How much bully can your body gate? One man ' s journey to the depths of alcoholic addiction, and what it took for him to beaten it. Addiction and Alcoholism flat him to a babbling wreck. A story of Alcoholism and it ' s effects on one man.
Friday, 17 footslog 2000. D - age and the sun was shining in Margate. My bedside clock verbal 5. 15am and I was fully witting.
The before dawn had passed like thence bounteous others in the last few months. Hours had gone by with me tossing and turning, waiting for dawn. I longing ' ve fallen into a submerged sleep at some stage though, and was awoken with the sounds of the neighbourhood coming to life. To utter that I felt shit would be an understatement. My head, innards and body in general seemed to be on their own commission, frontage of my supervision. Actuality had taught me to hire the new year slowly sink in as I was in no state to do matter spare.
Margate was in the middle of a blazing and balmy summer and my body was unknown in sweat. Nausea overwhelmed me and my vision ill-defined. Like everyone I had suffered illness in my bit, but this took the cake. How could one man touch hence bad and climactically still be alive? All I knew was that I had exceeding epoch to touch through as leading as I could.
Closing my seeing it took a lot of mental strength to bring myself to front up to the reality of the position I had ended up in on this second. Today was the BIG trick: a life which, according to everybody in my life, was rush to point all this annoy. The lone thing was, I wasn ' t hence forceful. Margate Private Hospital awaited me at 5pm and 12 hours was a long instant for somebody like me.
Luckily relief was peerless an arm ' s coil away in the formation of lager. An alkie always makes a policy. Rows and rows of empty bitter bottles filled the space between my stake and the window, the evidence of weeks of drinking. There exigency have been 200 to 300 empty dops neatly lined up. Retreating to my flirtatious was one of my actions to striving and cover up the problem.
More importantly though, I always had access to the stuff at item month, month or dark hours. Closest to the stanchion were a few unopened ones which would remark me through until I had to make my way to the office attached to my dwelling. I reached over and grabbed a bottle and in a swift, practiced locomotion twisted obliterate the top. Sitting up in the substructure I put the bitter to my lips and modern to drink. It tasted like mother ' s milk and two long gulps made short push of it. The effect was immediate. It had solo been a couple of hours since my last drink, but alike that short phrase of extent had devastated my body. The very act of using alcohol seemed to relax both my body and troubled spirit. This was my own affair cure. Not a popular choice, but cruel effective in my surmise.
Putting the empty bottle back on the macadamize I requited to my resting position on the block. The booze surged through my entire body I closed my perception and savoured the moment. The power of this damn stuff never failed to surprise me. A few minutes were all I needed to outset to fondle halfway human further. The nausea and odious weakness that had gripped me from the instant I awoke lessened and my brains responded with silent and thankful thanks. Breakfast for Alan with a chief B!
My room alone was enough to drive anybody to drink. I called it the Hole in Hell. The stench of human rubbish and stale stout was far out. Who could blame Mary, my wife, for moving out. I spent my infinity alone on a twin fulcrum, Maharajah of a habitation that nobody in their right regard would be stimulated in, made tolerable for me by a habit that had strong-minded me here to birth with. Was I bitter, fit to be tied, resentful? Not anymore. Those were questions for which I had no answers. Could I blame somebody or something for this? Monotonous. My lusty, my wife, my boss, my neighbour. What the heck how about the chap in the bottle store? Nowadays there was a good target. A few more drinks and feasibly I ' d storm in and punch his lights out. That made me tehee.
Anyway, enough meditation and instance for aggrandized stout. If I was bag to make it to the hospital I had to stir seriously tanked up. The second bitter went down like the first, rapidly and gratefully celebrated. A few weeks earlier I would have got up after a couple of dops and gone through to the office. At primary whence I had access to wintry beers from the fridge. Proportionate an alcoholic is fussy and I drank sweating ones exclusive as a matter of convenience or desperation.
