Reader Stories

This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us chose to remain anonymous.

Since as far as I remember, alcohol has been a delicate topic in my family. All my life I’ve heard how I should never drink in an excessive way, how alcohol can destroy someone’s life and how it hurts both the drinker and their family. It was a kind of rule all while I was growing up, reserving alcohol only for very few moments in our life. At first I thought it was due my family’s religious beliefs (Christians, with heavy opinions about alcohol abuse or any other type of substance abuse), but while I continue to grow up into the woman I am now I figured out that while religion indeed had a role in our family opinion about alcohol, it was mostly related to the trauma and suffering we all had to experience due to it.

My uncle was an alcoholic. And sadly, he died from it, unable to recover from his addiction. 

Unlike others my story doesn’t come from my own addiction or from my parents’ addiction but my uncle instead, and it wouldn’t be that much of a deal in my life if it weren’t for the fact that I lived with him for more than decade of my life, having a role of a second parent in my childhood, therefore affecting me severely in ways I couldn’t even understand.

Apparently, it all started in his teenage years, but since I was nonexistent at that time, I can’t talk about things I didn’t experience, but the same wording was always said when I used to ask about the topic: “it was casual”, “nothing serious”, “we don’t even know when it became that bad”.

I’d guess everything became worse around the first years of the 00’s, when I was only six years old, and saw how my cousins (around the same age as me) had to stay with us because problems were happening in their house. I was thrilled about it because I was a kid, my cousins were with me for days, what else a kid could ask for? But eventually the problems began to come to our house – when my uncle and aunt divorced, and his alcohol intake increased drastically.

My first direct interaction with him in such an intoxicated state was on Christmas in the same year as the divorcing. I remember my parents having to attend a police call someone made on him, and me coming with them because there wasn’t anyone to take care of me at home. I still remember vividly the fear that took over me when I saw him in front of my cousins’ house, drunk, insulting and threatening my aunt with a gun. He was a collector of different types of guns and rifles, and it wouldn’t be the last time he’d use one of them against someone.

At that age I associated alcohol with violence and danger, with fear, to the point that even now, in my young adulthood, I get severely anxious when anyone drinks near me or when the smell fills my senses.

Everything from there was a rollercoaster in descent, and it was decided that the best help he could get was to live with my parents in order to control his addiction. Of course, I have to note that in the middle of the chaos there’s good memories I can recall of me and my uncle together (he was a better uncle than a dad, according to my cousins) and it took me years to understand that all the things he did was because he was addicted and ill, acting caring and lovely in the very few moments of sobriety.

With the passing of the years his addiction got worse, as well the relationship between him and us, and the attempts to help him ended with violent fights and insults, and with me hiding under my bed scared of hearing a gunshot coming from the living room. It happened almost every night to the point that my parents gave me a signal for me to know I should go to the safest place of the house and hide there no matter what, waiting for them to come and tell me it was safe to come out again.

I started to have mixed feelings about my uncle from a young age asking myself a ton of different questions in order to understand what was happening in our house: why did he act that way with us? Would he hurt my mom and dad in the middle of a fight? Why did he yell awful things about us and my cousins? How come I can love someone that treats us like that? 

I didn’t get the answers to those questions until years later. 

I had to live with the shame of having an alcoholic family member part of my teenage years as well as with the fear of him doing something dangerous to us. To the point that I started to actually hate him for everything he made me experience. I stopped giving him affection when he was sober, I didn’t like to talk to him or even look at him when we were in the same room. I wanted for him to feel like I was feeling, something awful to do, I realize right now, but that made sense for a kid of my age. 

There was also a threat that if any of my cousins or my aunt came to visit us/call us he’d shoot at them and us for ‘betraying him’. Those words were spoken while drunk, and he had no memory of them being said the next morning. He would also start to punch and break things when he’d come home drunk, anything (and sometimes, anyone) that would get into his way. Family portraits, decorative objects in the room, I remember I’d get out of my room to discover broken pieces scattered on the ground, and my parents or even my grandma trying to clean them. 

On one occasion, I can’t remember at what age exactly, I got tired of the situation. Tired of crying myself to sleep hearing the screams outside my room, tired of being scared of the thought of him finally killing one of us; that I decided to write him a letter addressing the problem. It was short, and basically explained how I felt since he moved with us. 

Eventually I started to get depressed, around my early teenager days, coinciding with the moment in which my uncle started to get less and less violent and tended to drink to calm the sadness within him – he also used to write about his feelings and somehow we both bonded in the way the alcohol made us feel miserable about life. There were also other factors involved in my diagnosis (I was bullied in school, and had problems related to my self-esteem and weight), but according with a therapist, it was like all the pain and sadness that I experienced since a kid found a way to get out of me in my adolescence, like if it were a type of ‘excuse’ to explode. 

It continued for six years, with a short period of peace when he bought a small apartment to drink alone there (he told it to us in a fight, arguing how we didn’t let him live the life he wanted). That didn’t last long as he was back to live with us after he was unable to pay the rent. 

That was probably the moment when he realized he had a serious problem, asking my mom to go with him to therapy sessions (the therapist I used to go to knew someone focused on treating addictions that worked in the same building).

The alcohol made him depressed as well, but even when he was in numb and sad states there were still moments when the violence would come back to take control of him – like when my dad had to park his car near my aunt’s house and he thought they both were having an affair. Or when my cousin’s boyfriend proposed to him and I saw, entering home from school, how my uncle shot at him and his mom with his gun, alerting everyone in the neighborhood. There would also be days in which he wouldn’t leave his room at all, refusing to eat completely, and when I would silently sit near the door to see if I could listen to any sound coming from inside- there were none. I feel like in some ways I wanted to check on him, for him to be safe despite everything. 

Everything changed drastically when, one day, he was diagnosed with hepatic cirrhosis, and everyone in the family realized that the bad experiences of the past weren’t big enough to leave him suffering alone in that condition. I started to feel bad for him too, but those feelings were mixed with confusion as it took me a lot to give compassion to a person that never had that type of feeling for us.

