Midas' Story
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Join Date: May 2007
Location: It's a Dry Heat, AZ.
Posts: 438
Midas' Story
Hello. My name is Barry H., and I'm an alcoholic and an addict.
Sometimes I have trouble spitting out my story and I don’t seem to tell it the same way twice. But anyways, here it goes. So where do I start? At the beginning. . .That’s a good start.
I was born and raised in sunny Southern California. My parents, who both came from a strong, traditional, Southern Baptist upbringing, made sure of teaching me good moral values. You know, always do the right thing. We moved around a lot, and whenever I started making good friends, we would move away. That planted a seed of denial and avoidance. I slowly began to withdraw from others and reluctantly made new friends. When I found the liquor cabinet at the age of 14, and sipped on the cooking sherry, I opened the door to a hell that would last close to 20 years. My Dad discovered I had been drinking the sherry and grounded me for months. I got belted for it too. Not just any ordinary belt, mind you—he always wore the 2” wide type with brass-grommets from end-to-end. That left a mark for a while. It didn’t seem to convince me not to drink. When I was 16, I was already drinking more than twice a week and secretly too. I experimented with different sorts of drugs with my high school “stoner” friends. My Mom & Dad sat me down for several lectures about my grandfather drinking himself to death, but that didn’t seem to phase me at all.
When I drank, it was like moving away from my best friends…escaping…not feeling…I couldn’t stand myself. It was as if I blamed myself for losing friends. Everything disappeared when I drank. The hurt, the loneliness, and the anguish—all became manageable to a degree as the alcohol numbed my senses. It became a self-prescribed purgatory.
~Fast-forward a few years~
When we moved back to Orange County from Riverside, I met a nice girl. She dumped me after only a few months. And guess what? My drinking got even worse. I had just turned 18 & I was drinking nearly every day. My Mom enabled me by buying liquor for me once in a while. My brother and I drank together pretty often. It's Kind of odd because I started out drinking the HARD STUFF like Scoresby & Chivas Regal.
When I turned 21, it was like the 3-ring circus had just come to town. I don’t remember much from that evening, except having to go to the emergency room to get medication for excessive vomiting. Well, the doctor prescribed some Phenobarbital and Compazine. I took enough to calm my stomach & hid the rest for later use. That was probably my first experience of alcohol poisoning, which of course, didn’t really seem to deter me from drinking.
One night, after having 3 or 4 Barbs and a 12 pack, I fell into a deep, deep sleep. I dreamed about the forces of good & the forces of evil battling over my soul. The following day, I called a long-time girlfriend of mine, to ask her if I could go to church with her. Thank God for saving grace.
She and her roommates prayed. They Laid Hands on Me. They baptized me in the Spirit and I was on fire for God. Yet only for a little while. I stayed sober for about 11 months, without an AA program. I had the Higher Power down pat, but I was missing the support structure. During this time, I fell in love with that God-Loving, beautiful young woman. We planned to get married. As I grew in the Spirit, the deacons even had me attending their seminary “Foundations” classes.
I started drinking again. Heavily. And the drinking demons were all too ready to pounce when she gave me the engagement ring back to me one night. I was devastated. “How could YOU do THIS to ME!?¿” My drinking just got worse and even more worse. That was in 1991.
~Fast-Forward a few years~
After I moved to Arizona in 1994, I gave up smoking pot and never looked back. The drinking demons lingered on and dug-in for the long haul. I remember my Dad asking me periodically & during opportune times like holiday dinners, “How are you doing with your drinking?” Oh, that was a huge trigger every time. I’m surprised and amazed I never passed out during the family dinners. I blacked out frequently.
In May of 2002, a Human Resources manager sat down with me at work, to listen in on some phone calls. It was rather brief, but after she left, my supervisor called me into his office. “Mrs. E. says she smelled liquor on your breath. Would you care to explain this?” I came up with some stupid answer like accidentally taking Nyquil instead of the Dayquil before work. I was sent home, apparently unable to function. My first stop on the way home was the store to pick up some much needed booze.
