I Don’t Have 9 Lives, But I Do Have 2

That title is in response to another inquiry about my 100 things list. (I think everyone should do one of those.) My friend Laura brought something to my attention that I had left off the list. I have fought the battle with alcoholism and survived. Not a small feat, mind you. But so far, I’m winning.

You see, I’m a child of the 80’s to be sure. The mantra “Sex, Drugs and Rock & Roll” was my creedo for many years. (Change the Drugs part to Booze for me. I never tried any drugs but Pot and when I tried that one, I got violently ill. I was lucky.) I tried hard to live it. For the most part, I succeeded.

I spent many years chasing bands, partying every weekend, living for the next buzz. I kept up with my job and with bill paying (mostly). I had to do well at work, I needed to fund the partying. Funny thing was, I never noticed when this became my lifestyle and not ‘just a social thing’ or ‘a way to pass time’. It became who and what I was. No one can survive that way.

My friends, the real friends, were growing out of this phase of life. They were working on careers, relationships, families, futures. I remember being so disappointed in them, thinking, “What the hell is wrong with them anyway? Growing up is boring. Why can’t they just stay like me?”

Separation from my core group of real friends and focusing on the boozer friends is when the shit started hitting the fan, so to speak. I got my first DUI in 1992. A slap on the wrist and a 90 day license suspension and I was back at it. I got my second DUI in 1994, though I deserved many more before that. I just didn’t get caught. A bigger slap on the wrist and I was back at it. Then came 1995.

July 4th weekend in 1995 I got my 3rd and 4th DUIs. Yep, the same weekend. One on Friday and one on Sunday. It was devastating. For the first time I was concerned that there just might be a problem Duh! I had plans to tour Ireland in the spring of the next year. That wasn’t happening. This was going to cost me.

After that weekend, I decided that maybe I should cut out the boozing for a while. So I did. For a couple of days. Then I tried again. I made it only a couple of days. Every weekend I woke up on Saturday & Sunday mornings hung over, broke and wondering how it had happened. I had planned to ‘be good’. There was always a reason though. Like, it’s a nice day, I deserve a brew. The weather sucks, I need a brew. The Yankees won, time to celebrate. They lost….. Get the drift? Where there’s a will, there is a usable excuse.

After a few weeks of this, I was freaked. That was when I hit my bottom. Everybody has a different bottom. Some folks dig deeper and in different ways. My bottom was the realization that some thing was controlling me. I wasn’t controlling it. My freedom, in a way, had been stolen. I was a bone fide drunk. (It’s important to note that not all alcoholics are the stereotype you see on TV and elsewhere. You know, the pathetic, dirty person, begging on the street, living in a box. Truth is, that person is the minority. Most alcoholics are like me, resembling a ‘normal person’.)

Once admitting that, I called a rehab center, arranged with work for a leave of absence, and prepared to lock myself away for 30 days. On October 15, 1995, I sucked down the last beers in the fridge. A last rebellious act, I guess. The next morning I hopped in the land yacht and headed to rehab. (This where life #2 starts, Oct. 16, 1995.) Along the way, I stopped twice trying to cop out, but I didn’t. I had realized I was truly in trouble and I needed to get help. Once there, I learned skills and techniques and truths about myself that have kept me grounded to this day. It wasn’t the best experience I’ve ever had, but it was needed.

Since then I’ve managed very well. My performance in my chosen career field has vastly improved. (I did well before all this. Improving is saying something.) My personal life has stabilized and become better. Many things have greatly improved. I didn’t know how much I had been holding myself back.

My friend Laura asked why I hadn’t added something about this part of me to the 100 things list. The truth is, I don’t really think about it much anymore. The ‘new Bob’ has become my lifestyle now and the ‘old Bob’ is held in check by him. The needed skills are so ingrained that it isn’t an issue anymore. Was I ashamed and hiding it? Nope, I just don’t think much about it anymore.

I have no regrets. I know that might sound funny after all this, (sorry so long winded.) but I think if someone has regrets about their past, they don’t like who they are now. Face it, we are all just products of our past. Everything we’ve seen, done, loved, hated, all experiences and all people we’ve known have combined to make us who we are now. I like me right now, so all that stuff led me here. How bad could that be then? Do I wish some things hadn’t happened? Absolutely. I’d love to change quite a few things in the past, but I can’t and I didn’t know how to back then, so why dwell on it?

The ‘old Bob’ is still alive and well inside me. I really like that guy, too. He’s the ultra sensitive one, the uber-creative one, the outgoing and spontaneous one. But he’s also trouble left to his own devises, so he isn’t allowed out to play on his own. There have been consequences to locking him up, some good, some bad, but generally, life is better. It’s my decision as to when he comes out to play and to what extent. My choice now. Not some chemical.

My first Jersey girl once told to “choose your direction with the wisdom of past experience. Therein lies the path to true success and contentment.” That’s how we all should live. Rely on where you’ve been to direct where you’re going, but be honest about it. Make a future without regrets. Life is too short to do anything else.

Thanks for the nudge Laura. I know you didn’t mean for your e-mail to be a nudge, but it’s real friends like you that keep me on my toes.