18 years sober

18. When I was growing up, 18 was the age of adulthood. You could go to war, you could vote, and most important to me was that I could legally drink.

I started drinking when I was 13. My first drunk was on a pint of J&B Scotch that I stole from my parents. The next five years, I tried just about every beer that was available and Boones Farm wine. For 99 cents, Boones Farm tasted good and got a person drunk.

From 13 to 18, I never really had a problem obtaining alcohol. The easiest way was giving money to someone you knew who was of legal age and have them buy it for you. If that didn't work, then you would hang around the liquor store waiting for someone to walk in. You would catch them before they went in and asked if they would buy you some booze. Nine times out of ten, they would take your money and get your merchandise.

Every year, in the back of my mind I knew I was closer to buying alcohol legally. No more need to hide in parks, drinking with friends. There would be no need to hide alcohol in the garage or anywhere else.

When I turned 18, I ate my dinner, had a piece of cake, opened some gifts and went to the local bar. The bartender asked for my ID and then asked what I wanted. A frosty mug of Budweiser was my first legal drink. I sat at the end of the bar and as more people realized it was my birthday, the more free drinks I got. For me, I felt like a king. This was Heaven.

The last thing that I imagined after that first night was that drinking would become my whole life for the next 18 years. Amazing isn't it? My first legal drink was when I was 18, then 18 years later I would surrender to being an alcoholic.

Now on Labor Day weekend of 2012, I will be celebrating my 18^th anniversary of being alcohol free. It is still a miracle in my mind that I have this much time with sobriety. When I quit, I couldn't even imagine living without a drink for 18 minutes let alone 18 years.

The first 18 were going to grade school, then high school. It was being a runt and being bullied. And it was growing up in hell. My escape was sports. When I graduated I left for college with a scholarship to play football. I never played... it was time to start the next 18.

Alcohol... it helped kill the pain. It stopped me from feeling and brought about some crazy codependent actions. Getting married to a very needy lady. Those 18 years made me a good businessman when I started dealing drugs. And it made me homeless, hitch-hiking around the country.

It ended after a suicide attempt and realizing that I could no longer drink and live.

The last 18, brought me a divorce and a new marriage and another divorce. All again because of my codependent ways. Trying so hard to fix what was broken. It brought about poetry and writing three books. It made me realize that I don't need to be in a relationship... it will happen when the time is right, I don't need to force it.

It brought speaking engagements locally and nationally and now even in the educational world... and it has broaden my horizons with international travel. It brought back a passion to learn with accredited courses to improve my own self-worth.

Yes, 18 has been a magical number in my life. I ran away, died, and was born again. Miracles can happen. Miracles will happen, if we are patient and trust in our Higher Power. Thank you God for giving me a second chance and making the most of it.

I'm Dave and I'm an alcoholic and by the Grace of God, I've been sober for 18 years...

My Final Week - Day 7

This is it. A very spiritual week ends - with sobriety. Thanks for reading and letting me share a week that started in hell and ended on a path of hope.

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Made it - sobriety! The date was 9/4/94 a little after 10 AM I had my last sip of alcohol. I woke up and went to town to unlock the church. There was going to be a rare Saturday morning funeral. I got there pretty early and made sure the windows were cleaned, the church was cool, the grounds were presentable, stuff that those at a funeral wouldn't recognize, unless it wasn't done.

I got done a couple of hours before the funeral and went outside to my car. It was 8 AM and on the front seat I still had two cans of beer. Should I drink them? Or pitch 'em? I thought a bit and opened the can and it didn't taste the same. That AA meeting was starting to make me think. But I drank it anyway.

I got out of the car and sat on the bench outside the church and began thinking about that second can. What would I do after I drank it? Would I quit or would I go to town and buy some more? As I thought about it, one of the church secretaries pulled in the parking lot and started towards the building. She seen me sitting there and she just had the biggest smile and said, "What a beautiful morning to be alive!" I really didn't want to talk, but her words sunk in. A great day to be alive.