We (my parents, his ex–wife and I), used to take him to his medical sessions every week and we saw how even in the middle of his illness (when his own life was at risk) he refused to take the treatment or did it with extreme anger. He told us that he would prefer to die as an alcoholic than live the rest of his life cured but connected to a machine. I don’t know if his words were driven by his addiction to drinking or by his depression, all I know is that when I was pulling his wheelchair and I saw him I realized that you must be in such a precarious position to come to a conclusion like that. To prefer to die over live, and to die preferring the thing that killed you slowly.

Eventually our relationship improved because he eventually stopped drinking (he could no longer drive or walk without assistance, making it hard for him to get liquor), and slowly but surely we started to spend more time together, bonding in likes and interests we both had such as TV cartoons, and music (he was a saxophonist and violinist, I got his musical instruments by his personal desire). I also started to feel a little bit safe in his presence, never truly feeling fully safe because there was still the sense of being alert to any sudden reaction from his part but I could understand that he wanted to spend time with me and get to know me more (after his death my parents told me he always used to talk about me in a good light, and ask how I was doing in school, I feel it also had an important role in my own healing process).

It was like that for two years; we took him to the hospital, dealing occasionally with the abstinence syndrome in which he used to feel angry over not being allowed to drink. It was hard for everyone, especially for me because I had to take care of the entire house while my parents were helping him with his treatment. Our entire family dynamic revolved around him, and I even noticed how the relation between my aunt and him came to a healthy point.

My entire life was a cycle of adapting to whatever circumstances came up due to his addiction: learning how to adapt to the fights, to know what to do in cases when someone was severely drunk since I was a kid. Then adapt to the good times between us and to take care of him and show compassion in his illness. But I never adapted nor expected for it to come to an end so soon.   

On August 5 of 2014 I woke up around 7 am hearing some violent noises and a very soft voice. I didn’t know what it was so I got out of the bed to follow the sound, standing in front of my uncle’s room. I found him having a heart attack related to his physical illness.

I was the only one that heard him due to the proximity of our rooms, and he’d probably have died if I were late to assist him. My mom applied CPR as an ambulance was called and we waited for it to come – he didn’t die immediately from it and seemed to come back around but was still delicate and in shock over what had happened.

After the ambulance took him to the hospital it was the last time I saw him in a conscious state. We all said our goodbyes and I spent the next hours figuring how to feel about what just happened, and figuring out what to do next.

All the confusing feelings came back to me, almost to tell me that even if he did awful things in the past – severely traumatizing me and my cousins – he didn’t deserve to die, much less to die alone because no one could hear him asking for help. He didn’t deserve to be blamed for something he didn’t have control over, he had tried to get help, tried to be sober and, in his last years, fix the relationships he broke due his alcoholism (some with success, others without it).

He died that same day around 8 PM (the doctors declined to treat him, because it would kill him anyway, and decided to let him die naturally).

I didn’t cry. At least not immediately, at least not until months after I went to therapy to talk for the first time about the relationship I had with him. That was when I understood everything I’m aware of now (that he was ill, that alcoholism is an illness that took over him like any other illness would do).

Six years have passed since he died and while there’s things I wish I could have done differently or better, there’s also things from my past that I’ve healed with time. It took me a while to understand that I have PTSD due to the trauma related to alcohol, and to make peace with the person that while sober was the best uncle ever, but while drunk was a total hell. 

I don’t drink myself; I didn’t like the taste of it when I first tried it and because I remember all the things I had to experience due to it and how it can break a person from inside. I do still flinch when someone is a little tipsy and make sure to have a plan in case it gets violent. I feel that is something that will be with me forever. When people ask me why I refuse an occasional beer or alcoholic beverage, in a society where alcohol is the most common thing to everyone, I simply ignore the question or drive the conversation to a different topic, not wanting anyone to know all the things I had to experience and that traumatized me in my early years.

It’s hard, and it makes you suffer a lot and fill yourself with anger due to the alcoholic’s behavior. But as you grow up, and decide to heal yourself from it, you’ll learn that it was also hard for them, and painful.

And that’s a thing I understand now.

This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us chose to remain anonymous.

My experience with alcohol addiction taught me quite a few life lessons, lessons that I’m lucky enough to practise in real life now. In my case, drinking started off as a casual habit as it does for many of us. Getting wasted during college days was a routine and my drinking capacity was something that I used to take pride in. Drinking while you are still young is a different experience. Your metabolism is high and your body strength to endure alcohol is much higher. I could wake up with a hangover and still function during the day. 

It is quite easy to ignore the fact that the more you drink, the more your dependency on alcohol goes up, which is what happened in my case. I’m 6 feet tall and I used to weigh around 175 pounds when I started drinking. I was a physically fit young guy and never had any serious health issues in my life. I was pursuing a degree in engineering and had a part time job in college. My days were extremely busy during college, juggling between classes, a job and going out with friends almost every night. I hardly took any days off to rest and let my body heal. 

Drinking obviously was a huge part of my lifestyle, everyone around me was doing it and I had no reason to not do it, it was as simple as that. Beer was my favourite and I could not get enough of it. With a decent capacity to hold down my liquor, I would only stop when I was about to pass out. 

I never had any anger issues, I’m a Zen guy as they say and I love having a good time, but when there is a large amount of alcohol involved on a daily basis, inevitably there are going to be incidents like fights or rage bursts. I was once kicked out of a bar along with my friends quite aggressively by the bouncers, when all we did was defend a girl who was getting harassed by a rich guy. 

Cops were called in but they did not get there until we were pulling out of the parking lot, that is when we were apprehended by the police and I was charged with DUI. I did not blame anyone in that situation, because when there is so much alcohol involved, it was hard to keep track of the whole situation and once I realised it would not be worth the fight, I accepted the charges. 

We all said some things that we regret and at the end of the day I had some bruises to show for it, the other guy however, who had more money and contacts got to live under the illusion of winning the whole situation. 

