How Do I Know If I’m an Alcoholic?
People often ask me, “How do I know if I’m an alcoholic?”Most of us carry around stereotypes about alcoholism—the person sleeping under a bridge, homeless, or living in a shelter. But alcoholism doesn’t always look like that. I’ve known alcoholics who held full-time jobs, were successful in business, and were respected in their communities. I once believed an alcoholic was someone who never drew a sober breath, but that simply isn’t true.
When newcomers ask me that question, I usually tell them that only they can decide if they have a problem. A parent, spouse, employer, judge, or police officer may suspect it, but the individual has to be willing to admit it. For me, alcohol became something that controlled my thinking. Even if I only drank on weekends, I obsessed about it all week long. By Friday, my mind was already planning how much fun I was going to have. But once I started drinking and the compulsion kicked in, I could never predict how or where the night would end.
I wasn’t a blackout drinker. I remembered most of what I did, and that almost made it worse. Those memories can become haunting over time, and the easiest solution always seemed to be drowning them out with another drink.
My own drinking didn’t fit the stereotype either. I drank mostly on weekends. I played guitar and sang in bars, dated, danced, and used alcohol for social confidence because I was shy. My drink was Dewar’s Scotch. I convinced myself I had found the “right” way to drink because I didn’t get hangovers, black out, or act sloppily. I thought I was in control. But looking back, control was only an illusion.
I still went to work every day and was productive. I never drank on the job. My party came after work, and I told myself it was simply how I relaxed. So how could I possibly have a problem?
The cracks began to show
The cracks began to show slowly. Friends moved on with their lives and gradually stopped wanting to be around me. The chaos and late nights no longer appealed to them. Drinking more didn’t quiet my mind anymore. Depression crept in, health problems arose, and even though I was never arrested, trouble with the law no longer seemed impossible. Life was becoming unmanageable.
So I tried changing everything except facing the real problem. I changed where I drank and who I spent time with. I tried exercising more, met new people, and started fresh. But nothing changed because alcohol was still at the center of my life.
Eventually, I hit bottom. For me, a bottom was simply the moment I honestly realized I was out of options. That realization was impossible to deny. Alcohol wasn’t covering my problems anymore—it was the problem. Not my job, my relationships, my childhood, or my circumstances. The common denominator in all my troubles was alcohol.
Once I admitted that, I finally had a chance to change. I looked honestly at my own history and saw that as long as I drank, I was powerless to change the direction of my life. So I called AA and went to my first meeting.
That decision changed everything. I committed to 90 meetings in 90 days, found a sponsor, and started working the 12 Steps as a suggested program of recovery. Slowly, I began to feel like part of life again. AA became a beacon of hope for me, and that hope has never faded. I saw people just like me find a solution, and their lives gave me faith that I could recover, too.
For that, I remain deeply grateful—to God, to AA, and to the fellowship of people helping one another, one day at a time.