She went into the building and I walked out to the car and opened the second can of beer and took a couple of sips. I got out and went for a stroll around the building making sure everything was set to go, when I looked up and saw my ex-wife carrying a MacDonald's bag filled with breakfast. We talked for awhile and my emotions went up and down quicker then a ride at the carnival.

We ate together sitting on that bench and I finally got her to leave. I sat there for a moment and thought to myself, that this was nuts. I'm done! I walked out to my car and grabbed the can of beer which was about 2/3 full and I dumped it on the ground.

That was it. I surrender - no more - please Lord no more. I struggled through the rest of the day and as I drove home part of me kept saying, "get some beer we'll start tomorrow." But I didn't stop. That night I locked myself in the house by myself and begged for another 10 minutes of sobriety. That whole weekend my sobriety was based on ten minute increments. "Please Lord, just ten more minutes."

Sunday morning was nasty. I was sweaty, cold, and uncontrollably shaking. "Please Lord, just ten more minutes." It was a very long day. By Sunday night, I was still not feeling the best, but I had enough sense to begin trying to find an out-patient program to help me.

Monday was Labor Day and I remained locked in my house. I needed that weekend to go through the withdrawals - 10 minutes at a time. But by the Grace of God, I made it through that weekend.

Tuesday morning arrived and I was fortunate enough to see a counselor right away. It ended up being a two hour session. It was the first time in a long time that I felt a natural high. And that night, I returned to AA. This time sober.

Today is 15 years. I am so grateful for a second chance at life. Thank you for letting me share a very spiritual week in my life with you. Tonight, I'll receive my 15 year chip and I'll be asked how I did it. And I'll say I did it through Love - His Love.

I can never say it enough, how truly grateful I am for a second chance at life. It was through this gratitude that I was able to look at my whole life. Just short of my one year anniversary, I began working on my co-dependency issues and a month after that I began to understand how my life was almost "scripted" because I was raised in an alcoholic home with two alcoholic parents.

Don't get me wrong, I don't blame my folks for my alcoholism - I did that to myself. But when I combined all three AA, CODA, and ACOA... my life changed from just "being here" to one of adventure. An adventure that started in 10 minute increments... but now I do it one day at a time.

I usually write poetry for other people or other events. The video below I wrote for myself. It’s entitled "An Attitude of Gratitude."

My Final Week - Day 6

I woke up Friday morning, beating myself up. How did that happen? Less then 24 hours earlier, I told one of my bosses that I was an alcoholic. I felt good... I felt like I might have a chance because I was coming "clean." I thought I was surrendering.

Yet, here I was starting another day with a hangover. I got in my car for a 20 mile drive to work and by the time I arrived there I had a six pack of beer in me. I had reached the point where I didn't think that I could surrender. I didn't see an end in sight. I came to the acceptance that I was a drunk and I was going to stay a drunk - so why even try?

I would have a long day at work. Planned about a month ago, one of the custodians was taking a vacation day today, so I would be doing his work. But I couldn't do that until school got out.

The day dragged on and I'd make trips to town, under the guise that I needed to get supplies. On the final trip, I actually did get a large amount of supplies and at the bottom of one of the boxes I carried into the church was a 12 pack of beer. Hey, I believed I was a drunk so why not stay drunk?

The day finally came to an end and I started cleaning classrooms, restrooms, and everything else that needed to be done. Friday's the building usually emptied pretty quick. And by six o'clock, the part-time custodians were going home and I was in the building by myself.

The church/school where I worked covered a lot of ground. And had a lot of buildings that weren't directly attached to the main part. I went outside and watched a bunch of people starting to venture into the Youth House. On Friday nights there was an AA meeting in it. I watched the folks going in and thought, what the hell why not go? So, I headed over and walked in - drunk.

I sat down and the meeting started. The Youth House had a very relaxed atmosphere to it. The meeting was held in the living room. There were four cushioned chairs and a couple of couches and a bunch of folding chairs and we all sat in a circle. I took my seat and just looked down at the gold shag carpet.

