Pain and fear was the catalyst for change for me.
Fear doesn't own me like it used to, but there was a time not all that long ago when that wasn't so.

I am a graphic designer by trade, and as I sat in my studio one morning staring at an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, the biggest decision I had to make that day was, am I going to crack that seal open at 9:00 am or am I going to put it off till noon. I was going to open it, of that I was sure, it was only a question of when.

Then it struck me. Naked fear descended on me like a icy fog. I sat there so scared that I thought I might soil my pants. And I couldn't even tell you what I was so afraid of. No. that's not quite true, I know now what it was, I was projecting. I had had a bad week, I had had a bad month, Hell, I had had a bad year. And I was projecting that run of bad luck forward in time. Another 6 months of this was a hard thing to face. Another year was unimaginable. Years uncounted of this brand of misery folding out before me was simply unbearable.

Fear was all over me like the skin I wore. And it's as if everybody in my life could feel it, could smell it on me in some subliminal fashion. They were backing off, and I couldn't blame them. My whole world was falling apart. Everywhere across my horizon were nothing but dark storm clouds. And they were growing fast.

I screwed up as much courage as I could manage, and I told my wife that I was scared all the time. I never mentioned my drinking. I would never put that at risk. She got this look in her eyes like, "Oh no, I'm yoked in harness with this man, two kids, mortgage etc. and he's stumbling bad. He's fixing to fall flat on his *****." She looked scared too.

I made up my mind right then and there to never say anything to her about those feelings again. That left me pretty much alone. This went on for maybe six or eight more months, and all the time stuff was getting bad. Stuff got real bad toward the end. At that point I believed I had to drink and drug my demons away. I woke up in the morning and I couldn't stand the way I felt. A few drinks eased that never-ending feeling of impending doom, and after a bunch more, oblivion. That's all I had at the end. Ether a pain I could not tolerate, or a blind stupor. What a sorry deal. Alone and sinking fast.

But life (God) has a strange sense of humor.
The finest gift than I could imagine showed up in wrapping paper that looked like pure misery.

My Grand Sponsor used to tell me that his alcoholism was his best asset. I thought he was crazy the first time he told me that. I know what he meant now. That crisis in my life was the turning point. Out of that crucible of active, painful, and pitifully incomprehensible alcoholism was borne a new man. And it is a gift that I never fail to say thank you for.

That's my story of alcoholic redemption.

Richard