Step One
Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2013 9:15 pm We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable...
Unmanageable. I never liked that word with regard to my alcoholism. My life wasn't difficult to manage. In fact, I made an art form out of being a functional alcoholic. Though I was young at the time, I still went to school, passed my courses (albeit by the skin of my teeth) and held down a job (at my father's pub.) That had been the start of it all; my life of ruin.
Sixteen and working in a bar for hours on end probably wasn't the best thing in the world, but my mother had gotten sick and I was needed. I waited tables, ran a few football fantasy leagues, organized a dart tournament with the winner going to the Giant's home opener against the Cowboys -- I knew how to work a room; I asked the right questions and got the right answers. In the midst of all that, I started drinking and gambling. By the time I was eighteen I was a drunk. But a functional drunk.
So what brought me to AA? That's an excellent question. It certainly wasn't because my life was unmanageable. A night of absolute chaos made me --forced me-- to change my mind about my future. It wasn't even an entire night, if truth be told. It all happened on November 18th at precisely 2:17 a.m. on the corner of Pelham Parkway and Williamsbridge Road. I ran a stop light and crashed into a small sedan. My SUV hit it so hard that I killed the passenger on impact and pinned the driver to the very light post that I ignored in my drunken haze. He died a few hours later at the hospital. The street, aside from my car and the other one, was deserted. And the next minute changed everything. My best friend, Morgan, was in the car with me -- he pulled me free and tossed me into the passenger seat. He took the blame for the accident since he was sober and I was passed out drunk. I can never forgive myself for any of it - three people's lived ruined.
After that, I swore to put a stop to it. I knew I wasn't ready for AA because I had a difficult time admitting things to myself let alone anyone else. But I changed; I stopped working at the bar, focused on getting myself into a good school, and set goals for myself that had nothing to do with football spreads or a weekend blitz with Mr. Johnny Walker. It's impossible for me to say out loud that I plan on dedicating my life to honoring the memory of those people or making Morgan proud. It's cliche and something I'd see on an After-School Special. But, in a way, I'm trying. I'm trying to move on... and maybe, just maybe, do enough good with my life to seek some sort of redemption.
Redemption is possible... right?
Unmanageable. I never liked that word with regard to my alcoholism. My life wasn't difficult to manage. In fact, I made an art form out of being a functional alcoholic. Though I was young at the time, I still went to school, passed my courses (albeit by the skin of my teeth) and held down a job (at my father's pub.) That had been the start of it all; my life of ruin.
Sixteen and working in a bar for hours on end probably wasn't the best thing in the world, but my mother had gotten sick and I was needed. I waited tables, ran a few football fantasy leagues, organized a dart tournament with the winner going to the Giant's home opener against the Cowboys -- I knew how to work a room; I asked the right questions and got the right answers. In the midst of all that, I started drinking and gambling. By the time I was eighteen I was a drunk. But a functional drunk.
So what brought me to AA? That's an excellent question. It certainly wasn't because my life was unmanageable. A night of absolute chaos made me --forced me-- to change my mind about my future. It wasn't even an entire night, if truth be told. It all happened on November 18th at precisely 2:17 a.m. on the corner of Pelham Parkway and Williamsbridge Road. I ran a stop light and crashed into a small sedan. My SUV hit it so hard that I killed the passenger on impact and pinned the driver to the very light post that I ignored in my drunken haze. He died a few hours later at the hospital. The street, aside from my car and the other one, was deserted. And the next minute changed everything. My best friend, Morgan, was in the car with me -- he pulled me free and tossed me into the passenger seat. He took the blame for the accident since he was sober and I was passed out drunk. I can never forgive myself for any of it - three people's lived ruined.
After that, I swore to put a stop to it. I knew I wasn't ready for AA because I had a difficult time admitting things to myself let alone anyone else. But I changed; I stopped working at the bar, focused on getting myself into a good school, and set goals for myself that had nothing to do with football spreads or a weekend blitz with Mr. Johnny Walker. It's impossible for me to say out loud that I plan on dedicating my life to honoring the memory of those people or making Morgan proud. It's cliche and something I'd see on an After-School Special. But, in a way, I'm trying. I'm trying to move on... and maybe, just maybe, do enough good with my life to seek some sort of redemption.
Redemption is possible... right?