Travels with BenStevie: Riding the Fence - Is you is or is you aint?

Riding the Fence

I remember a time, back in 2003, I was riding the fence pretty hard, honestly going back and forth on whether or not I really, really needed to stop drinking, for good and all, or whether, as I suspected, the problem was really "them" and their petty grievances and that if they were to change their reactionary and narrow-minded ways, life would be good - at last.

If you ever just walked up and asked me, do you have a drinking problem? I would be like "Of course not! Double-ya-tee-eff dude? WTF?"

One really smart guy Adam Z suggested Occam's Razor. Dude, he says, the simplest, most obvious answer is usually the truth. If you even think you have a problem, then 95% of the time, you do.

Being expert at this game, I could rationalize and minimize and justify. I was easily able to deflect these glancing blows. Dude, it aint that bad! Really!

Nowadays it is all crystal clear, but back five or six years ago it was murky and dark. I did not really want to stop; so I tended to ignore any facts that did not support this position.

What did I want? I really wanted to squeeze all the fun I could out of this run. I did not want to leave any good times on the table. I resented even the suggestion there might be a problem. Why was I so defensive? Hell - the answer to that question right there is generally proof positive, but hang with me for a second.

How can things be so crystal clear and still murky? Here is the deal: I did not EVER really have a drinking problem. For me drinking was a solution! Life gets itchy, I get bitchy, and pretty soon I am thinking when am I next going to be out of town? When is my next business trip, whereupon I can hole up in some godforsaken marriott or whathaveyou, turn on the TV with no sound, put on some music, and the internet and basically drink with no one watching. That would last only awhile and then I would be driven out and about.

Just even knowing I could access that liquid comfort, above the coffee maker, anytime I wanted, gave me a certain peace and ease and kept me from exploding and taking sides. (You know the sides like suicide, homicide, pesticide and all other sides.)

Mostly I was restless, irritable, discontent UNLESS I could again experience the sense of ease and comfort that comes at once, by taking a few drinks - drinks which I saw others take with impunity. Once I got started, I would have preferred to continue; however, did not so as to keep up domestic tranquility. Hence the need to travel!

I had tons of "living problems" but, again, if you walked up and asked me: I would be angry and offended. WTF? As soon as I started drinking in July 2001, after 20 years of not drinking, it was like a black veil dropped over my head. I could no longer see the truth about myself.

If you asked if I had any fears and resentments, I would have honestly said no, not really, can't think of any. I was convinced others were fairly messed up or too nosy or too rigid or too jealous, or what have you. But I had been having these kinds of issues for months and months prior to the infamous summer of 2001. People-problems! Problems with the wife, problems with the daughters, various sisters and other insane female coworkers, insane soccer moms. If you asked what is the common denominator I would have said "...That they are all female?"

But still that would tend to minimize and ignore the bigger picture. I was having trouble with everybody. To me, other guys were either competition or insignificant. There were only one or two straight across equals. Buds. I was having trouble keeping a job more than two years at a time. I was a prey to misery and depression. The soccer team I coached had much success and won tons of trophies, but now I had to let go. With all this in the mix, happiness was not even remotely available. Most of the time I was angry and demanding. Healthy people tend to pull away from that, which only feeds the anger and fear.

Looking back I know these facts: Driven driven by a hundred forms of fear, fear of not getting what I want, fear of losing what I had, driven by ego and anger, I began treating this lack of ease, this dis-ease, with an almost daily dose. Scratch the itch. Feed the beast. Feed the beast and the beast only gets stronger. Pretty soon it was one or two drinks every day. Later it was two or three every day. I heard myself say these things out loud, but I ignored the escalation and the insanity. I watched myself carefully place empty Heineken bottles in four separate corners of the trash can, so as to avoid the damning "clink" when the kids took the trash outside.

Was I ever snockered? Not really. Now and again, on road trips, or what have you, but mostly I had to carefully regulate these episodes, so as to protect that access and supply. I wanted and needed to always be able to get that relief. I know guys and gals that would stop for 3-4 weeks at a time, but that just kept them out there longer. I was not interested in the whole regulation experiment. One time the wife said: "Why don't you stop drinking for, say, a year and then see what happens?" I actually laughed out loud. Oh my God! I wondered to myself if she was maybe going a little insane. How could you even say something like that?

