Addiction

I've known many addicts in my life. My uncle had a horrible drinking problem most of his life. I'm pretty sure he dabbled in drugs too because one New Year's Eve, he walked around most of the night with a white powder on his moustache. I was too scared or too naive to ask him about it. His battles brought him to rehab several times, and his life basically fell apart. I remember visiting him in rehab once. I was young enough to not fully understand everything that was going on, but old enough to know he needed help. It was a social visit; we spend the afternoon hanging out at the facility, talking and laughing. The place reminded me of a hospital. In fact, I think it was across the street from one. My mind tells me it was Lutheran General, but I don't know if that is right. I know we brought him cigarettes, a toothbrush, and some new underwear. My mother helped his recovery by doing his laundry. His wife and son were already out of the picture at that time. It was the best for everyone.

I went to a "closed" AA meeting with him once too. We were visiting my grandparents in Tucson for their 50th wedding anniversary, and he had it planned to keep on the program and go to a meeting. I asked if I could come with him. We were dropped off by my dad, and sat in a circle at the home of a counselor. It may have been the counselor's offices, I seem to remember. People were curious why I was there. We didn't realize it was a closed meeting, which meant it was only supposed to be for addicts. But they let me stay.

My uncle tried hard at getting and staying sober, but the demon was always too tough to tame. He almost always relapsed. Ironically, when it seemed like he was finally on the right track--after the son who he adopted out 20+ years before finally found him--he was killed by a drunk driver.

I have two neighbors on my street who are having boxing matches with the bottle too. One, I have been told, is basically giving up; throwing in the towel. His wife left him, too, and took his three girls with her. He lost his job, the occasional custody, and his dignity. His situation reminds me of the Nicholas Cage character in "Leaving Las Vegas." I see him leave his house from time to time. He looks nothing like he did a year or so ago. He's basically waiting to die, and doing it by drinking every day, all day.

My other neighbor is trying. He went into rehab a couple of months ago, stopped smoking, started running, but I think the cycle is beginning again for him. He started smoking again, and admitted to me that he had a beer the other night. It's a bad sign.

I guess this all leads to me. I've teetered with drinking too much, but I always seem to get tired of it quickly. This was years ago, of course, when I lived in Arizona. I think I drank 5-6 nights a week. But I never craved the next drink like I think many alcoholics do. I enjoyed getting drunk, and the subsequent partying, but I never felt like I had to drink or that I needed one to get me through the day.

I've always said that I have an addictive personality. But I think much of that has lapsed. I used to chew tobacco (at least a tin a day for 15+ years), I used to smoke (throughout college and beyond), and I used steroids for two years. Those tendencies, in and of themselves, made me an addict. I never went through any formal program to get me off of my drugs of the moment. It took getting nauseous before I threw the can of Skoal away for good. Smoking was a little easier, but I never needed the patch or hypnosis to stop the addiction. I got real sick and lost a ton of weight when I stopped the steroids. The doctor kept suggesting a treatment program for me, but at the time, I wasn't interested. I just wanted to feel better. I kept working out, but I distanced myself from the people who helped feed my problem. I guess I was lucky too. I left for college the summer after I stopped, so I had something else to occupy my mind and my life. I've heard of people killing themselves because of the depression they felt when they stopping taking steroids. I was depressed, but I was also hopeful.

Hopeful that my new life at college was going to bring my life in a different direction, hopeful that I was going to surround myself with people who cared about my health, hopeful that I was going to make it through.

Addiction is a bitch, and I'm glad I found my way out of it.