The one good thing about being a drunk, is that we are not alone. There was always a poor sap around to join me at the bar; to help me feel better about myself for loving the booze to the point of no return. Laughter and tears were dramatically shared between me and whatever current drinking buddy was keeping me company at any given time, but the day came when my drinking was done in solitude, laughter was terribly amiss, and tears morphed into an eternal plea for death. I was desperately alone at the end of my drinking, and no one knew how to help me, so it was up to me, which left me to my own demise. If it wouldn’t have been for my cry aloud for help, I don’t know if I would be here today, thoroughly writing about my recovery.
Entering into a detox facility, where everyone had at least one thing in common, was alleviating during the first moments of dread and fear. The tremors, terrors, cold sweats and anxiety didn’t overwhelm me so much when I suffered along with others who completely understood the inner hollows of addiction that raped me of my self-worth. We were chained to our drugs of choice, but we were there to maybe find a way out. At that point, I was determined, and willing. I surrendered in the cold dorm room of the institution and made a decision to turn my life over to my higher power… completely this time.
It doesn’t matter where I go in the world today; I’m pretty much guaranteed that there are others like me there. Every job I’ve taken, most parties I’ve gone to, and in just about every crowd, there is another reformed drunk who is more than willing to be a friend, if even for the moment. It’s a camaraderie we have in the rooms, which trickles out into the world. We are not alone, and this is how we do this thing… this living sober thing.
I love you guys, man. I love it that you overcame something that most “normies” would probably take their lives over. I love it that you have the strength of a super hero, the courage of a warrior, and the willingness of a champion. There is nothing like a reformed addict. We are the salt of the earth if you ask me. We have been through the fire (willingly), and suddenly discovered a dynamic purpose for our lives, even if that purpose was simply to live. We climbed out of the pits of hell with every morsel of self-worth remaining in our drunken bodies, deciding once and for all, that we had a choice in the matter. We are not like the Jone’s, or the Smiths. We do not blend in with the masses. We are the ones on the sidelines, standing atop the mountains, who broke through the sleepy masses. We were heedlessly handed a death card, carried it around like it was our destiny, and then one day we discovered that it was ok to lay it down and walk away into the land of freedom.
There are so many of us in the reformed drunk club. I am one of them. You are one of them. Within your circle, there is another. We are a force to be reckoned with, and we help one another. We laugh together and cry with one another. We are a team, a brotherhood, a sisterhood, a godsend of people who know what it’s like to wallow in the depths of hell, and then to shout out… VICTORY!