Addiction and recovery

30+ years of meetings and sobriety

By Bob Gaydos

Among the things many people don’t understand about alcoholism/addiction is the concept of recovery, starting with the fact that it is possible. The news media, TV, movies -- even local gossip -- are full of stories about people doing foolish, harmful, criminal things while under the influence of alcohol or some other drug. There is not nearly as much time or space devoted to people living in recovery. Maybe it’s because we don’t find those stories as compelling. Or maybe it’s because we don’t know what recovery -- long-term recovery -- looks like.

Yes,”rehab” is now part of our vocabulary. Also, “in-patient,” “out-patient,” “day at a time,” “clean and sober.” But they usually refer to the early -- difficult, often dramatic -- days of recovery. Also today, there is a growing movement within the recovery community for people with long-term sobriety to go public with their stories in an effort to remove the stigma associated with addiction.

Still, there are thousands of other stories walking around mostly untold because that’s the way the people who live them want it. I talked with three members of Alcoholics Anonymous, each of whom respects the organization’s tradition of anonymity, has more than 30 years of recovery (no alcohol or other mood-altering substances) and still attends meetings regularly. Their stories are different, yet remarkably similar. They all live in upstate New York. Their identities are slightly changed.

* * *

“It’s not that you take it for granted (not drinking),” says Joe, a semi-retired septuagenarian from Orange County, who’s been sober 39 years, more than half his life. “You just don’t think about it because you’re living sober.”

“Every once in awhile I might feel like a drink to escape, but I know I can’t. When I feel like it, I talk to another alcoholic. At first, I hated it (AA). I didn’t want to be an alcoholic, I was going to show them.”

Another septuagenarian, Paul, from Sullivan County, has a similar tale. “For six years, I was in and out of AA. I lost hope.” Today, also semi-retired, he has 38 years of sobriety and says, when he has the occasional thought of a drink -- maybe while watching a TV commercial for a new brand of beer -- “I call my sponsor and he laughs.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,” he says. “I don’t obsess. After a few years of sobriety, I was so involved in AA I would allow myself to think about it.”

Maryann, 55, from Ulster County, has been sober 34 years. She says she “never” feels like drinking. “I hated it. Every time I drank, I got sick.Yet from the age of 13 to 21 I continued to drink the poison. I may have the occasional thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be good to have a cool glass of wine or one of those new drinks?’ I have had drunk dreams (dreams of drinking).’”

A programmer, Maryann says, “It was important to stay connected in AA” to realize long-term recovery. “My family was in recovery. I had a sober parent and a parent who kept slipping. I decided I wanted to follow the sober parent. He introduced me to sober people. I knew I wasn’t going to do it by myself. How do you do it for 30 years? That’s a book’s worth question.”

She goes to four meetings a week “because I know what will happen if I stop. My attitude will get crappy. I’ll start to get scared or miserable and, I may not pick up a drink, but I won’t be fun to be around. I’ll be alone and miserable. Meetings give me an opportunity to talk to newcomers. It reminds me of what I could be like.”

“That’s why I go to meetings,” says Joe, “to deal with the human condition. It’s not just about not drinking, but living sober. Meetings help keep me balanced. Hearing other alcoholics is a constant reminder of who I am. I live by the the slogan, ‘Progress, not perfection.’ The longer I’m in recovery, the more I realize how selfish I was when I drank.”

Paul, who worked in law enforcement, also attends meetings regularly, yet says, “I don’t believe everybody who comes to AA gets sober. It’s not for everybody.

“You have to enjoy the fellowship you join. There’s a lot of fun to be had. Also, I’m 75. I have a purpose in my life, a responsibility. When you get to my age, a lot of people don’t know what to do with themselves. They’re bored. Going to meetings, I can give back. I’m glad I can do it.

‘I actually enjoy the meetings. I used to go to the bar every night. Read a newspaper, talk to the guys. AA is the same without the newspaper. I go at least once a week, maybe more.’

As for the anonymity, Maryann says, “I agree with the tradition, but I share with people who need to know. Most people don’t need to know. I’ve shared with complete strangers. I don’t need my ego stroked.”
Joe says, “At first, I didn’t want anyone to know. So many  people don’t understand -- if I’m an alcoholic, I’m dirty. I can only say I’m an alcoholic because I’m sober. When I was drinking, I denied it.

