For some reason I had wanted to go to the pub. I was already drunk 鈥� really drunk, because I somehow realized I was in no shape to get behind the wheel of my truck.
So there I was staggering along the side of a semi-rural road in the dim light of early evening. When I heard a car coming, I鈥檇 spin around in a kind of off-balance pirouette and stick my thumb out. It鈥檚 a miracle I didn鈥檛 get hit or cause someone to drive off the road.
I don鈥檛 recall getting a ride. I don鈥檛 even know if I actually made it to the pub. When I woke up safe and sound in my own bed the next morning, I didn鈥檛 give it a second thought. All was good. I probably even congratulated myself for not听driving.
I don鈥檛 know why that evening even sticks out in my mind. After all, I was wasted pretty much every night of the week back then, even though I didn鈥檛 want to admit it.
I was in total denial. Over the years, as my alcoholism had progressed, I had spun a web of rationalizations to bolster my belief that I didn鈥檛 have a problem. I never saw myself as 鈥済etting wasted鈥� every night. Instead, I鈥檇 have a few drinks and 鈥渇all asleep鈥� in front of the television. Sundays were spent 鈥渨atching football,鈥� and everybody knows you can鈥檛 watch football without a constant supply of beer. Lots of people go through a bottle of wine with dinner (every night).
While I never considered myself a blackout drinker, it wasn鈥檛 uncommon for me to forget evening conversations. I caught the flu a lot on Mondays and Fridays.
By the time I sobered up, my love affair with alcohol was pretty well documented. My name and alcohol were linked on police papers, court papers, medical papers, employment papers, not to mention lots of credit-card bills. I鈥檇 been through two treatment programs and even detox. (Detox was one of the last places I wanted to end up, because a drug and alcohol counsellor at one treatment centre made the point that if you find yourself in treatment, there鈥檚 a pretty good chance you are an alcoholic or drug addict, but if you ever find yourself in detox, there is no doubt 鈥� you are an alcoholic or drug addict.)
I still didn鈥檛 want to believe it. The reality is, though, that by the time I sobered up more than 10 years ago, just about the only person under the delusion that I didn鈥檛 have a problem with alcohol was me.
Funny how I never gave a second thought about people seeing me staggering drunk at the side of the road, but the prospect of walking into a 12-step meeting filled me with so much shame and embarrassment.
鈥淲hat a loser!鈥� I thought. 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 even drink.鈥�
After I quit drinking, I (slowly) came to understand that my alcoholism was not a moral failing. There was no lack of willpower or right or wrong involved in this thing. This is how I鈥檓 wired. Addiction 鈥� to alcohol or any other drug 鈥� is a disease. It鈥檚 a very complicated disease, mind you. It鈥檚 a disease that denies it exists. And it鈥檚 a disease that resists treatment.
It鈥檚 also a disease that is profoundly misunderstood by society, even though you would be hard-pressed to find a family that hasn鈥檛 been touched by it.
How is it that we鈥檝e created a situation where so many people have no compunction about getting falling-down drunk at a company golf tourney only to turn up on Monday morning and laugh off their exploits, yet many people who have been clean and sober for years are worried it might affect their future if their employer found out?
This Sunday, between noon and 4 p.m., Victoria鈥檚 Centennial Square will host the city鈥檚 second annual Recovery Day celebration. There will be about 20 information tables from a variety of organizations, including treatment centres, service agencies and support groups; inspirational speakers; entertainers; and face-painting and balloons for the kids.
There will also be lots of people in long-term recovery from this disease who are living happy, fulfilling lives free of drugs and alcohol. The idea is to help spread the message that prevention works, treatment can be effective, and people can and do recover.
Please join us.
(If you鈥檙e free Saturday night, you might want to check out The Anonymous People, a new documentary on the growing recovery movement being shown at 7听p.m. at the Vic Theatre by the Cedars at Cobble Hill treatment centre. Tickets are $10. The Friday night showing is sold out.)
听
Bill Cleverley is a Times 91原创 reporter and a member of the organizing committee for Victoria鈥檚 Recovery Day event Sunday at Centennial Square.