Looking back I also know these facts: On Sept 4, 2004 flying back from Europe, I had not intended to drink. I was two months angry (dry) and only vaguely interested in sobriety. United Airlines bumped me up to first class. I always knew my case was different and deserved special consideration. This piece of good luck just confirmed that fact.

As I leaned back in the easy chair, they asked what would you like to drink Mr Brown? I did not even think twice. I'll have a scotch. This fine service continued all the way across the Atlantic ocean and we had a gay old time, back by the kitchen, hanging out with the flight attendants, laughing, doing magic tricks and such, and when I leaned in for a refill on the wine, the kind lady said: "Um, Mr Brown, we are going to land in about an hour. Why don't we switch you to coffee?" And I thought to myself: well buddy you gone and done it again.

The next day I woke up. WTF? How could this have happened? First class? So what! You didn't even put up a good fight? Anyway I was done and I knew it. Surrendered. Quit fighting. I was go through the middle of Alcoholics Anonymous, no skimping, no cutting corners, no bargaining, no arguments, no running my own show. Get in line with the other ducks. Get a sponsor. Do the deal. Let the wire-brush cleansing of AA work do its thing on my anger, pride and ego. I went to meetings. Everyday. When they asked for newcomers? I said, yes, I am a newcomer. My name is Steve, and I am an alcoholic. I quit explaining to people what a big-deal I used to be, what happened, and why I was here now. I shut up and listened, served coffee, stacked chairs, went home.

Three weeks later I left the Sat 8AM meeting feeling angry (again) because they had used a guy's last name, broke his anonymity, basically it was not all that hard to piss me off is my point. Smoked a couple more Marlboro reds, trotted out to referee a U16 boys soccer match, and eighty minutes later, I suffered a sudden-cardiac-death. Apparently I took a knee and fell over. Dead at age forty-five. Some parents ran out onto the field. One soccer dad had to pry my clenched jaws open, so that two soccer moms gave me CPR for about six minutes - which is a really long time. Most guys die right there. Other guys suffer permanent brain damage. These two soccer moms were former nurses and saved my life. The truck got there and the EMT guys shocked me a bunch of times before my heart finally restarted.

They called my wife Colleen's cell phone. She was downtown with two of the kids, Kelsey and Jake, who were 16 and 14 years old at the time. They actually met the ambulance at the hospital and watched me get wheeled into the emergency room. From their perspective that must have been one heck of a scary moment. Anyway the medical report said I was "posturing" for hours, which is basically all clenched up in fetal position. Later I went into a coma. The doctors said to have the kids go ahead and say goodbye because it did not look good. That was Saturday September 26, 2004. I was in a coma all night.

Prayers went up and out into the universe. My brother took his drum out to Venice Beach and pounded a steady beat out across the ocean long into the night. A buddy walked off into the east coast woods and said God if there is a God, I ain't never asked but...

So prayers went up. Colleen stayed with me all night. Early Sunday morning, when Kelsey said "Dad if you can hear me squeeze my hand." I must have heard her and squeezed and she started crying. So here I am, five years later. My old sponsor used to say back in 1981: "Brown, the only thing you need to know about God is, there is a God, and you aint it."

Today I would just say Amen. Aho! If there is any reason for me to be here, it is to help others. If this story helps in any way, then Aho! If it does not help, then at least know it helped me to tell it, so thanks. And Aho!

I have not had a drink since Sept 4, 2004 and I am humbly grateful for the gift of having that obsession removed. Today, one day at a time, I have recovered from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. As long as I stay spiritually fit, and try to help others, this gift and gratitude and peace abides. Amen.

There are a few OBJECTIVE Q's you can ask yourself below. Occam's Razor. If the shoe fits...

Are You An Alcoholic?

You might like to take the following test, developed by the World Health Organisation.

To calculate your score add the figures up in the left-hand column.

A score of eight or more suggests a drink problem.

1.How often do you drink alcohol?

(0) Never
(1) Monthly
(2) 2-4 times a month
(3) 2-3 times a week
(4) 4 or more times a week

2.How many units of alcohol do you drink on a typical day?

(0) 1 or 2
(1) 3 or 4
(2) 5 or 6
(3) 7, 8 or 9
(4) 10 or more

3.How often do you have six or more units of alcohol on one occasion?