Outside Freedomville
A solution to that first drink called insanity
On a hot summer night in 1968, my older brother and I snuck out to meet another kid from our neighborhood. It had been elaborately orchestrated by me, a lonely and lost eight-year-old, and my brother, a
lonely and lost ten-year-old.
Four years prior, our dad had taken his own life. At thirty-seven he was unable to deal with the life of an alcoholic (himself) and he left my mom with seven of us. I was second from the youngest.
This night was to be my first experience with alcohol. Our neighborhood pal had stolen three beers from his dad and we were about to have a "party."
The first beer had a major effect and impact. I felt great. Something was obviously wrong for an eight-year-old to need alcohol to feel great, but it all didn't seem to matter. I had found the solution to
life's hurts and problems.
Alcohol became a major part of all my social events. From pre-football games, skating parties in the winter, beach parties in the summer on a small island, alcohol and, later, drugs were the way to the
solution for feeling "good" no matter what ailed me.
It wasn't long until alcohol brought on trouble with the law. I had learned how to enter and exit a store (or homes with people in them), take the booze, and leave without notice.
It wasn't long until I needed more and I had to open the stores when they closed before I had stopped drinking for the night. This landed me at Boy's Training Center and at my first AA meeting at the age
of fourteen. Someone was observant enough to see that alcoholism was an obvious player and thought that maybe exposure to AA would "wake me up." It didn’t work, but it certainly did plant a seed.
Upon release, the race was on. I was fifteen and just old enough to know better, but I didn't see the truth. I continued to drink and became a U.S. Merchant Marine and a commercial fisherman by the age of
seventeen. The world was at my disposal, and that was exactly how I treated it -- as a disposal. Wherever I went in this country and many others, once I abused my stay with my alcoholic actions, I left or was
ordered to leave, sometimes at gunpoint. Alcoholism was in full swing and I couldn't stop it. Or I wouldn't.
At twenty-three I had been married for a few years, had a child (plus other children along the way) but had no idea what a dad was. All I knew was that I hurt and alcohol relieved that hurt.
I had tried rehabs, at thirty-day spin-drys, and was in AA and out again throughout the next thirty-odd years. I never made a commitment; I wasn't capable of a commitment to anyone or anything except
alcohol. The Steps I had been introduced to worked enough for me to clean up, physically, somewhat mentally and spiritually, and then financially, and I was out the door. This usually occurred at Step Four.
I was not willing to "go to any lengths." So I hit the door. I was good at leaving.
In the interim of thirty-odd years I had been arrested many, too many, times for DUI. There were other charges, but drinking and driving were what essentially brought my life in Freedomville to an abrupt
end. I had been kicked out of states (some in which I had had no intention of ending up) and I'd been in and out of multiple county jails and holding facilities. I knew I had a severe case of alcoholism but
I was not willing, or able, to accept the fact I could not drink any alcohol safely.
You see, I had been through hurricanes all over the Atlantic, I had spent winters in the Bering Sea and the Gulf of Alaska working as a commercial fisherman, and I lived to tell about it. How could this
disease called alcoholism beat me? I was tougher than those I'd met at AA. I'd learn to drink and win, I thought. It almost killed me. One day, after fighting an obviously one-sided battle for thirty-three years, I finally admitted defeat.
I got on my knees as I had often learned to do when in trouble and to get "help." I prayed, "God, I know I can't continue to go on like this. I can no longer live with this urge to drink and I don't want to
die from this urge to drink. I don't know how not to live this way. Please, put me in a place that is 'regimented' (I was always told to be specific when praying to my Higher Power) as you know what I need.
I promise, if you help me help myself, I will try to do the same for others."
Less than a week later I was arrested for DUI. I did not see this as my Higher Power's answer until a few months later, when I was found guilty at trial and received many, many years in prison due to
my past DUIs. Once sentenced, I immediately accepted the help of AA.
The greatest fear I had going to prison was not the violence -- nothing could have been much worse than what I'd already seen -- it was that maybe there would be no AA. I truly was petrified of that.
You see, the seed of AA that had been planted thirty-three years earlier had finally bloomed through the "gift of desperation" and I now accepted the fact that I needed AA and those in the
Fellowship.
My fears were unfounded. When I entered my first AA meeting in prison, I met ten or thirteen members who drank like I had in Freedomville. One, in particular, was in for DUI, as a result of maiming a man.
He came up to me and said, "I know it seems like a long time, but get involved with the group and your time and life will get much better." He was right. It's been going on five-and-a-half years now. I'm a
member of AA in good standing.
Once, a man came to run a Twelve Step group every week. I asked him to sponsor me. I liked what he had and I was ready to go to any lengths and take the Steps I needed to take, with God's help and power.
I knew I was totally powerless. I was finally willing and able. My honesty took some work, but I continue with this work daily, twenty-four hours at a time.
I've kept my promise to God, my Higher Power, and I try to assist and help those who are still sick and suffering. I work on my own defects, one day at a time.
This has not been an easy road, but it is far better than the life that was leading to the death of an alcoholic, out there. Amends, defects, acceptance, powerlessness, false-pride, and ego, so I've learned,
can and will kill. Resentment is the number-one offender and I've lived the truth of this.
I resented my dad, all those years, for taking his own life and leaving us lost and lonely. No one can say that doesn't have a lasting effect on a four-year-old, but there is a solution besides alcohol.
I have no doubt in a God-gifted solution as I ask him, my Higher Power, and he's given me my life back without the desire to drink -- what a miracle that is. I never thought or imagined it possible.
To those still sick and suffering, give yourself a break; we don't have to die to get relief from alcoholism, as my dad did. There is a solution to that thought of the first drink called insanity.
I totally understand that thought. My ship of life sank thirty-three years ago and I continued to swim against the current for what seemed forever. Many tried to help, throwing "life rings" while my mind
was telling me, "You don't need help; you're tough and strong; you can beat this," when I was literally drowning. Every passing second is a chance to turn your life around.
Reach out. I guarantee the hand of AA will be there, as I am responsible, when anyone, anywhere reaches out for help. I've promised God, my Higher Power. He doesn't break his promises and neither will I.
For that, "I am responsible."
Randy H., Bucksharbor, Maine
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