It is June 25, 2008. Ten years ago this Friday, on June 27, 1998, I took my last drink of alcohol and my last illicit drug. Ten years ago this Friday, I tried to take my life by turning on the gas in my apartment building and blowing out the pilot lights; I very nearly took quite a few people with me. Ten years ago this Friday, I came to what we in recovery call a “bottom.”
The gas did not kill me; sheriff’s deputies kicked in the door and pulled me to safety before any serious harm could be done. After a few hours in ICU getting my stomach pumped (for the umpteenth time), I was dispatched to a locked psychiatric ward. I date my sobriety from the day I was released from the hospital: July 1, 1998. The drugs I took on the night of the 27th took several days to leave my system, and so I wasn’t clear-headed until the 1st.
It scarcely seems possible that I have been clean and sober for a decade. I have written often on this blog about what I was like “before” and “after”. And of course, my story is a common one. There are plenty of “once was lost, now am found” narratives out there; the very root of autobiography in the Western world is the trope of conversion and transformation. The familiarity of the story doesn’t make it any less interesting to those caught up in it, of course, and it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling over and over again. After all, the primary purpose of relating these stories is not to gratify the ego but instead to remind others that recovery is possible, miracles do happen, change is real.
When people ask me what helped me get and stay sober, what helped me in my recovery from diagnosed mental illness, what helped me give up the “deathstyle” I lived for so long, I cite three things. The three-legged stool of my recovery: intense psychotherapy; rigorous participation in a Twelve-Step program, and a rediscovered faith in Christ. That doesn’t mean that everyone who seeks recovery must have each of these components, but they were, each in their own way, indispensable to the transformation that happened in my life in the summer of 1998 and beyond. I am not sure I would be where I am today had I not had each of those tools at my disposal, had I not had my nightly meetings, my thrice-weekly sessions with Dr. Levine, and a growing sense of God’s plan for my life.
And of course, I had something else: a fierce desire to live. I’ve lost friends and lovers to the “disease” of addiction, to mental illness, who didn’t have that same willingness to do absolutely anything to get better. And this morning, that’s what I’m contemplating: why it is that some of us are blessed with that will, that hunger, that longing to survive while others are not. Ten years after my last drink, ten years after my last illicit drug, I still have no idea why some “get it” and others don’t. Was it luck? Was it “divine election”, as my Calvinist friends might say? Was it sheer stubborness on my part? Was it privilege, the sort that pays for psychiatric care three times a week? Was it a constellation of all of these?
I don’t know. What I do know is that June 1998 saw me very close to ending my life and taking others with me. What I do know is that something happened, something marvelous and soul-stirring and, so far, apparently permanent. And I am grateful beyond words that it did happen as it did. Let me embrace the cliche: every day is indeed a gift, because I willingly forfeited my life a decade ago and received it back, undeserved and unexpected. And Christ almighty, I try to remember to be worthy of that gift I was given.
happy sober anniversary? vegan cider, anyone?
A moving and wonderful post, Hugo. Happy anniversary.
And, of course, even many of us who have never met you in person are very grateful for your continued presence and voice. It is a gift for more than you.
Finally, reading this:
There are plenty of “once was lost, now am found” narratives out there; the very root of autobiography in the Western world is the trope of conversion and transformation. The familiarity of the story doesn’t make it any less interesting to those caught up in it, of course, and it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling over and over again.
I was reminded of one of my favorite quotes, from John Updike (a book review he wrote):
Narrative and metaphysics alike become flimsy and frivolous if they venture too far from the home base of all humanism — the single, simple human life that we all more or less lead, with its crude elementals of nurture and appetite, love and competition, the sunshine of well-being and the inevitable night of death. We each live this tale. Fiction has no reason to be embarrassed about telling the same story again and again, since we all, with infinite variations, experience the same story.
Happy anniversary, Hugo. L’chaim.
Hugo, you are still one of my all-time heroes. Happy Anniversary and please do keep on rockin’ in the free world. Fiat Lux.
Thank G-d. Congratulations.
Happy anniversary. Your willingness to tell the story of your change has been a help to me to continue to live in hope where someone very close to me is concerned.