There were days on-end where I would call in sick repeatedly, literally sick and tired. I think I drank away a small life-savings too—about $40,000.
The sequence of events just escalated and accelerated. It was October 29, 2002. Mrs. E from HR came to sit down with me again. I was lit up at work after drinking all night. I should’ve seen it coming. My supervisor called me into the office again. “Oh sh*t. My goose is cooked now!” They smelled liquor on my breath, and they asked me to sit down. Gladly! I could barely stand. I was shaking so badly, I had to hold onto the chair, hoping it would stabilize me. They handed me a small packet of paperwork. I struggled in vain to read it. I was in shambles and could barely see straight. They gave me an option to go take a UA. “If there’s ever been a good time for me to be honest, it would be now. I would fail that test.” They nodded. “What other options do I have?”
“We think you have a serious drinking problem and you need help. Do you agree?”
“Ummm. Yes?” I scribbled my signature on the dotted line. My boss gathered up a box of my belongings and walked me out to my car. She asked me if I was OK to drive home. “Yeah, I can drive.” I felt horrible. In fact, I knew the one thing that would do the trick…even more booze. So I drove home, with a six-pack behind the seat, crying uncontrollably all the way.
~Fast-Forward TWO weeks~
After going to five (5) different psych-evaluations—intoxicated, no less—the fifth one dealt the final blow. The therapist gave me an ultimatum: you need to get help, or we’ll get the help you need for you. She gave me a list of numbers for AA meetings and some detox centers. I called a few places half-heartedly. Saint Luke’s called to say they even had a “room with a view”. Just as I started to pack my bags and saw a glimpse of hope, they called back to tell me they didn’t accept my insurance. I continued to drink even more and drank myself into unconsciousness that night.
The next day, I called Banner Health. They told me to come over and get admitted ASAP. I was so nervous--drunk and nervous. I scribbled out the paperwork the best I could. A nice, young nurse took my vital signs. But then she called for the Charge Nurse.
“You can’t keep me here!” I cried, and started to get off the seat. The head nurse came up close to me and put her hand on my shoulder, “We want you to stay.”
My vitals were 195/95 103°. I was feverish and halucinating. I think I said “OK.”
“We want you back here at 10 AM sharp! Or we’re coming to get you. Deal?”
“Ummmm, OK.” I was there at 9:45 AM the following morning. Initially, they wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but I declined.
At least that was a start. I didn’t even start going to meetings until the second week of November. I was still drinking every day. After a couple good meetings, some members took me to lunch and we talked. That really helped. I finally had some hope for once in my life. They told me, “You don’t HAVE to drink.”
I was dumbfounded and baffled, “I don’t??” They smiled and chuckled a little, “Nope. Just don’t pick up that first drink…or…(whistling they pointed downwards).”
It made sense. For once in my life, I wasn’t alone in my ordeal. I had friends. I had a purpose. I didn’t have to face the challenges without having a ton of support behind me. Then, on November 14th, a small miracle happened. As I was reading page 24 of the 3rd edition Big Book;
~The Great Epiphany~ Powerlessness:
The fact is that most alcoholics, for some reason yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. our so-called will power becomes practically nonexistent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink.
For me, that was the crushing blow that shattered the bottle I had crawled into. I gave my life over to my Higher Power, and haven’t had a drink since. Ironically, my employer terminated me on October 12th 2004 for reasons indirectly related to my drinking. The temptation to drink didn’t even cross my mind for two seconds. As I walked to my car, I shouted out, “Whooohooo! I just got fired!” That’s another story altogether. And I only have myself to blame. I’m grateful for the fellowship of AA being there when I needed it the most.
I’ll stop now and leave you with this:
Remember, You ARE worth it! You have nothing to lose,
and everything to gain. Help is just within reach!
Thanks for taking the time to read my story.
Peace Be With You All,
~Midas~ / Barry H.
