A Chronic Relapser’s Guide: How Not to get Sober
As a near 4-year chronic relapser, I’d consider myself reputable in the realm of not getting sober despite the desperate need to do so. I’m by no means a go-to source for the guidelines on abstaining from alcohol or drugs, but I can relay my own experience, strength, and hope, and share what others have taught me. Before I could get honest with myself and willing to change old ways, I first had to spend a few years continuing to run my own show, remaining miserable, and in turn not committing to sobriety.
Living sober grew to be of paramount importance in my life; prioritized above all else, because that’s the only way a better track of living may materialize. Current life is far from fantastic, but it’s a beautiful blessing in comparison to the seemingly never-ending years of unmanageability and self-made misery. The nightmare in which I dwelled daily was composed of constant isolation, blackouts, manipulating others, creating worry in those I care for the most, burnt bridges, missed opportunity, persistent preoccupation with the past, unwavering fear of the future, self-obsession, self-hatred, and a complete lack of any positive action. I couldn’t begin to recognize the severity of this problematic manner of living until I freely opened up to a spiritual solution and 12-step program, which works for me and countless others.
You can only get sober on your own accord, through your own willingness, and no human being can be fully responsible for your lifelong abstinence from the substances you spent years using to escape or fill a void. I’m not in any position to tell you what needs to be done in order to stay sober, nor is anybody. I can, however, delve into the many behaviors and choices that prevented me from recovering.
Everything I’ll go on to state is mere suggestion. My urging what you should not do is a roundabout way of advising what you should do, I admit. Bear in mind an emphasis on should and not need. Nobody’s way is the only way, and there’s no surefire route on which you’ll trek to serenity. One promise I can make with certainty, though, is jail, death, or institutions are on your horizon if you choose to emulate my path of how NOT to get sober. Please join me along my well-versed tutorial to insanity.
Compare yourself to others, as opposed to finding commonalities — When I first entered “the rooms” of AA, I was an in-denial, self-obsessed prick who refused relating to anyone. I half-listened to people sharing their experiences, choosing to only hear the bottoms I hadn’t yet experienced. “I’ve never slept in a dumpster,” I noted silently in confidence. “Definitely haven’t smoked crack with a prostitute while my wife was in labor,” I assured myself. After marking down everything I hadn’t yet done, I was convinced I couldn’t be an alcoholic. There lays a huge issue — if you’ve had thoughts like “I haven’t been homeless yet,” there’s a very solid chance you might be alcoholic. Normal drinkers don’t convince themselves life is okay because they haven’t done prison time, lived under a bridge, gotten DUIs, or spent all their money at brothels and state stores.
Romanticize your days of boozing or using — Ignore your latter, depressing years of drinking and the hole in which you ended up. Instead reflect fondly on your earlier days. I, myself, vividly remember the good old years of inebriation being the sole goal. Driving drunk, puking on ottomans, stealing cosmetic products and random home décor from party houses, and feeling obligated to get hammered in order to talk to women: Classic. Once you limit your vision to only the rock bottoms, you might find the beginning, innocent years weren’t all that great either.
Don’t change people, places, and things — Those so-called friends you used to use with — stay in contact with them. Remember the hole in the wall bar where you vomited on some girl’s thigh and picked a fight with a Hell’s Angel? Head back there.
When I was initially introduced to AA, I explained the program to some of my old buddies, and how I might be a fit for it. Several of them remarked, verbatim, “You’re not an alcoholic.” Guess what I did? Continued associating with them. Clearly they had my best interest at heart. It stemmed from a more meaningful intention than them simply not wanting to lose a drinking buddy.
Maintain old behaviors — This sort of ties into the people, places, and things, but more broadly encompasses your thinking, motivations, and decision-making. If you’re self-centered, self-seeking, driven by egomania, fearful, and jealous then you should absolutely hold onto those character defects. Proceed on with your manipulation of family and friends to see what you might gain. Want merely what you want, and want it now. Don’t practice patience, nor consider how you might positively reach others. Screw them. Life is all about you, your conception of success, and your image. The only consideration of others should be your taking into account how high their perceptions of you must be.
