20 years and counting... (Part Two)

     I feel it necessary (and it is always necessary) to share with you some of the details that led me to this momentous journey culminating in 20 years of freedom from addiction to drugs and alcohol.  I began drinking early in my teen years (13-14) in the usual manner...stealing liquor from my parent's stash, grabbing beers at parties and asking older friends to buy beer for me from the liquor stores.  I was amazed that the shy, introverted kid that I was (I know it's hard to believe that I was once shy or introverted), came out of his shell with a confidence and spirit I never thought was inside me.  I obviously believed that it was the liquor that was behind this surge of personality and confidence and not that my real inner self was extroverted and confident and personable.  I hated the fact that I was shy, bookish, and totally inept around women...(I'm still inept around women, but two out of three ain't bad?).  Plus the fact that I loved the taste of beer had a lot to do with it too.

     The problems came in my twenties...I had added drugs to the equation by then (totally my own choice...peer pressure may get you to try something, but to continue to abuse drugs is a personal choice and I take full responsibility for that.   I was working (two jobs at times) while in college full time and the pressure to succeed was real (in my head)...  I had a four year scholarship to St. Peter's College in Jersey City, NJ. (now St. Peter's University...la di da) by winning an essay contest through the Knights of Columbus.  I drank away several semesters and ending up taking 6 years to graduate and having to pay for two years.  But I did manage to graduate.  I started working full time and got a real good job working for Goodyear and made good money, but I had no real bills to pay.  I still lived at home (rent free) and had no real bills. My cars I bought with cash,(always used) insurance was cheap because when I got in an accident and wrecked the car I just bought another used car.  It was in my mid-twenties when the black-outs started.  I remember going out at night but then the switch went off and I couldn't remember what happened next or how I got home.  I would find my car parked around the corner or in a neighbor's driveway or banged up and no clue how it happened.   My family became increasingly worried and began suggesting that maybe I needed some help, but that wasn't going to happen.  An alcoholic will only seek help when they decide they have a problem.  I didn't believe I had one.

    By the time 1993 rolled along, I was going hell bent on a path of self-destruction.  I hated my situation, I hated who I had become, and hated the fact that while I was successful in the working world, everything else was going to shit (sorry).  Just another excuse to drink over.  I had an endless supply of them to keep me drunk... I was arrested in November of 1993 and charged with DWI and lost my license for 6 months.  My blood alcohol level was .24 (the legal limit is .08).  I didn't lose my job and I behaved for awhile, but after getting my license back, everything was okay again.  I managed to stop the car wrecks when I purchased the only new car I have ever owned...a 1993 Saturn Coupe with manual transmission.  But there were many close calls, just no accidents.  The consequences were about to come fast and hard.  By 1993 I was 245 pounds, fat and out of shape (round is a shape, but not desirable).  I went to my Dad's cardiologist and found I had high blood pressure (duh! FAT!) and an enlarged liver (pre-cirrhotic is what he called it).  He put me on water pills and I hated it.  I started running with my brother and that helped a lot.  Because I ran so much my blood pressure normalized and I found I could still drink...(my post run snack was a six pack of beer and a pack of Marlboro).  I even managed to complete the 1994 NYC Marathon with a lot of help from my brother and sister...I still don't remember miles 23 through 25.

     But the worst was yet to come...