“I was constantly trying to explain my irrational thoughts and behaviors. I had intellectualized my entire world. I had rationalizations for just about everything. I lived in complete denial of my addiction and the life it created. I feared shadows, running away from ghosts of the past, present, and future, and my impending doom. When would the next tsunami hit? I was a walking time bomb, sure to go off. On a roller coaster, out of control, heading for a disaster. Death only a matter of time; committed to dying, sure to happen. No way to live. Not living, just along for the ride with death.
One day, I was looking out the window of my townhouse on a dreary afternoon in late October. I thought to myself, if I keep drinking I would be sure to start back using the tranquilizers, sedatives, and narcotics, etc. I would overdose next, followed by another intensive care unit, psychiatric hospital, alcohol. I wasn’t afraid of death. I was afraid of living. I had had enough. I had reached my bottom. I was trapped somewhere between living and dying, in limbo, on the fence, the most difficult place to be. I couldn’t stay sober, and couldn’t stay drunk. I was a cat on a hot tin roof, unable to stay airborne. I began my long journey of surrender to win. I had to give up alcohol and drugs for good, one day at a time. I had to acknowledge I was powerless over alcohol and drugs; imagine, finally…“
—Chapter 8 “Powerlessness and Acceptance,” Bohunk’s Redemption, From Blacking Out to Showing Up: A Doctor’s Adventures
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