2002-08-30 - 10:47 p.m.

Dear Diary,

I can't write long because it's already 20 minutes past my bedtime but I'm so excited I can't help it. Tonight's meeting was fantastic! It was.. more than fantastic, it was.. it .. wow.. I just can't describe how good I feel. All the dark depression of the last weeks is lifted, at least temporarily, by how clear everything is to me now. I know I'll feel depressed again in the coming days, but having a name for what's with me, and not just the name but REALLY understanding that I have a problem, and that there is a solution for the problem, and that I can be around people who are living solutions to the problem every night of the week if I want is great.

I am an alcoholic.

It is such a relief to say that. I have said it in the past, jokingly when I was younger, but when I say it now there is a definite meaning associated with it in my mind. There is an image of a man tied to hospital bed, hitting his bottom, and deciding that he never wants to drink again in his life. That is what we read in the big book tonight. At first I thought, Xxxxxx in the meeting did, that "at least I'd never been there". It wasn't until a member mentioned that she had escaped from her restraints in the psych ward that I realized I am figuratively tied down too. I have Michelle to thank for . wow.. it's all so jumbled. I'm going to have to write for a while.

I have Michelle to thank for my recovery. Without her firm wisdom, I would have been able to get out of the restraints yet again. I don't remember her name, but the blonde one, she said she had escaped from her restraints and gone and drank again. I know if I had been let off this time too, I would just have continued on my particular train to hell. Yyy's metaphor makes perfect sense to me. It all makes perfect sense. I'm not stupid, but I'm still surprised how easy it is and how fast it all comes to me when I'm in that room, surrounded by my peers, hearing the thoughts I thought were only in my head being spoken out loud.

Anyway, back to the restraints. When Michelle left me, I was mentally tied down to a bed. It wasn't until today that I realized the straps are there, but they are. I have no freedom to see Michelle or my little girl, because Michelle has restrained me. She didn't have to physically tie me down, and she didn't have to get a restraining order put on me. She knows me well enough to know that just telling me to stay away would work. At least I have that much to be happy for. Anyway, the true happiness I have is the miracle, and I don't use that word lightly, I'm still so amazed, that I actually understand I am an alcoholic so soon. A week ago, if you had asked me, I would have said no. As a matter of fact, at my first meeting, I introduced myself as someone "who could never drink again". I wonder if they thought that was good enough, or if I meant basically the same thing. Well, I didn't. I had made my decision never to drink again, but I hadn't taken that internal step of realizing that .. well.. hmm.. maybe I had.

I remember the night in the hotel room, the night I had to stay in Minneapolis to wait for my bus the next day, I had a serious talk with myself in the mirror. I told myself I could never drink again, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever. I really meant it. I made a pledge and I had the will to stop. But without knowing that I was actually an alcoholic, I know I was still at risk. I know I was still walking along the edge of a cliff, blindfolded. It wasn't until I was around the other people in my group that I realized the successful ones were off to my left, talking amongst themselves and to me. It was only by realizing I wasn't as close to the group as I should be that I realized I was much closer to the danger than they were, when I really thought I was farther away.

Anyway, I ramble. Back to the straps. Michelle put the straps on me. She moved out. I have been tied mentally and the straps were ones I couldn't get out of. They also aren't coming off. I have only two choices in how to get out of these straps: either I can leave Michelle forever and the straps disintegrate because they only apply to our relationshiop, or I can earn Michelle's forgiveness and trust, and she can willingly take the straps off.

Up until tonight, I was hurting myself against these straps, trying to find the way out. I was wracking my brain trying to think of the right thing to say, the right conversation to have, the right plan to make for the future to get my family back. I realized in a way that Michelle had all the power, but I didn't understand what it was that was wrong with me for the straps to be there.

I have a chance, I can at least explain to her now what is going on, and it's not something I came up with! It's the understanding I got from my Group Of Drunks... the understanding that I learned by listening to others, but seeing their point, by staring at them in wonder as they shared themselves with me and saved me from myself. I'm not writhing against the straps any more. I know they are there now.

Now I can calmly go to Michelle and say: "Michelle, I am an alcoholic. I have a disease. There is no cure, I will always be an alcoholic. But I do have a choice. I can choose not to drink, one day at a time. It's working for a bunch of people in my group, and it can work for me. You don't have to be involved in my recovery. You don't have to be involved in my life. You have two choices, you can either tell me "that's great, Carl, I'm glad you know what's wrong with you, and I'm sorry things didn't work out between us." or you can say "I want to help you recover from your disease and stay with you."

Hmm.. mistake. That last bit is dead wrong. I am trying to turn this into a way to get her back. A sure-fire thing. It's not like that.

I can calmly go to Michelle and say: "Michelle, I am an alcoholic. I have a disease, and there is no cure, I will always be an alcoholic. What that means is that - for the rest of my life - if I have a single drink, I will be on a path of destruction; self-destruction and the hurting of people around me.

I have a will to stop drinking. I never want to have another drink again, and if I don't have that first drink, I will stay sober. I have a long hard road ahead of me, but I know it can be done, because other people have done it, other people are doing it, and they are willing to help me. Not only are they willing to help me, but they have accepted me into their group so that we can help each other.

You don't have to be involved in my life any more. I know I did wrong by you, and I am willing to accept the fact that we might never be together again. But I know that it is possible for me to stay sober. I know I can do it, because other people have gone through exactly the same thing. I'm not useless. I can have a good life ahead of me, and I can be a good husband and father, like other recovering alcoholics. I want you to help me, and I want you to work with me to get back what we've lost. I'm here asking you to be my friend through this process. I want you to forgive me for what I've done and honestly be my friend. That way, we can stay close enough that some day you might decide you do trust me again and you would like to try being together again. That's what I'm asking. Not for you to take me back, as I am, but for you to help me, and stay as my friend, and not put a wall up between us. I want you to leave a room for the love to grow again if it's meant to be."

There. That's it. That's exactly how I would say it if she was in front of me right now.

If she doesn't want me, that's just the way it's going to be, and I'll still be a recovering alcoholic with a bright future. I know I won't mess up the next time, because I have a plan and I'm sticking to it.

Thank you, Beth Orton. I hear your voice now: "Come on, now, come on now child. You only live for a while."

:')

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