Originally Posted by
EndGameNYC 
Speaking for myself, I was willing to lose everything important in my life in order to continue drinking. I had a three-year relapse following twenty five years without a drink. I considered myself sober, not only abstinent, for the first half of that run, and only abstinent for about twelve years.
During and after my relapse, I lost my career, my reputation, relationships with my family, my home, my health and the woman I loved. Though it may have been the best romantic relationship in my life, I didn't care when it was over. The only thing I cared about was that I could then drink more often and without needing to hide it. I had no self respect, and the only thing I looked forward to was dying as an active alcoholic.
Part of the challenge for me when I got sober was the realization of all the damage I had done...and for what? I didn't "want" to get sober until I hadn't had a drink in about six months, maybe more. I didn't drink during the early days and months because I didn't have the money to drink, and I would have been homeless had I started drinking again. I essentially traded one living hell for another.
When I accepted responsibility for my condition, for my life, and made a decision to make things right, seriously right, then and only then did I want to be sober, and only then did I make it my primary focus. And that meant overhauling my entire life. It takes hard work to be an alcoholic, and it's just as difficult to get sober. Probably more
Antabuse alone, counseling alone or with antabuse, doesn't work for the vast majority of us. Not in the long run, and not when we want to build a better life. The rare exceptions make such a huge impression on us simply by virtue of being rare.
We work very hard for financial success, social status, and to maintain our chaotic drinking lives. When asked to do a few simple things, and meet life on its own terms, we're "too busy," afraid of people judging us or don't believe in some basic principles of living that come with achieving sobriety. So we open the bottle and reclaim our seats on the merry-go-round. That, to me, is insanity.