Apology to Myself

In order to complete a 12 week Relapse Prevention program this weekend, my councilor asked me to write a letter of Apology to Myself. Well, here it is in hopes that it might help anyone who knows what I'm talking about.

Let me first say that apologizing for my addictions sort of feels like I'm apologizing for falling face down. In one sense I don't feel responsible for it but in another I feel like I should've been watching where I was walking.


And apologizing to myself seems almost deceptive and insincere because although older, I'm no smarter or stronger or better today than I was 20 years ago when I began drinking. I can't look back as an adult with any authority as someone who’s ‘learned their lesson’ or can resolve to ‘never do it again’; I'm really still just the same person today as I was then. Only now, I know how it feels to fall.


There were signs though. There were big flashing red signs that I ignored. Alcoholism is in my family. I grew up seeing the destructiveness of alcoholism first hand. Alcoholism was a very real presence even while I was still very young. And even though I heard that big black train coming with a howling whistle screaming my name, I deliberately mocked it. I climbed to the tracks, lit a cigarette and stared into the flood of its headlight until it came to a screeching stop at my feet. I challenged it. Not with any intent to win; But I fully opened my first bottle from my Dads liquor cabinet as though it were my turn to climb on the back of the family dragon and ride for as long I as I could.


I wasn’t just drawn to alcohol early in Jr. High and High School; I was seduced into alcohol. And immediately, alcohol became a secret lover for me. Alcohol was a shelter from all my own insecurities and anxieties about life at home and school and every overall responsibility. Alcohol cradled me into a false sense of peace whispering gently that, “None of this world really matters. All that matters is the way you relax into my arms and drink me in.”


And I was smart enough to know that alcohol was not a healthy escape. I was experienced enough after having watched adult men in my family throw away jobs and love and respect as they continued drinking. In short, I knew what I was getting into. Like someone who tries Heroin for the first time. That person as they’re loading the needle has no right to say, “I have no idea that this is bad for me.” No, I knew. I knew…


And so if this is going to be any kind of apology at all then, it first has to be a confession too. Because I have to fully admit that even then, 20 years ago, I willingly accepted the lifestyle of alcohol as a fantasy-like substitute over the reality of living sober.


And by the time I was through with High School, I really had no ambitions left of being sober at all. I was already discouraged past the point of making plans for my future. I had already given up investing in myself. I had no personal will for a higher education or job training or starting a family. All I really felt qualified to do was get away, get drunk and keep drinking.


And I will not apologize for being an alcoholic. I don't know if I ever had a decision in that. But I do apologize for not caring enough about myself to resist. I apologize for letting myself rush into what I knew I should’ve run away from. I’ve allowed myself to be abused. I’ve allowed myself to be manipulated. And I’ve allowed myself to be destroyed.


So, I apologize to my body for the damage I've caused it while drinking.
I apologize to my mind for the adolescent state I've remained frozen in while drunk.
I apologize to my emotions for always repressing them into a dull pain so I wouldn't have to accept them.
I apologize to my past for allowing so many irretrievable years to be lost:
Years I spent in bars instead of college.
Years I spent in clubs instead of at home, starting a family.
Years I spent with lust instead of love.
And years I spent in hiding instead of in helping others.
I apologize to my future for any damage my past might cause me in years to come.
I apologize for having a criminal record.
I apologize for having scars, lost teeth, and any future bodily damage lingering from my old habits.
And, I apologize to my spirit for underestimating your strength.
I drown you in liquor hoping to kill you so I wouldn’t have to follow you.
I drown you in liquor to avoid listening when you told me I was meant for more.
I drown you in liquor to keep you hidden from others around me so they would never expect from me any of what you had ready to give them.
I drown you in liquor so you’d let go and just let me die.


And in these my first apologies, I still kind of feel like wrapping my fingertips around my handcuffs and holding them in tightly because I know I’m still not to be fully trusted. I’m still not stable enough to claim that I’ve stopped doing any one of these childishly destructive things.


Like I said in the beginning, I am still just the same person today as I was then. But I’ve written this letter to myself as a small attempt to quietly stand back up slowly, to dust myself off, and maybe begin to learn the reasons why I need to watch where I’m walking.