the marriage failed, because we both drank daily and it took its toll. I moved out and was able to drink unhindered to drown my sorrows over my lost life. I felt a failure and my life was a mess. 

The alcoholic drinking took hold although I didn’t realise it. Gone were the days of convivial enjoyment of a glass or two with friends. Now it was a bottle or two on my own - home alone. I dreaded going on a binge because I knew how I’d feel when I’d have to come off. I couldn’t handle alcohol now the way I once did and if my old friends could have seen me now, they wouldn’t have been complimenting me. I was in a mess - shakes, dry boaks, red-faced, paranoid and depressed. 

An acquaintance knew the state I was in and left me a note with a name and a number. I rang it and we met. I gave all the usual excuses about why I drank, trying to convince him, and myself, that I wasn’t an alcoholic. I agreed to go to a meeting however, not knowing what to expect and I enjoyed listening to the stories. I wasn’t totally convinced I was an alcoholic but I kept coming back and managed weeks and then months without drinking. I managed a year or two but I couldn’t say I was sober and as a result I was in and out of the rooms on a regular basis. That is not to be recommended - it was Russian Roulette with a bottle. 

I realise now that I hankered after those days of convivial drinking from my youth and another attempt at that resulted in an horrendous bender. It could have had serious consequences but as I came round, I realised for the very first time that I was powerless over alcohol and it had gotten me beat. I couldn’t go back. I had to accept what I was - an alcoholic - and do what had been suggested all along to make my unmanageable life manageable. It took me 12 years to accept Step One, but I’ve progressed since then through all 12, but must return to them on a daily basis if I’m to maintain this wonderful life of sobriety. I am a truly grateful member of Alcoholics Anonymous. Thank you.
Anon