(C) Daily Montanan
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The moment that saved my life – Daily Montanan [1]

['More From Author', 'January', 'Russell Rowland']

Date: 2024-01-30  

Forty-three years ago today, I woke up very early, which was very unusual for me, pulled out my journal, also very unusual for me, and wrote “I’m an alcoholic, and I need help.” I looked up the schedule for meetings in the Seattle area, where I was living, and went to my first meeting that evening.

But before the meeting, I had planned to spend the afternoon watching football with a friend of mine. His wife happened to have one of the best pot connections in Hawaii, so they always had amazing pot. So because I was incapable of saying no, I smoked a joint that afternoon, and had a couple of beers. When I walked into that meeting at 6 that Sunday evening, I still had a buzz.

Despite that, something penetrated my foggy thought process. I’m still amazed how much I remember from that meeting. I sat next to a couple that could somehow tell I was new, maybe because I spilled coffee all over my pants, and asked me a bunch of questions, including whether there was anything they could do to help. It’s easy to remember that guy’s name because it was Tom Jones. Tom dropped dead of a heart attack just a few months later, even though he was in his forties. Hard drinking does that to people.

I was 23 years old, and I already felt deep in my core that if I didn’t do something different, I was in trouble. And I will never understand where that came from, but I’m so grateful it happened. I have never stopped going to meetings in the 43 years since. But, it took me about two-and-a-half years of struggling before I took my last drink, because the brain of the alcoholic is always working overtime to convince you that alcohol is your friend. It tells you that you can’t trust these people; that they’re not being honest with you. It tells you that alcohol is your only true friend. It tells you that being alone is much safer; that you won’t get hurt if you keep your distance. It tells you that trusting people is way too dangerous.

And you know, there’s just enough truth in those lies to make them believable, especially if you’re drunk. But what that narrative leaves out is that getting hurt doesn’t have to be permanent. That you can learn from pain; that you can grow from disappointment and failure. That it doesn’t have to be an ongoing pattern unless you allow it to become your story.

We all have the power to change our stories, but not if we try to do it by ourselves. We need other people. I have come to strongly believe that the opposite of addiction is connection. And I am more thankful than ever that I have made valuable and life-long connections with people that I know I can reach out to anytime.

They saved my life.

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