Mr. SponsorPants

the lonely man

He is not an alcoholic.  Barely had a drop of alcohol and never done any drugs (any!) in his whole life.

He had been married for 28 years.  Five children, ranging in age from early 20's to early teens.  A devout man of faith, his life guided by the Torah and the faith of his fathers.

Nearly fifty years old and suddenly divorced (married young), it is a turn in his story that is strangely both sad and joyous.  An ending and a beginning.  He embarks on a new way to be true to himself -- a new life.  To say more is to share details which are not mine to tell, and really not the point of this story.  I am compelled to add, though, that while divorce is always a sad thing (well, almost always I suppose), the responsibility for his marriage ending can be shared with his ex-wife -- there are not really any villains to the piece.  Wreckage, to be sure, but no bad guys, and little blame.

Still and all, from a home full of life and wife and children and memories he finds himself living alone, in a small studio apartment, in many ways starting from scratch.

We met casually.  Socially.  I had no idea when I started making small talk that I would be presented with a confused and broken heart, a man who felt somewhat abandoned by the faith of his fathers, who could talk himself into feeling brave by day, but alone, in his little studio apartment, was lost and lonely each night.

I did what AA taught me to do.  When I realized he needed to talk, that this was not some casual chit-chat, but a person in pain -- maybe more pain than they even realized themselves -- I listened.  I wasn't uncomfortable with the deeply personal nature of what he started to tell me.  I didn't feel any judgment of his story, or fear when he tentatively revealed how lost and needy he had become.  I knew I didn't have to really do anything, just witness for him, and from being listened to he would find some measure of comfort, maybe begin some healing even if only for a while.  I have seen that -- and felt it -- enough to know it is true.  That knowledge -- and that gift -- is mine by way of Alcoholics Anonymous.

"It's like you spend your whole life inventing yourself, first as a student, then a worker, then a husband, then a father ... "  I nodded, and just looked at him calmly, comfortable with letting him find his own words, another AA gift I've learned, from all the hours I've sat and listened to sponsees -- and all the hours sponsors have sat and listened to me.

"... and after a lifetime of inventing myself, I find out I'm a schmuck, and I've been kidding myself, and so was my ex-wife ... and ... and now I guess I have to re-invent myself."

I smiled, but as sometimes happens when people are raw, they are also guarded, and ready to take offense when none is intended.

"What?  You think that's funny?  My pain should be your punchline?"  he asked.

"No!  No no no... it's just that... well, I guess I have some little bit of experience with re-inventing yourself." 

Mollified, he went on, and as I said, mostly I listened, letting some measure of his hurt and confusion hopefully bleed out through the words, offering only a nod or "uh huh" as seemed appropriate.

"But the hardest part in a way," he said "is how do I make friends now?"  He was a grown man, father to five children, with advanced degrees and no small amount of business acumen, from what I could tell.  But none of that could hide the kind of naked plea inside such a thing, when it is said with the honest bewilderment I saw in him.  I suggested that in reinventing himself it seemed he would have to relearn how to connect with people, too.

We talked more, I said that he was perhaps being hasty in thinking he was abandoned by his faith, and that these things took time.  I was grateful that my frame of reference is based on AA's tolerance of any path, spiritually speaking.  I didn't have to side with him against "them" -- or with "them" against him -- in the question of his, or any, religion.  Only share my own experience that maybe God isn't too worried about some of the things which some people suggest God might be worried about, and that no one owns prayer and meditation -- and that maybe there is not one right way to practice it.  He was an intelligent man, these were not light bulb sparking ideas I was suggesting, but sometimes we need to hear people say the things we hope are true.

Eventually I disengaged (I was happy to listen, happy to share, but as with many lonely people there is a well of Need that can swallow you whole, if after a couple of hours you don't gently, firmly step back) but I made sure to exchange emails and we're set to have coffee later this week.

On the way home I thought about that one plaintive question he asked:  "... how do I make friends?"

And I thought about how AA offers that in such an embarrassment of riches.  Whole roomfuls of people ready to greet you, to hear you out, to take that most valuable of commodities, their time, and spend it on you. 

What's that line from the Doors song?  "People are strange, when you're a stranger..."  I know not every town, not every meeting, may offer what I have found in Alcoholics Anonymous.  Though I have been to meetings in hundreds of cities in dozens of states (and a couple of countries) over the years, and always found that bit of magic I first encountered (sometimes a blaze, sometimes a spark, but always there) I suppose it is naive to claim it can be found in all meetings... but I'll lay odds that it can be found in most.  I've heard many, many more stories about welcome and acceptance than I have of anything else in AA.

