Today I read Keith Richards has given up booze.
“It’s been about a year now,” he told Rolling Stone.
“I pulled the plug on it. I got fed up with it. It was time to quit.”
Whatever, Keith Richards is 74 and knows addiction inside out.
He famously freed himself from cocaine and heroin in the late 1970s . I couldn’t care less about whether Keith Richards really is sober or not. Lots of people will, of course. But for me, reading that he was fed up with booze made a lot of sense.
I’ve recently been searching for reasons about how and why I’ve managed to make it three whole years without a drink when before that I struggled with three alcohol-free days.
“I got fed up with it,” from a wrinkly rocker seems pretty close to my truth for two reasons. By the time I stopped drinking, I WAS fed up with it. I was fed up with being addicted to something, being sick all the time and being pretty close to messing up the really great stuff in my life.
Also, this isn’t my first attempt at recovery. A decade of trying everything from support groups, medical assistance, professional therapy and in-patient rehab has shown me we’re more likely to find freedom when we look for similarities in each other’s stories rather than differences.
While Keith might still dabble, for me, there’s no such thing as an occasional drink. For me, alcohol is poison. Three years since my last boozy night, I’d no sooner pour myself a glass of wine than I would unscrew the cap on a bottle of bleach and tip it down my neck.