Alcohol has become so deeply engraved in our social culture that I almost felt compelled to drink when I was young. There is evidence of there being a lack of education amongst young people with regards to drugs and alcohol in our country. This leads to poor decision making by young people and that destroys lives. I was a victim of similar poor decisions I made in my life, almost subconsciously. After 10 years of serious alcohol abuse I had started to realise that I had developed a daily need for alcohol. It was becoming physically and mentally clear that I needed alcohol every day in order to function properly and feel good within my head. 

I was not drinking beer anymore after I graduated. I had gradually started drinking hard liquor during my late 20’s. After my graduation I landed a job with a construction company. It was during this time I met Elizabeth (name changed) at work and we started dating. She was an incredible human being with a huge heart. We soon realised how fond of each other we were, and our relationship got serious over the next three years. 

I had a student and a personal loan which I had taken out to help someone in the family that I wanted to pay off before I got married. This was like a personal goal me and my girlfriend had together, we wanted to pay off the debt as soon as possible and open our own business. Hard work did not scare me and I knew I had to put in those hours to get what I wanted. I was working 60 hours a week, 12 hours a day. I had started to realise that drinking was the only way I could get myself to fall asleep. 

My body was working overtime during the day on the job and with the alcohol abuse during night. I slowly started to gain weight around my waist. Even till this point I had never had a serious health issue, which gave me the impression that I was doing everything right. I could hold my liquor very well, so there was never any intervention from friends or family regarding my drinking habit. But there were clear signs of alcohol abuse that I ignored, like dark circles and bags around my eyes, my hair getting thinner and the obvious weight gain. Till now I had no problems with drinking as long as it made me feel good in the moment and helped me sleep. 

The cloud of ambiguity soon cleared and our lives were thrown into a whirlpool of emotions, when my girlfriend was diagnosed with a tumour in her brain. She had been suffering from mild headaches and nausea for a long time, but those symptoms got ignored over the years because of our lifestyle. Soon after the headaches got worse, we went to see the doctor, and after a series of hospital visits it was confirmed that she had a stage 3 tumour. 

This time was very critical in my life, everything after that revolved around Elizabeth and I did not care or look after myself much. I was basically a shell of a person just going along a looped routine. I had gone numb watching the love of my life go through excruciating pain and stressful chemo sessions, and drinking was the only way I could calm my screaming nerves and feel something. Over the next year she bravely fought her battle with cancer however in the end she was taken away from us. 

Going through trauma has instigated a great sense of respect in me towards other people who go through pain and hardship. I realised how easy it is for us to just go with the flow of life when everything is going good, and ignore a whole other perspective of life. At the time when we lost her, I was still quite young, under a lot of debt and lacked experience in dealing with trauma. To say the least, I am not proud of the way I handled things back then. 

I fell back on drinking like there was no tomorrow. I had completely given up on the thought of having a normal life, and contrary to my natural behaviour, I isolated myself from friends and family. I did not know how to handle the thoughts and emotions that follow the loss of someone you truly loved. Alcohol fills up these voids in you when you are already susceptible to it. I was barely performing at work, that led to a demotion and that only added fuel to the agony I was already feeling. 

I put on 30 pounds within twelve months. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I realised I looked much different, but I did not care. One night I was out of booze, so I decided to drive to the local store and pick up some. On my way back I missed a stop sign and luckily there was a police cruiser at my tail. I was charged with my second DUI on that day. I was a fairly rational person, so at the back of my head I knew I was not supposed to live like this. But my inexperienced narcissistic brain did not care yet. 

My world came to a halt one day, when I started having seizures and passed out on my floor. My body had bloated up to almost double its size. A few days before this incident, I had come across a documentary about farm animals and the cruelty they face for the sake of the meat industry. That documentary hit me quite hard, and I was depressed beyond my known limits. 

That emotional roller coaster sent me into a drinking binge that lasted a week. I lost track of how much I was drinking as I was ordering my booze online. I took a medical leave from work, after I failed to report to work and they called me to check on me. This binge lasted eight days before I collapsed on my floor and my friends found me in the most horrible state they have ever seen me. Due to excessive drinking my body had lost a lot of minerals and vitamins, so my muscles had filled up with water leading my body to bloat up to almost twice its size. 

The next few days were spent in the hospital in tormenting pain and regret. The medical procedure to remove the retained water from the body takes weeks and the feeling can only be described as horrible. I knew that after I recovered from this backlash, I was facing a disease and I needed help, it was just about time I asked for it. Luckily for me there was plenty of help at the time. My family and friends did their best to make me feel better, and honestly that was all I needed. I knew it was me who would eventually have to face the consequences of my actions. 

I thought about what Elizabeth would want for me. I knew she wouldn’t want me to be where I was. I harvested motivation out of my misery because I did not want to be sad anymore. This renewed feeling of life was very refreshing and I was finally able to give closure to my loss of Elizabeth. I knew alcohol is just another tool we used to overcome sadness, social barriers and such issues. So I decided I would find ways to be happy with what I have in my life and not give alcohol the importance I was giving it previously. This was my first and last time I was coming to an understanding that alcohol was never there to help me or that I needed it. I chose not to go to a rehab as I was already tight on money and decided that I will endure this on my own.

In the abstract I was doing really well, recovering from the health complications I had developed from drinking. Management at my workplace were very understanding and they supported me in getting through my crisis. I could not have asked for better people in my life helping me out in the moment when I needed it the most, and I will always be indebted to these wonderful people. A couple of months passed easily and I never had much craving mainly because I was recovering from a major health condition. 

One of my best friends even got me on a routine where we would go to the gym and workout. As a few months passed and I started to feel like I was getting back to my regular self, I could easily point out the instances when I would feel the urge to drink. I kept a mental note of all these situations and tried my very best to avoid them. As far as I knew, I was done with the devils brew. So I started focusing on everything that made me happy once, and in the long run also made me a better human being. 

I knew it was an uphill battle but I was determined to see myself pass through it. I remembered I used to play guitar as a kid and how magical it was to play along to my favourite songs or to my family and friends. So I decided I wanted to learn guitar again and I joined weekend classes at a local music store. This is where I met my wife. Susan (name changed) and I married two years later and I cannot be happier or in a better place than I am right now. In the beginning when we were friends, Susan suggested that I should give Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) a try. AA was another life changing experience for me. It would change the way I perceive a lot of things in life.

