A history of God and Me part 11

During the relapse I sometimes would think of my recovery friends while drinking. I would also think about what I had thrown away, recovery. Knowing there was a solution to a problem that permeates ones being but yet engaging in that problem was utterly soul destroying. Mine was on the verge of extinction. Up for consideration were ways to make it happen. To say I was depressed would not quite accurately depict it. I was crushed. Someone put me out of my misery please. Maybe if I just run my car into that building it will all be over. I was too afraid to do it. I was too afraid to follow through on thoughts such as that but they were ever present. As had happened before and again now, no amount of alcohol could help me. It was not working. Why was the euphoria so ever evasive now? Where was the bliss I so desired to escape from my pain? Where was it? It was not to be found. Just depression, drinking and more depression.

I started going back to the meetings but didn't pick up a desire chip. I would get depressed instead and routinely leave the meeting and go drink. Then I would get more depressed. Then I would drink more. There was just no escaping me. For about a month I had been trying to survive the battle of recovery tugging at me versus alcohols tug. Alcohol was winning. The two did not mix well in my head. It was now October of 1994.

A colleague at work was leaving to go back to Japan that I had known for several years. His going away party was one Friday night and I had been two days drinkless and dry. All day long that day I battled the thought, "I won't go to the party, I will go to the party". The two opposing thoughts filled up my mind. Finally at the end of the day I just went. Beer was there. I had not drank with my colleagues at work before. I didn't want them to see how I drink or any behavior that might occur as a result.

But a beer sounded nice. Another beer was nice too. There was talk of going to a well known topless bar after the party which was going to be short lived at the office. Part two to take place in another tantalizing environment. Hmmmmm. How could I say no to that? After three beers I stopped drinking and actually ate some food. I thought it good to control myself. We eventually found our way to the well known topless bar. Margaritas were offered and I accepted. Seemed a group of us were all going to start with that and then do our own thing subsequently. At one point I remember looking at my glass which was almost empty and looking around at the others glasses . Theirs were like 2/3 to 3/4 full. Uhhh, slow down! Don't be so obvious.

Later I felt I was almost actually enjoying the drinking. I thought to myself, "self, what I have been doing wrong all along is drinking by myself, this is the ticket!' And so along came more margaritas. But I really wanted to change into high gear. So Wild Turkey it was. That was around 9 o'clock or so. I don't remember most of the rest of the night after that with the exception of the everclear filled jello shots. And certainly after that there is no memory until I found myself in a taxi seeing double, literally. Everything was in twos. It would go around the office on Monday how utterly shitfaced I got on Friday, not to mention a few foolish things I did that I had no recollection of. Like almost getting in a fight with a guy over a stripper, almost knocking a cigarette machine over which had "taken" my money and wondering around in a drunken haze apparently lost in the club after an excursion to a nearby bathroom.

The next morning my wife asked me to sign some legal documents I had procrastinated looking at(she would tell me months later she was fearful something might happen and they would never get signed). She then asked where the car was. I told her it was at the well known topless bar. I was informed that I would have to find my own way to retrieve the car, that she was not taking me in hers. Outside I went with a cup of coffee. A huge wave of clarity overwhelmed me and I started crying like a baby. I was utterly and completely demoralized. I was terrified of the grip alcohol had on me. The wife came out and asked me what I was going to do? I didn't know. I could not go back to the group. I was too embarrassed and it didn't work for me anyway. I would call a guy I knew who was also relapsing and see if he would take me to get the car.

During the drive there he also asked me what I was going to do? Another "I don't know" came out of my mouth. After a long pause this guy who could not himself stay sober, said to me, "if you don't go back to the group you will drink again. And you look like you might just die if do". I knew I would. I was ready to die. Thoughts of dying had been consistently present in my mind for a month. And it was taking much energy to not act out the fantasy.

That night October 8, 1994 I walked into a late meeting and spilled my guts out to the group. I only heard one thing that offered hope. Only one thing said out of that entire hour long meeting offered any hope. Said near the end of the meeting, it was something to the effect " I am going to tell you something more important than reading the Big Book, talking to a sponsor, praying. or even working the steps. Because if you don't do this one thing ,the rest won't matter anyway because they won't happen". Then he said "the single most important thing I can tell is, "KEEP COMING BACK, no matter what ". There it was. There it was. A tiny tiny sliver of hope. Without question God spoke through that man that night. He got through to me when no one else could. I took a desire chip and started the process of "coming back".