AA doesn't own a friendly and inclusive philosophy, but certainly offers it with little or no requirement, and practices it in earnest.  (And if reading that makes you angry, or doubtful, I can only shrug and say that has been my overwhelming experience of Alcoholics Anonymous, for many years now.)

AA has offered me an avalanche of love and support, a tidal wave of warm, clumsy, often awkward, sometimes infuriating, messy and wonderful human contact:  True friends.

Even those of us who show up too damaged to embrace it can at least stand next to it, and know that it is there, and maybe somehow eventually learn to take it in.

This morning, sitting in a meeting I love and feel loved in, against the backdrop of my conversation with the lonely man it was so clear how much AA has offered me in so many ways -- but most especially in the gift of friends.

It was only when I sat down to write this that, as is often the way, the point of something I'm thinking about is revealed to me.

The real healing gift from AA in this regard is not the having of true friends.

It's the learning how to be one.

I'm not driving.

I remember once, a very long time ago, driving my niece to the play park.  She was young enough to be in a car seat, and although usually happy about riding in the car -- and always happy to be at the park -- she had gotten herself all tangled and upset in the way only a small child can.  Her sweatshirt was half backwards, one shoe had been kicked off, and somehow she'd managed to get part of the seatbelt behind her head and couldn't free herself from it.  She was a mess, and the more she fussed the more of a mess she was and the more of a mess she was the more she fussed.

It struck me then what a metaphor her situation was for my relationship with God.

We were doing something she ordinarily liked to do, and we were going someplace she was going to enjoy.  But no matter how much she fussed or what she did she had no control over where we were going or the route we would take to get there ... all she had any control over was her own state, her own comfort on the ride... and that she had managed to turn upside down and backwards.

I pulled over and got her straightened out, and we went on to a nice afternoon sliding down slides and swinging on swings and sandboxing in sandboxes.

But the image and the metaphor has always stayed with me.

I have no control over the route or the destination -- though based on past experience, when we get where we're going I'm probably going to discover that I like it.  All I have control over is my state as I ride along -- and I can make myself miserable and uncomfortable or I can sit back and observe in wonder the passing scenery.

But regardless of whichever I choose, I'm along for the ride, I'm not driving.

Mr. SponsorPants Annual Holiday Survival Guide

Last year I didn't publish this till December 25th, at which time it was pointed out to me in terms strong and acerbic (hence all the italics -- some people just speak in italics) that maybe I was a little late.  In fact, they said something like, "You put this up on Christmas?  What the hell is the point in that?  The holidays are practically over at that point.  You should have put it up before Thanksgiving, when people are beginning to deal with this and make plans.  That was stupid."

Ouch.  Point taken.  So here it is:

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Mr. SponsorPants Annual Holiday Survival Guide

Holidays, families and alcoholics.  A potent combination, be it for feeling gratitude or copping an attitude.  As the old joke goes, no one knows how to push your buttons like your family -- after all, they installed them.

With that said, here is some of the best I can offer when it comes to holiday parties, family visits, and this whole wonderful/terrible time of year:

1. Remember, you don't have to go.  Yes, yes, maybe you should go.  Maybe it's a bad idea for your career, or it would be hurtful or disappointing to someone if you don't go -- those can be compelling reasons to get on a plane or show up at a party -- but you don't have to go.  You aren't trapped, and you can change your mind at any time if you need to -- you can turn that car right around on the way to the airport or before you enter the parking structure.  If you are a real addict your life is on the line, and though we can be prone to drama and selfish decisions, it's better in my humble opinion to stay sober and after the fact determine that you might have been oversensitive or dramatic, than to decide that in advance and force yourself to go somewhere slippery when you're feeling frightened, resentful and trapped -- and then relapse.  Because if you really are an alcoholic then your alcoholism really is trying to kill you -- and you may have taken the holiday off, but it hasn't.

2. Remember, you can leave.  In the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a toast, in the middle of the cutting of a cake, you can, without drama, without a scene, excuse yourself and leave.  If the occasion or the moment seems to indicate a reason should be offered, just say you suddenly feel ill and step out.  It's not even a falsehood, though you may mean emotionally or spiritually ill and others may think the artichoke dip didn't agree with you.  In fact, it doesn't matter if people in the moment believe you or not, or if you have to explain a little more later, or make amends after the fact -- it is better to leave quietly and stay sober than remain at an event and relapse -- because if you relapse, they'll most likely wish you'd have left.  As I've said to sponsees, you can leave with a fork halfway to your mouth, if you have to.  Which leads me to...

3.  Remember, if at all possible, drive yourself and don't give anyone a lift -- not out of selfishness, out of self preservation.   If you have to leave because you are freaking out and you think you might not be able to stay sober then you need to leave -- not wait for someone to dither around saying goodbye or getting their coat or finishing that last slice of pie.  If you do have someone with you, hopefully you can explain in advance that you might have to leave abruptly -- not that you're planning on it, but that you might need to -- so help them have a Plan B for leaving if they want to stay, or perhaps agree that they're willing to leave on short notice with you.  If you're the passenger, be ready to call a cab or walk to the bus stop or at least step outside for some air.  Which brings us to...