Analyze the frequency with which you drank, instead of the effect a drink had on you — So you didn’t pound a fifth everyday? Well you couldn’t possibly be an alcoholic. That was my old manner of thinking. I hadn’t considered the fact that I couldn’t stop drinking once I had first taken a sip. The complete personality change I underwent with booze in me was ignored during self-reflection, because I didn’t drink EVERYDAY. Roughly 4 to 5 days a week, but not daily.
Remain unwilling to believe in an open-to-interpretation higher power outside of yourself — We get it: You love science. There couldn’t possibly be an omnipotent being or guiding greater energy in existence, and you’re without a doubt the smartest person in every room. Be your own God. Run the show, and don’t analyze where your own self-will has gotten you.
I did an exemplary job of playing my own God and letting self-will run riot. Said routine resulted in multiple arrests, failed relationships, and selling my entire DVD collection to buy pot. You read that right, folks, I took myself out solely on pot. I valued that DVD collection, too. Much of my time and money was dedicated to cultivating an impressive amount of obscure 70s horror films, and 80s comedies. My escape via substance was more important than the material possessions on which I prided myself. The emptiness inside was filled with clothes, shoes, DVDS, validation from others, and of course 40s, vodka, and a great deal of kush. My feeling content was entirely reliant upon things outside of myself. Might I suggest you do the same? A spiritual solution is for the birds.
Be averse to 12-step work, and the possibility of a spiritual awakening — That AA/NA horseshit is a cult for dummies, right? Being a dry drunk has been a success for maybe one other person. You can live a full, serene, sober life on your own. Having faith in something outside of you and acquiring the hope that results from faith? Not necessary. Taking an inventory, reviewing your fears, discovering yourself, reflecting productively upon those you’ve harmed and why, and coming to understand the issue of unmanageability lays within your thinking before your drinking — That’s all a bunch of mumbo jumbo; AA jargon. Needless to say, helping those new to sobriety is off the table. Being selfless and passing on your hope to others isn’t at all what the program’s framework for living is about. If you can SUBJECT yourself to the cult of AA, you can at least do yourself the favor of plotting upon what you’ll get from it, as opposed to what you’ll give to it.
You’re probably curious as to where putting off the steps got me? Drunk. When I finally succumbed to working through the steps, I first ran through them dishonestly. Step 1 couldn’t even hit home for me prior to attempting honesty and willingness. I bet you can make an accurate guess as to where running through the steps disingenuously for the sake of other people got me. If you said drunk, you’re correct. Getting drunker than ever, in fact. Still hurting people, remaining my worst enemy, and continuing to make my life a living Hell in the process.
Allow me to drop the facetiousness for a second: I’m not telling you AA is the end all and be all solution to recovery. I do understand many are opposed to the very idea, and thousands have lived sober without meetings. Having said that, I do firmly believe you need some form of psychic change or spiritual awakening, which is more than typically a product of step work.
Lastly, don’t view sober living from the standpoint of “One Day at a Time.” — “One Day at a Time?” Isn’t that how we’re all living? What a stupid phrase. Say to yourself, “I need to stay sober forever,” because that’s not at all a terrifying goal. Framing sobriety as, “I just need to make it through today without a drink,” isn’t even slightly easier on the mind. As a matter of fact, don’t strive to live in the day. Constantly fearing the future is healthy. Dwelling on every poor decision you’ve ever made is sure to benefit you as well. Early on, I couldn’t and wouldn’t view this new life as “One Day at a Time.” By now I think we all know where I ended up. Drunk yet again.
I hope this guide provided helpful instructions to you on your mission of remaining the same old drunk. Sarcasm aside, if you’re completely willing to find a better way of life and ready to take any lengths to achieve it, I do believe you can recover from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. Through faith, step work, and reaching out to others you can and will stay sober — one day at a time. Through following everything I’ve just listed, I can nearly guarantee you’ll end up drunk and dejected.
Final note: If you’re on the fence about believing in something greater than yourself, and having faith it will guide you along a sober, spiritual path, I’d just like to ask — Can you believe that I believe?
