March Articles Online
Bonus Article
from the Digital Archive
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A White-Glove Relapse
Things don't have to be bad to get worse
I think that most people in recovery assume that a relapse is most likely to happen during some type of life crisis. The death of a loved one, an extended illness, or serious financial problems are all circumstances we associate with a higher probability of reaching out for a drink to numb the pain. But in my case, things did not have to be bad in order to get worse!
Consider this scene: With over four and a half years of sobriety, I find myself at a five-star Swiss hotel, in a magnificent ballroom decorated with a beautiful crystal chandelier. The buffet table is laden with smoked salmon, caviar, juicy roast beef, and platters of Swiss chocolate. White-gloved waiters hoisting silver trays that bear fluted glasses of fine French champagne glide through the room, while a string quartet plays Mozart. Surrounded by my colleagues, we discuss a series of hardwon diplomatic successes achieved during the business day under my leadership. As I bask in the glory of the moment, a waiter bows and offers me a glass of champagne. Without a moment of hesitation, I accept, and with an overwhelming sense of well-being I turn to my companions and announce: "You know, it's not so bad being an alcoholic!" And I drink -- again.
So what went wrong? We are not supposed to relapse when things are going well, are we? Where was my program? How could I relapse when I was happy? In my case, the answer to these questions is far from complicated. By the time I arrived in that ballroom, I was a relapse waiting to happen. I had set myself up for a relapse just as surely as if I had actively planned to drink again.
My entry into AA does not make especially interesting reading. The product of a violent and unpredictable alcoholic home, I had learned at a very young age that the best way to protect my sanity was to shut down my feelings. I developed a belief in my own infallibility and moved through life with a sense of iron control. I set the highest standards for myself and demanded the same from those around me. These attitudes served me well in my chosen career field which valued decisiveness and the highest personal standards. I was promoted often and by the time I was in my early thirties, I held a prestigious position and was outwardly enjoying all the fruits of my labors. It was, however, a poorly constructed façade and it began to crumble.
About the time my hairline began to recede, I also started to run out of the ability to control my feelings. Although I had been a social drinker up to this point, I found that alcohol could fill the gap created by my diminishing ability to avoid feeling. When fear (that "evil and corroding thread") began to seep in too deeply, I found that wine, beer and/or whisky, in ever-increasing amounts, would dull the fear and thus the pain. I don't recall why I was aware of Alcoholics Anonymous, but I attended a few meetings in order to learn how to drink responsibly (I never really considered stopping altogether then). I bought all the books, gave them a quick read and discovered that what I really needed was a good "spiritual awakening." So I attended a series of religious classes and quickly adapted to a spiritual way of life. Lo and behold, when I surrendered my will to God, I was able to stop drinking. So, having "mastered" AA, I put the books away, attended no more meetings, and drank again after six months.
Fast-forward a few years and many hangovers later. One day, I drove several of my friends to a church function where I got well beyond wasted. But, as the most sober drunk in the group, I drove home. It was necessary for me to keep one eye closed so that I could see only one centerline. I have only a few "windows of clarity" from that drive, and only by God's grace did I get my friends home. It could have so easily ended in tragedy. When I awoke the next morning with the mother of all hangovers, I was assailed by an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt. I knew I could have easily killed those three dear friends and, if I continued drinking as I was, someday I would.
I enrolled in an outpatient "spin-dry" program and paid a very large amount of money for a new Big Book and the opportunity to attend AA meetings. Well, I did listen better this time, even though I did have to point out many weaknesses with the recovery program (the staff ignored me -- can you imagine?). Recalling the relief that a spiritual program had given me before, I once again prayed for relief, and -- in God's grace -- he granted my prayer. My compulsion was lifted. I dove in to AA (well, dipped). I got a sponsor who I never called, went to meetings (occasionally), took two years to begin a Fourth Step, and did very little "surrendering" of anything.
As the years went by, I paid less and less attention to AA. Fewer meetings (well, none really), a lapsed subscription to the Grapevine, prayers that focused on what I wanted for myself, not what God wanted for me, and an instant willingness to believe that everything good in my life was due solely to my efforts. A job reassignment took me away from what little program I had left. That led to my presence in an elegant hotel ballroom in Switzerland, primed and ready for a relapse. Although I presented a confident face to the world, I was constantly wracked by fear and uncertainty. What I had accomplished had been gained at great personal emotional cost. I was, at best, a dry drunk and, at worst, a moment away from that first drink. I had no program behind me that would catch me. So, when the glass of champagne was offered, I was on my own and the relapse that I had been working on crashed down on me.
After my relapse, I returned to heavy maintenance drinking with increasingly frequent binges. It took me several years of hopeless misery (much of it suffered by my family and friends) to get the courage to return to AA. My first attempt failed when I could not get the nerve to leave my car and walk the thirty feet from the parking lot into a meeting. But, following a business trip that was largely lost to me due to constant blackout drinking, fear of losing everything drove me back to the rooms of AA.
Once again, I prayed to be relieved of the compulsion to drink and, once again, my prayer was answered. I found a strong sponsor, a former Navy Seal (try lying to him!), and attended ninety meetings in ninety days. I renewed my Grapevine subscription (invaluable during my frequent travels) and dusted off my AA literature. While I will not say it was easy, I truly wanted what successful AAs had. As my program grew and strengthened, the sense of fear diminished although, even now, with ten years of sobriety, only a heavy reliance on God keeps it at bay. Under the scrutiny of my sponsor, I worked all of the Steps diligently, some many times. I also listened instead of talking, I prayed for "his will, not mine," I went to meetings, and I have stayed sober, one day at a time, for over ten years now.
As an alcoholic, I face all of the same problems and successes as everyone else, but, unless I have a solid program of recovery beneath me, I will be unprepared for the good or bad that comes next in my life. Whether it's a white-gloved waiter with a silver tray of champagne, a dingy bar next door to the county jail following a DUI arrest, or a funeral home following the death of a loved one, relapse is only as far away as that next drink, and that drink is only as far away as the strength of my AA program.
Jim H., Woodland, California
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