As May heads off into the sunset, and June is quickly arriving, I realize that I am about to turn 44 years old. While most of the time I feel that age is simply a number, sometimes I feel every one of those years in my bones. I am nowhere near where I thought I would be by this stage of my life. I have a minimum wage job (I'm still thankful for it), I have more debt than I want and my savings is a joke. I am less fit than I have been for may years and, most days, can't seem to find the desire to get out and exercise. On the other hand, I have a pretty good life. I have a wife that loves me more than I deserve, I have a home, a paid for truck and motorcycle and I had the privilege of serving in the navy for 20 terrific years. However, there's something I've been wanting to do for quite some time and I think now might be the time to do it. I want to tell a side of my life that I usually keep to myself- or, more correctly, not too many people know this side of me.


I quit drinking almost 17 years ago. I quit as a result of a continuing battle with the drug commonly known as alcohol. The only time I ever got into trouble in the navy was a direct result of drinking. The funny thing about it was that only a few days before the ill-fated Saturday, my good buddy Rob asked me what I was going to be doing over the weekend. We both lived in the barracks and worked in an A-6 squadron, so we were working long hours. I told Rob that I would probably go get a bottle of Jim Beam and see how messed up I can get. He asked me "Why do you do that to yourself?" To which I replied, "Well, I figure I'm going to have to quit drinking sometime, so I might as well have as much fun as I can." I had no idea how prophetic my statement was! After finishing most of the bottle of Jim Beam I had gotten earlier in the day, I managed to get myself into trouble (most of the night is still a mystery to me) with a senior petty officer who was living in the barracks at the time. Well, I was put on report and the issue was pushed all the way to the top... At this time I was still trying to blame everyone else for my ills. "It was my first time!" "So-and-so didn't get into trouble, why am I?" "I'm being singled out." At any rate, the morning after my incident (it was actually late in the evening before I got out of bed), I made a conscious decision to stop drinking. This was simply not working for me. I am blacking out and doing stupid things. I am alienating the people around me. I'm not growing as a person.


I made the decision to stop drinking. I made it with the intention of never drinking again. I decided that I would seek the advice of the professionals, so I went to see my command DAPA (Drug and Alcohol Program Advisor). He set me up with the medical facility and I went, willingly. Keep in mind that, at this time, I was also looking at being reduced in paygrade, and possibly being kicked out of the navy, so I had ulterior motives in addition to seriously wanting to figure out why I am the way I am. I found out a few days later that I wasn't supposed to see the DAPA. Actually, he wasn't supposed to see me because of the pending case against me. However, since I had seeked him out, nothing was made of the fact that I went there before my case was settled. I was diagnosed as alcoholic and scheduled to go to rehab! I was quit surprised, but more on that later.


I was scheduled for Captain's Mast http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nonjudicial_punishment and was, of course, scared to death. I was determined to make the best case I could, keep myself out of trouble and just be as honest as possible. Surely they wouldn't expel me from the navy if I was seriously trying to be better, would they? I spent hour upon hour practicing what I was going to say to my commanding officer, ironing my uniform, practicing my salute and praying. It's funny (sad, actually) how we reach for God when we are in trouble, but forget about Him most of the rest of the time. I went to my first alcoholics anonymous meeting the day before my mast. I went alone, and had no idea what to expect. More on that later. When the day came for mast, I was ready for the worst. I got my briefing- "salute the CO, remove your cover on my command, stand at attention, etc" and when I stood in front of the Old Man (navy speak for commanding officer), he told me to stand at ease, "we're not going to bust you, we're going to help you." At which point I was relieved, but still wanted to speak (I didn't get the opportunity, but it's OK). My case was dismissed- no record of it remains- but I was directed to go to DAPA...


Now I could get on with figuring out this alcoholic stuff. I couldn't possibly be an alcoholic, I drank mostly on the weekends, and never got drunk during the week. In fact, I rarely drank during the week at all. Still, those occasional blackouts were a little disconcerting. My last drink was on August 17, 1991. I made the decision to quit drinking before the navy decided to 'help' me. I took a battery of psychological tests to determine my level of alcohol dependence. I don't mind stating that, while I had to answer yes to many of the questions, I still didn't feel that I had a serious problem. Afterall, it had been a couple of months since my decision to stop drinking.


February of 1992, I was finally told that I was going to go to Chorpus Christi for alcohol rehab. The flight out there was uneventful; I went there with one other guy from my command- someone else who needed 'help,' and we were not allowed to go anywhere alone, or leave the immediate area. I suppose they were used to dealing with people that were desperate for a drink. Once checked in to the facility at Chorpus Christi, we were immersed into the program the very next morning. 6 weeks of therapy! I went to group therapy, one on one counseling and attended an AA meeting each night. *I have to stop for a moment to say that AA used to have a saying- "Who you see here, what you hear here, when you leave here, let it stay here." They don't practice that to the letter anymore because discussing the meeting with other members often happens at home, on the phone, etc. However, AA is still very big on anonymity, so while I don't mind talking about some of the subjects, any names I may mention are not real.* I met a lot of very interesting people during the meetings. Some famous people, some doctors, lawyers, housewives, rich people and poor. This disease definitely knows no bounds. However, each night, when I went back to the facility, I still felt like I wasn't really one of those people. Nobody seemed to have quite the same story as me. My counselor beat me up with facts every day. I still came away with the feeling that I was being misdiagnosed. He once told me "If it quacks like a duck and has webbed feet, it's a duck!" His attempt at painting me as an alcoholic was not having much effect. I knew there was a problem, but I felt like I had a handle on it. One night, as I was trying to drift off to sleep, my mind kept going back to the things I had been hearing over the last several days. About 10 days into my treatment, I finally admitted that I was an alcoholic. It's simple, really. I was suffering blackouts. Not that many, maybe 5 in my whole life, but they were happening, I was getting into trouble- again, probably only a few times- and I was losing friends. People just get tired of hanging out with a loud, drunken fool who thinks he's funny, or worse, thinks he's a good dancer... I also fit the criteria: Trouble at work, trouble at home, DUI charges (none stuck, but that's another story), anger, resentment, etc. I disagree with the medical profession labelling anyone who drinks more than a certain amount per week is alcoholic. There are a number of other labels I disagree with, too, but I suddenly felt strongly enough about myself to admit my disease. Funny thing about me is that I never really had to fight the urge to drink. Once it was gone, it was gone. Do I miss drinking a beer on a hot day? Of course I do, but not so much that I shake or crave or am even tempted to have one. I just simply can't do it. I always give thanks to God for removing the desire for alcohol from me.