What Are The Odds?

“You gotta know when to hold ‘em.

Know when to fold ‘em.

Know when to walk away.

Know when to run.”

Kenny Rogers

The Gambler

I just found out that my friend Elizabeth is dead. She crashed her car into a stone wall at high speed two nights ago and the road is still closed. I don’t know what caused the crash but what I do know is that Elizabeth couldn’t stop drinking.

Every once in a while someone walks into an A.A. meeting and it really takes me by surprise. I don’t know why it does. It shouldn’t. As I’ve written in previous posts, alcoholism doesn’t discriminate. “From Park Avenue to Park Bench”, no one is immune to this disease. Nevertheless, Elizabeth caught me off guard. She was one of my “civilian” friends. By all appearances she totally had it together. Bright and accomplished, she had an Ivy League education, a successful business and a beautiful family. Country club, garden club, book club…she was talented, athletic, social and philanthropic.

But she couldn’t stop drinking.

I’m sure she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. And quite possibly embarrassed or ashamed. I remember the first time I saw someone in a meeting from my “real life”. I was mortified. Busted. “He’ll know. He’ll tell. He’s judging me.” Then it dawned on me. He was there for the same reason I was. And I soon realized that I now had an ally. A kindred soul. Someone who made me feel less alone. Someone I could see on the street or at the gym or at a cocktail party and feel a special connection to. An unspoken bond. An anchor in the stormy sea of early sobriety.

I hope that’s what I was for Elizabeth. I didn’t try to catch her after that first meeting but I know she saw me. The second time she came she caught my eye and gave me a wry smile. She slipped out early again but the third time she stayed after the meeting and we talked. She started to call me occasionally and even asked me to sponsor her, but after a few weeks the calls would stop and I wouldn’t see her at meetings. A few months later she’d slip back in, sometimes telling me that this time it was worse, that this time she was really going to commit to the program. And then the damage would get fixed and the consequences she’d suffered would become a distant memory once again. “I’ve got this” she told me once. “I’m good now.” “Business is great.” “I’m super busy.” That was her pattern. She’d get her life straightened out and stop going to meetings…and then she’d relapse.

Alcoholics Anonymous is not for everyone. As a recovery coach I know that there are many pathways to recovery. But what I also know is that the opposite of addiction is connection, and having some sort of support and accountability is critical. Alcoholism is isolating, secretive and lonely. And when you’re alone in your addiction the voices in your head get really loud. Those voices sound like your friends and they tell you all kinds of lies. “You’re under a lot of stress.” “You’re not hurting anyone else.” “It’s not affecting your work.” “You can stop after________.” (Fill in that blank with anything you want: This weekend, the holidays, the wedding, the vacation, the summer, the winter….)

And of course the biggest lie: “This time will be different.”

So we play the odds. We roll the dice. We spin the barrel of that Russian Roulette revolver and keep hoping for an empty chamber. But sooner or later our luck runs out.

Addiction is the only disease that tells us we don’t have a disease. We need other people to remind us that we do. And we need to maintain connection with those people or the voices will start talking to us again. Quickly and convincingly. And once we start to drink again we lose the power of choice.

It’s too late for Elizabeth. But she really wanted to get sober. And as long as we’re still alive, we do have a choice. We can fold our cards and say “I’m out.”

Or we can keep on rolling the dice.