It’s Worth the Work.

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

A philosopher once wrote that life is like a huge house, a mansion, with many, many rooms, each one different from the next. Unfortunately, most of us limit our world to just one room, not knowing that the other rooms even exist. As a result, our knowledge is confined to our experiences in that room. If someone tells us that their room is much larger, we base our comparison on the size of our room because that’s all we know. If ours is 10 x 10, well then their big room must be 15 x10 or even 20 x 20…


It’s unlike anything else, this alcoholism. You watch yourself commit continuous acts of self-destructive. You have a disease that tells you, you don’t have a disease. It’s not an after-work thing; it’s a during-work thing. The days of enjoyment are long gone.

There comes a time in all our drinking careers, and my guess is I can speak for most alcoholics, when we’re asked by a witness, could be someone on the receiving end of our behavior, ‘why don’t you just quit?’ The question is well-intended. I mean, if every time you ate shrimp, you broke out in rash-covered convulsions…


Like most alcoholics, I didn’t think I was slipping much.

Even if I were, my fall from grace would be something I could control. Like I could step out of it for a bit, take a good look at the situation, and then maybe make a few tweaks that would arrest my slide.

I also needed to ensure everyone understood this whole booze thing wasn’t that bad, and even it was, it was mostly their fault, not mine.

But I couldn’t or rather wouldn’t, because self-truth is not allowed on the slide, and worse, you’re getting used to it. …


Like most alcoholics, I knew everything during the early days of recovery. I knew more than my counselor. I knew more than my wife (and boy, was I quick to remind her). I knew more than you.

I knew all the people, places, and things that justified my drinking. “You’d drink too if you had a ________. (job, wife, family, parents, etc., etc.)

I also knew I was different than the people around the tables. They weren’t talking about what I needed to do to get everyone off my back and let me get on with my life. …


I’ve been sober for 9,282 days.

I know because I have an app on my phone that tells me these things. I typically don't count days (anymore). I refer to this app because it contains the Big Book, plus some other helpful info, most from the steps or traditions. I’m a Big Book thumper, but more about that later. I don't consider sobriety anniversaries a big deal, but writing about them is a bit cathartic.

There are those who wear their sobriety dates like a badge of honor and those who never, ever speak of it. Both are right, I’m…

Tom Murdoch

Advertising Copywriter • Children’s Book Author • Traveler • Golfer • Searching On the Road Less Traveled • Recovered Alcoholic • Big Book Thumper • Husband

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