What the meeting was about I have no idea. I was there... but I wasn't there. People kept sharing and the talk went around the room. There were only two of us left who hadn't spoken. Me and the gentleman directly to my right.

As he talked, something clicked in my mind. I knew that voice. And I looked at him and I did know him. It blew me away that he was an alcoholic. He was an extremely well to do man in the community and a few years back (before I had a slip) he used his profession to help me. I listened to him speak and it was music to my ears. Everything he said made sense. He was me.

When he finished, everyone looked at me and I said, "Hi, I'm Dave and I'm an alcoholic. All I've got to say is that there is no doubt that I am an alcoholic." And that was it. The meeting ended and I ventured outside and the guy who I knew talked to me outside one on one. We talked for well over an hour, long after everyone had left. He gave me simple things to do when I wanted to drink and explained why.

After he left, I was higher then a kite. I knew someone in the program. Someone I had a lot of respect for - outside the program. There was hope!

I locked up the buildings and headed home. And like every other day, I celebrated with a couple of beers! I was celebrating because even though in my head I knew it was wrong, but my heart told me, drink tonight and quit tomorrow.

The Final Week - Day 5

Getting closer, but the fears of sobriety are beginning to outweigh the promise of death. This is my anniversary week, something I’ve paid tribute to every year, but the first time I’ve put it in written form…

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I woke up Thursday morning about 3 o'clock. I couldn't sleep and was shaking like a leaf. I was shaking not from withdrawals but rather from a lack of food. I really didn't eat much of the pizza from the night before and put the leftovers in the oven.

As it warmed up, I noticed all I had to drink was either water or beer. And actually neither one sounded good. I grabbed some change and went to the gas station which was about 100 feet from the trailer and got a soda. That was the best meal I had ever eaten. I felt alive again and then reality sat back in.

My wife (now ex) was in the arms of another man. I couldn't return home, I was screwing up my job, and... I knew something had to be done with my drinking.

I went to work and my mind was going a million miles a minute trying to come up with an answer. I finally came to the conclusion that I had to tell my boss what was going on. Working at a church/school, I had two bosses - the school principal and the head pastor. I chose to tell the pastor.

I caught him as he walked in the building and I asked him if I could take about ten minutes of his time. We walked in his office and I told him about my troubles and for the first time in over two years I told someone, "I am an alcoholic."

He said he knew that I had a problem and wished me luck and we said a prayer together. I left his office and felt like the weight of the world was off my shoulders. I finally let go of my secret! That day at work was the fastest I had had in a long time. I felt so good that by the end of the day, I had to celebrate.

So, I bought a case of beer and headed to my new home. Oh, but this time, I'd be a bit more prepared. I stopped at the Salvation Army and bought some cheap pots and pans, some plates, silverware and a TV. I was so "responsible" that I even stopped and got some groceries.

That night, I set up my house and ate a good meal... and then... got drunk. I laid on the couch watching TV wondering how this happened and I began to really wonder if I could stop drinking or was it going to be like this forever? And how long would forever be?

My worse fear began popping up in my head. That I would die drunk… just like my mom. I so much hated the hell I found myself in… but I couldn’t think of an escape…

The Final Week - Day 4

Days and years of active addiction are beginning to dwindle down. The end of my insanity is reaching its point. This is my anniversary week and my last few days of being “out there.”

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The next morning I was sick from not eating. I was shaking and sweaty and so damn hungry. I went to work and like the previous day I made my way to the church restroom. I ran cold water over my face and stared at the mirror. What I saw was disgusting. I hated myself.

I looked like death. My eyes were buried in the back of my head. My teeth were black. Heck I couldn't remember the last time I brushed them. And my lip was sticking way out. There was no way I could hide that all day and my mind began coming up with all sorts of answers to the questions that would come.

I backed away from the sink and kept looking in the mirror. In the two years since I slipped, I lost some weight. I was down to 155 pounds. To some, that is a pretty good weight. But, I'm 6'4" tall. I was nothing but skin and bones.

