When Someone You Love Drinks Again

We develop a lot of really strong relationships in sobriety – particularly with those people we got sober with. It’s almost like we went to school together. Started in kindergarten and moved through the grades, growing and changing as we learn from others.  We support each other. We encourage each other. It’s an unusually powerful bond.

That’s why it is so devastating when someone  you spent a lot of sober time together with relapses.  In some ways when it happens, particularly if they refuse contact or “disappear,” we go through a grief process. This process mimics the way we feel when someone dies, because we know drinking again leads only to bad places, the ultimate bad place possibly being death.

This is why I think it’s important to be very vigilant during this time. You can try to help your friend, but that’s not always possible.  I remember the feelings I went through when someone I had considered a mentor relapsed.

First, I went through denial. The first hint was the smell of beer. I felt perplexed, then shook it off: no, it can’t be. He wouldn’t drink. He’s been sober over 20 years!

Then I saw him roaring drunk, barely able to walk. The next feeling was shock. How could this person I so admired do this? It can’t be true!

I then felt betrayal: it was like he’d done it to me. He had abandoned the path we were on together. He had thrown away this amazing life – all these incredible opportunities in his life were disappearing as he continued to drink.

All his friends rallied to get him help. Rehab after rehab, sponsor after sponsor – and he would drink again. I started to feel angry. What the f is wrong with him?!! Doesn’t he see he’s killing himself?  Doesn’t he remember how much better it was when he wasn’t drinking?  He was on top of the world! Successful! Loved! Admired!

Apparently the allure of alcohol trumped success, love, and admiration.

Then I got scared: if he can relapse, so can I. I used to take his advice. Am I doing anything wrong now? He said it “just happened” – it was like another voice coming out of his body ordering a Wild Turkey.  He described it almost like demonic possession. Would that happen to me?  Would it be different for me? I wouldn’t be as bad as him (warning, warning – not a good way to go!).

Then I got real. If he can drink, anyone can drink. I don’t ever want to find out if I would be as bad as him. I already know what I’m like when I drink: no thank you. Double-down on sobriety!

Then I got sad. As the years passed and our hopes dwindled I knew I would lose him soon. I remember recognizing the potential for total loss: I cried hard.

Then I accepted it. It was when I learned he was given about a week to live. I knew it was over. I had to accept that nothing could be done. Nothing had worked.  I had some regrets: did I do enough? When he AMA’d himself and walked 2 miles to my house and asked for a ride home, should I have fought him harder? Could I have done more to convince him to go back?  Well, he did go back four, five times, to no avail, so I guess not.

It’s still painful to think about this loss, and I think anyone in sobriety who loses a fellow traveler on the road goes through at least most of these stages. The most important lesson is that alcohol IS INDEED an insidious disease. Don’t let your guard down.