Alcoholics Anonymous was the first time I got in touch with other people who were recovering addicts. This was my first time getting out of my own bubble of trauma and experiencing stories of other people who are also looking for help and compassion. I felt very welcomed by everyone in the group on the very first day. 

Everyone in the meeting helped me transition from a shy newcomer to an active member of the group. Listening to other stories not only helped me deal with my own weaknesses but it grew a bond between all members. I understood the importance of sharing our pain and happiness with others, which gives us strength as a society and diminishes our differences. 

As a recovering addict I understood that how you feel about yourself and the world depends on the kind of lifestyle you choose. Alcohol when consumed responsibly actually works in your favour. I learned that scientific studies show that alcohol in moderate amounts is good for your heart and kidney. It also helps regulate your mood and relieve stress. The problems start coming into the picture once we start abusing alcohol and start using it for purposes it was not meant to be. This is a worrying concern for all of us because deceptive marketing strategies and lack of proper education victimises thousands of people every year. So many people lose their lives because they either did not realise that they needed help or could not get help. I understand that we all have different life stories and have been shaped differently by consequences, and the best anyone could do in these times is offer help. 

I feel I am very fortunate to have experienced both sides of the stories. There was a moment when I did not know if I would survive to live another day, because I had let careless decisions ruin my life. I feel terribly sad for people out there who did not get their chance at redemption. There are people in my life that have sacrificed for me and stood up for me and looking at those people I get feel humbled every time. Now I have a beautiful family, a lovely daughter and an amazing group of friends who make my life incredible every day. I will always be indebted to the people who helped me and I’m doing my best to provide my support to anyone who needs it. In the end, Me 1 – Alcohol 0.

This is a reader story. We believe in providing our readers with a space for them to share their story however they see fit. The thoughts and views expressed are that of the author and should be treated as such. If you wish to share your own stories please see here for more information.

The author who sent this story to us is Xavier.

My name is Xavier. As I sit here writing this, a counter on my computer desktop indicates that I have been sober 2,105 days, one day at a time. Time in sobriety has passed quickly. However, what amazes me about this time is that it is 25,000 times the duration I could go at the end of my drinking career without having the need or the craving to have alcohol. I was struck sober, lying on my living room floor, unable to get up, bleeding from a gastric ulcer just before Labor Day weekend in 2004. That is where this amazing journey in sobriety began.

I am a grateful alcoholic. I am the third of four sons, each about two years apart. We grew up in a small town in Eastern Massachusetts where, on our mile-long street, we only had a few neighbors. Our house was on the bank of a river where we would fish and swim during the spring and summer and play in the abundant woods, riding bikes on trails and building secret forts with some older neighborhood kids. I always wanted to hang out with my two older brothers, as there were few kids my own age in the area. I always felt like an outsider. I remember at one of these forts, at the age of ten, finally feeling like I belonged because someone gave me a cigarette to smoke, or more accurately, choke on. But at least they treated me like one of the guys. As my older brothers went off to high school, I again felt isolated and alone.

It wasn’t until I was a high school freshman, when I played drums in the marching band with my next older brother, that I again began to feel the connection of associating with him and his friends. That fall, the afternoon before my first evening jazz band rehearsal, I distinctly remember my first drunk — on Orange Tango. I remember the taste going down — and coming up. What a great feeling of belonging I had had — something I had never felt before. Shortly this led to nearly daily drinking or smoking marijuana, which at times was easier to obtain. While I was still in high school and my older brothers were in college, I remember on several occasions going to visit them on a Friday, only to find myself awakening one or two days later in a dorm room, from what I now know as a blackout, unaware of what had happened in the interim. Despite my increasingly frequent substance use, I excelled as a student. I prided myself on never missing a day of school. I attended all my classes and did my assignments and readings. I was blessed with an extremely good memory. I did not need to study very hard for tests to ace them. By my junior year, I was taking all honors classes and easily passing them, putting me near the top of my class. I had one influential mentor, my physiology teacher, who encouraged me to pursue an education in the sciences, perhaps medicine. My friends were all band members who partied like me. I never had any run-ins with the administration or faculty and did not think that I had any kind of problem. Off to college I went, at a major university in Washington, DC, with plans to study chemistry with a minor in psychology in a pre-med curriculum. None of my roommates, five in a dorm suite, drank or partied like I did. Within a week I was able to find another room with three sophomore roommates who were just like me. Within a short period of time, harassing the fourth roommate with obnoxious merriment, I was able to convince that non-partying roommate to swap rooms. I structured my class schedule so as to not interfere with my alcohol and drug use, incorporating a large break between morning and late afternoon classes in which I could get all my studying done. I again excelled in school, graduating with a 4.0 GPA and several individual honors. I had completed all except two course credits for my degree within three years and spent my final year engaged in analytical chemistry research for the last two credits. I was offered a scholarship opportunity to go on to PhD studies in chemistry, but chose to continue on to med school instead. Again, in med school, I sought out and found friends who partied just like me.

Meanwhile, I met a girl from back home with whom I began a relationship during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years. She was being raised in an old world male-dominated society. We would try to see each other for vacation breaks and long weekends. When we were first dating she would have to be back home by the time the street lights came on. We carried on this long-distance relationship for over five years before we were married during the summer before my third year of medical school. While we were dating, I kept the quantity of my alcohol and most of my substance use a secret from her. I led kind of a double life. In one life I was the good student and boyfriend turned into fiancé, and in the other I was the unfaithful drunk pothead. When she would catch me getting high, with my Friends or by myself, she would be irate and I would promise to abstain, only to use as soon as I dropped her off at her parents’ house. When we were finally married, she gradually accepted my use of marijuana and alcohol as normal, even participating at times. Soon we found couples who had the same interest. There were many times after getting together with another couple that I drove home in a blackout.

Though we were married, I do not believe that we were ever really intimate. I was devoid of emotion. If we got into an argument, the resolution typically came after weeks of not speaking to each other, we acted like children. I do not remember ever experiencing feelings as I do today. I recollect, even as a preteen, prior to my drinking career, not being able to feel sorrow at my Grandmother’s funeral, forcing myself to cry just to fit in with the family. I was, as an adult, still unable to have or express feelings with my wife, leading to a very distant relationship lacking emotional intimacy.

