Real stories of former alcoholics. A Frank Story of a Man Who Stopped Drinking

Women's history from life: carry your cross or leave if my husband is an alcoholic and a psychologist's comment. The world is small - that's what I thought when I met Pasha for the third time. It looks like he pushes us together, saying: this is your fate!

The first time I saw Pavel was in the company where my friend Irka dragged me. A sea of ​​booze, a cheerful company. Pasha was the star of the evening. And he glanced in my direction more than once. I thought: if it weren’t for the recent breakup with Igor, I would definitely fall for him. But - alas! So that evening everything remained at the level of "look, but no more."

A month later, my aunt celebrated her 50th birthday and had a feast. And what was my surprise when I saw Pavel among the guests! It turned out that Pasha is the son of an old aunt's friend. Pasha caught my eye all evening and smiled. I thought: “But he is still good!” Pasha courted women, made toasts. He famously knocked over a glass after a glass and did not get drunk.

At that time, our communication did not go beyond the jubilee. But fate pushed Pasha and me for the third time. Irka and I, after a week of work, decided to rush to the club - and I met Pavel again. Jokes, laughter, cocktails by the river. And somehow it turned out that he went to see me off. We passionately kissed in a taxi ... And the morning was met in my bed.

Pasha was not only a good lover. He was a holiday man. I met a bunch of his friends. We went around all the nightclubs, all the restaurants in the city, went to camp sites, rested as savages, setting up tent camps. And what surprised me - Pasha could drink and not get drunk. The alcohol didn't make him stupid or aggressive.

Six months later, we filed an application with the registry office. When the aunt found out about this, she pursed her lips and said: “Anya, Pasha, of course, is a good guy. But he drinks a lot! What is a family with an alcoholic? I was indignant: “He is not an alcoholic! He does not lie on the street, he works! “Do you think that alcoholics are only those who lie under the fence?” We then had a big fight.

Pavel and I got married. Family life was joyful and cloudless. In fact, the holiday continued - fun feasts, enchanting sex, no quarrels and conflicts. Until six months later, Pasha came very drunk and said: "I was fired." I said: "Calm down, honey, you will find new job. Better than before!”

... The search for work stretched out. I came home tired, and I was met by a cheerful unemployed husband. Cheerful - because he is constantly tipsy. Over time, this began to annoy me. I began to express complaints to Pasha: you sit at home, thump, and I work as a laborer, I support both of us. Money became scarce.

Pasha's gaiety disappeared in the morning, he woke up gloomy and with a sore head. Depressed and angry, he started yelling at me. I yelled back. Sex left the relationship - because Pasha wanted only when he was under a degree. And I did not smile to endure a drunken body and smell the stench of alcohol. Even Pasha was recruited to hell and sometimes passed out while sitting at the table, and even on the floor.

My husband is an alcoholic - carry your cross or leave?

After six months of such a “fun” life, I realized that my aunt was right. I began to study the behavioral characteristics of alcoholics. And here's what it turned out: there are several stages of alcohol addiction, several options.

When we met, Pasha belonged to social alcoholics: he controlled himself, did not get drunk as an insole, went to work. IN weekdays relaxed only in the evenings and slightly - a couple of beers. I thought beer in small quantities is not scary. No! It's scary, it's alcoholism!

And when Pasha lost his job, he released the brakes - and began to drink heavily. Hence the aggression, and the habit of hangover.

I put the question squarely: either my alcoholic husband Pasha is coded and gets a job, or we are getting divorced. At first he denied, yelling that he was not an alcoholic. Then he began to say that he could control himself and would drink only on holidays. But I was adamant: I had already found out that there were no exceptions in this matter. If you stop drinking, then at all. And these indulgences “on holidays” eventually result in new binges.

My husband, an alcoholic, somehow agreed to the encoding, Pavel was taken out of the state of abstinence - a hospital, droppers, and then they sewed him a "torpedo". I rejoiced - we are starting a new, sober life!

Turns out I don't know my husband. Sober, he was rude and mean. He used to bombard me with compliments, kissed me, constantly hugged me. Now the attention and caress have disappeared along with alcohol. Sex has remained rare and, moreover, boring.

I tried to stir up Pasha for a year, I thought that the depression was about to go away. And she left - when my alcoholic husband "decoded" and returned home drunk. Another monthly binge, another job loss. I understand that this is the bottom.

Divorce or not?