Happy anniversary. Thanks for putting your story out there, and may you have these anniversaries for decades more!
Hugo, very powerful and moving piece. Like so much of your best writing, your willingness to expose your nerve in such a brave way and make yourself open and vulnerable is what makes it so universal. You move us, you inspire us, and as my fellow admirer of yours so eloquently stated above, even those of us who haven’t yet met you in person are grateful for your presence and voice. Thank you.
Thanks so much, all.
Hugo
As a member of your family the subject of alcoholism is one of great interest and importance to me. And while I am tremendously thankful that you are still around and, more importantly, that you have found a happiness in your life that you are willing to share with others I have a few qualms with the AA system. I hope this isn’t the wrong forum to have such a discussion and I truly do not mean to offend. I know from discusions I’ve had in the past that this can be a touchy subject that must be handled delicately. I, however, have never been able to conclude that AA is necessary in solving the problem of alcoholism. Or, to take it a step further, that alcohol dependency is ever a person’s biggest issue.
I understand that alcohol is addictive and should not be used as a crutch. What I do not understand is how inanimate objects, i.e. drugs and alcohol, can be the true source of a person’s problems. A friend of mine from high school recently celebrated his third year of sobriety. He is without a doubt a happier, and more productive person now that he is sober. With that said, I can tell that he still has not dealt with the issues that led him to drinking in the first place. I have personally seen him do some stupid things while under the influence, but I have also witnessed him do stupid things while sober. And even though his druken self-destruction was worse than his sober self-destruction it was self destruction all the same. Now he is focused on finishing school and eventually going to law school but all he’s really done is transfer his alcohol addiction to a work addiction. And while one may be more socially acceptable than the other, like an addiction to working out or going to church is more socially acceptable than an addiction to cocaine or heroin, it is an addiction none the less. He just found another way to be outside his mind because he is afraid of what’s inside. So yes it is a step in the right direction but it is only a step, and the road goes on indefinetly. It seems to me that once the skeletons are dragged out of the closet, beaten down, and hauled off to the dump one could drink, smoke, or shoot up whatever they wanted to. This time without the psychological hemorrhaging that requires on going and consistent self-medication.
When used as self-medication, alcohol is like a band-aid. A band-aid works well for small scrapes and cuts but it won’t do much for a severed limb. The mind can have a “severed limb” as well and even if it is not as noticeable as a missing appendage is to the public eye it is likely more damaging to the psyche. Once the healing of the psyche is completed the need for self-medication disolves. Self-medication may even be helpful at times. It can work to numb certain pain that is too hard or heavy to deal with at a certain moment, but the pain must be dealt with. The point being that neither drinking too much nor not drinking at all will completely solve the problem.
My main objection to AA is that one of the program’s main canons is that you are powerless against alcohol. They are saying that an inanimate object is more powerful than a thinking, rational being. This is simply not possible. The power of alcohol is in the mind of the drinker. Some drinkers willfully turn on their autopilot and let the alcohol take control. Ultimately though, the person is in control of their own actions and can be the only one (or thing) in control of their actions. To say that one is powerless against alcohol would be like saying a driver who lets go of the wheel and gets into a serious accident was powerless to stop it. We all have choices to make and after we’ve made our choices we must live with them. We simply cannot be allowed to skirt the issue by transfering blame to an object that will never be able to defend itself. Like Sartre correctly points out, human beings are “condemned to be free.”
Hopefully people choose to thoroughly examine all aspects of their lives in order to develope their own sense of being. If this means that one must temporarily quit drinking for the purpose of getting one’s life together then they should do what needs to be done. But I also agree with the old adage that prompts one to get back on the horse after getting bucked off. Shouldn’t the ultimate goal of a person who believed they were at one point powerless against alcohol be to drink again and know that they are now in complete control of their actions? And if they find this not to be the case then they know they have more about themselves to fix.
Of course, I realize that I could be wrong. Or at least not totaly right. But I respect your opinion and I, like Socrates, would rather lose an argument, and learn something, than win it. In writing this please do not believe that I am in any way trying to diminish your accomplishment. Nor could I ever fault a person for improving their own life since happiness is the true measure of a person’s well-being.
