At age twelve, my young world came crashing down around me when my father died in a car accident. I wish I could say he was sober, but he wasn’t. Between the alcohol from a bar and drugs from an accident, he was slumped over the steering wheel when he hit a trailer truck head-on. That event started my emotional downslide into an emotional abyss.

Insecurity and self-loathing were all I knew at the time. A month later, still repressing the feelings of grief, I swallowed my first drink. It tasted terrible going down and tried to come back up, but I forced it to stay where it was. The second gulp was even better and the third better yet. Then the buzz came and quelled all my feelings. I remember thinking how great it was, and I now understood why my parents drank so much. I didn’t get sloppy drunk the first time, but I do remember wanting that feeling again. I chased it all through my teens.

After barely graduating from High School, everyone was enlisting in the Air Force as the alternative was the Army and a paid vacation in the jungles of Vietnam. I was delighted to discover the military didn’t care if I drank as long as I did my job and did not get into serious trouble. I worked on the flight line as a jet fighter crew chief. Being overly responsible at such a young age, the Air Force seemed like a career I wanted to pursue, but alcohol would have something to say about that. By the end of my fourth year, drinking every day, re-enlistment was out of the question. During the re-enlistment interview, the Captain informed me the Air Force didn’t have any use for someone who drank as I did. By then I just wanted to be free to drink the way I wanted.

While adjusting to civilian life, I realized my drinking was out of control. I made a conscious effort to slow down. During that time I was living at home with my alcoholic mother. My sister’s best friend was in a similar living situation, so we stuck to each other like Velcro. Within a few months, we were married, had an apartment, two cars, and a baby on the way.

I continued drinking beer for the next thirteen years before she informed me how the marriage had died from lack of attention on my part. I was spending so much emotional energy controlling my feelings that there was none left for the relationship. She served divorce papers on my birthday. I knew she was right and I didn’t drink for the next seven months until the divorce was final and I had to move out.

Thinking I wasn’t an alcoholic, I accepted employment in Ireland for a year’s contract. After seven months sober, I started back on the beer right away at the airport. The Guinness became a new lifestyle and hanging in the pubs singing Irish songs worked fine for the next year.

After returning to the States, Vodka replaced the beer. In a short time, the hard liquor greased the slide to my bottom. After a DUI I still wasn’t getting it. My last drunk, the one I never want to forget, landed me in jail charged with assault with a deadly weapon and a three-year sentence hanging over my head.

I slithered into my first AA meeting out of desperation and fear along with my attorney’s strong suggestion. She said my only chance of not being put away was to be sober and to attend meetings regularly when we went to court. When the day came, I clung to my two-month chip. The judge was in a forgiving mood that day. I got a suspended sentence and was told that if I were involved in any issues with the law, I would go to jail.

I attended meetings every day for the first five years. No sponsor, due to fear, no steps, and fear again, but I was sober. I did it my way for ten years until the mental pain became too great. I asked for help, followed directions, and started the healing process.

It’s been three decades since early sobriety and life at times hasn’t been fair, at least according to my way of thinking. I married at three years which only lasted 52 days, and I didn’t drink. I opened a self-help bookstore and when that failed I didn’t drink. Many close friends have passed, and I didn’t drink. I finally grieved my father’s death when I was 20 years sober. I’ve healed from hating the person in the mirror to being able to tell myself how much I love who I am right now.

Today I follow the necessary suggestions I need to stay sober. Helping others is one of the biggies. Being of service is what the AA program is all about. I’m involved in sober club life and active in sponsorship, publish a monthly newsletter for the sober community, and above all, I don’t drink, no matter what.