I matched in an anesthesiology residency after completing medical school with very strong evaluations from my clerkship rotations. I made a conscious decision upon my graduation to stop smoking marijuana because of the possibility of jeopardizing my medical license if I were to get caught. Alcohol easily and quickly replaced the marijuana as I began residency. Back then, on Fridays, we would have resident “Liver Rounds” with plenty of beer and wine and occasional finger food supplied by the drug reps. I would frequently leave work intoxicated and continue drinking through the weekend if I wasn’t working. I swore I would never drink and go to work. I knew that if I did, that would mean I had a problem.

Again, I excelled in my training program, becoming the chief resident in my final year. However, I had few friends, and none of the friends I had drank as I did. I began to drink at home, frequently wondering the next morning how there could be so many empty beer cans on the counter. During residency, we had the first of four children. My son, I thought, would solve our problems and bring us closer.

After completing residency, I found a private practice opportunity that seemed like a good fit for me. My wife was pregnant with our second child. I started a pain practice as part of this small anesthesia group and became quite successful in the medical community. I still had a few friends that would come over my house and had a couple of drinks. I did become friendly with two non-physician coworkers, and we began getting together for martinis and cigars on a frequent basis. I no longer drank much beer, as it did not provide the needed effect without voluminous consumption.

My wife had a miscarriage about a year after the birth of our second child. I really didn’t wish to have any more children. In my mind, we had had enough discussion about our family size, and I proceeded to go ahead with a vasectomy. Our marriage became further strained, as my wife apparently still wanted additional children. I underwent a reversal of the vasectomy, and soon thereafter, my wife was pregnant with our third healthy child. After six years, I was becoming dissatisfied with work because I didn’t feel I had adequate support from my group or the hospital. After a brief job search, certainly hindered by my alcohol consumption, I returned to the large academic practice where I trained.

Again, professionally I excelled, but socially, I was completely isolated. I left my two friends behind and made no new ones. My wife had just delivered our fourth child, and I was distant from my whole family. I rarely participated in the children’s activities. My wife, who I believe was also unhappy, frequently left the young children with me for me to supervise while she went shopping or got together with her neighborhood friends. That gave me the opportunity to easily drink at home without needing to hide. Soon, I drank daily in isolation, hiding the quantity of my drinking from my wife, secretly replenishing the supply in the liquor cabinet with bottles I hid elsewhere. I still didn’t think I had a problem with alcohol since I had never missed a day of work and continued to excel in my profession. I was unhappy and disinterested in our marriage, and my attention started to wander. I had a brief extramarital affair that lasted a couple of days while I was on vacation in 2003. It all happened while the children played together outside on the beach. My wife had made a last minute decision to stay home with one of the children, giving me the perfect opportunity to pursue intoxicated unfaithful bliss.

The following week I was called into my chairman’s office for a meeting with him and our corporate president. They asked me if I had a problem with alcohol, which I flat out denied. I told them that I sometimes would drink quite a lot on weekends, but that it was something I could control. I truly believed that I could. They offered help if I needed it, but I wasn’t ready yet. The ensuing year I tried many times, unsuccessfully, to curb my drinking. With every unsuccessful attempt to abstain, which never lasted more than a day, I became more and more frustrated. I tried to limit the quantity to only one drink daily. That one drink then became a bottomless tall glass of cheap vodka on the rocks with perhaps a splash of tonic to start — leading to me wondering the following morning where the rest of the bottle disappeared to. I began hiding bottles in the garage and under the seat of my car so I always had access to alcohol. I would never use the same liquor store twice in the same week to avoid potential criticism by the sales clerk of the quantity I was consuming.

My relationship with my wife, both emotionally and physically, was totally absent. I was unable to participate in any kind of family activity or anything that involved seeing friends, especially if it interfered with my drinking. My family would watch TV in one room and I would be in another drinking to oblivion. If I watched a movie with the family, it was unlikely I would remember any details of the movie the following morning. I began a friendship with another woman during this time. We talked about our discontent with our marriages, among other things. Soon we were flirting and going to lunch together. I was very fearful of beginning a romantic relationship. Intimacy was not in my repertoire.

By this time, I could not go for more than a couple of hours without feeling withdrawal symptoms including hot flashes, sweats, palpitations, and the shakes. I would awaken during the night in withdrawal needing to take some alcohol to be able to get back to sleep. I began to need to drink just to feel normal. I was sliding down a very slippery slope without a solution. I was unable to ask for help. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. Alcohol had, over many years, subtly become my higher power, fully taking over my life. Every morning I would awaken with fear of going to work. My tremors would be so bad that at times I could barely sign my name, never mind perform the necessary skills for my profession. My hands would sweat so much that I could barely don sterile gloves. I was fortunate at that time to primarily be supervising three highly skilled fellows training in our practice any involvement on my part. I couldn’t wait for the workday to end so I could get to my car and have a good dose of alcohol from the bottle under the seat.

I began losing my appetite. I was unable to eat a full meal. I began losing weight quickly. I couldn’t sleep without passing out into unconsciousness — which was now happening early in the evening — only to awaken in the same state of withdrawal again. One morning I began violently vomiting. I managed to crawl in the dark to huddle over the commode. I rationalized that the vomiting might be due to food poisoning. By the morning, I was severely dehydrated and could barely stand. I called in sick, the first time ever in my life. The second night, I began to have diarrhea with old, digested blood in it. The next morning I awoke with my heart racing, unable to get up off the floor, realizing that this was the end of the run. I clearly remember three distinct thoughts. My drinking needs to end now. I have to be honest. I definitely need to ask for help.

