The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker. The persistence of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death. We learned that we had to fully concede to our innermost selves that we were alcoholics. This is the first step in recovery. The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed. ~ Alcoholics Anonymous, p.30
Sober for nearly a year, I truly thought that I’d never again pick up another drink. I was active in my recovery fellowship, was going through the 12 steps with my sponsor, and had just chaired my very first AA meeting.
Life was going well. Things at home were good; my family was excited to have Dad back in the game, not only available but actually involved in their day-to-day activities again. My wife and I became members at our church and became involved in a weekly small-group Bible study. Everything was going according to plan. It had been a pretty long while since my last thought of a drink.
One afternoon while I was out running errands, I was waiting at a traffic light. Just to the right of the road was an old haunt where I’d drank numerous times. As I snuck a glance at the outside patio that beautiful summer afternoon, I noticed several people sitting at umbrella’d patio tables and enjoying their adult beverages. They were laughing and enjoying life, having a great time. I tried to look away, but found it impossible to avoid the nostalgia that had taken over my mind.
“You know, I could probably go in there and enjoy a cocktail or two and no one would know. I mean, it has been a while..”
That very moment my phone rang. It was my sponsor. “You picking me up for the meeting this evening?” he asked. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll be over there the usual time to give you a ride.”
The light turned green, and I wasted no time getting the heck out of dodge.
The following evening at the meeting, a gentleman had just revealed that after 11 years of sobriety, he’d started drinking again a month earlier. In that 30-day period he got a DUI, lost his job, and his wife moved out of the house and took the kids with her.
“It was like I had never stopped drinking,” he said. “Within a week, I was drinking more than I was before I got sober 11 years ago. My life is once again a complete mess, and I need help.”
I’ve not had that kind of urge in a while now. Every once in a while I’ll think about how nice it would be to have a drink, but that’s just my disease trying to lure me back in. I was never satisfied with just one drink, ever. Truth be told, I was never satisfied with two drinks, three drinks, or even four. Once I started, I was off to the races.
We encourage folks in recovery to share about these moments when the obsession to drink occurs. This is nothing to be ashamed of, as it is just human nature to want something we cannot have, especially we alcoholics. This is somewhat normal. Fish swim, birds fly. And alcoholics, at least true alcoholics who’ve spent many years drinking and destroying their lives with alcohol, think about drinking sometimes.
But if we go back in our drinking histories and recall the last weeks and months of our alcoholic demise, we generally find that the obsession will pass. Replaying the alcoholic tape tends to dissuade us from going back into the den of lions, the den of death.
Those of us lucky enough to have begun a sober transformation understand what’s at stake. We cannot have just one drink, because it is invariably the gateway to alcoholic oblivion. And no matter how much sober time one has, whether it’s 30 days or 30 years, the same holds true:
The first drink gets us drunk. If I don’t take that first drink, I cannot get drunk.
Former Blackout Artist 