Well over thirty-two years ago, I was still an active alcoholic. I was struggling to control what had once been a “friend” and constant companion in my life since my mid-teens – a friend who had slowly turned on me and was now close to ruining everything. That friend was alcohol. The substance had literally taken control of my life.
I’d been struggling for years with the effect alcohol was having on me and my family. I’d fought hard and tried many different methods to control my drinking. I refused to look at where I suspected I was heading. I pushed down the fear and tried to ignore the hopelessness I was feeling. For the most part, I ignored the pain I was causing myself and those closest to me, and even more so, the fear of where that pain would eventually lead me. I was convinced I could find a way out of my situation, a way to control my drinking. I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad.
I’d been proud and confident, and had lived many years with an “I can handle it” attitude. But I was slowly losing that confidence and occasionally experienced a fleeting thought that I might have to admit defeat. Defeat to a bottle, or more accurately to the substance inside that bottle, a substance that had been a lifelong best friend and supportive companion, which had now become exactly the opposite. I’d fought so hard not to end up where I was, and yet I was now there – distracted and afraid. I was looking for a way out, a small glimmer of hope, something I could grab hold of that offered an alternative to what I knew would be the outcome if I didn’t change my life.
I found that hope. It wasn’t much in the beginning, just a small flicker contained in the words of a captain I worked with who had faced the same situation. His initial observations raised an awareness in me, dim as it was, that I might have to do what he had done. Not because he was telling me what to do but because his words rang true. I knew he understood what I was going through, even though I hadn’t told him what I was experiencing in my life.
As I came to know him better in the following years and our conversations evolved, he unknowingly offered more hope, describing a solution that had worked for him. I made note of it, even though at the time I was still confident I could handle it myself. Nevertheless, he ignited an ember, a very dim one, that suggested there was hope.
Years later, when I finally reached out to grasp that flickering glimmer of hope, he added more kindling to it. He said there was a way out. He suggested I should rely on others, listen to what they had to say and trust them. They had found an answer just as he had found an answer. He said, “If I can do it, you can do it.” I wasn’t sure about that, but I decided to trust what he said. I wanted what he had, so I determined to look for it.
I took that small glimmer of hope he’d embedded in me and nursed it. I started trusting other people who’d experienced what I was experiencing. I started listening to them, believing I would hear what I needed to hear. I listened to the insight expressed in their words and started incorporating their knowledge and experience into my life. I came to recognize my negative thoughts were entirely fear-driven, originating in my ego, and stopped relying on what they were telling me. Instead, I started listening to that quiet voice we all have access to deep down inside ourselves. I not only listened to the wisdom in that voice, I began trusting it.
It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen. Piece by piece, slowly and steadily, my life improved. I had to work at it day by day, sometimes hour by hour, but it was more than worth it! Then one day, I realized I wasn’t being controlled anymore. I had peace and I had serenity. I had love. I had won the battle, and it was then I realized I’d never been fighting alcohol. I’d been fighting myself. The struggle had always been within myself, just as the answer I found was within myself.
Some call that answer God. Some call it Spirit or Higher Power. Others call it Source or One. I call it Love. Whatever label you choose to call It, it is the answer. It is peace and serenity, and it can be achieved by all of us, addict or not.
Those many years ago, I was approaching defeat. I was uncertain, anxious and frightened. I had no hope. But a wonderful miracle was placed in my life. I didn’t see it for what it was at the time, but those few innocuous conversations with a fellow pilot turned out to be that miracle. They gave me hope when I most needed it.
In the same manner, it’s my sincere wish that my story will provide you a glimmer of hope. A small, flickering spark that can be grasped and held onto, that can be nurtured and grown until it turns into a brilliant flame, not only lighting up your life but the lives of those around you. It’s my hope that your life might one day be as peaceful, fulfilling and serene as mine is today.
That captain showed me it could be done. He said I could do it, and he was right. I did it, and you can too. Reach out and grasp that hope, for a new life of serenity awaits. You just need to trust it is there.
I’d been struggling for years with the effect alcohol was having on me and my family. I’d fought hard and tried many different methods to control my drinking. I refused to look at where I suspected I was heading. I pushed down the fear and tried to ignore the hopelessness I was feeling. For the most part, I ignored the pain I was causing myself and those closest to me, and even more so, the fear of where that pain would eventually lead me. I was convinced I could find a way out of my situation, a way to control my drinking. I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad.
I’d been proud and confident, and had lived many years with an “I can handle it” attitude. But I was slowly losing that confidence and occasionally experienced a fleeting thought that I might have to admit defeat. Defeat to a bottle, or more accurately to the substance inside that bottle, a substance that had been a lifelong best friend and supportive companion, which had now become exactly the opposite. I’d fought so hard not to end up where I was, and yet I was now there – distracted and afraid. I was looking for a way out, a small glimmer of hope, something I could grab hold of that offered an alternative to what I knew would be the outcome if I didn’t change my life.
I found that hope. It wasn’t much in the beginning, just a small flicker contained in the words of a captain I worked with who had faced the same situation. His initial observations raised an awareness in me, dim as it was, that I might have to do what he had done. Not because he was telling me what to do but because his words rang true. I knew he understood what I was going through, even though I hadn’t told him what I was experiencing in my life.
As I came to know him better in the following years and our conversations evolved, he unknowingly offered more hope, describing a solution that had worked for him. I made note of it, even though at the time I was still confident I could handle it myself. Nevertheless, he ignited an ember, a very dim one, that suggested there was hope.
Years later, when I finally reached out to grasp that flickering glimmer of hope, he added more kindling to it. He said there was a way out. He suggested I should rely on others, listen to what they had to say and trust them. They had found an answer just as he had found an answer. He said, “If I can do it, you can do it.” I wasn’t sure about that, but I decided to trust what he said. I wanted what he had, so I determined to look for it.
I took that small glimmer of hope he’d embedded in me and nursed it. I started trusting other people who’d experienced what I was experiencing. I started listening to them, believing I would hear what I needed to hear. I listened to the insight expressed in their words and started incorporating their knowledge and experience into my life. I came to recognize my negative thoughts were entirely fear-driven, originating in my ego, and stopped relying on what they were telling me. Instead, I started listening to that quiet voice we all have access to deep down inside ourselves. I not only listened to the wisdom in that voice, I began trusting it.
It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen. Piece by piece, slowly and steadily, my life improved. I had to work at it day by day, sometimes hour by hour, but it was more than worth it! Then one day, I realized I wasn’t being controlled anymore. I had peace and I had serenity. I had love. I had won the battle, and it was then I realized I’d never been fighting alcohol. I’d been fighting myself. The struggle had always been within myself, just as the answer I found was within myself.
Some call that answer God. Some call it Spirit or Higher Power. Others call it Source or One. I call it Love. Whatever label you choose to call It, it is the answer. It is peace and serenity, and it can be achieved by all of us, addict or not.
Those many years ago, I was approaching defeat. I was uncertain, anxious and frightened. I had no hope. But a wonderful miracle was placed in my life. I didn’t see it for what it was at the time, but those few innocuous conversations with a fellow pilot turned out to be that miracle. They gave me hope when I most needed it.
In the same manner, it’s my sincere wish that my story will provide you a glimmer of hope. A small, flickering spark that can be grasped and held onto, that can be nurtured and grown until it turns into a brilliant flame, not only lighting up your life but the lives of those around you. It’s my hope that your life might one day be as peaceful, fulfilling and serene as mine is today.
That captain showed me it could be done. He said I could do it, and he was right. I did it, and you can too. Reach out and grasp that hope, for a new life of serenity awaits. You just need to trust it is there.
