Search for the Hero

Search for the HeroAudio Version Hero: 'A person who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements or noble qualities'. I once sat in a small rented flat in Largs. I had moved there from Glasgow because it was finally time to end the torture of my constant drinking. I didn't say goodbye to anyone just in case they twigged to my intention. I had no friends, just a few acquaintances and my four children. I moved to the flat just before Christmas and for the last weeks of that year and a few in January I went round pubs but rarely spoke to anyone. I kept the flat well stocked with vodka. I just drank and passed out, drank and passed out, over and over. My life and my spirit were slowly ebbing away. I gave in to alcohol and knew my life was coming to an end. How my life had changed: from the great promise as a young professional with friends, a wife who loved me and beautiful children, into this darkness. Gone were the nice cars and big houses. Gone were the business lunches and foreign holidays. In came the hideous four horsemen: terror, bewilderment, frustration and despair. As I sat alone drinking and watching television, one advert seemed to be playing repeatedly. I think it was an advert from a car maker. The soundtrack was M People singing 'Search for A Hero'. That last word tortured me so much I had to mute the sound. There was no hero inside me. I was the opposite: a failure and a coward, selfish and self-centred to the core. There was nothing I could do but end it all. I don't know how, but I survived my overdose. I don't know how, but the thought came into my head to call the AA Helpline. When I got out of hospital I was so grateful for my survival that I was determined to give this AA thing a go. I was still alone but somehow not lonely anymore. The darkness and heaviness that used to surround me had gone. I felt full of hope even though my outer life was still a mess. Somehow I knew that everything was going to be alright. Whilst watching television one morning, this time with a coffee instead of a vodka, a news story from Dunblane started breaking. Sixteen children and their teacher had been murdered before the murderer then shot himself. That morning, the psychiatric nurse was due to make his first visit to me. As I sat thinking about the horrors that the parents must be suffering, the doorbell rang. I let the nurse in and he asked me how I felt. All I could think of was how much my children would have been hurt if I had succeeded in killing myself. I felt enormous gratitude for being spared and for my children being spared that pain. That was my reply. I told him that I had been to AA and how I felt that my life had been saved, first by the staff in the hospital then by a loving God and the love and fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. The nurse and I had a cup of tea and he wished me well. No further appointment was made. I think the man knew I was in good hands. I joined my local group and started my journey. I stumbled and fell but eventually 'got it'. I recovered, just as the Big Book suggested. Now I am totally grateful for my sober life. I occasionally play my nemesis soundtrack and marvel at the miracle of recovery. I am now surrounded by heroes, from the newcomer to the old timer. I see everyone who attends an AA meeting as a person I admire for their courage in coming for the first or the umpteenth time. They all demonstrate the outstanding achievement of not drinking for this moment in time. They also show the noble quality of quietly listening to the speaker and seeking identification. Colin I Troon Sunday Night