Even though we do not see each other very often you have always been a joy to be around and I have always regarded you as a smart, interesting, and fair person. These traits are rare in this world, which is all the more reason I am glad you are still a part of it.
Much love,
Jack Butler
Cousin Jack, I’m delighted to hear from you here.
Your story about your buddy reminds me that in AA, we used to ask: “What do you get when you get an asshole sober?”
Answer: “A sober asshole.”
AA doesn’t indeed alway change core identity issues; it provides tools to stop drinking. And one of those tools is an admission of powerlessness. Mind you, I am confident that for some people that sense of powerlessness is probably fraudulent. It’s always tough to tell the difference between someone who genuinely doesn’t have a choice and someone who simply chooses the wrong choice over and over again.
I know AA has helped many people, myself included. Done right, the 12 Steps are a vehicle for growth: they mandate accountability, amends, and emotional transformation. I’m so grateful those tools were there for me.
I do wonder, from time to time, what it would be like to pick up a drink again. Ten years on, could I have just one beer? Could I have a single “Maker’s and Coke” or half a glass of Riesling? It’s a good question, but for today, the answer is “I”m not willing to risk it.” My quality of life doesn’t suffer because I can’t drink wine or whiskey, because I can’t have a cold Sam Adams on a hot summer afternoon. And though I find being around drunk people to be tiresome, I’m happy to be the only adult not drinking in a social situation, provided that at least one other person is thoughtful and coherent.
Is AA for everyone with a drinking problem? I don’t know. It was such a key part of what saved my life a decade ago (though to be fair, I had been going to meeting since I was 19, with limited success until ‘98). I know it saved my life, and I know that I have no desire to jeopardize all the work and all the growth I’ve seen in my life in the past ten years by picking up a drink. Perhaps I’d be able to have one. Or perhaps I’d have ten. I am not interested in finding out.
In any event, not offended at all by your comment, cousin. Be well, and I’ll see ya soon.
Oh, and I know you were a philosophy major in college, Jack. One of my father’s colleagues in the philosophy department at UCSB was a dear man named Herb Fingarette whom I knew well in my childhood. Years ago he wrote a wonderful — if challenging — book called Heavy Drinking: The Myth of Alcoholism as a Disease. It’s still in print, and a terrific read. You’d really like it.
Happy soberversary! I’m very glad for you, and I’m glad to have had the opportunity to read your writing over the last several years.
Happy “birthday,” Hugo. I’m just catching up on blog-reading; as you can see, my own blogging has been sparse lately due to, among other things, my recovery work. In an incredible irony, it was 10 years ago this week that I bottomed out in terms of legal and professional consequences of my addiction. However, I did not seek out recovery at that time, but just began a decade-long process of switching addictions, swapping one substance for another. I began to dabble in recovery about nine months ago, and really “drank the Kool-Aid” (in the right way) about three months back.
Though we are poles apart politically and theologically, you always challenge and inspire me. I’m quite joyful for God’s grace in the form of those sheriff’s deputies–I’m glad you’re alive. Reminds me to be thankful for God’s grace that came to me in losing my job and facing the prospect of prison–it didn’t seem like a gift back then (still doesn’t at times, depending on my mood), but it was a warning I heeded nine years later. I suppose in recovery, that’s a relatively short time to catch on.
Peace and all good,
Frank
Thanks so much, Frank. Good to “trudge the road of happy destiny” with you.
I’d like to address another component of your recovery……..and I could ask you this privately but the answer might help others.
You mention a renewed faith in Christ as a component of your recovery.
First of all, as you know, the word Christ pertains to, but is not limited to Jesus. ‘Christ’ is a consciousness, not simply his last name. That said, I know you are referring to JESUS Christ in terms of your own life.
And as you also know, indeed you’ve referred to it in other posts, while ‘coming to Christ’ for some is a genuine change of heart and a step forward, others who may think that’s what their doing are simply manifesting their addiction in a different way. The President Of The United States comes to mind. While you’ve admitted that for a time that was you, it no longer seems to be.
