Simon Says, "Stop!"

Simon Bricher woke up with his face stuck to a couch cushion. It was not a gentle waking either, but one he had grown used to with his heart racing and body slick with sweat. Usually, he awoke in one of the twin beds in his bedroom. Tonight he must have only managed to make it across the living room from the recliner to the couch. Fortunately, he kept a spare blanket and pillow out here, though both had ended up on the ground. After pulling his face free from the leather, he reached for the blanket and pulled it over himself. It was mid-October, and there was quite a chill in the house. The sun had yet to rise, so Simon figured he had a few more hours to rest before work needed him. After double-checking that he had set three alarms, he wrestled back into a fitful sleep.

Morning came sooner than Simon expected, but it always did. He had “snoozed” through his first two alarms and was now on borrowed time. The landlord’s horse nickered outside as if exasperated by Simon’s consistent tardiness. “I know! I know! I’m getting up, okay?” Simon shouted back. His head swam when he sat up, and the room spun. Simon took some deep breaths to re-calibrate and try calming his heart rate. When he finally felt more stable, he stumbled into the bathroom across the hall. He sat down in the shower due to a splitting headache, as if that would take the pain away. It did for a few moments, but when he left its warm embrace, it was not long before he retched hot bile into the toilet.

A “wounded soldier” was likely sitting beside one of the recliners. The bottle would serve as a welcome relief to Simon’s migraine. It was his good fortune to find one almost full, and he guzzled it. The liquid salve warmed his empty stomach and took the edge off the knife in his brain. Though it triggered some pain in the upper part of his abdomen, those aches were old friends to him now. Simon set the amber bottle on the vanity of the bathroom sink. He applied some deodorant, blew out the gunk in his nose, and brushed his teeth for once. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror due to his deep-seated shame. A feeling always present and sometimes roiling beneath with a vengeance. Blood mixed with the toothpaste in his mouth, giving it a strange metallic and minty taste. Simon spat, then washed the evidence of budding gum disease down the drain. He wished his terrible guilt would flush away too.

Later that day, a passing thought stuck out to him once again. I need to find a way to stop. If I keep going like this, I will slowly perish in agony. I should take this season alone in the desert and put it to good use. Can I rid myself of this monster that has already taken everything from me? Simon lingered on these thoughts awhile and allowed the seeds of hope to germinate and take root. He was aware he had a problem and wanted to address it. Still, the idea of admitting it out loud to strangers terrified him. Having to admit failures was never easy. What scared Simon the most was he had no control over who found out when his addiction came to light. He did not want to carry a label for the rest of his life and did not buy into the disease argument. These were conscious decisions Simon was making daily. Sure, it became easier and easier to say yes as time passed, but it was also his choice to say no. Simon felt he could make that choice but would need some help.

Some quick research during his lunch break introduced him to a suitable option. The program’s slogan caught Simon’s eye, “Change your relationship with alcohol.” It relieved the pressure of quitting and turned it into a more manageable approach. Plus, the community was online, so it required little social interaction! It was a minor investment of 28 days, more of a challenge to overcome like a marathon. Simon felt he could start there and also plumb the community for resources. If there was some success, he could commit to longer, even for life, but he told himself to take it one step at a time.

Changing habits, especially the bad ones we are fond of, comes in fits of minor successes and sometimes significant failures. Simon struggled to get to Day 3 for a while and started to doubt the possibility of freedom again. He leaned into his community and learned many others had the same struggles. They encouraged him to press on, shared some valuable tools, and kept him from giving up. Pressed on, he did. One of the tools shared was writing out a list of “whys.” Creating a list was hard for Simon because the only thing going for him was wanting to make it through the night. One day he managed to write a decent list though. He also read all the books recommended to him. Soon enough, the days were turning to weeks. Hope and self-confidence were starting to rise, but then he went home for the holidays.

Other people warned Simon of triggers, and he tried to go prepared. Since the divorce, though, his parent’s place was chock full of them. He did not make it to dinner before half the bottle of whiskey he had brought for his brother lay consumed by him. Several accrued days down the drain, but Simon felt momentarily at peace. Before long, he ended up excusing himself upstairs for the night. Christmas morning came for him abruptly, and Simon stumbled through the day. Once the morning festivities were over, he slept most of the day away. Guilt began to grow like cancer, and he swore never to allow his time at home with his family to end up this way again. After hugging his parents and siblings goodbye, Simon took the long way back to the desert. He wept for about an hour and decided to finish an audiobook recommended to him. The cleansing these brought seemed to unlock something in Simon. He began to find more success with sobriety and rode that success to find better work in a better place. His determination grew, and he would not squander this opportunity again.

Relapses came a few more times for Simon before he finally stuck to it for good. A questionable celebratory evening in a town he did not know with “friends” he had made that morning. A night out with an old coworker had him feeling as close to death as he had ever come. Finally, he had an innocent evening with new friends in his old town. These were good friends for where he was trying to go in life, but Simon was still learning to let go. Due to a recent long stretch, he developed a false confidence in his ability to moderate his drinking. It was a game night to introduce his new friends and girlfriend to his house. All went well, and Simon had kept to his predetermined limit. Yet, leftover packs remained in his fridge, and those drinks kept screaming his name. Simon caved for the final time.

“Hey guys, I have something to ask you next time we meet at my place,” Simon said when they were all together again. He dreaded the possibility of rejection but knew this was important. “If you bring drinks over, please take the leftovers with you when you leave. I don’t have the self-control not to drink all that’s left behind.”

It was quiet for a moment as Simon hung his head. His girlfriend squeezed his hand, and he looked up at everyone smiling, some with tears in their eyes. They did not reject him but admired his courage to speak up. One by one, they promised to help carry his burden, and they all followed through. Simon did not realize how heavy a weight he was shouldering until most of it had fallen off him that day. Three quick years have passed, with many good changes along the way. Simon hardly looked back because he knew he was no longer walking alone.