4.  Remember, you can leave and then come back.  Leaving doesn't have to mean leaving the whole event and going home or back to the hotel or wherever -- go for a walk, get some of that aforementioned air, sit in the car and scream (though the valet may look at you funny) -- and then once you've gotten your equilibrium again go back in -- with an eye on the Exit for Round 2, if you have to.

5.  Remember, don't expect Program responses from people that aren't in the Program.  There you are, flush with recovery and armed with a whole new language to identify how you feel and communicate it with people.  Remember that the family dinner table is not a 12 Step Meeting, and you may start "sharing" rather than talking only to be met with "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."  Or worse (in my book) patronizing smiles that are the equivalent of a pat on the head and a "isn't that nice, dear."  Again: Don't expect people that aren't in a 12 Step Program to act like people in a 12 Step Program.  (And what's the set up there? The evil alcoholic node in that sentence?  "expect" -- expectations of family are some of the deepest -- and often least conscious -- and most lethal expectations an alcoholic can have.  Yes, it's a high bar to clear -- an impossible bar to clear in fact, to have absolutely no expectations of people -- but if you're aware of the mechanism at work it helps keep the resentments from running you ragged.)

6. Remember, for most addicts, maybe = yes.  If you think you might drink or use if you visit certain people or places then that's just a prelude to actually doing so.  Be sure of yourself.  If you're not sure, the stakes are too high to play a people-pleasing game and place yourself at risk.

7. Remember, other people find the holidays difficult and emotionally charged as well.  You're not the only one having a tough time of it -- watch for your ego, and rather than sit in your own upset, see who and how you can help wherever you may be or whomever you may be with.

8.  Remember, "Please pass the gravy" is not code for "Please, now that you're sober, unload all of your pent up anger and frustration you've been stuffing for the past X years, right here right now, during dinner." 

9.  Remember, Alcoholics Anonymous suggests when dealing with resentments, we set them on paper.  Even for those of us that are learning we are not door mats it is not necessarily smart to immediately confront a situation head on.  In fact, by writing out a quick inventory (and be careful where you leave that paper lying around if you're visiting home, Bucko) and organizing your thoughts and feelings you can then confront something and talk about the actual thing that caused your resentment, rather than get all tripped up talking about your feelings and anger.  It's a very different thing to say "Please don't make jokes about my job" instead of "I feel angry when you make jokes about my job."  The latter will just create a discussion about your feelings, and that's not what you're trying to do -- you're trying to set a boundary, not invite opinions on your emotional sensitivity level.  If you write out your resentment you can get clarity in your head before you open your mouth -- I've tried it the other way, to spectacularly poor results, I assure you.  And all that is said with a giant IF in front of the idea that it is wise for you to "confront" anyone at all.  Most of the time it probably isn't.

10.  Remember, it is possible to look like you're listening intently to someone while you are actually saying The Serenity Prayer over and over in your head.

11.  Remember, "love and tolerance is our code."  If your family, or your boss, or your employees, or whomever, actually could do any better they probably would.  For particularly difficult, toxic or challenging people try to consider that it is much worse to be them than to deal with them -- keep at the forefront of your mind that those who trouble us are spiritually sick themselves, and are deserving of our compassion (as difficult as it may be to summon for some) more than our criticism.

12.  Remember, you may not have been such a winner yourself on past occasions -- it may take a while for people to "see" who you are today.  Be patient, show who you are now rather than tell who you are now, and things will eventually change.

13.  Remember, miracles do happen -- damaged relationships heal, wounded parties forgive, shattered families come back together ... it doesn't happen the way we may envision it, or with a clever soundtrack and excellent lighting as in your favorite independent film, but it really does happen.

14.  Remember, breathe.  Just three deep breaths before speaking can save a life.  I am not exaggerating.

15.  Remember, it is not your family's job to understand alcoholism or Alcoholics Anonymous -- it's yours.

16.  Remember, it's not your job to diagnose everyone in your family with your magical new sober powers, nor is it your job to whip out your spiritual took kit and try to fix anyone around you.  AA is a program of attraction, not promotion.  When in doubt, keep your mouth shut.

17.  Remember, AA is a "design for living" -- and what that means in the real world is that other people's behavior does not dictate my behavior -- you can't make me yell or behave badly, only I can make me do that.  I am not a doormat, but I don't have to go to every fight I'm invited to, either.

