Nine out of ten people who stop drinking relapse. Why would anyone return to the misery. Get the latest research, the Symptoms of Sobriety and discover more about relapse, not from a theorist but someone who has endured it.
2013 Indie Book Awards Finalist. Nine of ten alcoholics who quit drinking, relapse... at least once. Those near them wonder why anyone would return to the misery. Many popular alcohologists on the air or on the bookshelves have stellar credentials, but few have had to eat their own cooking. Stevens went through 18 months of 86-proof, two-liters-a-day drinking, plus a crushing relapse. In addition to an honest chronicling of his own journey, he details recent research on the subject, combining both in order to help other men and women avoid the obstacles to sobriety he and others tripped upon...some more than once.
Scott Stevens is a journalist with a Master’s degree from the University of Illinois and former mutual fund executive who resides in the Milwaukee area. This is his second book.
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
“I was cured all right.”
—the last words of Alex in the U.S. version of A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess, 1962
October 17, 2010. Two days after What the Early Worm Gets was on press, I lapsed. That’s three and a half years into my recovery following voluntary treatment . . . and during a state-run alcohol program I was forced to attend.
I didn’t wake up on the 17th saying, “I’m drinking today,” or “The Packers are on TV, I think I’ll have a couple.” I didn’t intend to blow the recovery I had going. Just that morning while struggling with my concentration and recently poor sleep, I read from Alcoholics Anonymous, (a.k.a. The Big Book) to try to get a little perspective or maybe some of their famous serenity. God knows I had none of either. I recall reading the following from Chapter 2, “There is a Solution,” a chapter I found helpful if not encouraging.
“The fact is that most alcoholics . . . have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called will-power becomes practically non-existent. 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. The almost certain consequences that follow taking even a glass of beer do not crowd into the mind to deter us . . . There is a complete failure of the kind of defense that keeps one from putting his hand on a hot stove.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, AA World Services, 1939)
My sobriety so far was no defense because I was suffering from it, in what are identified later as Symptoms of Sobriety. Despite the time invested in getting and staying sober, I was struggling with it. Couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t seem to remember squat. Irritable. And more than a little resentful that I felt so low and this was supposed to be the silver lining.
Everything is easy until it gets complicated.
I was struggling with a new burst of confidence and self-worth, too, because I should have been happy with early book orders and from speaking engagements I was beginning to put on the calendar. Instead I felt guilt? “What business did I have regaining confidence?” is how I questioned my worthiness of the happiness and confidence and comfort. I’d had that kind of sick thinking shamed into me the preceding weeks while I was attending the mandated substance abuse program not designed for Alcoholism. So instead of a rewarding feeling earned and deserved, I was uncomfortable with the confidence the criminal justice system told me I no longer deserved. It’s a message I internalized.
I was still feeling ill, or uncomfortable, or diseased after reading the 12-step stuff. That was enough of a warning sign for me to call someone in my support network to try to keep the conflict, shame and guilt from turning into a lapse. I even text messaged the counselor from the program. (Even though it was a Sunday, he made it clear there wasn’t a boundary issue about contacting him when my sobriety was at stake.)
I had no call returned, no text answered. Anytime.
As the morning progressed, the inability to concentrate and the edginess grew more desperate. I made it through the football game without the returned calls. My team lost to Miami in overtime but that wasn’t an ingredient in the drinking that was about to come down: I’m a huge fan but drinking to the wins and drinking away the losses was never part of my repertoire.
I had to move—change scenery and mind. The local apple orchard was open. I went there a few days earlier and decided to go back there today to seek that change. That place has been special to me since I was a kid in my mostly rural Wisconsin county. We went there as a family to get apples and feed the goats the cores of the apples I sampled. Fond, dear memories. Nothing like nostalgia and positive memories combined with fresh air to get my head in the right place. This part of small-town, no-deadbolts-or-gang-bangers, not-country- but-not-suburban Wisconsin still spoke to my soul despite having lived in the nation’s largest metros and having walked the country’s corridors of power. The orchard usually grounded me and righted me. It was “home” to me and the orchard, the fall air, even the damn goats had to throw me a rope out of the confusion and frustration I was feeling.
But I didn’t go straight there. I went for a walk first.
Right past the convenience store . . .
That sells liquor.
I bought two bottles of 86-proof and drained most of both. It was pure impulse.
It’s like an old girlfriend who winks at you or drops you an email out of the blue. You KNOW better. You know to hit delete or keep walking. I wish I hadn’t lost that lesson because once I took that first gulp, just like anyone with Alcoholism, not taking the second gulp is like trying to slam a revolving door.
