Why I don’t call myself an alcoholic
I used to be a smoker. A pack a day for roughly ten years. I kept switching to lower-tar, lower-nicotine brands, trying to shrink both my addiction and the pain in my lungs. The chest discomfort was worst the day after some speedy narcotic, when I’d end up smoking twice as much. In my last couple of years as a smoker, I hated it. I tried to cut back, but the nicotine and the routine had me chained to cigarettes. I needed two on the way to work, two or three smoke breaks during work, two more at lunch, and so on. I was always self-conscious about how I smelled and hated the taste it left in my mouth. Despite everything I disliked about it, I couldn’t shake it, and I figured I’d be dealing with it for the rest of my life.
I had also built an identity around it. A smoke break was something to look forward to at work, and so was congregating outside a bar with a cigarette in hand with all the “cool kids.” I was always the “Zippo guy,” my trusty side piece with me everywhere I went–quickest draw in the west, lighting people’s cigarettes with the clack of steel and some nifty trick I’d perfected. I even had a sweet monogrammed silver cigarette case for my coffin nails. That’s right–I was one of those dorks. How could I let everyone down by not being first at their lips with flame? Who would spark their smoke if I quit!?
I finally got so fed up that I stopped caring about my self-imposed “cool” image or the few moments I still enjoyed a cigarette. I wanted out! Nicotine gum and patches didn’t work. Cold turkey never held; I always broke. Finally, I researched hypnosis and decided it would be my way out. I’d always believed in the extraordinary power of the human mind, and this seemed like the best fit.
After one session, poof! My habit was gone. I walked out a non-smoker. The hypnotist had programmed me to reach for a toothpick or a piece of gum whenever I’d usually spark a butt. It worked like a charm. When I felt overly anxious, he suggested I go jogging, which had never been part of my exercise regimen, but sure enough, I became a jogger. I still am, eighteen years later. Even while drinking or doing drugs, when I smoked the most, I stayed smoke-free. I was cured!
My addiction to cigarettes (nicotine) isn’t usually talked about as a disease or disorder, yet I couldn’t control it and did it compulsively against my better judgment. It cost me money, not only for the cigarettes but for the clothes, furniture, carpets, and car upholstery ruined by ash, smoke, and burn holes. It was wrecking my health and my ability to breathe normally. I was helpless against it, physically dependent. I’d skip buying food to make sure I could afford a pack. Withdrawal turned me into an anxious, hair-triggered prick, and if I was drinking and doing blow and ran out of smokes, an unhinged fiend.
But a few months after my hypnosis session, I no longer thought about cigarettes. I never believed I’d be rid of smoking, and yet there I was… a non-smoker. There was no special terminology or moniker to announce my past addiction. I didn’t tell people I was “smokeless” or practicing “smokelessness.” I wasn’t a “smokeaholic” or a “problematic smoker” because I couldn’t control my intake. I didn’t smoke uncontrollably because of a “disease.” I’m not in a never-ending state of recovery from cigarettes. I don’t attend daily meetings to reminisce about old smoking stories or listen to others reflect on theirs. Nothing in my daily language or actions is cast in smoking’s shadow. You wouldn’t know I used to smoke if you hung out with me now. I used to smoke. I quit. That’s the end of the story.
I view my twenty-year drinking problem in exactly the same way. The only difference is that I needed professional help to quit smoking. I lost jobs and relationships because of alcohol. I went to jail several times and crashed a couple of cars because of alcohol. I suffered countless injuries and threw away a ton of money because of alcohol. I squandered an enormous amount of time and potential because of alcohol. I nearly got killed by other people and by myself because of alcohol. Yet I walked away from it: no program, no rehab, no meetings.
I am not an alcoholic, a problematic drinker, diseased, or an addict. I am not sober, practicing sobriety, or in recovery. I simply do not drink alcohol anymore.
**I’m not telling anyone else what to call themselves. I’m telling you what I call myself.
I equate my drinking to being on fire. When I drank, I was engulfed in flames, burning alive and unable to put myself out. Once I decided I didn’t want to be a raging inferno anymore, I extinguished the flames and chose to never be on fuckiing fire ever again! Not even a little bit. I didn’t want to cut back on being on fire or control my burning by being on fire just a little. Maybe only on the weekends? NO! How about a little Bic lighter to the arm or a hot coal on the toes? FUCK NO! And since I put it out, I haven’t thought about it, nor do I need reminding that I was ever on fire in the first place.
There is absolutely no part of me that wants to drink again. I never tried to “cut down” because I knew I couldn’t. I wanted either none of the drinks or all of them, with nothing in between. But I don’t need special adjectives to remind me of my past, and I don’t find it necessary to attach names and phrases that point to questionable past behavior or moral failings for others to pass judgment on. I know I have problems when I drink alcohol. I no longer drink alcohol. Therefore, I no longer have alcohol-related problems. I don’t think about it–I don’t want it.
My name is Joshua Deen, and I used to drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes, and now I don’t. That’s the end of the story.
National Library of Medicine
“Terms such as “alcoholic,” “addict,” and “abuser” may well reinforce the belief that individuals with alcohol or substance use disorder are immoral, blameworthy, and undeserving.”
Why language matters in alcohol research: Reducing stigma
National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism
“How certain words are used to describe alcohol-related problems and the people who are affected by them perpetuate stigma. Stigma is a significant barrier in many people’s willingness to seek help for alcohol problems. It can affect how they are treated in all aspects of life, including availability and quality of care. Reducing stigma is a step toward addressing these problems.”
When It Comes to Reducing Alcohol-Related Stigma, Words Matter
Psychology Today
“Stigma is a problem with many health conditions, and we continue to see it with addiction. Stigma can truly hurt people coping with substance use-related difficulties in many ways. Research has shown that fear of stigma is one of the top reasons people choose not to get treatment for substance use.”