18.  And finally, remember, bring your Higher Power with you -- you're not going in their alone.

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Why 18 and not a nice round number like 20?  Dunno -- I only have 18 I guess.

Happy holidays to all, and whatever you celebrate, it is a special day, but it is also just another 24 hours, and one minute at a time, this too shall pass.

Cheers!

Just a bit more about antidepressants and sober alcoholics, etc.

Recently I got an email asking about what "some people in AA say" about antidepressants and other medications.

While no one speaks for Alcoholics Anonymous -- we have no official spokesperson -- there are a number of places in AA literature which clearly state that AA suggests people only take direction regarding medication from doctors and other qualified, licensed professionals.  The book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) advises that "the world is blessed with many fine doctors and we would do well to make good use of them" (a rough but accurate-to-the-spirit-of-the-quote paraphrase).  There is also a great brochure -- which sounds so lame, I know, suggesting people read a brochure -- with an intelligent and balanced discussion of this issue, but again, reiterates that people should follow a doctor's recommendations when it comes to medicine, not anyone else -- be they a sponsor, a spouse, an impassioned and opinionated sober friend or a crusty middle-aged sober blogger.  (Okay, they didn't actually say that last one, but I think it's implied.)

Just in case the five times I said it in my previous writings I may not have been completely clear, I will say it once more here:

A doctor -- a licensed medical doctor -- is the only person one should listen to about what medication is or is not appropriate for a recovering alcoholic to take.  No sponsor or any other member of any 12 Step group is qualified to give direction on this -- in fact, persons who try to do so are both misrepresenting what Alcoholics Anonymous itself states and also should be viewed with grave misgivings.  And are probably on an ego trip.  And might also be, as my mother used to say, nutsy-kookoo.

In addition let me say that not only should a doctor be involved in putting you on a medication, but there should be check-ins to be sure dosages are within appropriate parameters and no one should suddenly stop taking medication without involving a doctor as well -- that is sometimes the most important thing of all.

I confess after I put up the answer to the email question about antidepressants I did not feel good about it.  And by that I mean I think my answer was clear, but a little ... simplistic.  On one level, yes, it is a very simple question:  Who should you listen to about medication?  A doctor and only a doctor.

But on another level sometimes it is not a simple issue at all.

Nothing I write here is intended to undermine or contradict what I said above or in my earlier post about taking medication only with a doctor's advice.  But to let that stand on its own without further discussion doesn't feel clean to me, and so I am moved to add the following:

I think it is naive to paint all doctors with a broad brush.  Some doctors are less familiar than others with addiction.   Some doctors are just as happy to listen for 20 seconds and then whip out a prescription pad and write a few 'scrips and then send you on your way, billing your insurance company (if you're lucky enough to have insurance) and moving on to the next patient.  As in any profession, the quality of the professional can vary widely.

And I think it is especially naive to forget that the pharmaceutical industry is not part of some grand philanthropic movement, bent solely on bettering the lives of people everywhere.  There is a product to be sold and a sophisticated sales and marketing element in play to get that product moving -- and not only is the general public sometimes influenced by that element, but doctors and the medical profession as well.  Some treatments -- and medications -- seem to come "into fashion."

Also, I think it is fair to say that many addicts are adept at playing doctors false, and claiming levels of anxiety (or depression or whatever) -- or convincing themselves that they are experiencing anxiety (or whatever) -- which may not be entirely true.

My experience is that there is situational depression (or anxiety) and organic depression (or anxiety) -- the former comes from tough things which happen in life and the latter from genuine brain chemistry imbalances, or crossed wires, etc.  My experience is that medicating situational depression or anxiety is potentially a bad idea for someone in recovery. 

Today we are more adept at identifying the many, many different kinds of mental and emotional illnesses there are, and no one should suffer needlessly.  In getting a diagnosis it is important to consider the genetics factor.  Looking at family history can be a big clue as to what is appropriate diagnosis and treatment.  But it is certainly possible that people in someone's family tree remained undiagnosed --  it's not always going to provide solid information -- we know more now.  Plainly put, just because (for example) no one in your family has been diagnosed as manic-depressive doesn't mean it doesn't run in your family -- but at the same time, if no one in previous generations or your extended family has been diagnosed with something you think you might have, and there are no family "stories" about them which paint a picture of organic imbalance ... well, that should be a clue to examine things more carefully before embracing any labels.

If an addict is taking medication as directed for severe anxiety or depression that they have experienced, then it is a damn good thing there are such medicines available to help them.  But if an addict is taking medication because they are afraid they are going to have feelings of anxiety or depression ... that is troubling, and I would urge anyone in such a situation to consult with a psychologist and get some good 12 Step input IN ADDITION TO talking with a doctor -- but NOT instead of.

