YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

Today I am nine years sober.

I am very grateful. Its a wonderful life. There are as many ways to be sober as there are sober people.

There are many good things about my sober experience; the one I think about today is that I have an excellent dental experience, day to day. I certainly didn't have that in the bad old days.

The day I got sober I was couch-surfing (one step from homeless), covered in fleas, no savings, no bank account, unemployable, no vacations, no medical or eyecare, five year old glasses, and I showered in cold water (the gas got shut off in the house I was staying in).

Today all of those things are improved or resolved. I have plenty of other problems, which, if you have six hours, I can tell you all about.

I have a respectable, responsible entry-level white collar job, a life's savings in the very low three figures (even $100 can make lots of problems go away). I walk with my head up and shoulders back. I walk like I am somebody, because I am, and like I am headed someplace, because I am.

My car tags are current and my taxes were submitted on time.

Like alot of sober guys, I immediately began craving sweets, crying all the time, and my life got worse. It got better eventually, but it got worse, then much worse before it got better.

90% of my bad experiences in my 40 years have happened in the nine years I've been sober. Bad times, real bad.

But I never chose to drink. Nothing has "made" me drink, or tempted me. Of course I dream about drinking again. In these dreams I never have self-judgment, just a simple and easy decision to start afresh.

This is all very good. I take it for granted. A dear friend of mine died of alcoholism last year. I've been given a gift daily that he, his mother, his family would have given anything for.

While my situation is, sincerely, good I write all this not to say what a good person I am.

I say all this to demonstrate that people get sober every day.

Lots of people go to meetings. They're sober. I stopped drinking all at once, not even finishing the beer I was drinking. I'm sober.

I'm not anything special. If you met me you'd see I'm remarkably unremarkable.

If I can be sober then so can you. So can your loved one.

I don't believe in God, but I believe God came down and made me sober in an instant. A summer Sunday afternoon in a house full of struggling people.

Trite, but true: getting sober is like falling in love at first sight: you never know when it will show up, or if it will. But it is wonderful when it does.

If it happened for me it can happen for you, your son, your wife. There is absolutely hope.

I share your experience of the worst happening in the period of recovery.

The mantra that stuck with me from early recovery is "First it gets better. Then it gets worse. Then it gets different. Then it gets real."

I'm glad you're still grateful for it. "A grateful heart will never drink."

"Oh, I'm sober."

This is what I realized today, 8 am on a lovely and refreshingly cool Saturday morning, I was out playing Pokemon Go, seeing the happy people at the farmer's market, and going to yoga.

For years, almost 15 years, I'd go to this same little town I was at this morning and get drunk. I was abusing my body, wasting my time, stuffing down my feelings, ignoring what was most important to me. I was around a bunch of people who weren't headed anywhere, and it was lots of surface-type emotions back then.

Today I have the recommended shoes (I go the doctor now, when I hurt), am eating better, and have a clean car. None of those things were true when I was drinking.

Later this morning, after buying sushi (with brown rice), I wanted to ask out the gorgeous yummy mummy at the bank. I simply didn't ask her out. I knew I wanted to, but I didn't.

Here's the thing: I can feel regret now.

In the bad old days I would have been attracted to her in a very superficial way, but would not have given myself the permission to consider that she might want to date me. I was foggy, starting with all the alcohol sloshing around my brain. I had cobwebs.

Not that I enjoy the regret of not inviting her out, but I appreciate feeling a healthy emotion fully.

It seemed so natural, so fun back then to get all drunk and stagger around. Now it is natural to be up at 8 am, getting fresh air. I also posted in this forum about finding courage: I am using my words.

Rant, if I may:

Sometimes I feel silly always posting, in this forum, about "using my words", about being so careful to take action.

A family member of mine is willfully, recklessly plunging into a well-known public health debacle. Long story short, not using words may cost my family member his life. It has already cost him quality of life.

I know I stopped drinking all at once: June 16, 2008.

But I think living the sober (abundant, generative, vibrant, painful) life is one of becoming: just like I am continually in the process of becoming a man.