The ‘Ism’ Prison
“My body, if it takes the first drink, will crave more. This craving will develop extraordinarily, I will look for top-ups everywhere, in friends’ homes, in my husband’s whisky collection. I will be filled now with fear that I won’t get enough to drink and so I will buy extras and hide them about the house and garden. My mind will become obsessed with alcohol.”
To too many of us the word prison invokes a vision of a building where we are sent to await judgement or serve our time. The word itself originates from the Latin prehensionem – prehension – catching hold of; a seizing.
How many of us have described our illness, our alcoholism, as taking control of us, seizing our minds, our bodies and our very souls? Some people describe their illness as an ‘ism’ and as time goes on, I appreciate this description more and more. What is this ‘ism’ and how can we fix it? For me, a lot of my ism is fear based.
It’s been said that fear is a small word, albeit with massive implications. I was a frightened little girl, a frightened teenager and a frightened adult. I escaped into a fantasy world of reading as a child, and I loved it. As a teenager, my drug of choice was romance novels, and unsurprisingly they gave me a very unrealistic understanding of real life. I was aware of alcohol from childhood, used for special birthday parties and New Year. My mum would also bring out the brandy when serious trauma came along and offer it to which one of us were distraught. I grew older, some bad stuff happened. Later, at 26, I married. I inherited two stepchildren and was seriously intent on pursuing my lifelong dream to get the perfect family and the white picket fence. Till then, I mostly drank at weekends, at home if we weren’t out and about.
When the children came along, we were at home a lot. In hindsight I can remember being too scared to be home alone if my mum and dad were on holiday and would happily drink to dull the feelings. Later, if my husband was away, | would enjoy this, this freedom to drink as I wanted to. I started to sneak extras when pouring the measures on Friday and Saturday nights. I knew then that I needed a bit extra to sooth me over, to ease the obsession, the craving. When socialising, I set out with the intent of getting my necessary units down my throat. I would try to drink like my husband and shudder now at the amount of drink and the states I must have been in. Lots of real life came along, I thought I was coping but when you need a double gin before you phone a relative then something is wrong.
At some point, the drinking to numb the fear, became more and more drinking to numb other feelings too. It was never about drinking to socialise any more. It was drinking to be able to cope with everyday life, sick relatives, grown-up children living at home, my husband, his job, our relationship, my health and so on. I learned it was better to be the driver on a night out, to be safe because then I wouldn’t drink. So, at one level, I was aware that I was keeping the balls in the air. I also knew that I was drinking to cope with it all. But I was stuck on that merry-go-round, in the vicious circle, imprisoned by my illness. I simply did not believe that I could do life without alcohol. Occasionally I broke free, sometimes for a couple of weeks. I was well aware of the first drink and the subsequent blackouts but could not grasp the concept of a day at a time. How did I learn to do this, to cope with real life on life’s terms? For me, the answers are in AA.
This wonderful Fellowship has introduced me to the Twelve Step Programme which teaches us to live well. AA has taught me that alcoholism is a three-fold illness. My body, if it takes the first drink, will crave more. This craving will develop extraordinarily, I will look for top-ups everywhere, in friends’ homes, in my husband’s whisky collection. I will be filled now with fear that I won’t get enough to drink and so I will buy extras and hide them about the house and garden. My mind will become obsessed with alcohol. I will waken thinking is this a drinking day today? I will think, do I need to get rid of empties, do I need to replace anything? Where did I put the empties, will I find some unexpectedly when putting away the washing? The third part of the illness is the illness of the spirit, some talk of it as the hole in the soul, some say they come into AA with a broken spirit.
For me, I did have a broken spirit because I was anxious and depressed and ashamed but it was mainly a broken connection with my God. I already believed but I had been paying lip service to God for many years. I reconnected with God by attending meetings and doing as I was told by experienced AA members. This daily connection is vital, and, through practice, I am learning to navigate the storms, to know myself and, above all, to maintain a steadfast connection. The rewards have been wonderful and my fears have been diminishing. I know, trauma lies ahead because that is life. For today, I am living in the now. I have got out of my prison and I am happy, joyous and free.
Anonymous