As I walked out of the restroom and started unlocking the building, I knew things had to change. I couldn't continue down the road I was on. I had two options, first was to quit drinking. And that idea didn't sound to promising. I was at a point where I couldn't imagine life without alcohol anymore.

The only other option I had was suicide. I started tearing up. My first sobriety started after a suicide attempt. I had come full circle. I started this "experiment" by controlled drinking. I finished it totally defeated.

That morning I didn't want to be around anyone. I figured the best thing to do was work outside. I broke out the equipment to wash the church windows and headed outside. I figured it was a perfect place for me and I wouldn't have to explain my lip to anyone. I could just wallow around in my own pity pot.

I was outside for a couple of hours, really not getting much done, I was to damn hungry and weak. I sat on one of the benches in front of the church and just starred at my feet and the concrete ground. One of the parishioners took a seat next to me. I had known Mel for a couple of years and he was pretty influential not only in the church but also around town. He was an independent businessman, who owned 3-4 gas stations, and was my ex's boss.

He told me that earlier in the week that my ex told him what was going on and that I had no place to stay. I had no answer and just kept looking at the ground. He told me that I could stay in his mobile home behind the gas station about 10 miles from where we were. He went on to say that it had a couch and chair, as well as a refrigerator, stove, and a washer and dryer. He also said, I could live there rent free for a month, then he'd start charging me.

I swallowed my pride and told him thank you. He gave me the keys and left. The rest of the day went by with me still being numb. What did the future hold for me? That night, I went to my new home and didn't have to hide in the dark. I got a frozen pizza to eat and of course some beer and broke in my new pad.

The food and the beer didn't taste good. I had been doing it pretty heavy the last couple of days and all I wanted was a good night’s sleep. I had no solution to what was going on... all I knew was that I was sick and tired of being sick and tired...

The final week - Day 3

The alarm clock I just bought woke me up at 4 AM. I instantly hoped off the mattress and began cleaning up. Not me, but the room. I had to keep it a secret that I was sleeping in a dorm room, so I had about a half an hour to pick up the empty beer cans and MacDonald’s wrappers.

Everything I still owned was out in the car and I just couldn't pick up my mess and put it in a garbage can. I had to get it out of the building. The only thing I could stick everything in was the shirt I was wearing. Yeah, I still had on the same clothes from my court appearance two days earlier and was in desperate need of a change.

I laid my shirt on the floor and threw the empty cans and everything else in it. I folded everything up inside the shirt and started making my way out of the building. I got outside, found a dumpster and got rid of everything, including my shirt.

I hopped in my car and popped open a beer and left the college grounds. I only had to drive a couple of blocks to get to the church/school and was able to quickly down two beers. I unlocked the church, carrying a change of clothes and made my way to the church restroom.

I was already beating myself up. I was in that dorm all night and didn't take a shower. So now I had to settle for a quick sponge bath. It wasn't the best, but it would have to do. Got cleaned up and unlocked the rest of the church and school.

I was starting to get paranoid that my secret would soon be found out. Not that I was a drunk, but rather that I was homeless. I was so consumed trying to devise answers for any conceivable question anyone would ask me.

I sat at my desk, deep in thought, that I didn't even see the ex walk in. I hadn't seen her since court and both of us just smiled at each other. She stopped by to tell me she was going to go to her mom's for a couple of days to get away from the house.

I apologized and asked if maybe we could get together before she left. She never really answered me... so naturally I took that as a yes.

By early afternoon I was getting excited by the idea of spending some time with the ex and told some people I had to run to town and get some parts. The parts I needed? A case of beer. I drank a few before returning to work. I snuck a few inside and enjoyed the rest of my day.

After work, I raced to the car and headed home. Right then I didn't care who might see me, I needed to spend some time with the ex before she left. I drove down our street and parked in my driveway was her boyfriend's car. I so much wanted to breakdown the door and kill them both; instead I just drove away and headed back towards my job.

I stopped and got another case of beer and just drove around drinking. I had two hours to kill before the day care center closed... so I just drank with visions of my wife in the arms of another man. And in my insane mind all I could think about was how I could get her back.

