Join me and others on the road to recovery

My name is Thomas, and I’m an alcoholic.

I was torn about whether to commit to starting this column but, after speaking with a number of fellow addicts, I feel this is a story I need to tell.

My No. 1 fear is relapse. How can I write columns about my recovery experience if I relapse? Unfortunately, relapse is a common feature of most addicts’ story, but it doesn’t have to be.

Anonymity is another concern. Most 12-Step programs have a strong tradition of anonymity for good reason, and I respect that. So I won’t be writing about any 12-Step program specifically, instead I’ll be focusing on my experiences in early recovery.

Addiction has been a part of my life since I can remember, and I was very aware that alcoholism ran in my family. Unfortunately, that knowledge and seeing others in my family struggle with this disease wasn’t enough to keep me from using alcohol at an early age, nor did it stop me from later picking up painkillers.

My first go at treatment was an outpatient program in 2008, and my goal was not to get sober but to moderate my drinking and drug use. Just like all addicts, my great obsession was to “drink like a gentleman.” I chased that ideal for 10 years despite ruined relationships, health problems and any number of other signs that I am just a garden-variety drunk.

My life changed this April, when what I like to call a “God Moment” happened. I could no longer hide behind the self-delusion that I was “fine” (that would be spelled f***ed up, insecure, neurotic and emotional). Despite my best efforts to avoid it, God arranged everything in my life so I could receive the gift of residential treatment.

I know people who have gotten sober without being locked up in a facility, but that is not my truth. I had to be physically separated from alcohol while my body and spirit began to heal, and what an amazing process that has been.

The idea of dropping everything (work, dog, family) and heading off somewhere for an indefinite period of time was terrifying. But it’s been the best experience of my life. I knew people who were genuinely happy and sober, but I just didn’t think that could be me.

Again, I was wrong. I’ve laughed more these last few months than I can remember, and I’ve enjoyed things sober I never thought possible (bowling, volleyball, and yes even watching paint dry).

Although things are immeasurably better than they were, my life isn’t perfect. I’m still adjusting to life after treatment, and there is something called P.A.W.S (post acute withdrawal syndrome) that I’ll be dealing with for the next 18-24 months.

Like cancer and diabetes, the disease of addiction is not curable. However, because of the treatment I received and the program I work on a daily basis, my disease is in remission.

Over the next several months, I’d like to explore the intersection of public policy and real life, as well as share with you some of my personal experiences in an effort to help humanize the issue of addiction.