I just woke up after another night of naltrexone nightmares. I went to bed at 2 AM and now it's 6 AM but I'm wide awake. In one single dream I had to fight some sort of religious leader who was holding a bible in a dark room barely lit with candles. He reamed me out because I spoke to some of his hooded followers, but did so without a bible in my hand, which he considered a mortal sin. As an atheist/spiritual person (only because I might see my dad again), I didn't take this very well. I told him to screw himself and we stepped outside for more mortal combat, my third in the last three nights. Seconds later I was on a tennis court with my father and my brother. It was pouring rain and there were huge puddles making a real game impossible, but my dad insisted that he wanted to play. (My parents and my brother and I played tennis together regularly from when I was ten years-old for over thirty years when my dad died.) As we played, we looked up at window at a dungeon-like room that was somehow hanging over the tennis court, the way things hover in your dreams but never in reality. I could see through the window where my younger brother was in chains, looking out at us. My older brother said, "Look, there he is, he's going to kill himself right in front of us!" My younger brother, bruised, bloodied and in chains, positioned himself to jump out from the window several hundred feet above the ground. Just as he was about to jump I woke up in a panic. Now I can't go back to sleep. To the computer I go. My only thought now is to document my progress under TSM.

July 4, 2009 was like no other.

I arrived alone at a house party in the suburbs at 3 and left at 8. (GF went to her own party; terms of relationship not good.) During my five hours I had six beers and a lot of time to think. I watched people getting very drunk. I probably would have done the same, even on TSM, but/for the fact that I was driving and knew exactly how much I could have and remain under the legal limit. Six beers over five hours is well under the limit. I was struck by so many things. First, I was struck by the fact that this party was striking in its typicality. A 4th of July gathering in a suburban back yard, with dogs running loose, a variety of backyard games, the sporadic sound of fireworks, a grill outside, a kitchen filled with goodies, and of course, the keg in the garage and the multiple spirits and wines on the kitchen table. Everyone was drinking and everyone was drinking heavily.

For the first time in maybe a decade, probably a lot longer, I was comfortable in my own skin at a social gathering with barely a perceptible buzz. Drinking a beer an hour on naltrexone leaves me feeling almost entirely free of the effects of alcohol. As the afternoon wore on, I watched the people getting drunker and drunker with a clarity I have never known. About midway through the afternoon the shots started flowing and I didn't participate, whereas in other years I surely would have. As I saw the pretty girl in the clogs stumble in the yard, not once but twice, I felt sorry for her. As I looked over at another guy, laying in the grass, half passed out, only to have a dog run over and lick his face, I thought to myself, "how pathetic." Moments later, as I saw a third person, sitting in the mid-day sun, with her head bobbing up and down, barely able to stay conscious, it really hit me. I've been at gatherings exactly like this every 4th of July for at least 25 years. I had never really noticed until now that these parties that I attend are really nothing more than an excuse for people to get really wasted.

It was almost comical, my sense of superiority at that moment. I felt so disconnected from the whole event. And of course I realized that most of these people have not drank nearly as much in their young lives as I have... How for years I've been the guy with the bobbing head or the one laying in the grass shortly after the shots were handed out. It was, as they say, a moment of clarity.

The party in the yard immediately next door was similar but very different. A retired couple had a huge gathering. There were several generations there with a ton of kids running around of all ages, whereas my party was mostly people in their late 20s and early 30s. I had been invited to this gathering by Ryan, the 32 year-old bartender buddy of my bartender pal, Scott. Scott and I, both 45, were the old-timers there, but both Scott and I look young for our age, despite our drinking habit, and we did not stick out. (When people find out how old I am and invariably gasp, I always tell them the secret to staying young is drinking like a fish.) Anyway, the host of the party from next door came over and asked Ryan for some ice, and he was visibly intoxicated. Thirty years of drinking have taught me one thing: in one glimpse I can spot an alcoholic with minimal effort. I'm sure anyone reading this can too. It was obvious to me that this guy, with his nicely manicured lawn, and, as I had learned earlier, newly retired from his career as a high school public teacher, was a life-time drinker with a major alcohol problem. Nevertheless, he did have a nice, immaculate yard, several kids and grandkids and he was having a great 4th of July gathering. I say that without irony; everyone in his yard was having a fine time.

