Made A Decision
Alcohol-I.S.M. - Incredibly Short Memory.
I.S.M. - I Suffer Me.
Our Mostly Unknown Very Common Disease
Newcomers to A.A. often say how baffled they became when they found themselves unable to stop drinking. This is especially true of those who managed on their own to stay sober for a week, month, or even years, and then picked up again.
But the answer isn't complicated. We drank because we are alcoholics. Every pleasure centre in our brains lights up like the dashboard of a giant Boeing aircraft when our brains get a hit of alcohol.
Non-alcoholics don't get that kind of a hit from our drug of choice. They might get a nice buzz, but we get skyrockets in flight!
We also drank because early in our drinking days we discovered we could self-medicate with booze to block the emotions of fear, anxiety, frustration, isolation, dependence, and over-sensitivity.
And we drank to allow free rein for our impulsiveness, defiance and grandiosity.
Drinking worked for us on many levels, so naturally, we drank.
Alcohol worked for most of us on all these levels for years and years.
And then, it didn't.
That's because ours is a progressive terminal illness that over time relentlessly goes from bad to worse. Every drug that gives us a happy high will soon drag us down to a lower low. Every one of them!
For anyone interested in the science behind this, there is a ton of it available in books and online. If you are a brain science buff, I can highly recommend the book Never Enough by Judith Grisel.
It all mainly boils down to our alcoholic brains probably being wired differently. It's that mental illness part of our physical, mental and spiritual illness in action, as described often in our Big Book and 12 & 12.
Early in my own recovery I got a look at the The Jellinek Curve * - an addiction model that identifies the progressive stages of alcoholism - and went on to read more about the three stages of alcoholic progression from other sources.
I learned the first stage takes roughly 20 years, unless we boost the booze with other mind-altering chemicals. Then it can take far less. During those years we look pretty much like most heavy drinkers, but toward the end it all starts getting - and looking - a lot worse.
The second stage is shorter, usually no more than five to seven years. That's when our liver can't easily process our intake any more and starts to give up the fight. We no longer get hangovers in this stage, in their place we suffer bouts of alcoholic poisoning.
But I still called mine hangovers when the poisoning hit, because I didn't have another word for what was going on with my body, other than terror.
The final stage of our disease is when our liver, or brain, or both (along with other important inner bits) can't take the abuse we've been giving it and starts to pack it in.
When it's the brain that gives up we can experience delirium tremens, imaginary situations as if they are real.
These can often be horrific blood-curdling visions, but my best friend and one-time drinking buddy, Kathy H., once saw tiny muppet-like demons running around her house, a vision that scared her straight into A.A..
Following the DTs there can be a total loss of mental faculties and permanent residency in a little rubber room (wearing adult diapers), all down to a neurological condition commonly known as "wet brain."
Other joys in the final phase include (but are not limited to) agitation, anxiety, screaming headaches, shaking, nausea, vomiting, disorientation, seizures, insomnia, high blood pressure, tactile, auditory, and visual hallucinations (more delirium tremens), fever, excessive sweating, and finally, isolation and loneliness lived in a skeletal body beneath a swollen belly, followed by the relief of a very, very ugly death.
If you, too, are an alcoholic, that’s what the outcome of alcoholism is for those of us who continue to drink. That’s the end game you won’t see in commercials where happy party goers drink booze like it’s soda pop.
The DRUG ethanol, found in all our alcoholic "beverages" - from beer to those pretty fruity rum drinks - is a killer. It's found in wine, from rot-gut cheap to the most expensive Domaine de la Romanee-Conti. It's really a good idea for anyone in recovery to never forget that.
Hollywood has given us many scenes of addicts climbing the walls, screaming and pulling their hair out during withdrawal, but death from that kind of withdrawal isn't usual. Alcoholics, on the other hand, were often found dead during morning checks in those "drunk tanks" (jail cells) used before and during A.A.'s formative years.
Our disease wants to kill us in the ways described, but it isn't fussy. When we're drunk we feel invincible, so our disease can take us out in a variety of ways .
Here are just a few:
It will use automobile accidents, falls from balconies, domestic violence, drowning, suicide, and even staggering falls causing our spleens to bleed out. (I’ve had friends die from three of these).
I've witnessed final stage alcoholism during 12-step calls made to gated communities, the suburbs, homeless shelters, the ghetto, and once to an apartment in my own building!
Alcoholism - as we’ll hear often in meetings - is truly an equal opportunity destroyer.
But now - some good news:
While the elevator of our disease descends faster and faster toward the end, we don't have to reach the stage where the bottom drops out to hurtle us downward to our death. We can get off at any floor - and then go upward again via the staircase. Twelve steps up will get us to safety.
If we drank and drugged for years it will take time to build back a better life for ourselves, but we will find companionship, encouragement, love, and a blueprint for living a sober life at our very first A.A. meeting. It's all there for us if we want it. It's our way out.
Daily working the steps of recovery, prayers and meditation, talking with our sponsors, studying our literature, all take us to a better quality of life. We need to embrace everything A.A. has to offer.
Meetings are our ongoing first-aid - our medicine.
If you doubt it, start watching the faces of your friends in recovery when they arrive wearing stressed or angry faces. Watch their expressions change over the length of the meeting, first smiles, then even laughter. By meetings-end everyone leaves relaxed and filled with renewed hope. Medicated!
I recently again heard someone say, "Sometimes my Higher Power needs to have skin on it." Mine does, too.
While I have many lovely moments of silent communion with the God of my understanding, I only actually hear God's direct messages to me when spoken by other A.A. members in meetings.
Ours is a chronic, terminal illness. Many cancers are, too. Likewise kidney disease, diabetes, and so many others. But we don't have to have painful chemotherapy, or dialysis, or daily jabs of insulin. All we have to do is get our ass to a meeting for our medicine to kick in and get us through another sober day.
It doesn't matter if you don't feel like it, if you don't want to go, if you don't like some other members of your group, if you're depressed, if meetings have become boring, if you can't be bothered ... stop giving yourself excuses and just go!
When recovering alcoholics drift away from meetings they risk drinking again. That's a fact. And for us, to drink means to court a fate worse than death -
or death itself.
The Jellinek Curve can now easily be seen online with a quick google.
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