Tag Archives: Alcoholism

Estimable Acts

Early sobriety is tough. I did not expect that when I stopped drinking I would suddenly start to feel life with a new intensity. I thought quitting drinking just meant that I would be more bored than usual and that I might need a new hobby. Once I realized that I really wanted permanent sobriety, I knew that I was going to have to find some new ways to cope with everything I was feeling. I committed to going through the 12 steps, and I allowed myself to be guided by others with more experience in sobriety. My mind was clear enough for me to realize that I had nothing to lose.

I stopped drinking when I was 28. I was single, I worked part-time, and I was back living with my parents. When the reality of my situation really hit me, my self-esteem was really low. I felt a new level of inferiority that I had not experienced before. I felt like a failure. I was scared of the world, and scared of growing up. I feared that I would never be independent. Sobriety did not feel like a gift. It was more like losing what was most important to me.

It took every bit of faith and hope I had to go forward with the 12 steps. As I went through the steps, I had to face some tough realities about who I was and what drove my decision making-mainly fear. I began to realize that my problems were of my own making. These realizations coupled with my already low level of self-esteem were incredibly uncomfortable. Being uncomfortable made me want to change, but I had no idea how to change. How could I start feeling better about myself?

One day I heard the answer I was looking for at a 12 step meeting. It may have been said a thousand times before and a thousand times since, but it was a novel idea when I heard it.
The only way to build self-esteem is to do estimable acts. That idea made sense to me. If it needed to be built, it would require constructive action on my part. But what exactly was an estimable act?

It seemed complicated, but it was actually simple. I needed to start doing things for other people. I started small. I offered people rides to and from meetings. I became more helpful around the house. I made an effort to talk to other newcomers even though I was still painfully shy. I had to start somewhere. Even these small acts helped. The busier I was, the less time I spent thinking about myself and my own misery.

As time passed, I did more. I volunteered to drive some women from a half way house to meetings on a weekly basis. I began monthly commitments to bring meetings at a rehab and a detox facility. If there was an opportunity to help, I jumped on it. I started to meet other people who were equally devoted to volunteering their time and effort. I was always under the impression that all helpful people were just naturally inclined to be helpful. Once I began talking to these people I realized that they were more like me than I thought. We were all just doing what we needed to do for our sobriety and to create some change in our lives.

After a year of sobriety, I began to build a healthy level of confidence. I did have to watch to make sure that my motives were right when I volunteered my time. Was it an opportunity to be helpful or an opportunity for people to praise me and think I was wonderful. I fell short on that more than once. The ultimate result was that when I chose to do something that just fed my ego, the end result was that I felt worse instead of better. Helping people is great, but my motives have to be right. The key is to be helpful without having expectations about what you will receive in return. Going through the rest of the 12 steps helped me to be more mindful of my motives.

Within a year and a half I moved out of my parents house, and I got a full time job. It was terrifying and fulfilling all at once. It was my first time living on my own and totally supporting myself. I was lonely and scared one minute, then blissfully marveling at my new independence the next. It took me a while to even out emotionally once again, but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I showed up for work. I showed up for my volunteer commitments. I showed up for my family. I paid my bills. It was long way for me to come in a year and a half. The change in my self-esteem was not just due to my ability to take care of myself independently. Something else shifted during that time, and it was a more subtle change. I stopped measuring myself by imaginary standards and appearances. I became grateful with what I had instead of envious of what I lacked.

Creativity and Recovery

Hitting Bottom with Eating Disorders and Food Addiction

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If I had not gone through alcoholism recovery and a 12 step program, I might not ever have recognized that my problems with food were a true addiction. My body reacts to certain foods the same way my body reacts to alcohol. Once I get started, I cannot stop. The Atkins Diet helped me to recognize what foods were a problem for me. I first tried the Atkins Diet when I was still in college, and then several times after that over the next 15 years. When I eliminate sugar and flour (and alcohol) from my diet, I lose weight rapidly, even if I am eating a ridiculous amount of protein and fat. The first few times I tried it I would lose weight, get excited, and then inevitably return to drinking. Alcohol was not entirely forbidden on Atkins, but as an alcoholic, having one drink sounds like a great idea but is physically impossible.

I tried the Atkins Diet again several times after I stopped drinking. The problem for me is that the Atkins Diet only addresses one of the problems I have with food. I can eliminate the foods that my body is addicted to, but it does not address my secondary problem of compulsive overeating. A diet which allows me to eat all I want whenever I want so long as I only eat certain foods will only help my compulsion to overeat to grow. It does not matter if I can still lose weight. I am still locked into unhealthy and dangerous behavior.

