“She told me to follow her to the edge.
I said, ‘No, I am afraid.’
She told me again to come to the edge.
I said, ‘No, I am afraid I will fall.’
I came to the edge, and she pushed me,
and I flew.” (Anonymous)

Why do we Christians long for control, knowing it is only when we let go—abdicating all certainty and control—that we overcome our innermost fears?

Surrendering control—not drinking—terrifies us alcoholics. Based on my disease’s penchant for denial, stopping is the last thing I ever wanted to do.

Why is it so difficult for me to surrender, to let go? The irony is to “win” in life—to know sobriety—necessitates my letting go with unconditional surrender.

Anyone like me who is reading this and is battling alcoholism knows reaching out for help is what we should do. But we don’t. Surrender flies in the face of everything we have been taught since childhood and does not come easy to us.

My personal recovery teaches me my alcoholism is a chronic, progressive brain disease characterized by an impaired ability to control alcohol, despite the certainty of incurring adverse social, occupational or health consequences.

Letting go to survive

A helpful metaphor of “letting go” places me all alone, stranded in the middle of the ocean and on the verge of exhaustion. I am relentless in my continuing efforts to survive, frantically treading water, convinced no other alternative to drowning exists for me.

Surrender takes place at this very point of vulnerability. It is not until I realize that by surrendering and becoming perfectly still, floating on my back looking toward the sky, am I at peace, knowing I can and will survive.

I simply need to let go. The experience of surrendered release frequently surfaces in exhaustion—the moment I “give up” my efforts and permit myself simply to float and survive.

No matter how hard I denied it to myself, family, loved ones and friends, I knew in my heart I no longer was in control of my drinking. This knowing brings me closer to surrendering.

Often, alcoholics will resort to seeking help only when our addiction leads to hitting our “bottom,” allowing us to become ready and willing to let go, surrender and finally give up being sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Surrender was and is crucial

Surrender was and is crucial to me getting sober. The first step in every 12-step program is the admission of powerlessness and the need for absolute surrender to win the addiction battle. I must continue to seek help for what I cannot face or accomplish alone. In seeking help, I accept my own powerlessness.

Again, it is my denial that most often stops me in my tracks. My spiritual journey begins, though, in acceptance and admission, in acknowledging I am not in control. Peace and serenity are obtained only by relinquishing my ego-driven demand for control.

Taking ourselves too seriously often prohibits our ability to let go. The 17th century spiritual teacher Jean-Pierre Caussade described such self-destructive reasoning and an inability to let go as “pious pig-headedness.” Simply being able to lighten up about ourselves goes a long way toward our success in letting go.

I always believed I could control my drinking any time it became necessary. The simple truth is, I was living a lie and possessed a secret I dared not share with anyone. Deep down inside, I knew I was not able to control my drinking. My self-discipline and ability to control my alcohol intake essentially had evaporated.

Prayer and forgiveness

Prayer and forgiveness follow surrender.

Prayer is my response to the realization I am not in charge, not in control and not God. Often my prayers are a silent cry, a plea for help and guidance from God, who is greater than me.

To forgive our loved ones who are battling addiction involves letting go of the deep-seated feeling of resentment, the identification of oneself as victim. For me, forgiveness appears when I let go of the feeling of resentment by surrendering the vision of myself as victim.

Forgiveness means giving up claim to controlling the past and refusing to be controlled by it.

If you, a family member or a friend can relate to any of this and would like to talk, please call me. And if you do not reach out to me, reach out to someone.

There are countless resources available, including Rational Recovery, Celebrate Recovery, 12-step programs, clergy and the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Association.

Lawrence (Laurie) Traynor is a former national drug and alcohol treatment executive with 28 years of sobriety who now volunteers to help Christian addicts and alcoholics and their loved ones locate public and private drug and alcohol assistance resources. He can be reached by phone at (904) 553-1600 and email at RugbyTrayn5858@gmail.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

It was an icy cold, winter Sunday afternoon in January 1992. We were living in New England, when my wife gave me an ultimatum: “Continue to drink, or move out!”

