Saluting Sobriety: A Veteran's Triumph Over Addiction
- Trinity Phoenix
- May 11, 2024
- 5 min read
“Do you drink?” she asks.
“No,” I say. After a brief pause, “but I used to.”
The nurse inserts the IV needle into my hand and tapes it up.
“That’s good,” she says with a smile. “Can you tell me what procedures you’re having today?”
“I’m here for an upper endoscopy and a colonoscopy,” I say from my bed in the ambulatory surgery center of the Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center.
“They’re gonna use different cameras, right?”
“Of course!” The nurse laughs along and winks. “But just in case, we’ll start from the top.”
So, let’s start from the top. It’s late 2009. I had already spent a few semesters in college, but adding ‘Veteran of the United States Air Force’ to my resume seemed like a better idea. Plus, one of the first things the recruiter told me about being an Ammo troop was their penchant for partying. (Well, that and I.Y.A.A.Y.A.S.) They worked and played hard.
And he wasn’t lying. While traditional military culture is based on honor, integrity, and service before self, there is also a sub-culture based on alcohol consumption. Make a mistake at work? You owe a case of beer. Do something great? Get a case of beer. No matter what, the answer was alcohol. And I studied every night.
Roughly 1 in 8 American adults is alcoholic or experiences problems due to the use of alcohol.
My first duty station was Ramstein Air Base, Germany. I was stoked. With a very strong German heritage, I knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience my roots (and Oktoberfest.) In Germany, Airmen are legally allowed to drink at 18. I landed in the PAX terminal in July 2010, a few days after I turned 21. The irony was not lost on me.
Source: https://www.amc.af.mil/AMC-Travel-Site/Terminals/EUCOM-Terminals/Ramstein-AB-Passenger-Terminal/
As an adult child of an alcoholic (ACOA), I desperately needed the discipline and structure from the military to help me overcome my lack of parenting growing up. Even after basic training, I was still too damn stubborn and childish to assimilate into military life. But the reality is that I was already struggling with alcohol (and a few other things.)
COAs are 2 to 4 times more likely than non-COAs to develop alcoholism.
Throughout my relatively brief military career, I experienced multiple instances of physical and sexual assault and abuse. The first time was only a few weeks after I arrived at Ramstein. I made a restricted report to the SARC (now SAPR) office, got some medical attention, and everyone went on their way. I carried that around with me until a few years later, when another assault occurred while I was stationed at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Arizona. This time, there was a full-on OSI investigation. Ultimately, a form of justice was served.
The Department of Defense received a total of 8,942 reports of sexual assault in FY22, of which 3,001 were Restricted Reports at the end of the year.
But the damage was done. I became even more of a shell of a human. The on-base mental health clinic diagnosed me with PTSD and prescribed some anti-depressants. On the outside, I pretended I was strong. I put on one hell of a mask (or so I thought.) Inside, I was drowning in shame and anger. So, I took every chance that I could to escape. And alcohol was the socially acceptable (sometimes even encouraged) over-the-counter fix.
My DD-214 reflects a DOS of 30 June 2014. Miraculously, it was honorable. Despite wanting to make a career out of the military, it was the first thing I gave up.
During what would become my final months in the Air Force, I went on a TDY to Las Vegas at Nellis Air Force Base.
It was only days after finding out that a dear friend and mentor had very unexpectedly passed away in his sleep. He had left for Korea just a few weeks prior. From what I recall, they chalked it up to an underlying heart condition that was exacerbated by rigorous exercise and the stress of international travel. He was one year younger than me.
Alcohol abuse is prevalent among Veterans. The 2017 NSDUH reports that veterans were more likely to use alcohol than non-Veterans.
I used copious amounts of alcohol to try and forget about it. One of the permanent party Nellis sergeants that I’d spent a few days with took notice. That was the first time someone ever sat me down and suggested I might have a problem. A “mini-intervention,” if you will. As you can imagine, it went about as well as all first interventions. Nowhere.
When I got home from that TDY, nothing changed.
I still wasn’t even at my lowest point. Like a stereotypical country song, I was going to lose my job, my marriage, my son, my house, and my dog.
I drank because I didn’t want to feel pain, but after a while, it was the drinking that caused the pain—a horrible cycle and a downward spiral that cost me everything. I said hurtful things to people, and my behavior drove away anyone I could’ve called a friend.
Getting black-out drunk on a nightly basis was my usual routine. I packed on the pounds from guzzling empty calories and wasted my days drunkenly ranting on Facebook. I can’t blame the people who decided they couldn’t watch the horror show any longer and cut ties. I would’ve left me behind, too, if I could.
The divorce paperwork was filed in early 2016 and finalized a few short months later. Consuming half a gallon of cheap vodka a day will destroy even the happiest of relationships with the best of people. In April of that year, I packed what I could into my car and drove cross-country to figure out what to do with myself.
It was about that time I was finally ready to accept that I had a drinking problem.
Now, I don’t have an exact sobriety date. There wasn’t one day that I woke up and said, “Today’s the day.” For me, it was a gradual change. A long, slow shift away from the feelings that made me reach for a drink. It took a lot of determination and self-reflection. It was not easy to face the worst parts of myself and realize that I needed to do better.
Source: https://imgflip.com/i/4a49jp
And with that, I can’t say the exact day and time when I finally crossed that threshold of alcoholic into sobriety. But when you’d rather experience your life than escape it -- that’s the secret to sobriety if I ever knew it.
I think about the broken girl who told a VA counselor ten years ago, “I can’t imagine a day in my life where I won’t want to have a drink.” And I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now. (In the words of G.I. Joe, “knowing is half the battle.”)
If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize as a Veteran, it’s that no one can make it entirely on their own, no matter how independent or strong they think they are. It’s okay to ask for help. Everyone has to sometimes. That’s why the Patriot PacksTM mission of Veterans helping Veterans resonates so deeply with me.
Only about 10% of individuals struggling with alcohol addiction seek treatment.
My heart hurts for that girl in the VA clinic. I am her. Maybe you are, too.
The results of my tests showed that I have permanent damage to my stomach lining, potentially due to the amount of drinking in my past. While this damage can never be reversed, my choice to be sober can keep it from getting worse.
Living in the past and dwelling on regrets is a fast way to get depressed. Alternatively, worrying about the future and what is yet to come breeds anxiety. I can’t change what I did yesterday, and I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Being sober is about staying in the moment.
Today, I can confidently say that I wouldn’t care if I never had a drink again for the rest of my life. Tomorrow is another day, but we’ll face that when it comes.
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