Last edited by Midas : 12-02-2005 at 2:45 PM. Reason: ::minor semantic corrections::
Sometimes I have trouble spitting out my story and I don’t seem to tell it the same way twice. But anyways, here it goes. So where do I start? At the beginning. . .That’s a good start.
I was born and raised in sunny Southern California. My parents, who both came from a strong, traditional, Southern Baptist upbringing, made sure of teaching me good moral values. You know, always do the right thing. We moved around a lot, and whenever I started making good friends, we would move away. That planted a seed of denial and avoidance. I slowly began to withdraw from others and reluctantly made new friends. When I found the liquor cabinet at the age of 14, and sipped on the cooking sherry, I opened the door to a hell that would last close to 20 years. My Dad discovered I had been drinking the sherry and grounded me for months. I got belted for it too. Not just any ordinary belt, mind you—he always wore the 2” wide type with brass-grommets from end-to-end. That left a mark for a while. It didn’t seem to convince me not to drink. When I was 16, I was already drinking more than twice a week and secretly too. I experimented with different sorts of drugs with my high school “stoner” friends. My Mom & Dad sat me down for several lectures about my grandfather drinking himself to death, but that didn’t seem to phase me at all.
When I drank, it was like moving away from my best friends…escaping…not feeling…I couldn’t stand myself. It was as if I blamed myself for losing friends. Everything disappeared when I drank. The hurt, the loneliness, and the anguish—all became manageable to a degree as the alcohol numbed my senses. It became a self-prescribed purgatory.
~Fast-forward a few years~
When we moved back to Orange County from Riverside, I met a nice girl. She dumped me after only a few months. And guess what? My drinking got even worse. I had just turned 18 & I was drinking nearly every day. My Mom enabled me by buying liquor for me once in a while. My brother and I drank together pretty often. It's Kind of odd because I started out drinking the HARD STUFF like Scoresby & Chivas Regal.
When I turned 21, it was like the 3-ring circus had just come to town. I don’t remember much from that evening, except having to go to the emergency room to get medication for excessive vomiting. Well, the doctor prescribed some Phenobarbital and Compazine. I took enough to calm my stomach & hid the rest for later use. That was probably my first experience of alcohol poisoning, which of course, didn’t really seem to deter me from drinking.
One night, after having 3 or 4 Barbs and a 12 pack, I fell into a deep, deep sleep. I dreamed about the forces of good & the forces of evil battling over my soul. The following day, I called a long-time girlfriend of mine, to ask her if I could go to church with her. Thank God for saving grace.
She and her roommates prayed. They Laid Hands on Me. They baptized me in the Spirit and I was on fire for God. Yet only for a little while. I stayed sober for about 11 months, without an AA program. I had the Higher Power down pat, but I was missing the support structure. During this time, I fell in love with that God-Loving, beautiful young woman. We planned to get married. As I grew in the Spirit, the deacons even had me attending their seminary “Foundations” classes.
I started drinking again. Heavily. And the drinking demons were all too ready to pounce when she gave me the engagement ring back to me one night. I was devastated. “How could YOU do THIS to ME!?¿” My drinking just got worse and even more worse. That was in 1991.
~Fast-Forward a few years~
After I moved to Arizona in 1994, I gave up smoking pot and never looked back. The drinking demons lingered on and dug-in for the long haul. I remember my Dad asking me periodically & during opportune times like holiday dinners, “How are you doing with your drinking?” Oh, that was a huge trigger every time. I’m surprised and amazed I never passed out during the family dinners. I blacked out frequently.
In May of 2002, a Human Resources manager sat down with me at work, to listen in on some phone calls. It was rather brief, but after she left, my supervisor called me into his office. “Mrs. E. says she smelled liquor on your breath. Would you care to explain this?” I came up with some stupid answer like accidentally taking Nyquil instead of the Dayquil before work. I was sent home, apparently unable to function. My first stop on the way home was the store to pick up some much needed booze.
There were days on-end where I would call in sick repeatedly, literally sick and tired. I think I drank away a small life-savings too—about $40,000.
