I was so encrusted in denial the year or so before I got sober that I was not aware of how pathetic my life had become. I really didn't see anything wrong with sitting alone in my darkened apartment day after day in my dirty bathrobe with my bottle of wine, bag of pot, remote control, overflowing ashtray and two or three days worth for left over fast food bags at my feet. It didn't bother me that I was in extreme isolation because my life seemed so much easier without other people in it. My whole world had shrunk to the size of my dirty apartment, but by then I "could not tell the difference between the alcoholic life and a normal one."
The only problem I thought I had was that I was unemployed and running out of borrowed money. I could not seem to find the energy to work on finding a job. As the checking account got lower and lower I began to wake up (come to) more and more terrified about my situation. Motivated by a hundred forms of fear (mostly stemming from the fact that I didn't know anyone else who would lend me any money) I would head to my computer with new resolve. But by around 10:30 AM I would rationalize that I had done enough, light a joint and click on TV. A short time later there would be a few drinks before lunch...
Finally I was graced with moment
of clarity that led me to a treatment center. I was forty-seven years
old. Two days later I walked into my first AA meeting. I knew
I was home. I went to over 400 meetings in my first year (it's easy
to do when you are unemployed), worked the Steps, got into service and
did all else that was suggested even though my ego often resisted. I loved
everything about AA and still do.