No Off-switch — part 1
I have no off-switch. One drink is never enough. Years before, one pill or one joint was never enough. Those strange times fell away before I moved to South Africa. But the drinking ebbed and flowed. Many years later, it was still flowing, and it had been for far too long, and it was killing me, and I was hurting people around me.
I did not care
I did not care. “I don’t care” had become my mantra. I’d do my stuff at work. I’d do my things around the home. I existed in a world of unconscious denial and loneliness. I did not care about anything or anyone.
It was a horrible place to be in, but I did not care. I felt safe because I numbed everything with alcohol. The damage I was doing was unmaking a wonderful life I had made with my wife.
There are moments of clarity when you are at a crossroads, and something has to change. The status quo of drinking and numbness had to change.
“I did not care”, I’d say to anything that required an emotional response. I did care, and so much that it was killing me.
Clarity
I had a moment of clarity in August 2018. I checked in with a trauma coach. She was an incredible person; she encouraged me to open up. We talked about sadness, loneliness and trauma for several months, but I did not admit I had a problem.
Why was I drinking?
The why began to appear whilst I was in rehab, so let’s wind back.
I’d been unhappy for a while, several years more than I had realised. I was not happy at home. I was not happy with my life. I was not happy with clients and my perceived unreasonable demands for this or that.
- “I was giving them an excellent service.”
- “They should be pleased with me doing the work for them.”
- “Why were they unreasonable?”
- Oh, and the traffic, all those ’tards on the road.
I’d try to fix everything for my wife all the time — not understanding she did not want me to fix anything. We would chat about things but not about us or our lives. “Yup, I’m fine.” was my push away response.
…and repeat…
I was not listening. I was not caring. I was drinking more and becoming ever more resentful.
…and repeat…
Sometimes I’d wake up not remembering going to bed — I hated myself for this. But not enough to do anything about it.
…and repeat…
I was drinking to numb feelings and emotions. I could not face confronting many beliefs my parents had lovingly shared. I feared disappointing others so much that all I could do was hide. I did not know how to resolve issues and feelings and my choices, so I numbed, I hid at the bottom of a bottle.
…and repeat…
Compromise
I’d finish my shoots quickly, compromising my work to get to the off licence. I’d buy a large bottle of cheap beer, usually a quart of Castle. I’d grab a couple of craft beers and a bottle or two of wine and crack open the large beer on the way home.
To begin with, I’d open the 1st beer only when I’d driven along the N1 out of Cape Town and cleared the street lighting.
As time progressed, I’d crack the beer open soon after leaving town. But things got worse, and I could care less and less, and for the last few months before checking in to rehab, I’d open the beer as soon as I was in my car — such madness.
Every empty beer bottle was thrown from the window, I did not care enough. But I did, each broken bottle was a tear on my values and beliefs. Each broken bottle was a crack in my resolve and self respect.
The downward spiral
It is only with hindsight that I am aware of the downward spiral. At the time, I did not see this. There had been a gradual increase in the wine and the beers from early 2015 when we lived far from Cape Town. I was unaware of these habits forming and the fading away of communication as I isolated and numbed myself.
As I write this and look back, it is with sadness. I had dearly loved my wife. We had the most amazing years together in South Africa. It was an idyllic life in many ways. Not far away was the world-famous Table Mountain. Sandy beaches and fantastic scenery were nearby, and for 10 months of the year, the weather was lovely. It was a wonderful lifestyle. But I pushed it all away.
I have a problem
I had another moment of clarity. It was in November of 2018. I had a long conversation with the person I ended up sharing a house with when I left rehab several months later.
“I have a drinking problem,” I told him. And he listened, without judgement, and I cried, and he carried on listening without judgement.
With that admission came such relief. I had started to release that strangling horror that became apparent when I admitted I had a problem.
I had managed to say, “I have a problem. I need help.” It started my journey.
He recommended I look for local rehab centres and I soon found the perfect one. It offered me a sanctuary near mountains and woodlands by the sea.
Voluntary incarceration
On December 20th 2018, I had my last bottle of wine and a couple of beers. That following morning I checked into the Rebab Centre in Kommetjie, South Africa.
I still remind myself that I deliberately institutionalised myself in a highly specialised rehab centre. It is a Dual Diagnosis Unit. This place offered a detox and programme to start recovery and was also able to treat mental issues. I needed it all.
December 21st 2018, I checked into rehab.
A 5-minute walk from the Centre was a lighthouse. It was a beacon, a guiding light, a light in the darkness to lead me back from the insanity of addiction.
Checking in was the start of the most incredible journey of self-discovery, recovery, enlightenment, sorrow and tears, awareness of life-changing decisions and no more alcohol.
Here is the link to the second part of the story.
