Getting sober after years of drinking is one of the hardest things a person can do, and one of the least understood. If you're searching for alcohol addiction help, wondering whether you can really stop drinking, struggling to stay sober after treatment, or living with someone who faces these challenges, read on.
Most of what's written about alcohol recovery comes from the outside looking in. This blog comes from someone who has lived on both sides of the therapy space. Lifeologie Counseling Dallas Uptown therapist Randy Williams is a licensed mental health professional who specializes in anxiety as well as addiction and alcohol recovery. Here he shares what it actually felt like to hit bottom, go through treatment more than once, relapse, and finally find a way through.
It's honest, it's personal, and it's not tidy. But if you're asking yourself, "How did I get here, and what do I do now?", Randy’s story may be exactly what you need to read today.
Squeak, squeak. Tick. Tick. Tick. Squeak, squeak.
The sound of the wipers sweeping rain off my Tacoma’s windshield that cool, rainy morning of October 20, 2022, will stay with me for a while. I wasn’t suicidal, but the thoughts of my family being better off without me were loud and incessant. My eyes filled with tears. I gripped the steering wheel and lost it. I was tired, depleted, and lost. I knew my alcohol addiction was killing me. I had tried treatment before, but I didn’t know how to make recovery last.
Who am I? How did I get here? More importantly, what do I do now? That question would help me reclaim my life and rebuild my identity.
I drank for over 35 years. The last decade was complete debauchery. I organized my schedule around drinking. It got to the point where it determined when I woke up, where I went, what I attended, what I avoided, what I remembered, and what I had to lie about. My life revolved around protecting my ability to drink. I was protecting the very thing that was killing me. It was normal to have Tito’s and water by my bed to get me through the night. At night, I counted the minutes until Quicktrip opened at 7 A.M. so I could get wine before the liquor store opened at 10. Funny enough, when I worked at a liquor store, I always felt sorry for the people waiting outside the door, ready for me to open at exactly 10 AM. Did they really need it that badly? I always judged. Now I was that guy.
As a mortgage broker, I drank a bottle of wine during the hour-long morning commute. I always kept a 10-pack of 50 ml Fireball bottles on hand as drink “snacks” throughout the day to maintain composure and concentration. It went much further than that. On many mornings, it was normal for me to walk around and inspect my car, looking at every scratch and dent, trying to tell whether it had been there all along or was new. Had I hit something? Had I hit someone? I wasn't sure if I would see a bicycle underneath it, a bent frame, a broken wheel, spokes twisted around the axle. Questions would pummel my mind as I tried to piece together nights when my brain quit recording: Where had I been? What did I say? Why is my wife in the shower crying again?
At the urging of my wife, a week before Thanksgiving in 2020, I entered alcohol addiction treatment for the first time. And I agreed with her. It was time.
I stayed for 30 days. When I got home, I went to a few AA meetings. After one, I bought four airplane Fireball shots to celebrate my newfound sobriety. Back to zero.
A year later, my wife woke me up one morning and told me my parents and best friend were coming over. I knew what that meant. I entered treatment again. And I agreed with them. It was time. I stayed for 17 days, got out, attended some more meetings, and relapsed 18 days later out of boredom. Back to zero.
Every time I promised I was finished, I meant it. But sincerity isn't the same as change. Treatment gave me time, structure, and tools. But it couldn't make my choices for me once I got home.
Now, here I am sitting in my truck. The fear and anxiety had become almost unbearable. I kept imagining what would happen if I wrecked my truck and killed someone. What if I destroyed a family? What if I survived and had to spend the rest of my life in prison, knowing I had destroyed my own family too? These thoughts were not new. They had been building. The fear and consequences had been building. Exhaustion had been building, and I was running out of ways to pretend I didn't know what I already knew.
That morning, within an hour, I called two friends. I told them I was tired, had nothing left, and didn't know what to do. They both told me the same thing: “Stop drinking.” After I hung up the last call, I just sat there in my truck. I don't remember thinking much of anything. I didn't have an a-ha moment. I just finally had this realization that no one was going to do this for me. People were trying to help me, but no one was going to go through the grind for me. No one was going to get sober for me. It was me. It had to come from within me. This time, I said I was done.
For a brief moment, I believed enough in myself that I called the facility, secured the bed, and walked into the house and surprised my wife by telling her that I was checking myself into detox the next day. It was shocking for her and wasn't up for discussion with me. It was my life we were talking about.
The next morning on the Uber ride to detox, I drank two bottles of Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc. I had made a decision to stop drinking—and then drank two bottles of wine on the way to get help. That is what addiction looked like in my life. Getting into that Uber did not mean I was recovered; I wasn’t even sober. It meant that I had finally done something different.
Maybe you’re wondering what life without alcohol will look like. What will you do with all that time? Will your friends still want to be around you? Are you even funny without alcohol? I had those questions too. I didn’t have to answer them all before getting help, and neither do you.
If you’re questioning your drinking or looking for recovery support, reach out to request a therapy session with me in Texas at Lifeologie Counseling Dallas Uptown at (214) 357-4001.
My approach is collaborative, attachment-based, and trauma-informed. I bring empathy, honesty, and practical guidance to help you understand how past experiences, beliefs, and coping strategies shape your life today. We can talk about where you are now and what comes next.
If you’re outside the Lone Star state, you can find all our therapists who specialize in alcohol and addiction recovery in our Lifeologie Directory, or use your zip code to search for professional counseling near you in Psychology Today. You can also find my profile there, or read more about my work at Lifeologie Counseling at wefixbrains.com.