By the time the day care center was closed I was toast. I stumbled up the steps to my hideaway and thought the first thing I would do was take a shower. That wasn't such a good idea. The water felt good, but I was way to drunk to be in there.

I fell to the ground cracked open my lip. I made my way to my bed, with a stomach full of beer and nothing else and passed out before the sun had even gone down.

The final week - Day Two

I went to work the next day wearing what I wore to court the day before. I hopped out of the car and the church doors were still locked.

I unlocked them and made my way through the halls and into the school, some lights were on and some doors were open. Luckily all the teachers also had keys to get in so in wasn't a total nightmare. I didn't really see anybody in my race to finish getting all the doors unlocked.

After everything was ready to go, I made my way to a boiler room and went inside. Not to do any work, but rather just to get my bearings. I looked at my clothes and though they were somewhat wrinkled they didn't appear to dirty. I put my hands on my forehead to pull my hair back and I was soaked in sweat.

I gained enough composure to sneak out of the boiler room and made it into the restroom. I tried to wash up as best I could and get ready for a day of work. The morning was long. For the last half year I always had a couple of beers just to get going for work.

That day, I had none. I was sweaty, shaky, and feeling physically ill. I made it a little past noon and told some people that I was going home because I must have the flu. They didn't know I didn't have a home, nor did they know that my illness was self-inflicted.

My first stop was a liquor store and within an hour I was feeling so much better. But now, I needed to come up with some kind of plan to be better prepared for tomorrow. My plan involved the school's day care center.

This center was located on the college campus across the street from where I worked. It was in the basement of a dormitory. And I had keys to it. The dorm was closed that year for remodeling. And it would become my home. After the day care center closed at 6 PM, I made my way into the building.

I found a room with a mattress and down the hall was a restroom and showers. It wasn't the best situation but it would be better then last night. I would have to be out of there before 5 AM when the day care center opened and I needed to remain in the dark while there. I really didn't want to have a run-in with campus security.

That night I laid on the mattress, a street light was the only light I had. I drank my beer starring out the window, knowing no matter what I had to be out of that building before 5 AM. I left the dorm after dark and went to a discount store and got an alarm clock, get a burger, and yes some more beer.

I went back to my new home and passed out about 11 PM.

The final Week - Day One

This is my anniversary week. This was the last week of a very insane lifestyle. And it is also a very monumental time in my 12 Step recovery. This week, everyday I am going to share a brief description of that final week. And the gift that I found at the end of that week.

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I thought that I had everyone buffaloed. I was lying to everyone and I began making plans on how I could continue this charade. The charade was that I was not allowed to drink any alcohol beverage as long as I lived in the same house as my ex-wife, daughter, and step-children.

At the time, my ex and I were the only ones in the house. The children were still in foster care, waiting for the courts to approve their return home. Every three months, we'd all meet in that court room and go over what had happen since our last appearance.

Basically, it was a review of counseling sessions and supervised visits with the kids. But this session was different. The courts had found out that I was still drinking. So this session was about me. How much was I drinking? Did my spouse know about it? And naturally, I lied about how much I had been drinking. And also quite naturally, the judge didn't believe a word I said.

By the end of that session I was told to be out of the house by the end of the day. If I wasn't then the children would become permanent wards of the state. I left the court house, gave the ex a hug and told her everything would be alright. Then I told her that I had to get back to work and left her. Though I had no plans of going to work. In my shock and not wanting to deal with reality, I went to the liquor store and got a case of beer.

About four hours later, I arrived home, pretty well drunk. I was greeted by a hysterical wife who just couldn't understand why I needed alcohol so desperately. I apologized and packed some clothes, then got in my car and left. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do.

But I knew that the reason the kids weren't in that home was because of me. And I also knew that no matter what I would not be the reason why they couldn't return home.

I drove around for a couple of hours and continued to get drunk. Finally, I parked my car in the parking lot where I worked and passed out in the back seat.