Many people I sponsor are on appropriate medications for a variety of issues.  My suggestion to those that ask my experience on the subject is that, if they have more than one doctor prescribing medicines they commit to making sure all the doctors know about each other.  I suggest they write down all the different medications they are taking, what dosages and for what conditions -- just for the sake of clarity.

Most medications of this nature work best with a consistent application -- and for an addict to feel like they're taking medicine instead of drugs it is a good idea to have a rock solid routine as to when the medication is taken, i.e., always take it before you shower in the morning, or just before bed, or what-have-you.

Just as it's our responsibility to be smart about our recovery, and learn about the 12 Steps and the principles of the Program, it is each person's responsibility to learn about whatever medication they may be taking -- so they can be wise about noticing any changes in themselves -- for the better or worse -- over the course of their treatment.

Addicts are shortcut people.  If you tell me I have to do the work or I can take a pill, I want the pill.  Real medicine is not a shortcut, it is something to help you function -- and the long term ramifications for addicts who are looking for a medicinal shortcut are not good when it comes to staying sober.

The most terrifying truth in the world to me is that I can convince myself of anything ... anything.  I do not seem to be alone in that -- lots of alcoholics are able to do that.  So I must add here that sometimes it feels like some people are medicated needlessly, or over-medicated, or frighteningly casual about these very powerful drugs. I wouldn't feel like I've been completely honest if I didn't say that, too.

Thus I believe the best follow up to the statement that only a doctor should be giving advice about antidepressants, or mood stabilizers, or anti-anxiety medication, etc. is that people in recovery should go very slowly and carefully in this area.  Proceed with caution, and only when you are well armed with the facts.

Finally, I think sleeping pills of any sort do not fall under the heading of antidepressants, et al, and are a bad, bad, bad idea for alcoholics.  But maybe that's a post for another time.

Only a doctor should give direction when it comes to medication -- this is merely my attempt at a few follow up suggestions and ideas for people to consider, nothing more.

Shooters -- Quick shots from Meetings

I'm not sure who originally said it, but in AA I have found it to be true:  Listening is an act of love.

Questions via Email: Son drinks heavily, black's out, history of arrest, escalating aggression -- possible dual diagnosis?

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

My son is in his early 20's and has been drinking heavily since high school.  He is smart, handsome, tall, healthy looking, blessed in many ways.  He has been arrested several times for being drunk in public and now he is getting aggressive.  He lost a scholarship because of a series of drinking incidences and finally was not only kicked out of school but forced to sign papers stating that he would be arrested if he went on campus.  He went on campus and was arrested.

Recently my son had a black out and went to one of our friend's house.  He was crying and incoherent, and had to be subdued, first by one of my friend's guests and then by the police who called me to come get him, they did not arrest him but followed us in the car to take him home.

The people who saw him that night feel that he was not only drunk but that in addition to that he has severe mental illness.  Thankfully, no one was hurt.  He was incoherent, sobbing and howling and afraid and aggressive.  He is a big young man, over six feet and muscular.  It was suggested that I make him leave my home, as he is a danger to others and himself, but also that I try to get him into some kind of mental facility.  He says he will not get treatment and does not need treatment.  He has agreed to leave our home, and is today contacting [name of local "House"] to try to move in there, but from what I understand, there is no treatment there.  I think that the longer I let him stay at home with us, the worse he is getting, although he is going to AA every day and has "confessed" each time to his sponsor who is coming again tonight to take him to a meeting.  He says that he got upset last night, because at an AA meeting, he admitted some things he had done, getting rough with me and his sponsor got angry with him, so he left the meeting and got drunk.

So... list to reconcile:

- my friend who saw my son the other night tells me that the longer I let him stay at home the worse he will get, that I am preventing his "recovery and treatment"

- if I "kick him out" he will get arrested soon for drinking again and getting out of hand.

- if I do not kick him out, he will continue to get worse, and have drunk episodes every now and then.

- He has been going to AA every day for about 3 weeks, and has a sponsor who has been taking him every day to AA.  He has not been drinking during that 3 weeks period.

- He says he can quit alcohol anytime.- He has drunk episodes once a month and the rest of the time seems to not be drinking and is attending AA.

- He is my son and I love him and I am scared that he will get violent in jail and never recover.- He does not admit how bad his problem is.

- I do not know where to get him treatment, I cannot get an appointment with anyone here without at least a 2 month waiting period.

(I don't think I need to go on, as I am sure you have heard all this before.)  I attend Alanon meetings which is probably the reason I am still alive.  Please let me know what you think.

My questions are:

- WHAT IS YOUR ADVICE?

- CAN YOU RECOMMEND A: FACILITY, DOCTOR, WHO CAN TREAT: MENTAL ILLNESS AND ALCOHOLISM?