I managed to pull myself up onto the couch. I asked my wife to take me to the ER, knowing that I was having a GI bleed. In the ER I was asked about my drinking. “Social” was my response. I still wasn’t ready to be honest. Later I was discharged home with instructions to avoid alcohol or any other irritating substance. Miraculously, I was able to abstain from alcohol that entire weekend with only very mild withdrawal symptoms. Each successive day without alcohol seemed like a huge success. Nervously, I returned to work. Near the end of that workday, my chairman called to tell me that he had heard that I was in the emergency room the prior week. He asked if I needed help, and I responded yes. He arranged for me to see the hospital psychiatrist the following morning. During an hour-long interview in which I admitted I had a slight problem with alcohol, he briefly told me about Physician Health Services and gave me contact information for the associate director (AD) I should contact. I called the AD and made an appointment to see him later that day. I stopped by work later that morning and told each of my colleagues about my problem with alcohol and that I was going to be getting help. They were supportive. That afternoon, I met with the AD. He told me about PHS and what I would need to do if I wanted to participate in the program. He suggested that I might need to have an inpatient evaluation, and he instructed me to make an appointment with the director of the program. I was ready to do anything necessary to begin my recovery. One of the things I talked to the AD about was honesty and the need for rigorous honesty in order for me to succeed. I knew I could not live any more lies.

The following morning, after the kids were off to school, I told my wife that I was an alcoholic and that I was seeking help. Her response was that of surprise. She was angry — especially about the lies. She didn’t realize how much lying is an integral part of alcoholism. She then began to question me about any other lies I told in the past. I hesitated for a while, not wanting to hurt her any more. But her persistence made me remember my resolve of the previous day — rigorous honesty. So I told her everything that happened.

I was still unsure what I wanted to do with my marriage. I knew I needed to focus on recovery and not make any other major decisions.

By this time I had been sober for three weeks and I had made plans to go for a five-day inpatient evaluation approved by the PHS director. I went to an addiction treatment facility with a program designed specifically for health care professionals. At the end of the extensive five-day evaluation, it was suggested that I stay for an extended period of time. I was told that if I did not follow the suggestions, it was likely that I would not be able to retain my license to practice medicine. My choices were limited. At the beginning of treatment, I was angry. I was in denial about the extent of my alcoholism — after all, I had been “sober” for more than three weeks prior to entering treatment — why couldn’t I just have outpatient treatment and continue to work? Here I was in an expensive treatment center insurance wouldn’t cover, and I was not earning an income, but rather accumulating expenses as a partner in our corporation. I couldn’t see how important it was for me to separate myself from outside stresses so I could focus on me. I was unwilling to really look at myself until one day, one of my group members who had been in treatment for nine weeks suggested that I read one of the stories in the back of “The Big Book” of Alcoholics Anonymous called “Acceptance was the Answer,” written by another physician, Paul O. I finally learned and internalized that until I could accept my alcoholism, I could not stay sober. I needed to concentrate not so much on what needed to be changed in the world as on what needed to be changed in me.

My entire view changed. I became willing to change. I became honest with myself. Over the next six weeks, with the help of my counselor and group members, I began to explore my character flaws and incorporate the principles of alcoholics anonymous into my life.

After seventy days, I was discharged and was soon able to return to work under a monitoring contract with PHS. I quickly joined AA and obtained a sponsor. I attended daily AA meetings for the first ninety days. Later, I cut back to three to four meetings a week as I returned to taking call at work. At the appropriate time, with the guidance of my sponsor, I was able to make amends to everyone I had harmed, including myself.

Initially, I had lots of fear about returning to work. I worried about what people would think, what kind of criticism I would receive. Much to my surprise, many people barely noticed my extended absence. Those who knew of my course were, for the most part, very supportive. I eased back into work with a lower level of responsibility, able to focus more on myself and my recovery program. Over time I was able to take on more work responsibilities. I have become a better and more compassionate physician than I ever was before.

I believe involvement with PHS was necessary for me to begin a successful recovery. Without the support of PHS, I certainly doubt I would have seized the opportunity to enter into an intensive inpatient treatment program. My delusion about the lack of severity of my alcoholism likely would have prevailed, as I hadn’t yet lost everything. Following discharge from treatment, the requisites of the PHS contract mandated a firm level of discipline in meeting attendance, responsibility to submit to random drug screening, workplace monitoring, as well as regular meetings with my associate director. These requirements set up the mechanics for a continued program of recovery following completion of the contract.

I am now a very grateful recovering alcoholic. My life is full of surprises all the time. I am very grateful to have a program I can use to help me grow through life’s challenges. I no longer regret being an alcoholic since it is through my alcoholism that I have been able to grow and integrate a wonderful set of principles into my life.

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The author who sent this story to us wished to remain anonymous

“Drink away your sorrows, to experience temporary happiness even for a second.” I always stand by this quote because I myself believe that the way on forgetting all your problems and suffering is by drinking alcohol. The state of emotional instability is often experience when there is alcohol, and you can never tell whether you are excited about the occurrence or you feel as if you are only making a bad situation worse because you are already drunk. Instead of facing your problems, alcohol becomes a solution for that temporary freedom in emotion.

For me alcohol has always been the stress reliever option ever since I was 18 years old. As a teenager, I experienced the state in which I am expected to act decent and proper in the eyes of other people since I have a good reputation, to be a role model to my younger siblings since they look up to me, and for my parents, they often expected me to look after my younger siblings because I was the eldest. My family is not that rich, nor that poor, we are only capable of buying the basic needs for living every single day, but we cannot deny the fact that there are times where poverty becomes a hindrance for us to do better and improve the state of life that we are living. On the other hand I myself doing fine in my Academics back then, but one time there are a lot of things that our professors required us to pass in a specific deadline, a dance video, thesis concept, and performance tasks on 3 different subjects.

I always thought of these kinds of stuffs as a piece of cake, since I believe in my capabilities on tackling these work load, but for some reason I failed on delivering the said tasks completely and it greatly affected my grades and reputation as the leader of the group. I was considered incompetent and lack the understanding to what is supposed to be my priority which is my studies. Well, I can not imply that I have done my best to finish the outputs that are bombarded, since there are also a lot of problems in my mind that has been bothering me the whole time. I consider this as an academic breakdown, for such reason that one simple mistake had led to the fall of my academic status and capabilities as a leader. Adding to the situation, I also have a family problem which involves my younger sibling being diagnose with a lung related disease.