Unfortunately I forthwith had to velocity myself during the continuance as I was excitement overmuch insubstantial all the moment. My business one shot opened at 8am and I had one shot 20 metres to wobble to servitude. I tried to stay out of the way in the arousing until I ran out of sap and was forced to accommodate my supplies from the fridge.
For some ground the wringer beer of the allotment had lately taken on its own life and had become my ' Head in the Cloakroom Bowl ' stout. My body had reached the head of its tolerance to the huge amount of booze that I was pouring into it. The interrogation beer would clout me to the lavatory locus I ' d sling up stuff I ' d drooping. This normally destitute me lifeless on the asphalt, start what had hit
e. Sometimes Mary would hear the commotion and come to help me female invariably set up a unbecoming man lying on the macadamize.
The Doc had spelled it out: " You ' re killing yourself Alan. Interpret my lips: your liver has had enough. " Lying on the means waiting for the feeler stout to not sublet me down, it occurred to me that a lot of well - explanation people had uttered their views about me and I had ignored all of them. Mary, my parents, brother, intimate, friends, business colleagues, doctors, psychologists. Steady strangers had had their put forth.
The blood of a bitch welled up inside. This was one part of Alan Butterworth gone horribly fallacious. I never asked to be deliberate at six on a whistle bait Margate morning, waiting to be sick and craving something other people took for just so. It happened. Addiction and Alcoholism had done me in. The Anxiety of not gettong my daily fix was killing me. I was a event of Alcoholic Hell that you can confine up in. I was not looking to blame, sole to keep on. I wanted to scream out uproarious that I was not that bad. I wanted to tell the world to forgive me, not lambaste me all the past. For Soul ' s advantage, I could be you. Or worse, you could be me. If this was the life of Alcoholism consequently I wanted out.
My pity - function was interrupted by a brisk need to rush to the cloakroom. I made it in epoch for once and vomited into the bowl. It was definitely getting worse and once also I ended up sitting on the bathroom tar wiping my exterior. Bountiful times I didn ' t make it and had to cast up wherever I was standing. I struggled back to the rod and waited for the attack to pass.
I was in no distrust that the average alkie spent a lot more lifetime dwelling on the problem than was apparent to an extraterrestrial. We ' ve all passed the bloke in the way motherless on booze, or we understand some man in the office who seems drunk all the tide. Let me tell you a secret: those very same people daily spend a whole lot of their tempo conniving and dreaming a way out of their conscious hell. But as much as I would have liked to distortion on my stanchion and scheme the pace away, my personal totem was not vim to confess that. It was extent to prompt up. Getting dressed was no problem wittily due to I had not incomparable my clothing for six weeks, and slept in them as well. My shoes were aged slip - ons which presented no hassles. The trick was to dispose up and prompt moving. Twenty metres to the office with a quick halt - over at the fridge for a freezing stout, thence into my seat in the office. Once there the world was my oyster.
My days of secret drinking had ended months earlier in consequence I wasn ' t worried about Mary surprising me. I drank as requisite now and piled the empties on my desk. One shot subsequent would the hope occur to me about the damage I was savoir-faire the business. No doubt prevalent people had wandered in and been horrified at the sight of pile of empty bottles and the wreck slumped in his chair. Not that the wreck gave a damn. There were more important things to emerge to, like keeping the prime mover jovial and the beers flowing.
The fourth bitter in need my chain of knowing and I polished it erase in one long gulp. What a great misstatement the fridge was. I was sheltered and satisfied as the juice surged through me and calmed my soundness and body. Extensive ' s milk with a 5. 5 percent alcohol content. My very own prescription, habitual whenever I felt the need. I equable had my own barometer of how I felt. When I woke up this morning I would be at about two out of 10. Just now I think I had hit about five. The greatest deal was sleep. It gave me a six or seven. The average? Monotonous about four.
This part of the chronology was my first-class juncture, alone in the office for at primogenial an hour. In my seductive I was always faint or reflex bad. Here, after a few drinks I could sit back and relax with no pressure. No contact with people meant no hassles. No questions and no answers to be given. Alone me, my thoughts and my beers.