- SHOULD I JUST LET HIM GO, RELEASING A MENTALLY ILL 21 YEAR OLD TO "HIS OWN DEVICES"?

- PLEASE SEND ME ANY CONTACT INFO FOR ANY (ALANON or other) PERSON WHO MIGHT HAVE ADVICE FOR US.

Parent Afraid and Confused

Dear P.A.C.,

I put my parents through hell.

When I was maybe seventeen years old my parents woke up to find me raging drunk, in their bedroom, going through my mother's purse to take money out of her wallet so that I could go back out drinking -- I had already snuck out that night, but had blacked out early.  Apparently when my parents tried to calm me down and put me to bed I wrestled my mother to the ground.  And bit her.

For the record, I can take any fifty-something year old arthritic woman you want to throw at me, two rounds out of three.

There is a young man in my family now who very closely resembles what you describe with your son -- he severely abuses alcohol, has a history of violence, there are questions regarding dual diagnosis (i.e. addiction and mental illness) and also refuses to admit he "has a problem."

I share those things with you so that you know I am not speaking from theory -- and I understand the pain and fear and confusion you are going through.  I understand it, in fact, from the drunk side and the sober side.

Anyone reading your email will be moved by the love and courage you have demonstrated so far, and understand the feelings of helplessness you must struggle with when trying to address how to best help your son.

All I can do is share with you my experience, both my personal journey and as a witness to others, from meetings, sober friends and in the roll of sponsor.

An active alcoholic can often present with symptoms that look very much like mental illness -- "present" being the medical lingo I have picked up from watching reruns of "House" -- meaning you can be a wicked drunk and to different people it will look like different kinds of crazy.  The problem is, it might BE mental illness -- though from what you've said in your email, more likely in addition to alcoholism rather than instead of, in my experience.  I would suggest looking at your family tree on both sides -- most of what you're struggling to determine regarding your son has a genetic component.   If there is a history of various conditions in your family then that can serve as a big clue as to what diagnosis best fits your son.

I'm not sure a group of people at a friend's house are going to best be able to sort out someone who is howling-at-the-moon-blind-drunk (as I myself have been many times) from someone having a psychotic break of some sort.  My blood alcohol level when I was arrested for drunk driving was .31 -- my behavior at times was frightening and bizarre -- I assure you along the way you could have reasonably diagnosed me with any number of mental illnesses, based on how I "presented" -- both wet and dry.

Certainly, considering what you describe, I would say that your son MAY have another appropriate diagnosis, that is, anything from low grade schizophrenia to severe post traumatic stress from some incident in his life of which you may not even be aware.  Again, I say "may."  The expression "if all you have is a hammer then every problem looks like a nail" can also be applied to various sectors of the medical profession, as much as it can to the 12 Step community -- some doctors are pretty damn quick to start writing prescriptions.  Regardless, sadly, until your son wants help it almost doesn't matter who is offering it or what they offer.  This is perhaps the most heartbreaking part of addiction and mental illness both.

From your email you yourself seem unsure as to whether what is torturing your son is merely alcoholism or there is another, equally difficult diagnosis.  That is completely understandable, as clearly you are trying to approach the problem intelligently and from all angles to get your son the best possible help.  But other than being institutionalized against his will -- and I am no expert but I believe beyond a 72 hour Suicide Watch/Hold I am unsure, since he is not a minor, you can "commit" him somewhere if he doesn't want to go -- there is very little which can be done for him professionally if he is not willing to accept treatment -- be it treatment for one disorder or several.  I've made that point twice because it is so difficult for a parent to take in -- if only you can instruct, cajole, bribe, overwhelm, order your child to accept a doctor's care... but even if we search the internet far and wide to find the absolute best dual diagnosis caregiver available, in these situations it seems a patient's willingness is key.  And thus far your son is unwilling.

While it is the party line in AA not to diagnose other people as alcoholics, I will go out on a limb and suggest that early and very heavy alcohol abuse, blackouts, severe personality changes (only aggressive or violent when drunk -- and if someone needs to be "subdued" we are past aggressive and into violent, P.A.C.) and denial ("I don't have a problem!")  -- well, those are very strong indicators of alcoholism.  If you have addiction in your family tree I'm going to say that it is perhaps an overwhelming body of evidence from which to diagnose your son as an alcoholic.  In my experience a handful of weeks and some meeting attendance in between severe blackout drinking is an unconvincing scenario for arguing that your son suffers from a mental illness alone -- if at all.

Given what you describe, the escalating episodes, and -- although you are soft pedaling it in your email ("getting rough with you") the fact that there has already been some kind of violence in your home -- first and foremost, for your own protection you should probably move towards no longer having your son under your roof.  I believe you must begin to put your own health first -- as difficult as that is for a loving parent to do -- but you must do so in order to be available to help your son down the line.  21 is young, (seems so to me, anyway) but in no way is 21 a child.  Consider what your friend suggests, as I know you already have, that allowing him to live at home may actually be working against his recovery now.