I was lost, I got no one to blame but myself, and yet a group of friends that I knew invited me to have some fun in order to forget all the stuffs that has been happening, and therefore with the current mindset and perception that I have on my life, without a doubt, I said yes. We move to our friend’s house, and plan to sleep there overnight. I have been introduced to drinking before, although those kinds of drinks we’re just on small quantities, this time it was different. Gins, brandies, and tequilas are over the place, we started drinking at around 8 in the evening, and finish by 4 in the morning. During those times I was able to express myself and how I feel towards the situation that I have encountered lately, and for them it was nothing new because for some reason they have also experience those situations.

The heavy weight that my heart was feeling the whole time becomes lighter and I was thankful that I was able to let it all out, but I did not expect that after being drunk and my mental state is back to normal, the problems that I am experiencing is still there, and that weight in my heart becomes heavier. I cannot deny the fact that maybe this is reality, and for some reason even when I tried my best to express and let it all out, it still haunts me, making me regret every single decision that I have made that have led to this problematic situation. So I decided for myself to forget it, even for just a moment or a night that I can sleep peacefully with a bottle of brandy in my hand.

That is how my alcoholic addiction begun. Every day after school, I would go out and buy some drinks, get wasted, and forget all the things in my mind. There are also some times that I would cut my classes and hang out with my friends just to get drunk, and slowly getting drunk becomes a part of my life, there is this indescribable feeling that whenever I cannot taste alcohol ever for a day, it makes me lose my mind, it builds up aggression within me, and it makes me do things that I was not capable back then. Shouting, street fights, getting angry at someone just by getting look at, disrespecting other people, and even trying to steal just to have a taste of that alcohol, but for once I am glad that I was only addicted to alcohol and not smoking or drugs. I would not even consider trying those other options on the first place, but here I am with alcohol, dying just to get a hold of it.

Alcoholic addiction has been a rough experience, there are many people that are affected, my family, schoolmates, friends, and even my relatives. To be in a current state, in which alcohol revolves around your life all the time is very frustrating and challenging, but still I always disregard the consequences of my action and drink more and more alcohol. I did not think or consider about my health and how it will affect me in the future, I was all out looking to get drunk with and enjoy the time of my life, like there was no tomorrow. I thought to myself that there is no going back, I cannot stand a day without alcohol, and for me that is all that matters. Months have gone by and things are still the same, getting drunk every day, experiencing the same hangover, fighting those hangovers with even more drinking, and it seems like I was pretty out of hand on what I am doing. I care less, or care nothing at all by what surrounds me and whatever I do.

I believe that everything will eventually be okay, and I will be accepted for what I am, my parents can definitely understand me and even my friends, but it turns out I was wrong. My parents were very disappointed on me, it hurts them to see me in a state which my life is going nowhere, all the dreams and expectations that they have made are now very far from being real, or will never be real at all. They have tried consulting and talk me through the situation that I am experiencing, they want me to realize that it is not too late for me to change and become a better version of myself, but I was ignorant, I did not listen still, all I hear are the same words that go through my ear every time I go home drunk, and after that nothing eventually changes, alcohol always win in my mind.

My siblings who thinks very highly of me and looks up to me in the past, now does not want to go near me, they are all afraid of what I will do to them whenever I get angry, the brother that they have look up to and loved so much is now a monster in their eyes. I guess they cannot understand the situation since they are too young for it, but they have seen me becoming angry over certain things and even on small things, which seems to be idiotic, but I know they are still young and seeing aggression, rage and hearing bad words at a small age can deliberately cause traumatic thoughts and experiences in their mind. It can even affect their mindset in the future, when they grow up, what if they will even try to become like me, what if they will even be much worse? I for once never thought of that and continue with the reckless things that I am doing.

The group of friends that I have becomes little by little, I do not know why there are some who does not even want to go near me, some does not even talk to me anymore, they seem to view me as a different person, and yes I am truly a different person now. I did not care of my social status anymore and all the other things that matter in my life. How I wish that I should have realize soon, how I wish that I have change my lifestyle and becoming productive in the things that I am doing.

I was already a burden to a family that has experience hardships and each action that I made had become an extra weight for that burden that my parents and siblings are carrying in their lives as each day passes. One night, I came home very late and when I open the door I saw my mother crying, she told me that my father brought my youngest sibling to the hospital because there were complications in his lungs, and he needs to get surgery as soon as possible or the worst may happen to him.

She asked me if I was listening, if I still care about our family and about the future of my younger sibling. She said that if I do not care about my life, then atleast try to help in saving your sibling’s. She wanted me to realize that I have a family who has experienced a lot and needs me back in order to face these challenges without hesitation. I know I cannot add up to the problems that we are facing. The tears in my mother’s eyes strikes me deeply, because I know that I have been a burden for them and I have not been the son that they expect me to be, the one who is full of determination and potential to lift the state of life that we have. I feel ashamed of myself and tried my best to comfort my mother. I contemplated on things that I have done over the past few months, all those selfish acts, and chaotic pursuit on things.

I was a coward, I do not have the guts to face my problem, I tend to run away from them by drinking and drinking, but the thought of getting rid of the problem through drinking was just a mere illusion. Problems became more complicated and things are not going better, they become worse and worse. The moment of realization hits me hard like a truck. It was a night full of tears and regrets. All those money that I have used for alcohol may have been useful for our situation right now, things should have been better if I have been productive like I was in the past. Still I was lost, I do not know how and where to start, I do not know what the first step is, but I was eager to change, I was eager to become better. I want our lives to improve and I want to help my sibling recover. I know that I cannot live a day without the taste of alcohol, but I will give it a try. I tried to tell me parents about it, although I know that I was not so sure about whether I can take alcohol out of my life. I just wanted to ease their feeling, even with just simple words, I want to give them hope that I am ready to change my lifestyle and become the person that they wanted me to be.