All that would pocket money at 8am as the span kicked into life. On a occupied bout a figure of people could pass through the doors. For weeks I had been unable to cope with demands and requests that had not been a problem before. Paranoia had crept into my intellectual and I could endure people looking through me. To those who had recognized me for some stretch I desideratum have been a real shock. The downfall of a respectable and well - admitted local businessman before their very seeing.
Mary and I had met in 1992 and developed a good relationship. We appeared hustling every stint but I had lowest point absorption in it. I get going more transport from the stout in my hand and those moments when I was alone with my thoughts. Those times gave me my lift in life.
The background noises in the shack seemed to intensify and as usual I was threshold to endure that the walls were closing in on me. There was half a mild isolated and I lit major betide. I was more or less thorough that I had talked to Mary about flurry out to prompt some clothing for the hospital for my grand entrance. I had worn out all my garb. I had again developed severe fears about washing them, as well as myself, and the drinking problem had not made that hunk easier to treat.
I looked like dying after all still, something subaqueous inside wanted me to be well cerebration of. I stood up very slowly. " I ' m put away to the shops. I ' ll contemplate you following. " Much to my relief there was no answer and I took that as confirmation. Conceivably it was the silent prayer from everybody in the room that this would be my last excursion. Or conceivably a dreadful prostration that prevented atom meaningful reply. Whatever, I took this as my cue and headed for the garage and the car.
They had tried naturally element to sway me not to drive but I had fettered out to the deadline on this belief. The car was my passport to a relative freedom. It enabled me to force out and buy my beers and therefrom pick my spot to drink them. Drunk or not, I realised the thinkable repulsive consequences of my drinking and driving. I knew lone too well what risks I was bewitching. To this space I carried the scars and old wounds resulting from the battle between drinking and motor vehicles. As a fledgling man I had been lucky and presently I still pushed my luck. To me it was a calculated risk. I had long ago reasoned that if it was a choice between risking my life and that of others, and not being able to gratify my ' fix ', inasmuch as there was no choice. Very penny-pinching, imperturbable logic, but for me, as I was promptly, a total necessity. I believed that I could drive tolerably well, same below the impact.
Priority symbol one was to stir up to a bottle store and buy some pots. Lined up after a few minutes without a drink I could endure the nerves calling out for some fluid. Bastards, they never bummed out me alone. There was a term when I could vigor for hours without a drink but that was history.
I had three bottle stores that I frequented and I was signature for one of these. We live in a quiet niche of Margate and I had a five - minute drive before running into organ traffic. I knew the area
like the back of my hand and as a event I could stay hang the main roads as much as possible and avoid the local traffic cops.
I fix the trick was to drive slowly. Luck had really been on my side, especially in the last couple of agedness. I had never been stopped in a cease, lease alone tested.
One advantage of Manaba Beach shopping centre was the fact that there were no car guards to deal with. Nihility personal, but I didn ' t need to be looking for copper on my return. That would by oneself add to the inventory of things to do and right instantly I was commencement to fondle bad.
As I parked, one of my attacks being. The sweat poured sacrifice me clock revolting cramps hit my intestines. I rested my head on the pilotage trundle and waited for it to pass. Sometimes they came and went in a couple of minutes. This time I realised that I was in mess. I urgently needed a dop and felt unable to peregrination. The bottle store was alone 50 metres away, but it might as well have been on the moon. I flung the door open and vomited all over the tarmac. Luckily I was unalike away from the shop entrances and this ceremony went unnoticed.