So I struggled. For years. I would go for periods without sugar and flour, but I inevitably went back to it. For me, it was far more difficult than when I stopped drinking. I was in a state of baffling relapse for years. Any weight I lost during periods of abstinence was inevitably followed by even more weight gain. I just could not stop not matter how desperate the desire, or how bad the consequences were for my body and health. I was in constant pain. I could barely walk more than around 20 yards at a time. It was difficult for me to even get to my mailbox around the corner of my building without having intense, muscle cramping back pain. I had difficulty sleeping. I was quickly making my way through clothing sizes and fearing the day that I would not longer find any clothes that fit me. I weighed over 300 lbs.

One day last April I took a sick day from work, mostly because I was dangerously depressed and just could not get out to face the day. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps there were treatment centers that handled food addiction and compulsive overeating. I could not possibly be the only person going through this. Maybe there was treatment. I genuinely was ready to stop, but I was ill-equipped to do so on my own. I started to research treatment facilities online, and I found several that looked like a good fit for me. I was relieved to see that there were people in the medical profession that understood my problem. I called a friend to ask her what she thought of the idea of going away for treatment, and she was very supportive. She actually knew someone who went to one of the facilities on my list with great results. That was the push I needed.

I called the facility to inquire about their program, and was further convinced that they could help me. The next step was be to convince my family that this was what I needed. My insurance did not offer full coverage for 30 days of treatment, and I did not have enough in my savings account to cover the difference. My parents were easily convinced, and agreed to offer their financial assistance. They knew my problems ,and were desperate to help me, but never knew how. I remember telling my mother about my mind state and how desperate I was. “I don’t want to kill myself, but I want to die.” I hated telling her that, and I saw her horror and heartbreak, but I needed to get real about how emotionally devastated I was. Once again, I found myself in a place where I could not live with or without compulsive overeating and food addiction. I hit my second bottom. Three weeks later I went to an amazing facility in Florida for 30 days of treatment. I went with all the desperation that a dying woman can have. I was willing to do anything. I did what I was told to do, and I started to get better.

Hitting Bottom as an Alcoholic

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Hitting bottom is different for everyone. The end of my drinking was not marked by any huge catastrophes, but by a deteriorating mental state, an increasing inability to act appropriately with other people, and of course, an increasing dependence on alcohol. Furthermore, alcohol was not having the same effect on me anymore, and I never really knew what would happen when I drank. I was drinking more and more when I was alone, and people around me had no idea how bad the situation really was. I was also deeply mired in resentment and self-pity. I bemoaned my failed relationships, my inability to hold a real job, and that I was still living with my parents at 28. I was depressed, volatile, and extremely self-centered- not that I could see it at the time.

The week before I stopped drinking I was on vacation with my family in Florida. I stayed in a condo with my parents, my brother, and his then girlfriend, now his wife. No one else seemed to interpret a vacation as an excuse to drink around the clock. I vaguely remember downing drinks morning, noon, and night. By the time we would go out for dinner, I was increasingly obnoxious. One night I stole some items off the table before leaving the restaurant. Another night my father expressed his disgust with my drunken behavior at the table. My reaction was pathetic. We went back to the condo, and I sat on the couch and pulled a blanket over my head and cried. I vowed never to speak to my father again- even though I was living under his roof with no intention of moving out.

My sobriety date is February 24, 2004. It was really a day like any other. It was a Monday night several days after that trip to Florida, and I was sitting on a stool at a local bar drinking a vodka and cranberry. I was suddenly struck by an unsettling realization. I was on my second drink of the night, and I knew with absolute certainty that the feeling I had by the second drink of the evening was as good as I ever felt. Even with that knowledge, I knew that the second drink would be followed by many others, and that I was chasing a feeling that I never could attain. It was a daily exercise in futility, and I really only ever felt worse. That drink was followed by several others, a drunken drive home, and the inevitable hangover I would face in the morning.

I was always vehemently against drunk driving. In the last six months of my drinking, I could no longer stop myself from doing it. I would go out at night with every intention of just having one or two drinks, and would wind up having far more. I could no longer stop at one or two, and my good judgment was obsolete once the night would wear on. I would always awake remorseful. I also almost always had nightmares about driving drunk as well. My own principles could not stop me, and it was incredibly unnerving. My increased drunk driving and my own aversion to it definitely impacted my ultimate willingness to stop drinking.

I woke up on Tuesday, and I had no idea that I would be continually sober over the next nine years. I just didn’t drink that day. Then the next day. Once I made it a few days, I decided I would try not to for a few more. I was incredibly uncomfortable not drinking, but I kept at it. I did not receive any professional or non-professional help. After around 25 days I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I knew that I should not drink, but I just didn’t think it would be possible to stay away from drinking. I still thought about it almost every waking minute. I felt doomed to a life of boredom, isolation and anxiety. Just not drinking was simply not enough. The alcohol was removed from me, and I was out of the relentless cycle of drinking. I had no idea that I was just facing the beginning of my problems. I showed up at my first 12 step meeting once I hit this point. The realization that I could not live with or without alcohol was my real bottom.