Not So Anonymous

It's funny, when I started this blog, I was still drinking. I was questioning whether or not I was an alcoholic and I embarked on a moderation adventure, which, though I thought it was successful at the onset, turned out to be a colossal failure. I slid right back into my old drinking patterns pretty quickly. I was not ready to come out as an alcoholic at the time. I wasn't even willing to utter the word out loud, let alone attach myself to it. I was terrified. So I remained anonymous. I didn't tell anyone about this blog, nor did I reach out into the blogsphere for other people like me. I think I was holding out hope that maybe I wasn't an alcoholic, that perhaps I could turn things around and behave like a normie.

I didn't know much about the disease at the time. I mean, just look at that last sentence. "Behave like a normie." Alcoholism isn't a behavior to be controlled, like remembering to sit up straight or floss your teeth. It's an illness. As I wrestled with this, I held on to anonymity because I carried around so much fear. I was afraid of judgement and this created a horrible sense of shame and guilt. Again, not understanding the condition, I assigned blame to myself for "refusing to stop" drinking. I am not suggesting that there isn't accountability involved. I most certainly accept responsibility for putting my liver and pancreas through the ringer. I did that. No one else did. I get that. But I also get that I am predisposed to this illness and that I waltzed right on into it as naturally as can be. It's a complicated thing, but there is a definite reason some of us become addicts and others don't and it doesn't have much to do with willpower.

So, when I finally peeled this protective layer of lies and denial away from my soul, I felt something that surprised the heck out of me. Relief. I had liberated myself. I didn't have to cling to this ridiculous notion that I can simply "cut back." There was a reason I couldn't and every attempt I made to do so was just another opportunity to fail myself. How come other people could stick their hands in the fire and not get burned, but every time I did, I wound up a welted mess? It didn't seem fair. Until I had the courage to entertain the notion that I was an addict. The amount of fear involved in facing that label is overwhelming, but once you do, well, I can only speak for myself here, but it is so fucking emancipating. I revealed my real name on this blog, where I am from, what I do, who I am. Yes, I am an alcoholic in recovery, but I am so much more! And so is everyone in recovery. We have so much to offer the world. We aren't this one-dimensional thing that is obsessed with booze, which is what the stigma of alcoholism offers the world. We are husbands, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, professionals, moms, dads, best friends, etc.

Once the fear of the label is gone, acceptance of the disease is much easier. So, why is it that so many people continue to live with this "secret?" It's like they admit that they are powerless to alcohol in the safe haven of their group, but walk around the whole rest of their lives never discussing it? Acting as if recovery isn't this fucking huge part who they are? As if recovery isn't responsible for all of the positive change in their lives? I'm not judging, but I don't want to be part of any organization that promotes secrecy about recovery. I'm not going to play this game where I can speak freely about my truth to these people, but, those people over there can't know my struggle. Fuck. that.