I was tired. I was broken. I was without hope.
I don’t recall exactly when alcohol stopped doing everything I needed it to do. What I do know however is that my life was circling the drain.
I hated what I had become, what alcohol had turned me into. And for what? It wasn’t like my childhood dream was to grow up and someday become a lifeless, bitter alcoholic. No, I came from good parents who raised me right. They taught me the value of hard work, honesty, and kindness. It wasn’t like I was an unwanted child who lived on the streets and had to beg, steal, and borrow for a meal. I had ambition, I had dreams. I had people standing in my corner, always eager to tell me that there wasn’t anything I couldn’t accomplish if I set my mind to it.
And yet, at 49 years of age, I had become a hopeless drunk.
I had so many wonderful things yet to do in life, places to see, things to experience. Good things. Things like seeing my children get married. Someday holding my first grandchild. Celebrating birthdays, buying ice creams, going for walks, and experiencing the joy of seeing my children grown, with families of their own and happy. And what about my wife? Did she sign up for this, to spend the rest of her life with a miserable alcoholic? At what point does “For Better or Worse” come with exceptions? Doesn’t she deserve more than that?
Broken. Defeated.
Worthless.
“We stood at the turning point. We asked for His protection and care with complete abandon.”
Pain. It has to become greater than fear before the gift of desperation can find its way into one’s life. Only then is real, lasting change possible. The alcohol had long since stopped numbing the pain, but I continued doubling down and gambling. I felt I had nothing left to lose.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I had a lot of Yets. I hadn’t lost my freedom, yet. But I was well on my way. I hadn’t lost my marriage, yet. But only because my wife loved me and put up with my insanity. I hadn’t destroyed the relationships with my children, yet. But I could sense that was beginning to happen. I hadn’t destroyed my liver and kidneys, yet. But not because I wasn’t trying. Two fifths of liquor per day was essentially a suicide-by-installement plan. The only reason I’d not lost my job was because I’d been retired for several years.
Then one afternoon in October, something miraculous happened during one of the most depressing moments of my life. Just after hearing the news that my father had passed away, I caved. For the first time in many years, I tearfully had a heart-to-heart with God. “I can’t do this on my own, Father. I need your help. Please help me. Help me to change.”
That was back in the fall of 2018. October 5th, a Friday afternoon, the same hour that my dad passed away, I surrendered my life to God.
God didn’t get me into this mess, it was all on me. I had to own it. That was why it took me so long to get to that place of unconditional surrender in my life. There was no more denying, no more blaming. God didn’t do this to me. My family and friends played no part in it. This was all by my own design.
And now, it was on me to get both the divine and professional help I needed.
That’s where it all had to start. I had to get honest with myself, then I had to get honest with God. Until I found that place of total desperation, of complete and unconditional surrender in my life, nothing could change. I didn’t know what to expect from that point forward. All I knew was that I didn’t want to drink anymore. There I was, again; nothing left to lose.
I couldn’t have been more right.
That’s enough for today. Stay safe and stay sober, my friends.
Scott
Coming soon: Things Will Get Worse Before They Get Better
Former Blackout Artist 