You Chose To Drink!
I am not a victim. And yet, I am. But I’m not. And I am.
So much of my past lingers in my head: things that were done to me, things that happened to me, people who abused me in countless ways. Except … if I hadn’t been drinking, I might not have been victimized.
I was naive and ignorant about people, especially men. I was emotionally younger than most, intellectually older than some, and frequently stupid at very high levels.
I repeated the same patterns over and over and over and over. Whenever I started drinking, I didn’t stop drinking … until I was forced by some Act of God: the bar closing, for example, or my passing out on the sidewalk. Then I finally stopped drinking … until the next day.
Not everyone understands this. Non-alcoholics have said to me: you chose to drink. And that is correct! In spite of the consequences, I repeatedly chose to drink.
It doesn’t make me any less a victim, although I choose not to sit around feeling victimized anymore. But I also choose not to drink anymore, partially because my life was a living hell when I drank.
Choosing not to drink is really that simple – for 90% of the population – and it’s virtually impossible for someone who is addicted to alcohol. Only 10% of the population – according to studies – are alcoholic and/or drug-addicted. (NIH calls it “drug-use disorder” now.) So 90% of people tell the alcoholic: Just don’t drink!
And that’s where it gets complicated.
For the 90% who have not had to survive addiction, I say … imagine this:
You’re right-handed. (Substitute left-handed if you’re a lefty.) You wake up one morning and your dominant hand is broken. It’s not painful – it just doesn’t work anymore. It’s hanging there, limp. You can’t fix it; it’s just broken forever.
You have a full day ahead of you. You have to make breakfast, get the kids off to school, go to work, make dinner, bathe the kids and get them to bed, all without your right hand. Imagine you have to do everything one-handed – and with the non-dominant hand. Make your bed, brush your teeth, shower, put on your clothes. Brush your hair, drive a car, send a text, eat a sandwich…. Some things would be virtually impossible.
Just try putting on your socks with one hand – really.
For an alcoholic, living without alcohol is akin to living without a functional right hand.
By age 21, I’d reached a point in which, no matter what situation I faced, my brain screamed: I can’t do this without alcohol! Drinking alcohol was the only thing that made the right hand work properly again.
Non-alcoholics may say: I can go a whole day with my left hand! They tell stories of broken wrists, carpal tunnel, whatever. I could go a whole day without alcohol, too – but it was very, very hard. Until I got some life-changing help, my days of sobriety were severely limited.
So technically, drinking is a choice – but it is a choice that makes no sense to an active alcoholic. Why should I quit drinking when it’s the only thing that makes me functional?
While drinking, I “forgot” about being victimized. I “forgot” about anything that made it painful and horrendous to live. I shoved those thoughts to the back of my brain then kept pushing forward, because drinking was the only thing – I thought – helping me to live.
I believed this, deep-down, until the day I saw the Mack truck – but that truck was a long, long way away.