02/22/15 -one week ago and my first day sober. Nothing spectacular happened on the day before; no arrest, no loss of time, no destruction or mayhem, no fight, no embarrassment or half assed apologies. We were on a hockey trip. My son was hanging out with his teammates somewhere in the hotel and my daughter and I were sitting around the hotel room. She – watching youtube videos and snap chatting with her friends. Me – watching TV and slowly getting stoned on bourbon and coke. She got up and wanted to go down the hall to get a snack and wanted me to go with her and I said no. I said no and she was disappointed (again). I said no because I didn’t want to run in to any of the other parents and be forced to sit down and talk to them, I had already drawn in to my anti-social drunken little shell. I sat there like so many hundreds of nights before and drank ten or twelve or fifteen shots of whiskey and tuned out of my life.
On Sunday morning as I stood at the sink, sweating dizzy and nauseous, dumping another half a bottle of whiskey down the drain; I was just ready to quit.
I’ve quit before. I’ve even joined the big club (My name is Frank, and I’m a drunk). I know there are actually millions of people that have been helped tremendously by AA, probably even saving their lives. But that didn’t work for me. I hadn’t hit rock bottom with some woeful tale of drunk driving, broken homes, incarceration, or disease – I felt like some there were questioning my bonafides. The fellowship aspect and the faith aspects – believe it and it’s true – felt religious to me and that put me on defense. I’m a sometimes Catholic so I’ve already got one crazy religion. If I thought I could find the answers in faith, I’d go to church. No. Much as I have grown to reject superstition and faith in a “power greater than myself”, I am coming to grips that the only way to quit drinking is to not drink.
That’s where you come in. This time feels different because I’m telling you all about it. I’m hoping that my friends and family will read it and support me. I’m hoping that you will read it and it will give you encouragement. I’m hoping that I will be turned on to your work and it will enrich my life. I have tried to journal my way through it before. Journaling was intimate and could be therapeutic although the crap I write to myself feels self absorbed and masturbatory. I can’t stand to read it. What I want to do here is share some of the drinking adventures and stories from along the way. I want to remember the good times and the friends that have been with me on my stumbling trek so far. Along the way I hope to right some of my wrongs, offer some comfort to those that love me, and continue evolving to my better self.