I am sitting quietly, even serenely, at now 11.10 p.m. eating strawberries & cream, gratefully reflecting on my five-plus years of continuous sobriety. It was not always so.

A lonely, sensitive child, I seemed to be always out of step, never one of the gang - any gang. In my teens the problem was compounded by being cloistered in boarding school. My first drink, like many other kids, was probably around age 10, and was pinched from my parent's wine cupboard, a sherry I think. Straight out of the bottle, I found the taste most agreeable, but I did not take more than a couple of mouthfuls.

Away at school, in common with my peers, there was the occasional (two or three times weekly) bunks off to one (or two) of the local hostelries, but again, never to excess. Perhaps the regimented environment had a decelerating effect on the progress of my drinking at this stage, but I definitely felt the evaporation of cares and fears each time I took a drink.

It was at university that drinking started in earnest. I seemed to prefer to spend my time "learning about life" in the bars of and pubs around the campus, rather than attend lectures. Besides, I was going to be a rock star - I didn't need a degree!

After trying and failing at three establishments of higher education I went to work, as a musician, as well as various day jobs, mainly selling, before qualifying as an accountant. Daily drinking became my pattern, though I realised that daytime drinking was not very smart, as it affected my earning ability which I needed to pay for the drink. Thereupon, I proceeded to drink only in the evening, though my daily consumption did not decrease - it was actually increasing, slowly but remorselessly.

I married at 23, and my wife, a Greek, accepted my drinking, which though daily, was not at this stage noticeably out of the ordinary. My reasons for drinking, I told myself, were (a) social and musically creative lubricant, and (b) sedative - I needed it give me confidence and to slow my head down at night in order to sleep.

What I was really doing, I now know, was avoiding facing up to life, responsibilities, and particularly painful emotions like contempt for myself. I did not need to get smashed every day to achieve this (though obviously did get pretty drunk from time to time), just to get numb, the "buzz".

Trouble is, as time passed, I seemed to need more and more of the stuff to achieve the same ends - my physiological tolerance was increasing. What began with a few pints daily at college became a quart of whisky by the time I was in my early forties, with all the attendant features of blackouts, shakes, family strife and loss of career. I was luckier than most in that my wife never left me (though she suffered immeasurably), I kept the house and the driving licence. Fortunately, we never had any children who are almost always inevitably scarred by such an upbringing.

Eventually, the point came where no matter how much I drank I could no longer achieve the 'buzz', the freedom from emotions and fears. I think I had kept the lid on the pressure cooker of my fears so long that it finally would not stay down. This is a terrible point for an alcoholic - the friend of so many years has turned against him. Yet I had no choice but to carry on chasing the old rosy feeling. I decided that I was going to die of this addiction and that nothing would nor could save me.

During my drinking career, I had a few times gone on the wagon for two or three weeks, just to prove to myself that I wasn't an alcoholic. But when I started again, my drinking pattern was soon restored to its pre-wagon levels and then beyond. It seemed that such commendable efforts only served to exacerbate the problem. I had also consulted doctors. psychotherapists, hypnotherapists, alcohol counsellors, even acupuncturists, and got into yoga and meditation, all to no avail.

Then I met a man who called himself an alcoholic. He said he had not had a drink for nine years, but he was an alcoholic! I said that I thought I had a problem with alcohol, but I didn't think I was an alcoholic. What, me? An accountant with an illustrious career (now behind me), IQ of 152 and a card-packing member of Mensa, me - an alcoholic? No, Sir! He smiled beneficently. He did not try to persuade me otherwise, but simply told me his story, much as I have tried to do here.

His story contained so many echoes of my own experience I thought he must have researched me before meeting me! I was mesmerised! He said he was a member of Alcoholics Anonymous and asked if I would like to come along to a meeting with him. I thought, sure, I'd be interested to meet these weirdoes and give them the benefit of my experience and savoir faire.

I went along to my first meeting, and felt very comfortable there, recognising that I had encountered kindred spirits - except that for the most part they were, sober, happy, well turned-out, and above all serene. I came along also smartly dressed in order to demonstrate to them how very much in control I was, and how privileged they were to meet me. They smiled lovingly. All they said to me was "Keep coming back" so I did. My arrogant attitude kept me drinking for several months longer, but over time, as if by osmosis I soaked up the message they were trying to convey to me, whilst eroding the shell of resistance and denial I had built up about me.

I became very close to a man who was a medical professional, and who agreed to help me with the programme of twelve steps around which the fellowship is built - that is - be my sponsor. That day it seemed like a good idea not to take a drink that day. This alcoholic, who for 27 years, apart from a few short occasions could not get past a day without his score of booze, decided not to take a drink today! I had a relapse lasting one day two weeks after this, but have not picked up a drink since.

My new sponsor explained to me that I wasn't weak, or evil, but that I was suffering from a primary fatal disease from which there was no known cure. He explained further that remission was possible on a daily basis by cultivating a mode of behaviour which will make drinking unnecessary and undesirable in my life. This however was a spiritual process, and could not be done alone. Indeed, the company of other alcoholics was absolutely key to recovery - for they alone understood the meaning of my disease. He also thanked me for approaching him because he said his recovery would get at least as much out of this relationship as mine. "It's a selfish programme!" said he, laughing!

I have touched upon all twelve steps of this programme, and am now myself sponsoring three guys who are Deo gratias sober today. Life has been tough in sobriety, having to face up to the carnage of the past, as well as encountering oral cancer at two years sober, and recovering again, using this programme and the help of wonderful people at Weston Park Hospital in Sheffield. But I would not swap a single day of the last five years with any day during or before my drinking.

The programme enabled me not only to stay away from a drink one day at a time, but to live happily and for the most part serenely, accepting life on life's terms. I am not a religious man, but this programme has brought me closer to whatever it is that gives the universe its immense beauty, and the atoms their unfathomable mystery - a notion which I refer to as God.

I thank you for the opportunity of sharing this with you, and for the benefit it will have for my recovery.

 

Tony