I’ll Do This Alone, the Way I Got Here

It's nice, if that makes any sense, to have a sharp physical pain as a constant reminder and incentive to remain clean.

My brother had a very serious episode that was directly related to addiction. He almost ruined his liver, was hospitalized, missed work, miserable for several weeks…you name it. He had no choice but to quit smoking and drinking cold turkey.

It should’ve been my wake-up call; it was not. I thought I would be different.

Two months later, I started noticing the exact same symptoms and warning signs. As I am typing this now, I have a sharp pain in my liver. It’s swollen and enlarged from months and years of alcohol, cigarette and marijuana abuse. It hurts.

Using My Pain as an Incentive

Today is the third day of my pain. It’s also the third day without alcohol or marijuana. I quit smoking cigarettes several weeks ago. All have been extremely easy to do so far. It’s nice, if that makes any sense, to have a sharp physical pain as a constant reminder and incentive to remain clean.

I’m extremely proud of myself for quitting everything; that is the reason I’m here. To boast. I feel like I need to tell someone because, and this should come as no surprise to anyone here, I have never told anyone about any of these addictions.

I feel like I need to tell someone because, and this should come as no surprise to anyone here, I have never told anyone about any of these addictions.

My wife, my two children (all of whom I live with), my parents, my brother, my best friends… none of them have even the slightest idea that I was smoking weed or cigarettes, let alone almost a pack a day and an ounce a month. I was getting pass-out drunk probably about 5 nights a week…yet no one knew it.

I know; I know…that’s what everyone says. But I really do think that I was so good at keeping all of it hidden that nobody knew. Sure, they might’ve suspected the cigarettes. That’s a very hard thing to hide.

But I’m doing this on my own…because I want to live. I want to see 36. I want to see my two daughters grow up – both of whom are currently younger than reading age.

Finally Telling My Story

I think I can do this on my own without meetings, without ever having to admit it to anyone. Someday I think it would be healthy to at the least confide in my brother – who’s going through the same thing. But for now, the love that my family shows me feels genuine and although I hate myself for my previous mistakes, I want to hold onto to whatever pride I have left.

I doubt I will ever revisit this site…who knows? But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up. It means I’m winning. I’m kicking butt.

Thanks for allowing me a place to share my story. I needed it.

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