Put Down the Shovel
i hit several bottoms in my drinking life. i’m not going to unpack that bag again–those of you who are interested can read how i earned my seat by reading my Blasts from the Pabst. What’s messed up, though, is that every time i reached a new depth, every time i hurt someone i loved or woke up with a hangover only suicide could cure or couldn’t remember who i had to apologize to or was afraid to recall the details of my blackout…each freaking time there was a sense of relief that came with the pain.
i was relieved because i felt i’d truly hit bottom. i had arrived. Things couldn’t get any worse.
And they didn’t.
Until the next time i drank.
Because alcoholism is a bottomless pit.
At a recent meeting, someone shared:
You hit bottom when you put down the shovel.
There are several varieties of that expression,
You hit bottom when you stop digging.
The bottom is where you stop digging.
But they all mean the same thing. The only way you can know you hit your true bottom is to climb out of the hole and walk away and never look back.