The sequence of events just escalated and accelerated. It was October 29, 2002. Mrs. E from HR came to sit down with me again. I was lit up at work after drinking all night. I should’ve seen it coming. My supervisor called me into the office again. “Oh sh*t. My goose is cooked now!” They smelled liquor on my breath, and they asked me to sit down. Gladly! I could barely stand. I was shaking so badly, I had to hold onto the chair, hoping it would stabilize me. They handed me a small packet of paperwork. I struggled in vain to read it. I was in shambles and could barely see straight. They gave me an option to go take a UA. “If there’s ever been a good time for me to be honest, it would be now. I would fail that test.” They nodded. “What other options do I have?”
“We think you have a serious drinking problem and you need help. Do you agree?”
“Ummm. Yes?” I scribbled my signature on the dotted line. My boss gathered up a box of my belongings and walked me out to my car. She asked me if I was OK to drive home. “Yeah, I can drive.” I felt horrible. In fact, I knew the one thing that would do the trick…even more booze. So I drove home, with a six-pack behind the seat, crying uncontrollably all the way.
~Fast-Forward TWO weeks~
After going to five (5) different psych-evaluations—intoxicated, no less—the fifth one dealt the final blow. The therapist gave me an ultimatum: you need to get help, or we’ll get the help you need for you. She gave me a list of numbers for AA meetings and some detox centers. I called a few places half-heartedly. Saint Luke’s called to say they even had a “room with a view”. Just as I started to pack my bags and saw a glimpse of hope, they called back to tell me they didn’t accept my insurance. I continued to drink even more and drank myself into unconsciousness that night.
The next day, I called Banner Health. They told me to come over and get admitted ASAP. I was so nervous--drunk and nervous. I scribbled out the paperwork the best I could. A nice, young nurse took my vital signs. But then she called for the Charge Nurse.
“You can’t keep me here!” I cried, and started to get off the seat. The head nurse came up close to me and put her hand on my shoulder, “We want you to stay.”
My vitals were 195/95 103°. I was feverish and halucinating. I think I said “OK.”
“We want you back here at 10 AM sharp! Or we’re coming to get you. Deal?”
“Ummmm, OK.” I was there at 9:45 AM the following morning. Initially, they wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but I declined.
At least that was a start. I didn’t even start going to meetings until the second week of November. I was still drinking every day. After a couple good meetings, some members took me to lunch and we talked. That really helped. I finally had some hope for once in my life. They told me, “You don’t HAVE to drink.”
I was dumbfounded and baffled, “I don’t??” They smiled and chuckled a little, “Nope. Just don’t pick up that first drink…or…(whistling they pointed downwards).”
It made sense. For once in my life, I wasn’t alone in my ordeal. I had friends. I had a purpose. I didn’t have to face the challenges without having a ton of support behind me. Then, on November 14th, a small miracle happened. As I was reading page 24 of the 3rd edition Big Book;
~The Great Epiphany~ Powerlessness:
The fact is that most alcoholics, for some reason yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. our so-called will power becomes practically nonexistent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink.
For me, that was the crushing blow that shattered the bottle I had crawled into. I gave my life over to my Higher Power, and haven’t had a drink since. Ironically, my employer terminated me on October 12th 2004 for reasons indirectly related to my drinking. The temptation to drink didn’t even cross my mind for two seconds. As I walked to my car, I shouted out, “Whooohooo! I just got fired!” That’s another story altogether. And I only have myself to blame. I’m grateful for the fellowship of AA being there when I needed it the most.
I’ll stop now and leave you with this:
Remember, You ARE worth it! You have nothing to lose,
and everything to gain. Help is just within reach!
Thanks for taking the time to read my story.
Peace Be With You All,
~Midas~ / Barry H.
Last edited by Midas : 12-02-2005 at 2:45 PM. Reason: ::minor semantic corrections::
Last edited by Midas; 06-26-2005 at 10:34 PM. Reason: ::minor corrections::
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