I will occupy I will help you die I will run through you Now I rule you too

Every alcoholic/addict has a unique story, but I've quickly learned during my short time in recovery, the ending is very predictable:

1. Get help so you can pursue a productive, happy, healthy life OR
2. End up in prison, lose everything (family, friends, health) and/or die.

Some enter recovery at an early age. Others (like me), somehow manage to keep the insanity going for decades before being hit over the head with a sledgehammer.

My path to recovery started as a teen in the 80s and finally kicked in on March 11, 2023 at 12pm, when I entered treatment for the first time. 12 hours later, my first full day of sobriety started at 12am on March 12, 2023.

Raised by an amazing single mother, along with the help of my aunt, uncles, and grandparents. Not a traditional childhood, but a loving family who would do anything to protect me.

Throughout my adult life, I always had plenty of friends and was blessed with a beautiful wife and children, financially secure, live in a nice, safe neighborhood, and was able to pursue my dream of being a professional musician at a very early age.

In my early 20s, it was clear that the dream of becoming a famous musician wasn't going to come true.  After trying to live the "rock star" lifestyle in my teens and early 20s, I went back to school, got married, started my new career in tech, had children, and basically lived the nuclear family life.

From my teens to late 20s, drinking was mostly social. Parties, before / during / after a gig, hanging with friends at the bar to watch football, dinner, etc. Drinking wasn't required to function every second of the day.

By my early 30s, I added self medication by having a few drinks at night to deal with the stress of everyday life, as many others do. Worked really well, so it gradually became more frequent, and the amounts increased over time.

By my mid-late 30s, self medication was daily. Still not a problem in my mind, but it was becoming obvious to my family. Drinking was no longer a choice; it was required to function.

Throughout my 40s, "Taste me, you will see, more is all you need" really kicked in. The demons were in full control. I was convinced the only way to survive and continue to support my family was to keep drinking, day and night. No matter how many times my wife, mother, aunt, children, and friends would beg me to get help, I always said "I can handle this... I'll take care of it".

What I didn't realize is that alcohol took advantage of every one of my hidden weaknesses to convince me that I needed to keep drinking, and then eventually the physical addiction got so bad that I was left with two choices.  Drink and die, or stop drinking and die.

Alcohol is one of the few substances that will eventually kill you if you continue to use or if you stop abruptly without immediate medical attention. That's why many alcoholics like me ride it out as long as possible until they hit the absolute bottom before getting help (or die a horrible alcoholic death).

Every time my family would approach me, I would tell them to leave me alone because I already know and their constant nagging (love) was stressing me out and making things worse. That usually gave me some breathing room, but they never stopped.

I managed to rationalize the insanity in so many ways. I had to constantly escalate in order to stay alive and protect/support the people I love. That was my brain's way of tricking me into riding it out as long as possible.

During the pandemic, every single member of my family, co-workers, and virtually everyone I know got hit with some strain of Covid. Not me. The voices in my head convinced me that whiskey was fighting the virus. More whiskey = better chance of survival. Sounds insane (because it is), but mention that to any recovering alcoholic or addict, and they'll say "yeah, I totally get it".

After emotionally torturing my family for years, it was time. They tried as hard as they could for as long as possible and simply couldn't take it anymore.

Early March, 2023, I hit my bottom. I got out of the shower and saw a walking corpse. My wife, crying, threw a Hail Mary and begged me one last time to get help. She told me my youngest teenage son was scared that I wasn't going to live to see him graduate high school. At that point, a lifetime of memories (what I could remember) hit me all at once and I finally realized how mentally broken my family really was. I wasn't protecting them, I was inflicting severe emotional damage. If I didn't agree to get help immediately, they would be forced to escape and I would likely be dead within a few weeks.

My wife found the perfect place for me - Recovery Unplugged in Nashville, TN. She setup a phone interview so they could determine how bad I was. The diagnosis was Alcohol Use Disorder (severe). I immediately tried to convince myself there must be something worse than "severe". That was my alcoholic brain trying to rationalize the insanity so I would avoid accepting help.