There are a number of things in your email you are afraid of -- and rightly so -- regarding what might happen to your son if he does not live with you.  I am so sorry, but many of those things you fear are not things you can prevent, or save your son from, no matter where he lives.  Thus you must begin to take good care of yourself so that on the other side of some of those experiences you can still be available to help.  There IS a middle ground between "just letting him go" or, as you put it later in your email "kicking him out" and having him live with you.  Just because he is not under your roof does not mean you can't show him love and support, bring him covered dishes, give him cards telling him how important he is to you, continue to try to find the right professionals to assist him.  Yes, he may have some very bad episodes not living under your roof -- but frankly he's already having very bad episodes while living with you... even if they are only once a month or so.  (For now -- alcoholism is a progressive disease.)  You are understandably, as a loving parent, equating his living under your roof with a level of safety and protection from his problem(s).  And yes, staying with you may offer some buffer against the symptoms of his problem (trouble with police, etc.) but likely will do little to address his actual problem, if in fact he is an alcoholic -- which, again, going out on a limb, I am going to say seems very likely from what you describe.

I am sorry to say this, but things may have to get worse for your son before they get better. 

And frankly, whether there is more than one issue your son is dealing with or not, I'm afraid your son sounds like a bully -- when someone says something to him he doesn't like he runs off and gets drunk.  "I'll show you!  I'll hurt me!  Then you'll be sorry!"  I loved that con and pulled it for years -- in fact, for me anything was a good reason to drink.

At this point the issue is not whether or not your son's drinking and/or recovery will be impacted by his living with you.  It makes perfect sense you want to find a way to set your son up for success in getting help, but the real issue regarding whether your son lives with you is your safety.  It does not sound like your son has (thus far) been able to stay sober and refrain from violence ("getting rough") while living with you.

What usually works best with alcoholics is a boundary and consequences -- which is very easy to say and very hard to do.  "You can live here if you stay sober, but if you drink you are out."  Or "If you drink you are out in five days" or something.  VERY hard to hold that line -- but that is one possible way to handle it.  Pray, take advice from alanons and other parents and try to separate out the difference between shielding your child from pain and helping your child deal with his addiction.

To that end, this blog may be very helpful, and this entry of theirs in particular is probably something you should read.  (In fact, be sure and read the second link, P.A.C. -- I think it speaks directly to some of your issues.)

And anyone reading this who may have information, suggestions or assistance to offer who emails me via my blog link I will gladly forward along to you, in addition to trying to do a little research and get you some specific information as well.

IF your son is dually diagnosed, that is, both mentally ill and alcoholic, in my experience the treatment for the one will not address the issues of the other -- in other words, if your son were both diabetic and an albino, his insulin shots would not work as sun screen -- there would be different medicines and precautions which must be taken for each condition.

KEEP GOING TO ALANON. 

Also, and this is equally important,

KEEP GOING TO ALANON.

Finally, the best help available is from people who have been through the same things, so

KEEP GOING TO ALANON.

P.A.C., I will keep you and your son in my prayers.  I can tell you that I was a terrible drunk and am now a happy and sober man, after a very troubled youth.  I personally know many, many men and women who were in straits as dire as what your son faces -- and worse than what your son has experienced thus far -- who have, through AA, gotten sober and live wonderful, vital lives. THERE IS MUCH TO BE HOPEFUL ABOUT.  Your son, although he is not willing to admit he has a problem yet, is attending AA and seems to have a sponsor who is very involved in both getting him to meetings and telling him the truth.  And best of all, your son has a wonderful, loving, strong, supportive, caring and courageous parent in his corner -- which is far more than many people have had in their lives.

Although there may still be some very painful times ahead, know that others have walked through what you are handling now, and come out the other side.  Eventually, you may even be able to take this pain and use it to help other parents of troubled sons (and daughters), alchemizing it into something bigger than what you can imagine today.

Please take care of yourself, and when you can, please write again and let me know how you and your son are doing.

Again, my prayers are with you both.

Love,

Mr. SponsorPants

... but only if we keep coming back.

Towards the end of the meeting he raised his hand and shared.

He spoke quietly.  He was deeply honest, talking about issues from his life and how it seemed his alcoholism had taken them and used them as fuel for especially dark and self destructive things.  It was getting harder for him to believe it was worth staying sober if this emotional hell were to continue for too much longer.

In this meeting we sit in a circle, so I could see not only him, but many of the people listening to him as well.

As he opened up I watched the faces around him painted with sincere compassion, deep empathy and a real sadness for what he had been through before and what he was facing today.

