I’m not a kid. I’m a 52-year-old man that recently had to admit to himself that he has an alcohol problem. I guess you would say I’ve had a pretty normal life. I was an athlete in High School. I played varsity football for three years before going on to play in college. I guess that’s when I really started drinking. After the game someone would inevitably have a party and there was always beer on hand. Funny thing is at that point, we really weren’t doing anything wrong. Drinking is the American way of life. Christ, the most popular beer in America comes in a red, white and blue can for god’s sake. But anyway, I went on to play football in college, I got good grades and graduated top of my class. I got out, got a job in sales and by 27 I had a master’s degree in business, I had a successful marketing position and I had married the women of my dreams.

Unfortunately, the other woman of my dreams came in a little aluminum can. I was a drinker. I drank. I would have a few at lunch and a few (too many) after I got home from work. But it was normal for me. It didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong. I wasn’t breaking the law and most of my friends did exactly the same thing as me.

Me and my buddies didn’t come home falling down drunk and wasted. Instead, we seemed to maintain this constant almost drunk level that allowed us to function, as we needed to for the most part. As I got older, there were times when I would try to see how long I could go without having a drink. I think when I was thirty-six I was able to make it through five days without a drop of alcohol. To me, that proved I didn’t have a problem and things went on as they normally did. Until…

Until I went to the doctor one day for a routine check up about a year ago. I was fifty-one. I was a successful businessman, still happily married, I was a grandfather and I had one daughter that was finishing up her Ph. D. in education. It was then that I was diagnosed with diabetes and cirrhosis of the liver. It was a double whammy that I wasn’t prepared for. I felt like I was young and that this couldn’t possibly be happening to me, the college athlete. But it was. My doctor sat me down and had a long talk about my current eating and drinking habits. I knew I drank, but I never thought I had a problem. Like I said, I wasn’t the guy that came stumbling home every night with no idea where he left the car.

My diagnosis was grim unless I stopped drinking almost immediately. I’d like to say that I did, but I didn’t and it landed me in the hospital for over a week. In a way, this was the best thing that could have happened to me. For nine days I wasn’t able to drink and I used that as my launch pad toward beginning a sober life. I consider it God’s wake-up call to me. I’m fifty-two now and I haven’t had a drink in over eight months. I attend regular meetings and I’ve had to admit to myself that I am an alcoholic. I’ve been forced to make drastic lifestyle changes to keep my diabetes in check and to keep myself healthy and strong. Alcoholics Anonymous is a big part of my life now as is my faith in God. I guess my message to people is to please seek help before it’s too late. Learn to recognize the symptoms of abuse even if they don’t mirror those that you see on TV on a nightly basis. Just because you can function in society it doesn’t mean you don’t have a problem.