"If your pattern of drinking results in repeated significant distress and problems functioning in your daily life, you likely have alcohol use disorder. It can range from mild to severe".

We then setup a check-in time. On the surface, I was cooperating, but my brain was working overtime to figure out how I could avoid accepting the help, and if I would even survive the drive to Nashville. Before the call ended, I was told to continue drinking until I got to their facility where the medical staff would treat the inevitable onset of delirium tremens (DT)...

"...profound confusion, autonomic hyperactivity, and cardiovascular collapse. This is defined as alcohol withdrawal delirium, more commonly known as delirium tremens (DT)."

 That was the extra nudge I needed to get me in the car.

My wife and daughter drove me 11 hours to Nashville on Friday, March 10, 2023. I sat in the back seat the entire time, drinking just enough to not get the shakes . We checked into the hotel around 7pm. I continued to drink until we left for the facility the next day. I checked in at noon, March 11, 2023.

When we first arrived, they took all my stuff, including my belt, to search and wash. I was then searched, given some bright red sweatpants and a black t-shirt to wear for the next few days until I got my clothes back. Eventually, they gave me my belt after being evaluated to make sure I was only going to use it to keep my pants from falling down.

During intake, my Blood Alcohol Content (BAC) was about .24 (roughly an hour or two after my last drink at the hotel). I thought that sounded kind of high considering I felt perfectly normal, or at least what I considered normal. I could have a conversation, walk a straight line, and understood exactly what was going on. Barely a minor buzz. That's when I first figured out my baseline. I had to be at least 3x the legal limit just to function. At that level, the average person would probably pass out:

• .08 BAC: Reflexes are slowed, muscle coordination is diminished, and eye coordination is weakened. Legally drunk.
• .20 BAC: Feelings of confusion, disorientation, nausea and vomiting, and may potentially cause blacking out. Standing becomes difficult, and a person may even hurt themselves and become unable to feel pain. 
• .25 BAC: Many people pass out. If a person is still conscious at this level, vomiting becomes very likely, as well as a complete loss of physical control. This can lead to asphyxiation if they lose consciousness and choke on their own vomit.
• .30 BAC: A person is at severe risk for alcohol poisoning and death.
• .35 BAC and above: Heart and lungs will slow down and they may fall into a coma. For most people, a blood alcohol content of .45 is fatal.

For me to feel a little drunk, I had to be at least .30. I'd say most days I was hovering around .35 by early evening, with some late nights out hitting at least .45 by the time I got home.

After intake, they took me to the kitchen and had the chef make me something to eat, then went to the nurses' station for my initial medical evaluation. They couldn't start the medical detox yet...need to wait until most of the alcohol was out of my system.

I wandered around the facility for a few hours. Really nice place. Every patient and staff member was awesome.

Later that day, it hit me quick. I went to the nurses' station and took another breathalyzer test. I was out of gas (alcohol).  I started having really bad shakes, blood pressure was through the roof, and my brain was freaking out (DTs). One of the nurses yanked the blood pressure cuff off my arm and they calmly started my detox treatment (saved my life).

Once they stabilized me, they told me I would be staying in the observation room next to their station for a few days. I really don't remember much about the first 48 hours, other than they checked on me every 2 hours or so.

After 3 weeks of detox and in-patient treatment, I landed at Reagan National Airport on Saturday, April 1, 2023. My wife and kids all came to the airport to pick me up and met the real me for the first time in 20 years. My mom came over when we got home to finally see the son she used to have.

There is an amazing network of resources available for people who are struggling, as well as for those in recovery that I never knew existed until I took that first step. As time goes on, it's become obvious how important it is to build and maintain a support network for life. If you're struggling, GET HELP NOW.

I've had many friends tell me they had no idea it was that bad and that it went on for years. Unfortunately, I developed a very unique skill over the years that almost all alcoholics and addicts have.

Understanding the Insanity of Alcoholism: How the Alcoholic Thinks