When I deny what I am and what I need to do make my life meaningful, then I am living either a fully destructive fantasy or someone else's life. And this is not limited to those who struggle with alcohol. By virtue of this fact, I have very little to say about how my life unfolds, and I invite disappointment, heartache and tragedy. It's a form of spiritual suicide.
I've provided for myself ample evidence that denying who and what I am is much easier, though much more deadly, than it is to accept my personal reality. Though no one could possibly survive living in this world without fear, when fear becomes my default condition and when it contaminates my motives and determines my actions, then I am not only lost, but erased from any meaningful participation in my own life.