Trapped by the beast

Hi everyone. Welcome to a new blog here on "The Hampshire Sober Connection". It's been a while since I wrote one so I thought I'd put that right. I'll be totally honest with you here, I'm not sure where this blog will go so please bare with me. 

Firstly, we hope you're all safe and well during this second lockdown. It's ruined our plans to arrange a real life meet up but we've had some Zoom chats and we're still here to create a welcoming place for all. It goes without saying that should anyone need someone to talk to then we're all here for each other.

#BeKind 

When I was in the throws of heavy drinking I thought I was untouchable. That somehow I was better than most because I had this lifestyle which other people were jealous of. I was very much like "They only don't do this because they're not as good as me at it" and "This is my skill and I'm bloody good at it". Stupid reasoning I know, but I couldn't see it for what it was. And even if I would've noticed, I would not have cared. 

Drinking seeped into every corner of my life. It informed all of my decision making. If my wife suggested taking the kids to a play park I would say "Nah, fuck that. Let's go down the pub" where there was a tiny climbing frame and a broken swing but I could pour lager down my neck. And when my children wanted to me to join in their play or push them on the swing, I'd be annoyed at them because then I'd have to put my pint down. Selfish and terrible behaviour but I thought it was fine. 

When we decided to go out for a family meal, I would suggest a crappy pub that did average food because I knew the beer was reasonably priced and I could get on it once more. My family deserved better but little did I know that I was trying to keep a different being at peace. The alcohol beast had its claws well and truly in me but I was so far in I neither knew nor cared. 

A shity day at work? Drink. A great day at work? Drink. A boring day at work? Well, you get the idea. And while I admit I don't think I ever had a traditional "rock bottom moment" I think this is part of the problem really. It just became so ingrained in me that I was stuck in loop. A hamster wheel of addiction, if you will. 

The beast was in my head and it wasn't letting go without a fight. I became so unhappy that I kept chasing something. Drinking more and more beer. Drinking every night. It was like heading down a wrong turn. By the time you realise you've done so, you think if you keep going the wrong way you'll end up in the right place. Kicking the can further and further down the road until I didn't know where I was going or why. 

The trouble with the beast is that it's something familiar. When I needed comforting, the beast was there. When I felt down, there it was to throw its arms around me to make me feel better. But I never did. 

WHERE WILL THIS END?

I lost my dad when I was in my early thirties. My children are a very young. 9, 6 and 4. I started to think they're going to be attending my funeral if I don't get on top of this. My wife and kids are my absolute world. But still I didn't stop. The self loathing I felt for letting them down always convinced me to drink - not that I needed much convincing of course - and so I was firmly stuck in the depressed-drinking-depressed (repeat to fade) cycle. Their happiness never entered my thinking, I was only keeping the beast happy. Like a gambler chases his losses because he thinks all his problems will be solved with a big win, I kept on the wrong path. But now I couldn't go back. Nor could I carry on. I was now completely lost. And scared. 

I always knew I drank too much. But I thought I could cut down or stop whenever I wanted. I was in control. Or so I thought. Then one night I realised I was far from in control. Suddenly I felt boxed in. Enclosed in a small space which was getting smaller. I couldn't breathe and I was so frightened. Holding my head in panic and crying my eyes out. Finally I could see the beast. And I reacted with a mental "FUCK YOU!!!!" 

I felt like he had let his guard down. Just for a brief moment. I saw a tiny glimmer of light and I knew I had to go for it. We know that you can't tell a person they need help, they have to reach that conclusion by themselves. Well I had, finally, woken up to it. I had a drinking problem and I needed some help. 

I still worry about the beast. I think he's in me somewhere. Like Evanesence sang "Your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone" but it's only a small concern now and I'm comfortable in my sobriety and I'm confident I can keep the beast at bay. But I won't forget the fear I felt that night. It drives me on and it stops me from being complacent. 

Until next time,

Phil (445 days sober)