I’ve always lived in homes with pets. Pre-recovery, when I had a bad day (and, pre-recovery, every day felt bad), I’d hide in my room and drink, and when our cat or dog would come to see me I’d growl at them and tell them to piss off. Quit bugging me.

It’s a little different now. If I have a bad day, or if I’m just not in the best of moods, as soon as I get home I sit down on the living room floor, and several of our pets (the menagerie we have is a story for another time, or a different blog) come over to see what’s going on. They climb in my lap or bump their heads into me, or lick my face. And I immediately feel better.

I guess all I’m saying is that the means to pulling ourselves up is always there, but you have to pay attention and take advantage of it.

Good dogs. Woof.

I agreed to go to a meeting because my therapist helped me see that, recently, alcohol had become a problem for me. I was drinking regardless of my other obligations: family, friends, work.

After a month I slipped, publicly, and went to rehab, where I realized - again with help - that I had been having a problem for a few years. Patterns of behavior, usually but not always fueled by alcohol, suddenly became apparent. Hell, they became obvious.

After a couple of years in the program, as the fog very slowly started to lift, I recalled habits from much earlier in my working career (at that point about fifteen years in the past) that were clearly the signs of a sick individual. My excuse at the time was that I was overwhelmingly underemployed, and I could do my so-called job better than anyone else, drunk or high or whatever. Dammit.

See where this is going? I’ve now got memories from college, military service, and high school that remind me that my thoughts and behaviors have ALWAYS been different. From day one, I was never a social drinker, I never had a reasonable perspective on what was okay or not okay. And I assume that I’ll continue to uncover new and exciting ways I’ve been weird and twisted farther and farther back.

But that’s okay. I can’t change how I was. But I can pay attention to it, and watch out for similar things now.

That’s how they say it here. I know some groups people introduce themselves not just with their name and their affliction (often but not always “alcoholic”), but their sobriety length as well. Not here. We’re cuter than that. When someone says “a few twenty-fours” you know they’ve got at least several years. It’s a little like saying “modesty prevents me from telling you how wonderful I am.” Sort of.

Golly, isn’t this a wonderful way to start. Listen, I don’t intend to just snipe. I want to talk about what it’s like to be where I am. I don’t think I can tell my whole story in one post, so I’ll aim to do it a bit at a time, and share what I can about the community that helped me get and stay sober. Stay tuned. Thanks.