In 2000 and again in 2004 I cried tears of happiness, the greatest happiness, when my children were born. October 17, 2010, as the alcohol seared its way down to my stomach, I cried different tears, tears loaded with as much emotion, only it was sadness because my lapse was here and I was disappointing those two amazing children. Again.
I went from discomfort at dawn, to confusion at 3:00 p.m. Then to the hospital and a .384 blood alcohol concentration (BAC, .08 is considered illegal intoxication for motorists, .30 and higher is usually associated with coma or death). This BAC was not close to the ridiculous .612 levels of my previous drinking career. This is a remarkable demonstration of the progressive nature of the disease even while it’s in remission. After lengthy abstinence I was immediately able to ratchet up my BAC to lethal levels without a sign of slurring or trouble walking. So I got behind the wheel. My motor skills may have been ok, but the judgment was clearly screwed. I still wanted to hit the orchard and, another great idea, drive over to a friend’s house with the hope that she’d intervene with my drinking. Great thinking.
I was arrested. There was no collision, but that’s beside the point. I was a menace just by being on the road in that condition and posing a danger to everyone. There are no bad OWI arrests. I regret the poor judgment. And I really regret losing my sobriety.
How could this happen after going through treatment and while I was in mistreatment? After changing the people, places and things associated with my most severe drinking days, just as prescribed by nearly every reputable counselor, I’m drinking? After all those 12-step meetings? After fixing my diet and exercise? Hell, I even took Pilates for a bit to fix the whole “mind/body” thing, and I’m drinking? I was well past being an acute and toxic Alcoholic, far beyond cravings, and well into sobriety. And I hit .384, just like that.
I needed to return to treatment. To get the lapse put away before it turned to relapse and to get those answers. And maybe sort out the confusion and confidence issues while I was there. Treatment was not where I was going, though, despite wanting to be there and by all indications needing to be there. I was heading back to jail instead. To “learn.” You know because they taught me so well the last time.
The list of 13 things in my last book I “learned” by being incarcerated had nothing to do with recovery and everything to do with being a slick criminal with some really warped aberrant behavior. To that list, I can now add these lessons from the rehabilitation environment:
14. That you Armor All your gun so fingerprints cannot be left on a weapon.
15. The price of fishing lures being what they are today, you can resell “lost” fishing lures hung up on underwater snags you create. Anglers gladly repurchase them, so long as you don’t let on that you sank a mattress box spring in hot spots to snare their lures.
16. That I, too, can be a pimp. (That’s coming up in Chapter Ten)
17. I learned how to make meth in a soda bottle and order hybrid marijuana seeds on the internet for home growing.
More skills of questionable value for keeping me clear of whiskey.
Incarceration again failed to provide sobriety tools. I was wrong, again, for drinking and driving and should have been behind bars for breaking the law. But this wasn’t help for the underlying problem. I was again left to produce the lessons myself against a backdrop of some pretty severe degenerates who wanted nothing to do with their kids and families, real jobs, real sobriety or the real society to which most people not locked up want to contribute rather than mock. In The Early Worm, I mentioned that incarceration isn’t hard for the hardest criminals, but it is tremendously hard punishment and traumatic for people who’ve achieved something with their lives and never lived for the criminal code or the thrill of misdeeds.
It’s not just dangerous and debasing. It’s a daily strain against insanity, a constant struggle to resist becoming numb and institutionalized. And it’s abusive. Mothers fret over the wellbeing of their kids no matter what age. Death of the child would probably be more comforting than the prolonged abuse of being locked up. I’d have spared my mom this grief had I simply drank myself to death October 17, 2010. Little did I know that I nearly had: The BAC was the same as what killed singer Amy Winehouse.
But I didn’t die and learned more about the cloud behind the silver lining of sobriety, learning what really leads to lapse years after stopping drinking, what are the symptoms and why nearly every Alcoholic relapses.
Professional Reviews
B&N 5/5
Scott Stevens shares undeniable truths about struggling with sobriety, from his own personal experiences, and from the scientific community.
It give both a scientific and personal look into the cause and effect of relapse.
This book is a must read for anyone who is, or knows someone who is, struggling to hang on to sobriety.
Amazon 5/5
This is a Must Read for everyone holding on to Sobriety, successful or not so successful. The author describes biochemical processes that can be applied to rough times .. Also Scott Stevens clearly describes the physiological process as well. An easy read with a fast pace and good reference material for one's future.
Amazon 5/5
Stevens made very complex topics like neuroscience and psychology very readable. Well written and practical. And it wasn't dry like other recovery books I've read, it's lively, emotional and even witty at times. He shares some intense, humbling and revealing personal stories alongside credible research. It helped me put alcoholism and relapse into focus for the family around the drinker, not just the drinker. A surprising amount of info, new info, in such an easy read. This is a keeper.
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