“After five or six years, I didn’t care. I wonder if some of us with a lot of years could share it … it would be good. I’m a teacher. I’ve shared it four or five times with a class. But I believe in the wisdom of the founders. I’m happy sober. I also accept my sobriety as a gift from my Higher Power. Today, I handle my problems, some well, some not so well, but I handle them.”

Paul echoes Joe and Maryann: “It’s easy to be prideful and bragging after 38 years, but it’s a gift from my Higher Power.” Also, “If I go out in public, get drunk, do something stupid, kill somebody, all of that reflects on AA.”

And it is the opposite of recovery. As Joe put it, in recovery, “I can be the person I want to be.”

bobgaydos.blogspot.com

For alcoholics, no time like the present to get help

Addiction and Recovery

By Bob Gaydos

Yankees pitcher C.C. Sabathia entered
rehab on the eve of the playoffs.

“I need help.”

The ability to utter that simple phrase can sometimes be the difference between life and death. It most certainly is the most important first step on the road to recovery for someone struggling with a problem with alcohol or drugs.

According to New York Yankees manager Joe Girardi, those are the first words Yankee pitcher C.C. Sabathia said when he walked into Girardi’s office on Oct. 6 during the team’s lost weekend in Baltimore.

“I was shocked,” Girardi said.

Maybe he was; maybe he wasn’t. It certainly wasn’t the kind of news Girardi needed to hear after watching his team play listlessly in losing three games to the Baltimore Orioles. The Yankees were supposed to be getting ready for the playoffs, but looked more like they were getting ready to take the rest of the year off. Now, here was one of the pitchers who Girardi was counting on to pitch in the playoffs telling him he was entering an alcohol rehab immediately and would not be available to the team for the rest of the year.

The timing could not have been worse ... for the Yankees. For Sabathia, it was apparently perfect. Indeed, for an alcoholic looking for help, timing is everything.

Girardi’s response -- the entire Yankee organization’s response -- to the news was also, from all appearances, perfect. Do what you have to do, C.C. Take care of yourself. Get help. We’ll soldier on without you and see you next year.

That didn’t stop some fans and commentators on sports radio shows from wondering, even complaining, about the timing of Sabathia’s decision. In essence, the complaints boiled down to: How could he do this on the eve of a playoff game? Doesn’t he have any loyalty to the team? How about that big paycheck he’s getting? If he’s had a drinking problem for a while, why couldn’t he wait a little longer and go to rehab when the Yankees weren’t playing baseball any more?

Except that Sabathia couldn’t wait and the Yankees knew it. With addiction, there is no “if.” There is only “now.”  “If I could just hang on until the playoffs are over and then go to rehab” could easily dissolve into “if only we had insisted he go to rehab when he asked for help.” The nature of the disease is to deny and to rationalize. It’s not so bad. I’ll cut down. No one will notice. The team needs me. I can handle it.

Until he can’t. The hope might be that no serious damage occurs to the alcoholic or anyone else during any period of waiting until it’s “more convenient” to get help. Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. Too often, in fact, that cry for help turns into a sigh of futility. What the heck, the alcoholic says; this is who I am. Why fight it? Who needs rehab? My life’s a mess anyway. I’ll just drink until I die.

That’s why, when that moment of clarity comes, via some painful self-realization of the alcoholic or with the perhaps not-so-gentle prodding of loved ones, the time to act is at hand.    

Brian Cashman, the Yankees general manager who signed Sabathia to a $161 million, seven-year contract in 2009, heard the news in a conference call that included Sabathia, Girardi and, significantly, Sabathia’s wife, Amber. “What CC is dealing with is a life issue,” Cashman said later at a press conference. “It is bigger than the game. … “All that matters now is what’s happening now, which is obviously he’s going to get the help necessary in a structured environment.”

Sabathia, who has had problems this year on and off the playing field, seemed to grasp the significance of his decision. He released a statement saying, “I love baseball and I love my teammates like brothers, and I am also fully aware that I am leaving at a time when we should all be coming together for one last push toward the World Series. It hurts me deeply to do this now, but I owe it to myself and to my family to get myself right. I want to take control of my disease, and I want to be a better man, father and player.”

At 300 pounds, Sabathia has been a bigger-than-life man, a proud man, a team leader, an all-star pitcher and World Series champion. He is also a husband and father. In humbling himself and publicly admitting he needs help to deal with alcoholism, he has at least suggested that he sees life in a different way today, that he has had a moment of clarity. If it is genuine, as his family, friends, fans and teammates hope, he will have taken the first step towards a life of recovery. For an alcoholic, there’s no time like the present for that.

bobgaydos.blogspot.com