Day 1 was a rough start, my usual habit becomes unnecessary, instead of going out of the house, I stayed in, do some repairs on the kitchen sink, clean some furnitures, fix my bedroom and wash the sheets. I tried to forget about alcohol, I tried to stop myself from going out and buy a bottle of gin. It was very difficult to control such addiction, your mind feels like it was gonna explode and you are thinking of crazy thoughts. Being addicted is really painful, not only physically but also mentally, the mental part is the most difficult to handle since you cannot determine when will it end or will it ever get out of your mind. I tried to entertain myself with other things, going back to my old routine when I am not addicted to alcohol.

The first day had passed and it was not that easy, I forced myself to get to sleep, but my mind is telling me to get up and buy something to drink. It was an awful feeling that makes you want to give up because over the past months I could sleep peacefully and easily because I was drunk, but now it was already 3 in the morning, my mind is awake and my eyes are wide open. Finally, I closed my eyes, and in the eternal silence of air, I began to pray. I know anything could be overcome with the help of prayer and faith in God, the idea being that faith will eventually help and save anyone whatever the problems that they are facing, and there is no problem that is bigger than God.

I was crying, seeking for help, seeking for a chance of redemption in order to start a new life, a life that is productive and full of chances. I fell asleep around 5 and woke up by 9, It was a short sleep but it felt good, because for the first time in a long time I did not feel any hangover, my head was feeling lighter than ever before. That for me was a big achievement, but it also bothers me if I can maintain it, if in the following days, I could still stop myself from going out and buy alcohol to make me drunk again. 5 days had past and as each day goes by, it was becoming more difficult for me to conquer what I feel. So I thought to myself, maybe if I try to taste it one more time, just to satisfy my feeling of thirst for alcohol, it will get out of my mind forever. Although I have second thoughts on what if it will lead to further addiction, well there’s only one way to find out.

I left our house, and find something to drink on a local store. There I bought one bottle of Chivas Regal. On my way home I saw a poster which seeks individuals to join community gatherings and rehabilitation in order to help their mental health, and it was pretty interesting for me, but then I ignored it and went straight to our house. I want to drink the bottle all by myself in order to carefully think things through. I poured it on a glass, and by taking the first sip from it, my heart was jumping from joy, but my mind was all like “No, no, stop it.” I took a few more shots, then after it was half done, I slowly put my glass on the table and began to think. Will I continue with this life where there will be no alcohol and this will be my last shot, now that I am satisfied with a few shots that I had took or would I go back again to drinking since it feels like heaven for each single sip.

All of a sudden my family got home and was shocked to see me drinking again. My younger sibling who just finished his surgery with a smile on face, slowly becomes tearful and sad. The look on my parent’s face seems to be disappointed, with a thought of here he goes again, with his old habit, drinking that bottle until he gets drunk, wasted and starts to be in rage, but I broke the silence, Ma, Pa, this will be my last shot. I raised my glass to them and take the shot. I then stood up still and smile at them, and said from now on I will be entering the community gathering and rehabilitation for mental health that is located just two streets from here.

The mental health rehabilitation was very helpful for me since it opens up my mind and allowed the presence of our Lord to become stronger. It is very similar to the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) which mainly focuses on helping individuals such as myself who has a struggle in containing their drinking problems, through discussions and meetings. The concept of alcohol being one of the factors that affect the mental health of many individuals these days have been also the reason that deprived these individuals from improving theirselves. Alcohol addiction and abuse cannot be controlled easily, but it can be lessen and stop by following processes that can enhance the lifestyle of a person significantly. As the Alcoholics Anonymous stated that alcoholism is an illness that can be managed, but not controlled.

Having such program is a life saver for people who experience addiction. It simply talks about what are the many possibilities life can give without the need of alcohol, gives hope to many people who are addicted and helps people to have a greater relationship with God. The 12 Steps of Alcoholic Anonymous (AA) is a guide for anyone willing to commit in having a better life, a life with the guidance of God. Based on my understanding, it simply states that the mistakes that we have made in the past does not defy ourselves, it does not threaten our existence nor is it something to be ashamed of, as long as we are trying to become better. Alcohol is indeed tempting and addicting, especially when it is the only thing that saves you from your problem, you would not realize the effect that it can give to your body and to the people around you on few tries, but as time goes by, what you have thought to be a life saver is a life taker. We should always remember that despite the many problems that we are facing, there are always a better way to face them, not to turn to alcohol, but to close your eyes, feel the solemnity of the moment, and talk to God, tell him about all your problems and shortcomings. Feel his presence inside you, through the Holy Spirit, and be thoughtful of your words.

There is nothing to be ashamed of since in His eyes we are His children, and we are accepted for who we are, despite the mistakes that we have done, and the things that we have failed to do. There is always a second chance for those who seek to become better, to change a lifestyle of misery into a lifestyle of faith and trust. God has a way of doing things, and the more He put us through, the higher He will lift us up, as long as we do not deny him and follow his guidance. We may not be able to see what He truly wants to happen, but in doing things always remember to choose it carefully, think it through. There is a good decision which will lead to a fortunate turn of events, and there is also a bad decision, that will lead to a catastrophic turn of events. But, we cannot deny that there are things that we unconditionally do which is wrong, but as long as we repent and ask for forgiveness, ask for a peace of mind and guidance, in which whatever trials and problems faced, you will tend to understand and make it through the situation.

I have been lucky and blessed that despite being addicted to alcohol, I was able to redeem myself through the kindness and will of God, and with the help of my community. It was difficult in the beginning, but for almost 1 year now, I have been controlling myself from drinking and my perception has change from being a drunkard unto being someone who has a dream for a better future. That is all thanks to the mental rehabilitation program, and the 12 Steps of Alcoholic Anonymous, which I have read in their website, also to the blog post that tackles alcohol addiction, and abuse. Above all, I can never be the person who I am right now without the support of my family, and the guidance of God, who never gave up on me despite being lost on the way. In the end I was able to conquer my addiction and become the person that I was destined to be.

Now I am back at school although, it is mostly online because of the pandemic that is occurring around the world, but I am trying my best again to step up my game and graduate for my family. Ending this I would like to share the greatest lesson that I have learned from this experience “Mistakes can be made, but it is never too late with the help of God.”