A Drunks Tale from a Living Hell to Freedom: A Message of Hope for Alcoholics and Their Families

A Drunks Tale from a Living Hell to Freedom: A Message of Hope for Alcoholics and Their Families

Did you ever wonder what goes through the mind of an alcoholic? Why won't he stop drinking? How many jobs must be lost or relationships destroyed? How many Duis does it take for him to quit? Doesn't he know he is killing himself? If you wondered this about a family member or loved one or have asked these questions about yourself, this book gives insight into one alcoholic's mind and his personal journey to get sober and actions he takes daily to ensure lasting sobriety. A Drunks Tale From a Living Hell to Freedom By Frank K AuthorHouse Copyright © 2015 Frank K. All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5049-1063-7 CHAPTER 1 The Abyss I have stood at the gates of a personal hell, lost in a downward spiral. I looked up from the abyss at what was seemingly an insurmountable climb to a place that I wasn't sure existed. I was gazing at a strange world with normal, happy, well-adjusted people, a foreign world in which I didn't fit. I was a drunk, an alcoholic who drank to live and lived to drink. Drinking was my only means to function, and drinking was the only way not to get sick. Drinking was killing me, and yet every ounce of my being told me I had to drink. I was alone in my disease and thought no one understood what I was going through. I surrounded myself with other drunks like me. It was in this world that I was dying, wrapped in a chemical sense of comfort. These fellow drunks didn't judge me. They liked who I was, even though I hated who I was. I needed them, and they needed me. Still, I was miserable, embarrassed, and scared. I didn't realize until much later that they were lost too. Cloaking myself in a mask of normalcy, I hid my suffering and eased the pain with more alcohol. With all of that spinning around my brain in a tornado of confusion, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I did the only thing I thought made me feel normal and content: I drank. One fateful day, I hit bottom. This wasn't the first but it was the worst yet. I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. I had to make a choice. I could continue to drink, and die, or stop drinking and live. I could try to climb out of the abyss to an uncertain fate, or accept my current fate and drink myself to death. I could numb myself and await death, or throw away everything I knew and expose myself to the world and walk toward a place I wasn't sure existed. That day I decided I had to somehow, some way, try to quit drinking. This is my story. A story of a drunk who decided to quit drinking. I am not special or unique. I am your brother, father, cousin, or co-worker. I exist in every family, race, creed, and social status. I'm not famous, nor do I wish to be. I am just a drunk who found a way to stop drinking. This is my journey, both physical and spiritual, to the world of sobriety. Am I Like Brett Favre? Could I be the Brett Favre of drinking? In the twilight of Brett Favre's football career, he would stand in front of a podium, holding back the tears, declaring that he was retiring. Then, a few short months later, he would sign with another team and play another season. Then, he'd retire again, and then to everyone's shock and dismay, come back yet again. Sports experts, journalists, and people around the water cooler would wonder: Why he is doing this? They knew he never would be able to play at the same level again. Why could everyone see it except him? I think he just declared his fourth retirement as I am writing this. Everyone is waiting to see if he really means it. I also have retired from my drinking career only to come out of retirement. I guess that like Brett, I missed the glory of my drinking career. I missed hanging out with my buddies at the pub. I missed being the center of attention. I longed for what I thought were the good times. I couldn't imagine my life post-drinking. I knew my drinking always resulted in problems, but I thought that this time, it would be different. I suspect I wanted to recapture my drinking Super Bowl that would never come. Like Brett, I came out of retirement blazing, hoping to reclaim the glory of past days. In fact, in my case, I found a new bottom. Each bottom I hit was worse than the previous one. I hope I now realize that I never can recapture the long-gone time when drinking was fun, sociable, and did not hurt me or others. In fact, there were no glory days at all. So, I am retired. I have put down the bottle. I do have fond thoughts of those days in the pub, talking sports and politics, singing, and pretending to be carefree. However, I remember more of the neglected responsibilities, wasted money, the drinking to avoid the shakes, the hiding of bottles to avoid shame or detection, puking and washing it down with the next drink, and not remembering what I had done the previous night. It was a personal hell that I do not want to experience again. Ya know, the good times Random Thoughts Come on Guys, I only drank when? When I have a good day at work; when I have a bad day at work. W