Don't Tell Me I'm Not an Alcoholic
Source: This Week, April 26, 1959
By JOHN BOIT MORSE as told to Arthur Gordon
Rancho Santa Fe, Calif.
Please don't tell me I'm not an alcoholic. You endanger my life if you
do. If you persuade me to take a drink, "just a little one," I could die
for it.
I am writing this article because I am alcoholic, one of five million in
this country, and well-meaning friends keep telling me I'm not. "An
alcoholic? Don't be silly! Not you!" they say. "Oh, you may drink a
little too much, but you were under a lot of pressure then. That's all
over, now. Come on boy - say when!"
I have known alcoholics, struggling to eliminate alcohol from their
lives, who did weaken, who did "say when." I have seen the grim trap of
addiction close on them again. I have seen them die of it. Most
alcoholics do.
THE TIGHTROPE WALKERS
Because alcoholism is a fatal disease, if allowed to run its course. It
can be arrested, if the victim stops drinking, but it cannot be cured!
Long abstinence makes absolutely no difference. An alcoholic who has not
touched liquor for 20 years is just as much an alcoholic as he ever was.
To tell such a person that he doesn't have an incurable and fatal disease
is absolute madness - and all too often it is exactly what the victim
wants to hear.
Nobody enjoys an alcoholic. Most of us who are on a program of recovery -
and we represent only a pitiful six or seven per cent of the stricken
five million - have struggled to a painful acceptance of a stark fact: We
are physically different in our reaction to alcohol. We cannot drink. On
our constant recognition of this fact depend our happiness, our sanity,
our lives. But we are like tightrope walkers; one small push can send us
hurtling into the depths below.
Why are well-intentioned people sometimes guilty of giving us this push?
In the first place, friends who are fond of us don't want us to be
alcoholics because of the stigma that is attached to the label. Medical
science has at least tagged alcoholism for what it is: a disease. But
public opinion is slow to follow. So, when a friend tries to tell you
that you're not an alcoholic, he thinks he is doing you a kindness.
In the second place, many people still have a fixed and stereotyped
conception of what an alcoholic is-a human derelict on Skid Row, or a
moneyed ne'er-do-well languishing in some institution. If you don't fit
into either category, they find it impossible to believe you have lost
your tolerance for alcohol.
In the third place, your admission that you are an alcoholic disturbs
some of your friends because it is a threat to their own drinking habits.
"If this fellow is an alcoholic," they say to themselves uneasily, "what
about me?" There is little logic in such a reaction: only one drinker out
of 15 or 16 becomes an alcoholic. But I have had the distinct impression
on many occasions, that the person loudly assuring me that I couldn't be
an alcoholic was really trying to reassure himself.
And finally, alcoholics often have to face strong opposition from close
relatives who feel that any such admission will bring disgrace or
disapproval upon the family. Recently a good friend of mine died of
alcoholism at the age of 43. Doctors found her physical disabilities
indicated she had been an alcoholic for a great many years. Yet six
months before she died, her father told me impatiently that she wasn't an
alcoholic, and named a dozen women who drank more and behaved far worse.
All her friends and relations had assured her that she wasn't an
alcoholic. Most of them still think she died of heart failure, a
falsehood that the newspapers faithfully recorded.
The only way an alcoholic can begin a program of recovery is through
recognition of his disease. This is never easy since addiction invariably
carries with it a deadly tendency to justify, to rationalize, to deny
anything that might bring about the end of drinking. Believe me, I know.
I went through it myself.
A GRIM REALIZATION
A number of years ago, three people very close to me seemed to have
drinking problems, so I obtained and read Marty Mann's "Primer on
Alcoholism" with a view of being of help. Several years later, my own
drinking behavior was sufficiently abnormal and depressing to make me
recall the book. I reread it, and I also read "Just One More," by James
Lamb Free. It was a grim experience. I tried frantically to dodge - I
sought every means to prove that I wasn't an alcoholic. But the evidence
was too strong.
What evidence? Well, in one of his classic studies, Dr. E.M. Jellinek
lists the characteristics displayed by the victim of alcoholism in three
successive stages of the disease. I found that many of these descriptions
applied to my own behavior. Black-outs, for example. These are episodes
involving loss of memory, and should not be confused with " passing out."
