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A disease of denial
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A Toronto businessman finds a willingness to overcome alcoholism is the first step to beating his addiction
By Gord Mackay
Let me make one thing clear. Not only do I believe that alcoholism is a disease, with physical symptoms and characteristics, I know that it is a treatable disease, and does not require medication for treatment to be effective.
Even though my every waking moment is no longer filled with the obsession of when, how and what my next drink will be, there are still moments when my sense of impending doom, my gut-wrenching loneliness, or my feelings of remorse cause me to consider the magical effect a few drinks would have on my frame of mind. Fleeting, but real moments nonetheless.
I grew up knowing what booze was, and how people used and abused it. From the age of five (or perhaps earlier), sips of my Dad’s beer, toots of wine at Christmas and other festive occasions, and swigs of the half empty bottles left behind at family functions were as common as the perfect math and English tests I brought home. It seemed normal enough to me and apparently everyone else at the time.
At 12, I experienced my first blackout through alcohol abuse, and while it also seemed a typical (and very cool) thing to do, now that I have a 13-year-old daughter of my own, I can immediately identify a definite behaviour problem. That behaviour found me, at age 15, draining six to eight ounces of Southern Comfort each morning to get me ready for first period.
In grade 10 my problem was identified, and a treatment was suggested. That memorable day marked the first one knowing I was an alcoholic, and that I needed help.
If knowledge alone was all that was necessary to recover, my story could end there. But the denial associated with this disease is the most powerful symptom of all, and it took 14 years for me to reach a bottom in my life where I wanted help.
A lot of things happened in those years — more good than bad. If the world was a just place, I should be in prison or dead. Fate had other plans for me, it seems.
I had what appears to be my last drink on October 25, 1996. It was a bottle of Dave’s Massive Irish I was swilling while I cried my eyes out, talking over the phone with a stranger on a Help Line. This stranger contacted another alcoholic, who had been sober for 17 years, and a short time later, this old drunk called and said he used to drink like me. I began to relate to the way he used to feel, the things he used to do, and the reasons he felt he did them. After sharing his experience, strength and hope, one alcoholic to another, he suggested that I not drink for the rest of that day, and that he would pick me up in the morning so we could talk some more. I haven’t had a drink since.
I have narrowed down recovery from this often baffling and elusive illness to three basic ideas. I am not an expert, trained medical professional, or any type of addiction guru, but these three concepts have been constant throughout my recovery, and I believe have kept me sober.
1. Willingness. One must be willing to go to any lengths in the name of staying sober another 24 hours. I can remember how difficult it was being told that I had to give up my friends to stay sober, but looking back, I can’t tell you what I ever saw in those losers.
2. Action. Whatever method, tools, organization, or program is chosen, a serious effort to recover must be maintained with constant vigilance. One key action that is frequently missed is stopping drinking. I am often amazed at how many people do not understand that recovery from alcoholism is easier when you don’t drink. Yes, the denial can be that strong.
3. Attitude. I had been taught that if I have a positive attitude, life would be more positive, and I would start doing positive things. I now know that this order is reversed — positive action leads to positive attitude. On the rare occasions that I consider the power a drink would have over some problem I am having, it usually has followed a period of inaction on my part to maintain a grateful and hopeful outlook on the world around me.
Combining these three basic ideas with the ongoing support of those close to me, I have not only stayed sober for four years and recovered from the hopeless state of existence I once settled for, but my life, for the most part, is happy and worry-free.
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