I had been a heavy drinker for about 10 years when I decided to quit. I don�t want to dwell much on history and I�m not out to prove I was the most fucked-up person ever, because I wasn�t. During most of the time I was drinking I was able to work, though I spent a lot of time on temp jobs.

It�s part of recovery lore that people have to reach some kind of nadir before they will stop drinking or using drugs. I reached a variety of low points but most of them were a while ago. I once, for about a week, thought tiny bugs were crawling on me and biting me. I saw them as well as felt them, and told other people about them, but eventually realized were not really there. That was pretty bad. I went through long periods of being incapable of basic personal hygiene. I smelled bad, to the point that people I spent time with occasionally felt called upon to mention it. I lived in total roachy filth. I showed up at family events looking and feeling very rough. I puked in the trash can in my office at work. I hurt people�s feelings, pissed people off, and worried my parents. I not only slept with but dated and moved in with really inappropriate people. I called in sick a million times. I lied a lot.

In the months before I stopped drinking, I was drinking less frequently than I ever had in my adult life. Not to say I was drinking moderate amounts, but I was getting totally wasted fewer times a week. I had begun educating myself on health and fitness while trying to lose weight. I was becoming more aware of the possible long-term effects of heavy drinking. I began to imagine that I could feel pain in my liver (it turns out my liver is not where I thought it was). Also, hangovers seriously began to kick my ass. One afternoon, after a very rough night, I passed out cold at the sandwich counter in the local Fresh Fields and gave myself a mild black eye. This incident did not strike me as quite as hilarious as it would have several years ago.

I avoiding even thinking about quitting for a long time. I secretly knew that once I started thinking about it, I would very quickly come to the conclusion that I needed to quit and to quit totally and probably permanently. That was a horrible, saddening, scary conclusion. Ugh. It still hurts my heart to see it in writing -- a real, physical pain. Luckily, I knew moderation was not an option for me so I did not waste time on it.

This is not to say that I quit drinking instantly and for good. What I did was to decide I would not drink for 60 days and see how it went. During that time I would attend Smart Recovery meetings and seriously reflect on my life. It was a dirty trick I played on myself (see reference to secret knowledge, above).

I did not tell anyone what I was doing. I knew that by keeping it to myself I was leaving the door open, so I could go back to my old, smelly, comfortable life at any time. It was wimpy but I really needed that door to be open. I didn�t have any idea where I was headed. Really, I still don�t.

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