As I sat alone in my lawn chair, bored, I pulled out my Iphone and went to the TSM board. Firebird's post was the most recent so I read it first. For the first time ever, I looked back at Firebird's posts from before my arrival, and I could not believe how incredibly similar our experiences were on TSM. Not the reduction in drinking by pure numbers, but the incredible difference in the quality of our drinking sessions: the lucidity, the control, the tremendous reduction in stupid, drunken behavior. I was glad I hadn't read his posts before writing my own because I think I would have been concerned that my experiences were too close to his and that other readers would suspect that I was stealing his material. (And it would make sense to do so -- FB is an incredible writer.) I can assure you that is not the case.

I am 45 years-old, married-once-briefly ten years ago and childless. I always wanted what my own parents had for forty years: a stable, loving relationship, three kids they cherished, successful and fulfilling careers, and so many interesting and fun hobbies that there wasn't enough time in the day to get to them all.

I have none of it. I hate being a divorce lawyer. I'm in an unstable relationship with a young woman who wants kids but I can't do it because I do not believe in my heart that we are compatible over the long-term. And I'm going to 4th of July parties alone where the one stranger I chatted with at length was 25, has a father two years older than me and was sitting next to his 6-month pregnant girlriend.

For the first time yesterday afternoon, on that lawn with my Iphone in hand and TSM board in front of me, there really was no doubt in my mind that alcohol has almost completely deprived me of everything I ever wanted in life. It has stripped me of the spirit and the energy necessary to try something new professionally. It has robbed me of the patience and judgment necessary to find and maintain a healthy long-term relationship. It has sapped me of my interest of so many of the hobbies and activities that I used to love so much. Yes, I still run daily to stay in shape and to prevent depression, but gone are the days when I played basketball, softball and tennis religiously. I bought my first house in '95, one year out of law school when I was still fresh with energy and enthusiasm. I re-landscaped the yard and put in a new garden. I had a German Shepherd, Sam, I loved to death who walked around with a frisbee in her mouth in our immaculate, fenced-in yard.

Sam, my faithful companion of 12 years, died on Valentine's Day, 2004. She had cancer and she died in my arms when they put her to sleep. Part of my soul went with her. The yard we used to play in which was once nicely manicured with multiple rose bushes is a huge weed patch now. My fantasy that the roses would continue to bloom because I poured Sam's ashes on them was not realized. I still mow the lawn and keep the yard viewable, but the weeds are so thick they have overcome the grass. I'm not cutting the lawn, I'm cutting the weeds once a week. For years I've told myself I need to get a rototiller, dig up the weeds and plant new grass, but for some reason I never have the motivation or the energy to do it. Each day I walk through my yard, remember what it used to look like and how sorry it is now. And it's only now, since starting TSM, that I realize how that sloppy, weed-ravaged yard is very symbolic of my life's progression under alcohol.

I am overwhelmed with emotion. A large part of me is filled with excitement and hope because there is not even a tiny part of me that thinks for even one second that TSM will not work for me. The complete control I have when I drink, with the clarity and the focus I haven't known for over fifteen years tells me so. And the numbers and the cravings are also way down after six weeks, by as much as 50%, if you take into consideration how much I was actually drinking before TSM but didn't accurately track it.

I am also overwhelmed by the friendship on this board. I spent so much of yesterday wondering what my TSM pals were doing on the 4th of July; hoping (and knowing) that you all are probably experiencing many of the same thoughts and feelings that I am right now. I'm so relieved that we are all on a path out of this unhappiness. And words don't capture how grateful I am to have found TSM before it was too late to fix my life.

Great post Nick

I bet many of us can identify with a lot of what you've said. I'm glad that you see the positives in both the journey and the endpoint, and I look forward to being on the same road - you'll forgive me if I don't stop for a beer with you

Regarding the dreams you're having - a pyschologist friend of mine used to specialise in this area, and one of the things I remember her saying is that dreams of fighting are normally about fear of change in your life. In this case I'd suggest it is a part of your subconcious wondering how you'll cope without alcohol, while another part sees the damage that alcohol (as we on this site have been using it) does to you.

