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  • About Me
  • Books
    • The Telling of Ella
  • Short Stories
    • Making Our Way to California
  • What I'm Reading
    • Jab, Jab, Jab, Right Hook: How to Tell Your Story in a Noisy Social World
  • Blog
  • My Media
    • Podcast

Miguel Carrillo

8 Years Sober

February 22, 2017  /  Miguel Carrillo

Eight long years ago today, I quit drinking and Goddamn do I miss it.

That’s mostly a joke. I was a drinking man. I loved being drunk. Loved it! I drank for fourteen years, from the age of fourteen to twenty-eight and I’m sure I could love drinking again if I cracked open that last bottle of scotch I kept as a reminder of what never to do. But my love of being completely blissed isn’t why I’m writing this. I’ve learned to manage my disease. That is how I choose to view my condition. I believe my brain lacks the necessary checks and balances around alcohol that other people benefit from. I have never, in all my drinking, left a can of beer, glass of wine or bottle of scotch unfinished. In fact, I explicitly remember feeling rage at people who could simply order a drink and walk away from it like it wasn’t the most precious thing in all existence or go to the store and buy a six-pack. A fucking six-pack! I would walk out with cases of beer, not because I was going to have a get-together but because I came home early from work and knew that twenty-four beers would run out very quickly and I didn’t want to wait for the next twenty-four. I was (am) sick. None of my behavior around alcohol was normal. I would drink before work, at work, after work. It didn’t matter because I loved being drunk. I remember (or should I say don’t remember) driving around completely wasted. There are more than a few times I was out at a bar or hanging out with my buddies and then poof, I would wake up in bed with a start, wondering how I’d gotten there. I fortunately never got into an accident but the fact that I was a drunk driver is one of the things I am most ashamed of. I put peoples lives at risk for no other reason than my selfish need to drink.

But here I sit. Eight years later with a laundry list of putrid shit I did when I was drunk. Going over that list isn’t of any value. What does have value is acknowledging what drinking took from me.

Time, Goddamn it! I wasted fourteen years of my life stumbling around in a stupor. I will never get any of that time back. Never. I look at the goals I have set for my future and it absolutely kills me to know, with certainty, that I squandered that much of my life. It is an tragedy and an indignity I inflicted upon myself.

Alcohol also robbed me of many meaningful relationships. Humans tend to build life long bonds throughout their twenties. The only bond I cultivated was with Vodka. I’ve wondered, solemnly at times, who I’ve denied myself of.Maybe I stumbled pass the love of my life on my way to the bar. Back then I wasn’t capable of loving anything or anyone that didn’t contain 40% alcohol by volume. I kid here but that’s because it actually stings.

My active alcoholism left me horribly twisted. And for eight years now, I have been slowly and methodically unraveling myself. I no longer identify with the wretch I was which is one of the markers of my disease. It will tell me (and it has) that maybe I can have a drink. That I am in control now. But the truth is I will never be in control when it comes to alcohol and I will always have to manage my sickness until the day I die.

The day I decided to quit. I did it with zero help. This isn’t a boast, in fact, it’s probably the worst thing I could have done. People in recovery are encouraged to seek out other recovering addicts to create a support system which lessens the chance of relapse. But I have a massive ego and decided I could do it on my own. This is not advisable. If I were to relapse, the conventional wisdom is, I would fall and fall fucking hard. The sheer shame of relapse could drag me under and never let me go. I am walking a dangerous line but it works for me. Fortunately, over these eight years, I have built a support system that keeps me in check for which I am very grateful.

Drinking nearly ruined my life. I know that. It is something I can never go back to without serious consequences. Ever.

So here’s to another eight years of stone cold sobriety!

And if you think you might have a little problem with the hooch, please, seek help.

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tags / Addiction, Alcoholism, Recovery, Self-Improvement, Alcohol
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