Reaching for Recovery (Putting Down the Drink) Part 5

The story of how I finally accepted my alcohol problem was a spiritual one. I had finally realized I had a problem with alcohol once my partner left me. I stopped drinking cold turkey for a long weekend during which he had come back to visit. What I hadn't realized was that I would need help in order to stay sober.

After my partner left, I went to the refrigerator to get some leftovers to warm up. I had promised myself that I wouldn't drink, but I saw a single Budweiser bottle and I thought to myself that one beer wouldn't hurt. That beer took the edge off. That's when I spotted the leftover bottle of gin which I thought I might as well drink as long as I was quitting booze.

The thing is, I wanted more and I started to feel desperate. I didn't think I had any other alcohol in the house. Then I remembered a bottle of Tequila that someone had had the nerve to give us after a trip to Mexico. I hated Tequila, but I thought it might be tasty mixed with Lemonade; so I proceeded to drink the entire contents.

As I was drinking, I started to become melancholy; and, for some reason, I decided to call my partner's former lover who was then living in Atlanta. He was very patient and kind as I proceeded with a drunken apology for having stolen his lover some eight years ago. He told me that he forgave me and that I didn't need to beat myself up. I couldn't understand what he was talking about, but the tone of his voice and his forgiving attitude was very soothing to me.

Perhaps I was aware that he was in recovery from alcohol abuse, though it didn't enter my conscious mind at that point; however, some time later in the conversation, he asked me if I wanted help. Instead of angrily reacting with an “F---You!” I cried out, “Yes!” as I broke into sobs.

Then, somehow, all the way from Atlanta, this dear man got help to me from a local Alcoholics Anonymous clubhouse. Sometime before midnight, two fellows from AA showed up on my doorstep. They took me, wearing my leftover food on my sweater, to the clubhouse where several other members had stayed long after the last meeting of the day to help this drunk.

I don't remember what they said to me, but I do remember the kindness they demonstrated as they talked with me over coffee. I also realized that they knew the kind of personal hell I'd been going through and they held out the hope I desperately needed. I was given a schedule of AA meetings and I was driven home. The next morning I awoke with a hangover and called into work requesting a sick day. Then I went back to that same clubhouse at 7AM for my first AA meeting.

God was with me through that day - April 6, 1988. I ran into an old friend who came home with me and showed me the affection I desperately needed at that point. I stopped by my parents' home for a visit. They had been very concerned since I'd called them the previous night, in my drunken state, to tell them I was being taken to Alcoholics Anonymous. I went from their home to a session with my psychotherapist. Then I followed that up with my first gay AA meeting. There was so much love there among those courageous people who held out more hope for me. I realized I was finally home.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

REACHING FOR RECOVERY (Putting Down The Drink) Part 2

I had my first cigarette when I was nine. I hated it! I had my second one when I was fifteen. It didn't taste much better, but it helped me feel better about a troubling circumstance at the time. I would remember that at a later point. I began smoking in earnest when an elderly aunt died in my arms at the time I was seventeen.


I also had my first drink when I was fifteen. It was a strong one and I got drunk. My whole personality suddenly changed. It felt wonderful to be free of inhibitions! I would later remember that too.

On isolated occasions, I would drink in secret until I could legally do so at the age of eighteen. That was also when I discovered how wonderfully freeing marijuana could be. By then I was addicted to cigarettes, though I couldn't admit to that. I figured I could quit at any time – famous last words! Alcohol was a wonderful compliment to these other now established addictions.

I felt deliciously naughty and I also began to feel as if I was more a part of the crowd. Even though I still felt insecure on the inside, I came out of my shell when I was engaged in my addictions. Unfortunately I had no real idea about who I was. Truth be told, I had simply forgotten. I mistook the the unreal feelings of freedom that my powerful new addictions could induce for the freedom of unspoiled childhood innocence .

I almost invariably became drunk whenever I had alcohol. I also became drunk quickly. That would change over time as I began to develop more and more of a tolerance for alcohol. That would also take me a long time. Such is not the case for many fledgling alcoholics. As for me, as is the case for most of us, I was medicating a mood disorder that stemmed from an inability to get in touch with feelings. It also came from an inability to accept life on life's terms.

By the time I was in college, my addictions were well-established. Even though I was a serious student during my first two years, I would party every weekend. Of course, an occasional joint or drink on a weekday night was not out of the question!

By my senior year, I relied on my academic laurels to carry me through. Fortunately I still earned excellent grades, though I was now engaging in my addictions on a regular basis. Even so, it would be years before I might suspect that I had a problem with alcohol. Then I would simply deny it until I finally reached a point where I realized I was totally powerless; that would come much later.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Humor in my Life----Part 4 "That's My Seat"

I eventually settled down with a nice gay man. It's said that “birds of a feather flock together.” Budding alcoholics that we were, we soon began to drink like fish out of water.

Over time we would toy with the idea that we had a drinking problem. Then we would take a few days or a few weeks off from our daily happy hour routine just to reassure ourselves that we could stop. Then it would be back to the “same old, same old.” Only time would tell the whole story.

We'd been taking a “time out” when we were enjoying an evening with a lesbian couple who were friends of ours. They suggested we visit a popular lesbian bar. It sounded okay to us. After all, we'd always been curious about the place and we thought we could handle a sober night out.
We arrived at the bar and encountered a brutish butch bouncer who proclaimed, “No men are allowed!” Our friends defended us. They advised the hostile door-person that we were their friends and they were going to take us into the bar. Phew!

Being on the wagon, my partner and I ordered iced tea. We didn't seem to mind that the beverages didn't taste like any iced tea we'd ever had. As a matter of fact, they were extremely refreshing and we quickly downed them, ready for more. Of course, by that time we'd been advised that we had been served Long Island Iced Teas which were pure alcohol. Oh well, we thought. What could be the harm of a handful of drinks!

Several drinks later and feeling no pain, we took a tour of the bar, entering an area where some more butch lesbians were playing pool. We noticed a wall of empty bar stools and we awkwardly took our perches, probably a little unsteady on our feet by that time.

All of a sudden, one of the pool players started purposefully stomping her way in our direction. With her cue stick in hand, she marched toward us as if she was brandishing a sword. We shivered in our seats. The three hundred pound lesbian with salt and pepper hair, swept back in an Elvis Presley duck tail hair style, pounded her way across the reverberating floorboards as she advanced upon two very drunk and confused gay men.

Not knowing what we'd done or what to expect, she got right up in our faces so that we could see the whites within her steely blue eyes. Then she snarled, “That's my seat!”

Needless to say, we surrendered both seats promptly – so much for our tour! Little did I know that this butch number would play an intimate role in my life some twenty years later.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui
"The Misadventures of Sister Mary Olga Fortitude"