Proceeding to open the kitchen refrigerator door, I withdrew the last remaining bottle of beer and hurled it as hard as I could into our backyard woods. The bottle made a violent, smashing sound as it collided with an old birch tree, tiny pieces of glass splattering into the cold snow-covered ground.

Alcohol, which induced loneliness, despair and depression, had become unbearable, and I became aware of my dark thoughts of suicide. I was at my bottom. I was physically, mentally and spiritually bankrupt and realized that continuing to drink meant certain death, jail or institutionalization. As a Christian, I was ashamed of myself.

I, like many of my friends, enjoyed drinking, but how much is too much? For me, there was no such thing as one drink. How could anybody drink just one?

It is not uncommon for people to deny they have a drinking problem.

Alcoholism oftentimes is referred to as a family disease, as it frequently is passed genetically among extended family members.

I did not—and you may not—recognize the signs of alcohol abuse in yourself or in someone else. If you have to ask, “Is my drinking a problem,” it probably is a problem.

What is alcohol use disorder?

The description of the disease of alcoholism has changed and now is referred to as alcohol use disorder, or AUD.

AUD is considered by mental health experts to be a chronic, relapsing brain disease characterized by an impaired ability to stop or control alcohol use despite adverse social, occupational or health consequences, such as death, jail and/or institutionalization.

My experience with abusive drinking

For years, I told myself I could stop drinking any time I desired. However, I discovered at an early age there was no such thing as just one glass, shot, bottle or can of anything containing alcohol, and once I started, I could not stop. My self-discipline and ability to manage my alcohol intake essentially had evaporated.

On too many occasions to count, I promised myself and others I would have just one drink. I ignored these promises, failing miserably in my attempts to keep them each and every time.

Trying to be funny and popular among my peers, I would announce to anyone listening, “I only have a drinking problem when there is nothing around to drink.”

My drinking progressively became more important to me than my church, my job, my wife, my children and my family and friends.

My alcohol-induced behavior included attending only those events where I could drink and socialize with others who drank like I did. I began not to trust people who did not drink.

My repeated attempts to stop drinking never lasted more than a couple of days.

Occasionally, I would drink only beer or wine, steadfast in my belief nobody could be an alcoholic if he or she drank only beer or wine.

I continued to use alcohol despite negative emotional effects, such as depression, anxiety and memory lapses. It never occurred to me alcohol itself was a depressant and that depression coincided with my alcohol abuse.

Toward the end of my drinking career, I was living to drink and drinking to live and had become sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Consequences of my abusive drinking

My abusive drinking eliminated any chance of what I believed to be well-deserved work promotions. This resulted instead in frequent job performance failures and numerous involuntary terminations.

My activity caused painful financial strife and difficulties for my family, creating seemingly unbearable stress and initiating darker and increased episodes of depression.

As my self-esteem deteriorated due to my drinking, I noticed simple things like my hands shaking and difficulty making direct eye contact with others in social and business settings.

My continued inability to show up for scheduled meetings on time and my loss of focus and concentration in social and business settings became progressively worse.

I began to isolate myself and found myself making excuses for not attending social and family gatherings, as I was spending more time self-isolating and drinking alone at home. I noticed it took me increasingly longer to capture my desired yet elusive alcohol buzz.

I constantly compared my drinking to others. I noted, with congratulatory pride that many of my Christian friends drank more than I did. I envied people who could drink without ever getting into trouble.

How things changed

I started attending local 12-step meetings and taking the advice of a former prep school classmate who suggested attending 90 12-step meetings in 90 days.

In hindsight, attending 90 12-step meetings in 90 days saved my life.

I have been sober for 28 years—or 10,220 days—and live a happy and healthy life, second to none. I like myself again.

If you, a family member or a friend can relate to any of my described symptoms and story and would like to talk, call me. You do not have to go through what I did alone.

Lawrence (Laurie) Traynor is a former national drug and alcohol treatment executive with 28 years of sobriety who now volunteers to help Christian addicts and alcoholics and their loved ones locate public and private drug and alcohol assistance resources. He can be reached by phone at (904) 553-1600 and email at RugbyTrayn5858@gmail.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

“Three reasons often given for why Christians with a drinking problem can’t be addicts.” It’s like an answer on a popular game show.