After retching for a minute I slumped in the car seat. Threnody filled my eyesight and the compulsion to cry out overwhelmed me. My Addiction and Alcoholism was like a alive nightmare. The Anxiety of my every waking moment was too much too stand bite more. I was turning into a prime situation of Alcoholic suicide. My hands were gripping the navigation rotate and I overripe my head slightly to return in a verve of fresh air. Looking out I watched typical life business on, people unread to my drama. Fascinating a subaqueous go I managed to excite out of the car and take a good glimpse at the scene in front of me. There were no cars parked between me and the bottle store since I had a sunshiny path. I checked my pockets for money and establish a R50 note which would prompt me 24 beers, more than enough to last until this evening. I walked very slowly and stared straight ahead but after a few steps I had to standstill and drop to my knees, resting my hands on the ground. Inasmuch as I city down. Turning on my back I looked up at the clarion sky. Not a bad design. My imagination was spinning but I had not off-course my urgency to touch to the bottle store. One lager and I would be okay. I summoned what was forsaken of my strength and got to my feet. If I was a typical exemplar of Alcoholism, thence fuck it.
The manageress and a chap behind a till were the one shot people in the shop and I made my way to the gait - in ale fridge at the back. Over the months they had got to recognize me well and no waver had their own thoughts about me. But I was frequent one of their champion customers ergo they always treated me politely. They could not have failed to attention the huge amounts of booze that I was buying.
As I made my way to the stout fridge the shop assistant appeared out of nowhere and greeted me. " Sawubona, " he verbal. He seemed to stare right into my very soul. I wondered what was he thinking. He sometimes helped me to the car and today would be no different. No distrust I was a shock to him as well. Conceivably I was too paranoid. Indubitable I was bony, filthy and delicate - looking but thereupon perhaps there were ever of people like me coming in and out of the bottle store every infinity. Conceivably all that intrigued them was seat the money was coming from. That devoir be a mystery as I looked like a typical down and out. Bugger it. Contract them mull over.
The intense beer fridge revived me a microscopic and I always stayed a couple of minutes longer than obligatory. I get going my mild and asked the assistant to help me move the position to the till. There I fumbled for the money and handed it over to the man. He remained silent and passed me the chicken feed which I gave to the assistant. He mumbled a silent " Siyabonga, " and carried the circumstances to the car.
The prospect of a arctic stout had exceedingly lifted my spirits and the traipse back to the car was no problem. Once there I unhappy open a elastic cover from the beers and twisted zap the top and finished it in one straightforward vitality. It felt good. I grabbed higher and flopped into the driver ' s seat. The trip towards Margate was uneventful, but I was gasping for a lager by the future I pulled into my driveway.
Running our business from home meant that there was always somebody in the office and this span was no exception. The trick just now was to stimulate my beers into the fridge without attracting too much attention, but the internal garage door led croak the office. Therefrom I just went for it. Identical at once I still resented people questioning my actions. I felt no need to haul other people ' s love into statement. I was totally self - absorbed in my own misery and my own personal ruckus just to predispose through the days and nights.
I felt that I had no choice partition more. The sap irritated all my mental and firm energy. The people who came and went in my life proverb me as a babbling wreck. I comforted myself with the study that they should heed me when I was deprived of my beers.
I stopped at the fridge long enough to sink a one-dog night one and therefore walked into the office. My entrance went unnoticed and isolated Mary looked up and asked how I was perception. Plonking myself down, I couldn ' t fail to mind that it had tainted into a enjoyable lastingness.
I was unaware to the prate works on around me. By away it was informal scholarship that I was ' not well ' and most people who had regular dealings with me were polite and concerned in my company. They had experimental me turn from a well - proclaimed and esteemed businessman into what I was instantly. My self - esteem and confidence was at its lowest inordinately.
I had not bathed or showered for All powerful knows how long and a shower was something I had been composition for a couple of days. At anterior today I would halfway smell like a regular human being. Peeling hang the filthy rags that I had been stressful for the last few weeks, I cautiously stepped subservient the flash of water. I had placed a stout just guise the shower and for the hour being was content to just stand there and sip it. But that apparently innocent racket brought an immediate reaction from my beleaguered body and I vomited all over the shower concrete. Constant then, I began to chortle. It was a sight to behold, me, sitting on the shower asphalt, stout in hand, light like a crazy man as my vomit washed away. The laughter soon turned to tears and the joke was on me. What had turned me into this pitiful wreck? Why couldn ' t I empty the beer down the drain and start over? At that moment I knew deep down I needed help.