There were many times when I would play bridge quite competently all
evening, and have little or no recollection of it the next day. Once I
drove 120 miles from San Francisco to my home in pebble beach, and woke
up the next day with no awareness of having made such a trip.
MORNING-AFTER REMORSE
Many other symptoms listed by Dr. Jellinek were present in my drinking
pattern, although, like many alcoholics, I usually succeeded in keeping
them from my friends. Sneaking drinks, evasiveness about drinking habits,
excessive remorse the morning after - the signs were all too plain. I was
still years from Skid Row, but I was on my way. I didn't look like an
alcoholic, and I obviously didn't act like one-but when I finally
described my symptoms to a doctor, he confirmed my fears - I was one!
I remember very well the reaction among some of my closest friends. It
was almost violent: derision, denial, anger, endless proof that I could
be an alcoholic. Soothing, wonderful words to a man who craves a drink!
Welcome justification for starting all over again!
I remember very well the reaction among some of my closest friends. It
was almost violent: derision, denial, anger, endless proof that I could
not be an alcoholic. Soothing, wonderful words to a man who craves a
drink! Welcome justification for starting all over again!
I know now that these reactions were based on ignorance - false
conceptions of what an alcoholic is and how the disease works. Nobody
knows all about alcoholism; even to the experts, some aspects of it
remain a mystery. Let me try to dispel a few of the major misconceptions.
To begin with, please don't consider the alcoholic a moral weakling.
Actually, he may have more will power than you have. But he is ill-the
sickest of men.
Next, don't limit your mental picture of an alcoholic to the derelict in
the last stages of the disease. There lies the derelict in the gutter,
close to insanity or death. Has he just recently become an alcoholic? Was
it five years ago when he became a dishwasher? Was it ten years ago when
his wife divorced him? Was it 15 years ago when he lost his bank job? Was
it twenty years ago when he first began sneaking his drinks to make sure
of "getting his share?" Was it 25 years ago when he had his first
blackouts? Today science knows that he became an alcoholic at least 25
years back-and that he was just as much an alcoholic then as he is now.
Try to remember that alcoholism is an iceberg disease - the symptoms are
largely hidden, at first. In fact, during the first five or ten years of
their addiction, alcoholics generally take great care to appear as normal
social drinkers. It is the heavy drinkers or occasional drunk who
misbehaves. It is the alcoholic who apparently remains sober. But it is
the alcoholic who slips away first from a cocktail party, often on the
pretext that he has "work to do" but who then goes home or to an
out-of-the-way bar and satisfies his grim, compulsive need.
Don't be misled by appearances. My wife, Virginia, who recovered from
alcoholism when she was 29, is a youthful and energetic woman. People
meeting her for the first time and learning of her disease invariably
protest, "You can't be an alcoholic, you look as healthy as a child!" She
is an alcoholic-and looks as youthful as any victim of the disease who
has been blessed with an early recovery.
Alcoholics Anonymous leaves statistics to the authorities and the
research groups, but it is a generally accepted fact that in the
beginning, some 24 years ago, the average age of AA members was 50 or
more because only end-of-the-liners were thought to be alcoholics. Today,
thanks largely to the remarkable educational work of the National Council
on Alcoholism, younger people are joining in various programs of
recovery. Most newcomers to AA nowadays range from teen-agers to persons
in their 20's, 30's or 40's. They are recognizing the disease early.
THE INVISIBLE LINE
This brings me to one last recommendation. Sometimes the young recovered
alcoholic is told that he must have had a light case since it didn't
progress very far, and that surely he must be able to take a little wine
or beer. In the first place, there is no such thing as a "light" case.
The alcoholic who crosses the invisible line is - and will remain - an
alcoholic all his life. And there is no such thing as a partial
alcoholic: either you are one or you are not. In the second place, it
doesn't matter whether the fatal drink is wine, beer, 100-proof
bourbon-or for that matter a cough syrup with an alcohol base. It is the
alcohol that does the damage, in any form.
So please try to help us. Recommended to those who may be problem
drinkers that they write to the National Council on Alcoholism in New
York or one of the 55 community committees throughout the country, or
call AA. Or read Marty Mann's "Primer on Alcoholism," or James Lamb
Free's "Just One More."
But don't tell them they're not alcoholics. If you are wrong and they
believe you, they may die.
Source: This Week, April 26, 1959
Contact:
The Legacy Group of Alcoholics Anonymous © 2005