My Drunkalogue, Part 1

Gather 'round, my children, and listen while the Unchained Mouse regales you with tales of the sad and desperate Chained Mouse of yesteryear.

My Salad Days, Apparently With Alcoholic Dressing

In early adulthood, I drank like a fish.  I loved the effect of alcohol as soon as I tasted it, and it was only two years or so until it was my only real purpose in living.  I lived to drink.  There was no distinction between daily drinking and binge drinking, because it was daily binging until unconsciousness.  Eventually a DUI and a few disorderly conduct charges shook me out of it enough to want to change, even though "change" only meant not getting arrested.

[Side note:  This was more or less about the time that David Sinclair was testing pharmacological  extinction on humans.]

I still had no real goals other than intoxication.  I sought help, but the only so-called help I found was Stepping, and even that was offered in such a smug and arrogant manner that it was clearly a poor option for someone already struggling to justify continued existence.  I just muddled along, sometimes drinking more and sometimes less.  I wanted to improve my life, but didn't really want to stop drinking.  These goals were not compatible, and the alcohol won.

[The Sinclair Method existed -- David Sinclair filed a patent in 1989 -- but I would have rejected it even if I had known about it.  I wanted to get bombed.]

After my second DUI, I was forced into "treatment" by the court.  This was the same old Minnesota Model, basically just getting Stepped on for a month.  I abstained for a while after that because I didn't want to repeat the experience of so-called treatment.

Trying to Be a Functional Addict

A few more years ticked by.  I tried abusing cold medicine, but that was not as fun.  I went back to alcohol.  Third DUI.  This time I tried to be a little more assertive, and I traveled to a mental hospital in Illinois which offered RR-based therapy as well as Stepping.  I abstained for a while after that, but again it was more to avoid repeating the experience than because the therapy had been effective.

A few more years ticked by, and I moved to Albuquerque.  I remained desperately unhappy and lonely, so guess what I did?

[The Sinclair Method not only existed, it was being used successfully in other countries.  I would have embraced it eagerly if it had been available to me.  By that point, it was clear that I was caught in a trap.  Everything past this point DID NOT HAVE TO HAPPEN.  I would have been thrilled to have a cure.]

I got a fourth DUI, although they treated it as a first because they didn't know about the others.  The charge was dismissed because the cops didn't show up in court -- I still have no idea what happened there.

I more or less had a lid on it until I lost my job (for unrelated reasons).  At that point, with no external restraint, it got quite bad again.  On one especially rotten occasion, I woke up passed out on the floor at 6:00 in the evening, a tipped-over bottle beside me, and with no memory of anything past the previous evening at maybe 9:00 or so.  That was an unusually bad night, but that was basically my life.

Sooooo, I soon acquired my fifth DUI which was also miscategorized as a first.  There was more first-time DUI preaching.  It was Step-based and as useless as ever.

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of Unchained Mouse's drunkalogue!