"The Question"

The question from the speaker was this: "How did you know you were done?"

How did I know I was done? Well, in the interests of rigorous honesty, I'm not sure that I did know I was done. When I first came into the rooms, there was so much that I didn't know. I didn't know how to handle life. I didn't know how to handle emotions. I didn't know how to deal with other people. For the most part, I couldn't really tell you what I was thinking and feeling. And that last one wasn't so much because of the fog of detox as it was that I had so little experience dealing with myself honestly that I didn't really know how to do that either.

During my 90 in 90, I heard a lot of people talk about hitting bottom. The feelings they described, the thoughts they had, so much of it was intimately familiar to my ears. It was what I had experienced throughout my entire life. I didn't have a moment where I looked up to the heavens and prayed to God for release from the pain; I did that all the time--and had been since long before I ever first picked up. I don't have three suicide attempts as part of my story because I thought it was a fun recreational activity.

What I knew when I came into the rooms was that I wanted to stop and could not. I couldn't say 'no'. I don't remember ever saying 'no'. Some alcoholics talk about having the thought that they could have 'just one' and it would turn into many more. Sometimes I'll be asked if I ever feel like just having a beer, or just getting loaded once--for old times' sake or some such shit, I guess. I don't have that desire. I'm not interested in just having a beer. The thought doesn't fit in my brain.

If I'm going to drink, I'm going to have a shot and a beer, and then another couple beers, and then probably some more shots because that's more what I'm interested in. I'm not interested in sharing a quick bowl with someone; I'd rather roll up a fat joint, smoke until I'm too stoned to walk or see straight and hell no I ain't gonna share with anyone! These thoughts, by the way, are my instant reminder that I am still an addict.

Some people talk about the first step as admitting to yourself that you were out of ideas. You didn't have any more plans. Everything you came up with hadn't worked, so you might as well try the 12-step way (which just so happens to work). It wasn't like that for me. I never had any ideas. The only idea I ever had was that since life was always gonna be fucking with me, I'd just be loaded all the time because that was the only way I even come close to handling it. This idea, of course, didn't work.

Did I know I was done? Not really. What I knew was that my life wasn't going anywhere. Actually, even that isn't true. What I'd admitted to myself was that my life never had gone anywhere. I knew from the few times I'd been dry, that I hated life. I knew that I hated other people, hated the world I lived in, and hated myself. I knew a little tiny bit about 12-step programs, enough to have admitted to myself that doing one might be good for me. But the thing that got me into the rooms was standing around an apartment full of fifty-year-old hand-me-down furniture and thinking life wasn't supposed to be like this. It was crushing, really. I was a smart guy, who a lot of people throughout his life had loved. So why in the hell did my life look like nothing?

My experience in Recovery suggests that I am done; relapse is not a part of my story. I feel now, today, that I am done. Any desire I might have to go back to the way things were is outweighed by how much I have gained since getting sober. My recovery is the foundation upon which I have built my new life. It ain't all wine and roses, but it is more than I have ever had.

One thing I have learned that I hope I don't ever forget, is that I am only one drink or one hit away from losing it all. That might sound overly dramatic to some. Some might even argue that if I relapse, then all I have to do is swallow my pride and reset my date. Well I say fuck that. That idea is so insane I don't even know where to begin. To some it might even sound reasonable, but it depends on a whole lot of 'ifs': if I make it back to the rooms; if I don't stay 'out there'; if I don't die. Personally, I'd like to keep my number of suicide attempts at just three, thank you very much.

The time I have put together--the length of my sobriety--means more to me than I can ever express. It is the most significant accomplishment of my entire life. Period. Nothing else would be possible without it. What got me into the rooms is important, yes, but what's more important is why I stay.

Today, regardless of what life throws at me, I know that I don't have to drink or use. No. Matter. What. Every new challenge I get through, without doing either of those, doesn't decrease the importance of my Recovery, it amplifies it. It magnifies it. It becomes even more important to me.

This is how I know I'm done, today: I still want to be sober--today. I still want Recovery--today.