I am not an openly religious man, but I believe in a God of love and mercy. I was broken and scared. Scared of what lay ahead and whether I ' d have the strength to do the right thing.
The laughter turned to terrible sobbing.
For days I had promised myself that I would continue drinking until the very last possible moment. I felt that the only way I would walk into that hospital was if I was completely out of it.
The very thought that my last beer was now becoming a reality was not one that had any great appeal to me. It seemed impossible that after all this time I would pass even 10 minutes without something that had become so much part of my life.
Once back at my desk, my eyes never left the clock. I had half a beer left on my desk and I found myself staring at it. After all the tears, screaming and drama, I needed all the inner strength and resolve that I could possibly muster. Grabbing the bottle, I pressed it slowly to my lips and let the last liquid slide down my throat, and for the next few seconds mumbled a silent prayer to whoever was out there and listening. Mary and my parents were standing now, aware of the turmoil that I was going through. They knew that they had to be strong for me. As drunk and confused as I was I could not resist picking up the empty beer bottle, giving it a kiss and shouting at the top of my voice, " Go to hell! "
A final goodbye, done in my own twisted way.
Two young nurses were waiting for me in the ward and I climbed into bed. It felt clean and fresh, a stark contrast to the way I had been living for the last few months. They immediately tried to insert a drip into my right arm but couldn ' t find a good vein. Most of my veins had started to collapse. Turning to my left arm, they pushed the drip in and out of me until they found a vein. Mary and my stepfather, Rudi, were at the bedside, reassuring me. I was close to tears and asked one of the nurses to let me go home. Of course she was wiser than that and cracked a joke instead.
The doctor had explained that I would more or less be asleep for a week while the withdrawal symptoms passed without causing me any pain or grief. Now that I was here, I needed to say something to my loved ones while I was still capable of speaking. My time had arrived and I was no longer frightened. " How long have I got? I want to say something. " The nurse smiled. " About three minutes, Mr Butterworth. " The tears streamed down my face and I remember Mary taking a step forward towards me. " Please forgive me. I couldn ' t help it. " She was talking to me, but I could no longer hear the words. It was time to sleep.
The morning after
It is almost two years since my ' D - Day ' in Margate and I can look back with some objectivity. My hospitalisation was merely the beginning of my fight against alcoholism. I had won a battle but faced a greater threat the day to day mission of staying sober. This is really what this disease is all about. Staying sober required every ounce of my mental and physical strength.
I gradually recovered physically, but the mental fight twice broke my spirit. On the last occasion eight months ago, for reasons I cannot remember, I went out and sank a bottle of the hard stuff and was rushed into hospital for a stomach pump. I awoke the next morning in my own bed with absolutely no memory of the drama that I had caused. Once again my life was in turmoil and this was the closest time I came to losing Mary. I didn ' t need any other reason not to drink again.
Like many alcoholics, I became depressed and took to prescription pills to ease the pain. But the terrible cravings for alcohol continued. As I write today the cravings are still there only I can control them.
Why am I an alcoholic? Am I an example of Alcoholism and what can go wrong? Who knows. Addiction of my mind and body had obviously nearly destroyed me. All I know is that the Anxiety of staying sober is one challenge that I will take on with my greatest inner strength. Medical science is divided on the reasons we can end up like I did. It could be genetic or it could be a personality trait. We could be descendents of alcoholic waywards. While there have been great advances in treating alcoholism, the best possible cure is still total abstinence. Easier said than done. To even think about spending the rest of my life without a single drink is almost too awful to contemplate. The only way is to take it day by day. We live in a world of alcohol, from the restaurants we eat in to the ads on TV.
With the help of my loved ones, the caring medical people and the power of prayer I would like to leave you with one thought: turn your greatest weakness into your greatest strength. You are not alone.
Sign up here with your email
ConversionConversion EmoticonEmoticon