I have, as of late, found the notions of ‘coming to Christ’ and being ‘born again’ appealing but here’s the thing.
I’m Jewish, I could never be anything but Jewish no matter what, and happily so. It’s just what I am and I know it.
Supposedly the big difference between Christians and Jews is that one recognizes Jesus as the Messiah and the other does not. My take is that I have never understood the concept EITHER WAY. I simply can’t, at this point in my development wrap my head around the idea of was he or wasn’t he the Messiah…….and I suspect that’s not the point anyway. It certainly has nothing to do with what being a Jew means to me.
So the question is, how does a Jewish person have the experience you describe without renouncing his Judaism………..or becoming a Jew For Jesus which I am not drawn to in the least?
You can come home to God, come home to the power of the Torah, the power of the Jewish community, the power of Hashem who loves you more than you can possibly comprehend.
But in the end, I can’t explain how to do it as a Jew, alas.
Sounds like you just did. Thnaks.
I mean thanks.
Hugo
I will look for that book and thank you for the reference. In the mean time I have a couple of follow up questions.
You say there is a difference between a person who honestly has no choice and and one who simply chooses poorly. I do not think that distinction accurately addresses the issue. It’s not like the bar tender holds a gun to your head. I can only see the person making the same bad decision over and over. Assuming that this distinction is accurate however, what factors would necessarily exist for a person to genuinely not have a choice?
Also, you say that an admission of powerlessness is a necessary tool of AA, and you say that some admissions are fraudulent. If this is true, are you saying that fraudulent admissions are only done by AA members who are not really alcoholics? Or, are you saying that some alcoholics are not really powerless? Would someone be denied help if their powerlessness was in question? Would someone be denied help if they refused to admit they were in fact powerless? I guess my concern is not whether or not AA helps (It obviously does), its whether AA is as helpful as it needs to be.
You say AA saved your life. I think you saved your own life and would have regardless of AA’s existence. You must of had a strong will to live. Seeing as you how had been to prior meetings you must have known you were in trouble even if you hadn’t figured out how to get out of it. You used AA as a means to an end. AA, therefore, can only be said to be indirectly responsible for your recovery where it is you, and only you, who is directly responsible. In other words, if it wasn’t AA it would have been something else.
In regards to you ever having another drink I completely understand your position. And I am not really saying that you have to drink again in order to be completely “healed.” However, when you say that you are “not willing to risk it,” what is it you are not willing to risk? My point being that even if you had ten drinks would that mean the old demons would definitely return? If you think they would that is one thing. But I don’t think one can even start to consider themselves fully recovered, and I don’t know whether you do or not, until drinking becomes a non-issue. This is not to say that one must be able to drink again. But if you assume that serious alcohol dependency is not a person’s main problem but a manifestation of their problem, and I believe this to be true, then once the main problem is solved does alcohol even matter?
Best wishes,
Jack
Alcoholism is, as AA describes it, an “allergy of the body and an obsession of the mind.” My recovery has addressed the latter, but I believe — as many do — that there is a genetic component to alcoholism that causes some people to metabolize booze differently than others. I’m not willing to risk triggering some kind of a biological response that lies beyond my control.
And in the end, whether I did the work or not, at the time I was doing it I saw AA as essential. And I needed to replace one addiction (alcohol and drugs) with another (going to meetings) until I could get to the point where I needed neither. For me, it was a huge transition tool, one for which I am immensely grateful.
Addiction is a mystery — and there is a gray area where choice and compulsion play off of each other. I know, for example, that I always had a choice as to whether or not I picked up the FIRST drink. But once I had picked up and had that first drink, I had NO control over whether I had a second, third, or tenth. The key was learning what the moment was where I still had the power to stop.
Hugo,
My congratulations. You should be proud of what you’ve done. 10 years is a milestone that, unfortunately, few are able to reach.
Well whattya know, twelve step, psychotherapy, and Torah. Check this out.
http://www.jewishjournal.com/los_angeles/article/house_of_repentance_where_no_one_is_beyond_redemption_20080425/