Step One
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I recently started attending the Alcoholic Anonymous meeting, at the urging of my counselor. AA tells participants that they have to complete the 12 steps if they want to achieve sobriety. The first step is acknowledging that you have a problem. I sat there the other night listening to the speaker talking about being powerless over their addiction. And I thought, of course, I’m not powerless. But then again, am I? Do I think about drinking every day? Do I want to drink when I’m sad or feeling ill?
Growing up in an Italian American home, they considered it a sign of disrespect not to take the offered food or drink. Alcohol was such a part of life, wine at dinner, beer and pizza during the football games, eggnog for the holidays, and family trips to local vineyards when the weather was nice.
My deep desire to find inner peace only made drinking sound more appealing. I was starting to come to terms with trauma from my teen years. There were times that I genuinely felt disconnected from every one of my life. I felt helpless, and I felt out of control. Drinking quieted the voices in my head. Those voices told me that no one wanted me around, and that I was unloveable. The voices of self-doubt told me that I wasn’t good enough.
Drinking was a learned behavior. My dad would come home many nights drunk, which led to many fights. I never wanted to be like him. But I was on a destructive path. My first share in AA was talking about how my dad taught me to solve my issues with booze,
I was drinking when happy, drinking when sad, drinking when I was in denial and my confusion about my sexuality. Vodka often helped my demisexual ass to feel horny. At the time, I thought sex was the only way to have a long-term relationship and feel accepted. Drinking became a big part of my life, and I never realized it.
In October 2021, a good friend was admitted to the hospital. I was afraid for her. I was lonely, and I was desperate to get the pain to stop at that moment. So I cracked open a 40 of extra Hard Lemonade, and I drank it in record time.
My head was spinning, but it did nothing to quell the sadness and fear of potentially losing one of the few people in the world who I felt truly understood me. I was forced to lie on the hardwood floor; I was too drunk to move. Something clicked at that moment. Drinking would not change the outcome of the predicament my friend found herself in. That was my last drink,
Despite being strong enough to avoid the allure of the devil’s nectar, I had developed an attitude that I was a better person for choosing to quit drinking. I felt like I was better than the people in my life who still drank and even those struggling with alcohol addiction.
I realized I was just as powerless as anyone else; in a way, alcohol was on my mind all the time.