"You obviously told yourself it was time to stop - did you dabble with stopping before becoming Tee Total or was it a 'this is it' moment and what made you stop?" (Jammie Dodger)
In a sense, it was a bit of both. A bit of background: I started drinking heavily about four years ago, in response to specific problems which were causing quite heavy depression. I also started smoking a lot of weed and taking a few other drugs at around the same time, for the same reason. In essence, I was drinking, smoking and whatnot in order to block out the world: while I was drunk or high, it didn't hurt.
Because of all this, there's a period of a year or two that I barely remember. I have flashes of memory, but most of it is just haze. I know, however, that there was at least one person who contributed strongly to my coming out of the other end. I'm not sure how or why this individual had such an effect, but (unknowingly) they probably saved my life.
Emerging from the end of this period, I knew that I had to get things under control. The drug intake decreased significantly, as did the drink, but I stopped neither. For the next year or two, I did quite well at maintaining the illusion (to myself as much as to anyone else) that I was in control. However, while my personal circumstances had begun to improve, I was still depressed and most of me still felt that hiding behind substances was the answer, so my drinking steadily crept up again.
Towards the end of 2004, I had what you might call a flash of clarity and realised that it was the drink that was in control, not me, and that if I didn't change that, I stood to lose everything. It became clear that I had to stop completely and, in truth, the thing that made me stop was the realisation that I couldn't. I was incapable of going a day without drinking and it had become the most important thing in my life. That in itself was not a situation I was happy with. Having worked out that I really had to stop, I made several attempts at it before I finally succeeded. Unintentional pressure from well-meaning friends, a bad day or just plain human weakness always led to my slithering off the wagon, until the one time that I didn't.
Having had my last drink, I went into withdrawal, which in my case amounted to seven weeks of Hell, which I don't think I could have survived without a couple of close friends and one conversation with an old tutor who'd been through the same, who said a few things that scared the bejeesus out of me.
All in all, then, it was knowing what I had to lose that made me stop, and a combination of fear, the support and inspiration of others and sheer stubbornness that made me stick it out.
I still struggle sometimes, but it gets much easier much faster than you expect. I'm sorry to have made this such a long post, but I am living proof that it can be done, and I hope I can inspire others in the way that certain people inspired me.
Peace,
Bunbury.