What is, “Too young?”

“I’m only (fill in the blank) years old. How can I possibly be an alcoholic? I’m too young.”

“Yes, my mother and father drink too much and probably are alcoholics, but they are in their mid-70s.”

“Not me. I’m much too young to be an alcoholic.”

The undeniable truth is alcoholism affects Christian men and women of all ages.

What is, “Too smart?”

“I have an MBA from a very good school and have received excellent grades throughout my entire academic career.”

“Only high school and college dropouts can be alcoholics. Not me. I’m much too smart to be an alcoholic. Besides, I have a great work history and promising career.”

The undeniable truth is intelligence is no more a factor for who may be an alcoholic than the day of the week on which they were born.

What is, “Too rich?”

“I don’t live outdoors and didn’t spend last night under a bridge.”

“I have an excellent paying job, a home in a nice neighborhood and a BMW in my garage. No, I’m definitely too well-off financially to be an alcoholic.”

The undeniable truth is money and an individual’s wealth play no role in who may or may not be an alcoholic.

My reasons

My personal and professional experience in the rehab, recovery and treatment world strongly suggests one, a combination of or all three reasons can explain why Christians believe they cannot have a drinking problem. In my own case, it was all three.

I was 38 years old, a college graduate and a successful small business owner who attended church each Sunday. How could I possibly be an alcoholic? Besides, I had a lot of friends and relatives who spilled more than I drank.

I always believed alcoholics were dirty, lived outdoors and drank cheap wine from screw top bottles.

I used to say, “I only had a problem when there was nothing to drink.”

My habits

The craving started most weekdays between 2 and 3 p.m. At that time each day, I started romancing the idea of having a few cold “tall boys” on the drive home.

Winter or summer, hot or cold, it made no difference. It became a ritual, stopping each afternoon at the local convenience store, or “packy” as we say in New England, and purchasing what I considered my just reward for completing yet another day at work.

I had become like Norm on the TV show “Cheers.” How else was I supposed to make my way home through the late afternoon Boston traffic? Besides, I worked hard each day and deserved a few beers on my way home, didn’t I?

Arriving at home each day, before taking my winter coat or suit jacket off, I routinely reached into the fridge for another of my trusted friends.

Oftentimes, I had several additional ice-cold beers in arm’s reach while taking a hot bath or sitting in a bubbling jacuzzi.

Just one or two more before supper, and I’d have captured once again that elusive beer buzz I so craved at the end of each day.

My direction

I thought I could stop drinking any time if it became necessary. The simple truth: I was living a lie and had a secret I could not share with anyone. I knew deep down inside I was not able to stop or control my drinking.

I began to worry it was just a matter of time before I hit what I heard called a “bottom” and lost everything. I discovered there are two “bottoms” an alcoholic will experience: high bottoms and low bottoms.

Examples of an alcohol addict’s low bottom include DUIs, divorce, bankruptcy, job loss, hospitalization, house arrest or jail.

But again, how could I be an alcoholic? I was only 38 years old, a Christian, a college graduate and owner of a sailboat and a BMW.

My turn

It wasn’t until a Sunday afternoon after church in 1992, when my wife gave the ultimatum—a choice between continuing to drink or losing my marriage and children. I finally surrendered and sought relief. I was desperate and sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I took another Christian’s advice and attended 12-step meetings, which allowed me to come to grips with the fact I was powerless over my alcohol consumption and the loss of my life, health and family truly were at risk. I attended 90 meetings in 90 days. In hindsight, this saved my life.

The gratitude I have today stems from the fact I didn’t have to lose everything—like so many others had—before I succumbed, surrendered and acknowledged my alcoholic disease.

Today, with 28 years of continuous sobriety, I chuckle to myself and often cannot help but laugh out loud when I hear another Christian say he or she is too young, too smart or too rich to be an alcoholic. Now, I know better.

Lawrence (Laurie) Traynor lives in Jacksonville Beach, Fla. He is a retired executive, volunteers his time helping Christian addicts and alcoholics, their loved ones and families locate public and private drug and alcohol assistance resources. He can be reached by phone at (904) 553-1600 or email at RugbyTrayn5858@gmail.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.