At first, I just laughed. I said,
"You're crazy, man. You're no more an alcoholic than I
am." And I meant it, too. I mean, this guy loved to party
and all, but I had never seen him when he wasn't able to hold his
liquor. In fact, he was the one who always drove us home
from the bars.
Nevertheless, I didn't make a big deal out
of it. I agreed to go along with his request, figuring it would be
short-lived, and we would be back drinking and partying together in
no time. That didn't happen, though. He stayed
sober, and I kept on drinking. Within a few months, we were running
around with different crowds, and we pretty much quit seeing each
other. Then, about a year after he got sober, I ran into him at
someone's birthday party. I asked him how things were going, and he
said that he was happier than he had ever been in his life. He asked
me how things were going for me. I lied and said that I was also
very happy.
My friend called me up the next day and
asked me to meet him for lunch. I didn't really want to go, but
I did. During lunch, he told me some things about himself that I
never knew. He told me about how his life really was
when he was drinking and using drugs. He also told me what had
happened to convince him that he really did have a serious
problem. His story surprised me because I had always assumed
that everything about his life was good, if not perfect. Come
to find out, instead of having a good life, he had just been very
adept at putting on a good show so that other people, including me,
would think he did. I understood exactly what he was saying because
that's what I did a lot of the time.
Then he told me why he had wanted to see
me. He said that when we had talked at the party, he knew that
I was not telling the truth when I said that I was happy. He
said he could tell that I was doing the same thing that he used to
do--covering up my true feelings. He said that when he got
sober and started going to AA meetings and started getting honest
about his life and his feelings, he found true happiness for the
first time in his life. Then he told me that if I ever wanted
to explore options for getting sober, he would gladly help me do
that.
I thanked him and told him that I would
think about it. And I did. I thought about it quite a bit. I
mean, it's not that my life was out of control or anything, but I
was, in fact, having some problems, and I was drinking a hell of a
lot, especially on the weekends.
Then one night I got really blasted and
woke up in the back seat of my car about 5:00 o'clock in the
morning. I had no idea where I was parked except that it was on the
side of an unfamiliar country road. I also had no idea how I got
there. It really scared me. It wasn't the first time that I had
blacked out, but it was the first time that I didn't know where I
was when I woke up.
Anyway, a couple of days later, I called my
friend and told him what had happened. He again offered to take me
to an AA meeting and help me get sober. I again told him that I
would think about it.
About a month later, I was at a
country-western nightclub with a date. I drank beer after beer after
beer. I started feeling sick, like I was going to puke. I didn't
want anyone to see me get sick so I walked outside and around to the
back of the building, out of sight even to the parking lot. I bent
over to puke, and when I did, I lost my balance and fell onto the
ground. I remember lying there on my back and thinking that I would
get up in just a minute, as soon as my stomach stopped churning. The
next thing I knew, I woke up choking, unable to breathe. I rolled
over onto my stomach and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. I
still couldn't draw any breath.
I knew instinctively and without a doubt
that I was going to die. I even resigned myself to it. When I did
that, I relaxed slightly. At that moment, my throat opened enough to
jar loose the blockage, and I vomited hard. I gasped for air and
took in a small amount, but then I started choking again. This time,
though, I was able to cough. I gulped small bits of air between
coughs and gags.
Finally, my breathing normalized. I lay on
the ground in a daze. I hate to admit it, but one of my first
thoughts was to wonder if anyone had observed me and to hope beyond
hope that no one had. After a few moments, I sat upright. I was
pretty much soaked with vomit from head to toe. It was even in my
hair. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 4:00
AM.
I stood up and peered around the corner of
the building. It was dark and very quiet. About six or eight cars
remained scattered around the parking lot. Mine was not one of them.
I walked around to the front of the building. Some of the exterior
lights were on, but the doors were locked, and the inside of the
building was dark. I realized that I was the only person on the
premises.
I found a payphone on the opposite front
corner of the building. I called my housemate and begged him to pick
me up. Thank God he did. He made me ride home in the back of his
pickup truck. I was glad to do it.
I located my car the next afternoon. My
date had found the spare key under the floor mat and driven herself
home at 1:00 AM. I tried to explain and apologize, but she wouldn't
talk to me. I never saw her again.
I called my sober friend the following day.
He took me to my first AA meeting that night. I gratefully took a
desire chip at that meeting and got an AA sponsor the next. I
attended 112 meetings during the next 90 days. My life got better.
Then it got a lot better. Gradually, it got very good. As I write
this, I am exactly three years and six days sober and
straight.
I'm so very grateful for my sobriety. I
feel good today. I feel good physically, and I feel good about
myself. I have friends that I can honestly say I love, and who I
believe love me back. I have no desire to drink alcohol or use
drugs. I never even think about it.
What I do think about from time to time is
that day my friend took me out to lunch and told me that he was an
alcoholic and asked me to support him in his recovery. I had no idea
what that meant at the time. I do now, though. He and I see each
other a lot. We talk a lot. Our conversations are very different
today than they were five years ago, when our strongest bond was our
mutual affinity for beer and pot and
bars.
Today, instead of just
chatter about meaningless crap, my friend and I really talk. We
share "our experience, strength, and hope" with each other. In about
four months, I will serve as the "best man" at his
wedding. For me, that just about
says it all. Imagine: Me, a best
man.
Like I said, I'm so very grateful for my
sobriety.
Peace.