I can assure you all that Nick is not stealing my material, as I could not make that stuff up. Nick, you have painted a vivid picture of a one of the defining moments in TSM: that moment when you step outside of yourself and see the bigger picture of alcohol addiction. It's almost like watching a tragic movie, with yourself as the main character, and some of the realisations that come can be hard to take.

This is part of the pain, and part of the growing of TSM. But it's a good pain. Kind of like what you might feel after a good workout. You are tearing out old mental muscle to make way for something new. What exactly that "something new" is will be up to you - the new you.

This can be tough, at times TSM can be painful, bewildering and disorienting. It can also make you whole and save your life!

Thanks for taking the time to stop and reflect on this remarkable path that we are on. It is really helpful to know that many of us are sharing similar experiences and emotions. And I believe that soon we will all be TSM victors!

I read you post twice, Nick. It was as moving as it was beautiful. I can relate to the "manicured lawn" and what it has become as an analogy of our lives. That lawn will be manicured again in the near futurevand you'll do it with the power and dignity that TSM have given you.

Bob

What an incredibly well written post. It was so personal and heartfelt and no doubt understood by many of us.

The one thing that TSM has given us, and those who have succeeded, is HOPE. I know I am not alone in saying, we haven't felt that in a very long time.......

Thank you.

Nick, Nick, Nick.

Wow. You must be so tired after those dreams. I'm not gonna even try to analyze those, but they are obviously chock-full of analogies and meaning. I have incredibly vivid and crazy dreams, too. Exhausting.

But Nick, what an enormous gift you have. Your writing. It is so thoughtful, so deep, so raw. I read your post and felt I was you, or at least with you, sitting on your friend's lawn, landscaping life, observing the normal 4th of July lot with your incredibly poetic words. (Seriously, you're an attorney?) Behind those law books, you have such a philosophical and creative talent.

In any case, we all occasionally ponder (or in my my case, often ponder) where we are in life and why. Why we did certain things, why we didn't. How much of it is the fault of drinking, or fate, or just being at the right/wrong place at the right/wrong time. Who knows? You wonder why you are 45 with no kids. I wonder why I'm 45 with 12 yr old triplets,a 3 yr old and 2 stepdaughters. (How the hell did that happen?) And yeah, I also give chardonnay all the credit (sometimes pinot noir if I'm feeling generous) when people can't believe I'm over 35!

I think that when we start rising from our alcohol-induced fog, many of us will be forced to re-evaluate our lives. You are just starting to go there and it's a scary place. (I'm just surmising, b/c I'm not there yet....still embedded in my comfortable avoidance.)

Grab hold of a hand here and take a step up. You've earned it.

Hi Nick, I just reread your post and had to comment again. I really thought the story about your garden was wonderful and a great analogy for the state our lives get into thanks to AL. I'm too tired to write much, but great post for sure.

Well said WTE. Man, D2M, I didn't mean to bring you down with my post. As so many have accurately pointed out, drinking on naltrexone does involve an "awakening" of sorts. It's a bit like being in a train wreck and suffering amnesia and not knowing there was a train wreck. Going back to the scene of the accident can be a bit troubling! But WTE put it best, I'm looking forward, not back. Keep your head up D2M. And while I've done some dumbass things while drinking, OH HOW LUCKY I am I didn't hurt someone drunk driving, or knock up some bimbo, or any of the other countless foolish things we alkies like to do.

Cheers!

Hi Nick
I read your post a couple of times and kept wanting to reply but couldn't find the words. It was so achingly well written and expressive.I was very moved. It seems as though Nal has given some of us a new pair of glasses with which to look at and reflect on our lives. (instead of through the distorting end of a wine glass!) and it surely is not comfortable. I admire the unsentimental and honest tone of your reflections. I really do hope you are able to find a new and more satisfying direction for your life. You have a wonderful talent for expressing yourself, your pain and that of others on this board in writing and you are generous with your time and thoughts.

Nick,
That was a beautiful piece of writing. I'm so happy that you were in that place. I was no doubt one of the fools, but I was aware and I think I drank slower.
Alcohol has robbed us - how sad. But the future looks a liitle brighter as I read these posts.

Dx,
Hang in there. The booze has totally skewed (?) you perceptions.

Lucy D