THIS is a time of year for deep reflection for me. It was on June 23, 1993, that I hit rock bottom with alcohol.
I remember the horror and despair of that day, knowing I was at what’s known as the jumping-off place, contemplating suicide. I had exhausted all avenues of alternative therapies to control my drinking, but King Alcohol had them all beaten in the guise of denial. The one thing I couldn’t admit was that I was an alcoholic, which, I might add, is a disease, not a disgrace.
Looking back, I can see that I was always running from myself, from people, places, and things. To be honest, I was filled with terror, frightened of my own shadow. Alcohol was my escape, but unknown to me, it was an escape into insanity. I used all the usual avoidance techniques – leaving relationships, leaving jobs, leaving my home and country – all in a bid to avoid being found out as an alcoholic.
Deep down, I knew I was an alcoholic. Every alcoholic knows this, but denial always closed the door to awakening and acknowledging. I wasn’t proud of what I had done or what I had become, and I believed there was no cure or way out from the grip of King Alcohol.
As a Cupar Street boy and an altar and choir boy, I was brought up in the shadow of Clonard, a sanctuary where many sought refuge from their pain and suffering. On the morning of June 23, 1993, I sought refuge in the form of the Clonard Novena. I knew I was beaten and had to surrender, but I didn’t know how. On the first day of the Novena, I spoke to a priest and told him of my dilemma. I told him the only cure for my drinking would be nothing less than a miracle. He told me that the miracle I was looking for was in Alcoholics Anonymous and begged me to get to an AA meeting as soon as possible.
I don’t know what it was about that young priest, but for whatever reason, I believed him. I took his advice and sought an AA meeting that day. That was 31 years ago, and since then I have been living a life beyond my wildest dreams. Thanks to the Novena, that young priest and the miracle of AA.
Alcoholics Anonymous became my miracle, the path to a new life. It was a community of people who understood my struggles and provided the support and tools I needed to rebuild my life. It wasn’t an easy journey, but it was a miraculous one. Each day of sobriety has been a gift, filled with moments of clarity, growth, and profound gratitude.
As I reflect on that time, I realise the importance of surrender and seeking help. The miracle wasn’t a flash of divine intervention; it was the gradual, painstaking work of recovery, guided by the wisdom and compassion of those who had walked the path before me. The young priest’s words and the community of AA were my guiding lights out of the darkness of addiction.
Miracles do happen. They come in the form of unexpected guidance, the support of a community, and the courage to face one’s deepest fears. On this anniversary, I am reminded of the power of surrender, the strength of community, and the possibility of transformation. My journey from despair to a life of fulfilment stands as a testament to the miracles that happen when we open our hearts to change and seek help with humility and faith.