No kind of writing, no television show, no play or scene in a movie will ever adequately capture what really happens in those moments in an AA meeting, when an alcoholic shares the dark truth of their struggle with people who have lived and felt it themselves.  There is an attentive stillness in the listeners, and I believe that it is in those moments that Something enters the room.  Healing happens, or at the very least, great pain is lessened for a time, and made more bearable so that someone can carry on.  I would even say that in those moments it is possible to feel God in the room, palpable and powerful.

Alcoholics Anonymous does not own this experience -- the power of sharing honestly with people who understand and do not judge is an ancient healing tool, probably in many ways almost as old as humanity itself.

But for it to work, people must speak their truth, and others must listen.

That's what AA owns.  Through a spiritual process -- the 12 Steps -- and the example of others who have walked the path ahead, it takes alcoholics, who's "moral compass" has been ruthlessly subverted by fear and ego and alcoholism until lying is as easy as breathing, and shows us that the truth will actually heal us.  AA meetings show us how to find our truth and speak it.

I know how New Agey faux Native American that sounds -- but it is literally true.

And it teaches us how to listen -- not just listen, but hear.  The very people who's self obsession was so intense that we were deaf to others, in conversations merely waiting for our turn to talk again, completely absent from an honest exchange, can now sit, still and attentive, as someone in pain brings it to a meeting to share and take the power out of it -- and perhaps leave not only a little lighter, but with practical solutions and real tools to help them cope.

Not every meeting is quite so intense.  Sometimes in an AA meeting I'm just sitting there, and it's seems pretty mundane, and I think to myself that I'm actually just sitting there waiting for the next person I'm supposed to help to come through the door.

But other times I am privileged to be a part of something else, something bigger than myself, and I am witness to real recovery and subtle miracles and I look at the people listening and I feel how we are all connected, and I think that there is hope for us all, no matter what we face there is hope and healing for us all -- but only if we keep coming back.

Things I learned (or was reminded of) this week. An ongoing series.

As effective and powerful as interventions and church groups and Rational Recovery and rehabs and AA may be, more people die of alcoholism and addiction than recover from it.

Old behaviors create old feelings.

If you want to develop self esteem do esteemable acts.

The pursuit of pleasure is not the same thing as the pursuit of happiness, but it is easy to mistake the former for the latter.

Committing yourself to being of service gives a sense of purpose.  A sense of purpose engenders deep feelings of happiness.  Thus, service = happiness.

sometimes I lose faith in my fellow man

Sometimes I lose faith in my fellow man.

This is a terribly unoriginal sentiment, a veritable cliche -- but a very real and painful place to be.

Some people, when they feel this way, get motivated.  They get busy.  They work for change.

What I want to do when I feel this way is shut down, isolate and then do things that are foolish and potentially self destructive, like eating something with a metric ton of white sugar in it.  And on it.  Or have unsafe sex with serial killers and junkies who don't bleach their works.  (Listen to the pudgy white kid from the 'burbs show off his drug lingo.)

Or drink.

Because losing my faith in my fellow man means I see the world as a hostile place -- which is laughable in one regard, since compared to most people on planet Earth I live a life of security and freedom and dizzying abundance.

My sadness or anger, compared to the daily lives of many people, is almost like sacrilege.

Which means that I get sad and angry (frightened) and then I judge myself for being sad and angry (and frightened).

Sometimes insight's a bitch.

Goodness, what a lot of self-involved histrionics.

It can be very busy in my head sometimes.

So I go to an AA meeting -- even though when I feel this way, despite the overwhelming evidence I have to the contrary, I don't believe in those moments that it will help.

It pretty much always does, though.

I go to AA meetings when I don't feel this way so that when I do feel this way I go to AA meetings.

I'm pretty sure this is a big part of why I'm still sober.

a car out of alignment

"... the main problem of the alcoholic centers in his mind, rather than his body."

"Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) Chapter 2, 'There is a Solution,' pg. 23

Treating the disease of alcoholism is like driving a car that has its wheels out of alignment.

It's driveable, but what's needed is an equal, constant and opposite compensation on the part of the driver against the pull of the car's misaligned wheels.

For me, Alcoholics Anonymous -- the whole deal: Steps, service, meetings, fellowship, sponsorship -- are the equal, constant and opposite compensation against the pull which alcoholism exerts on my thinking.

If I let up on doing the deal it takes very little time for my thinking to begin to drift.  And the longer I slack off from constantly working to compensate for that sick, selfish pull, the farther I drift into life's oncoming traffic -- and the greater the likelihood for real tragedy.

The mystery of addiction is that, no matter how often this point is brought home, no matter how clearly one may see it or how strongly one agrees, it's still possible -- even easy -- to forget.