I Had to Have More.
There aren’t a lot of people in the world who understand addiction. Even addicts don’t really comprehend the magnitude of what is happening. But recovering addicts, like me, who have no choice but to figure it out and recover – or die – we do our best to understand.
When I first got sober, I decided that my life’s goal of working in movies and television would best be served by working at a tiny video rental store the size of a garage. My 80-year-old boss ran it single-handedly most of the time, so we got to know each other well.
So when I started yammering on about being an alcoholic, talking about how hard it was to quit and how different my life had become in such a short time, I was shocked by his rather angry response.
“If you choose to drink, you can choose to stop. It’s that simple.”
His disdain scorched me. It was the first time I realized that many people just don’t understand.
It never occurred to me, at the ripe old age of 26, that everyone in the world wasn’t exactly like me. Because it wasn’t that simple for me. In fact, I didn’t drink for more than two years, but I didn’t actually get sober until the week before my 28th birthday. Because choosing to stop and being able to stop were two different things for me.
I could go days and weeks without drinking, without drugs, if I wanted to stay clean. I didn’t usually want to, and I was rather grumpy when I did, but I could do it.
My problems only started when I had a few sips of alcohol. Once alcohol entered my system, the rest of my life became irrelevant. I wanted more. I needed more. I had to have more. There was no telling what I would say, what I would do, who I would become, or where I would end up in my search for more.
I was young and poor when I drank, so I went out to bars. Being female allowed me to get hundreds – probably thousands – of drinks for free. I only had to discard my morals and every shred of my dignity to keep that liquor flowing. So that’s what I did.
In Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s referred to as a “phenomenon of craving” which feels like a simplification. Not everyone who drinks is an alcoholic – so not everyone who drinks understands this phenomenon.
But I do.
I know that I could be having a beautiful time walking down the street and admiring the birds and trees, and then I’d crack open a beer and all the good would disappear. In what felt like minutes, I’d be lying in a ditch, swearing at those same beautiful birds.
I know that I woke up every day with a hangover that would only go away if I used a mood-altering substance to get out of bed. And that I never had anything left by morning so this became a horridly vicious cycle.
For me, understanding addiction comes down to one basic principle: once I start, I don’t want to stop.
Period.
So, for today, I choose not to start.