I went to repentance to my aunt. Asked for advice: what to do? Divorce or wait for things to change? Aunt's advice was unequivocal: to get divorced while there are no children. There are no former alcoholics, and the situation could get worse. We haven't gotten to the beatings yet. But in a state of alcoholic intoxication, most of the domestic murders happen. I was horrified by the prospects: to drag my drunk husband, to give birth to children from him, to be beaten - or killed ...

I divorced Paul. A year later I met Alexei, my current husband. He is not a complete teetotaler, he can skip a glass or two on a holiday. But he does not drink every week and even more so every day. Not a toastmaster, irrepressible charm does not splash on everyone. He is not a holiday person. He is a man-life. My happy peaceful life.

By the way, my ex-husband alcoholic Pasha completely drank himself. He does not work, sits on the neck of his parents, regularly goes into hard drinking. Several times a year lies in the narcological clinic. And I am glad that I managed to take off this cross in time.

Only the wife of an alcoholic can understand what an alcoholic husband is. You can talk about it endlessly, but experiencing it, as they say, in one's own skin, is a completely different matter.

Our family life started off pretty well. My husband earned a lot and we did not deny ourselves anything. The only negative was that there was too much work. He spent very little time with his family and did not pay attention to our little daughter at all. However, this was justified. The husband set himself the goal of earning his own apartment.

As soon as the apartment was bought and we moved into a new home, my husband began to spend more time at home. There was no longer any need for such a busy schedule. This is what played a cruel joke on us. My husband began to spend his free time on TV and beer. At first I did not pay attention to this, since he drank at home and immediately went to bed. Over time, I began to notice that he was drinking more and more, and instead of sitting at home, he was trying to go somewhere. His meetings with friends, as a rule, ended with the fact that he returned home in the morning, barely able to stand on his feet. Scandals and quarrels did not help. He always responded quite aggressively. He argued everything by the fact that he independently earned an apartment and has the right to do what he wants.

A year later, things got even worse. At that moment, I realized that I was living with my real husband, an alcoholic. Now the money was spent not on beer, but on more strong alcohol, and his drinking took not one evening, but two or three days. One day, entering the house, he stumbled over our toy. youngest daughter and began to scream loudly, woke up the girls and spoke some nonsense, threatening to deprive us all of our apartment and drive us out into the street. Neighbors ran to the screams. One of the men tried to calm my husband down and a fight ensued. Someone called the police, and that evening my husband was arrested for the first time.

The police held him for 15 days. I hoped that after that he would stop drinking, but after just a couple of months it all started again.

The problem with the husband of an alcoholic is not only that I had to constantly spend money on his drinking. Every time he gets drunk, he scares our daughters and constantly wants to hurt himself. I can’t leave him, because I love him, and no persuasion, folk remedies or medications help at all. The last time he was taken away with alcohol poisoning, the doctors said that he could no longer drink, as he had serious liver problems. But this did not affect her husband in any way.

More and more I find myself thinking that it would be much better if something happened to him, and this hell would finally end. But I am very ashamed of such reflections. An alcoholic husband is a real disaster for the whole family. The worst thing is that, despite all the problems, I continue to love this person. It poisons our lives. But I feel sorry for him. And I can't help him.

Read the very frank story of a man or a guy who decided to stop drinking because there was nowhere else to go. About all his misadventures, and how he finally conquered his bad habit.

I have been drinking for a long time. About 14 years old. I still remember my first glass of moonshine, drunk on the day of November 7 with my friend Seryozha. This day is sacred for everyone Soviet man, so they drank and walked then all the Soviet people.

We stole moonshine from my father. Just drain from a three-liter jar of 500 grams of smelly, still warm potion and add plain water instead. Moonshine was potato. That is, the mash was put on potatoes, in large 40-liter flasks, and then it was distilled in the kitchen, in a home-made apparatus.

This was a case under jurisdiction and therefore conspiracy was carefully observed. They drove moonshine usually at night. My father was not a professional moonshiner, just Gorbachev's initiatives forced ordinary people to resort to such tricks to satisfy their, so to speak, basic needs.

Having obtained the fire water, I hid the jar for the time being, and after waiting for the holidays, we decided to make our first "courageous" act. Parents were already walking with might and main when we asked for leave to visit a friend. After taking precious loot from the cache, I came to the planned party. Having poured a glass halfway, Seryoga said:
- Drink!

Trying to seem like a seasoned man, saying that it was not the first time we drank something like that, I closed my eyes and drank the scalding liquid in one gulp. All half a glass at once. The people around me looked at me with envy and shudder.
- Cucumber, pickle pickle! One of the boys told me.
I waved my hands in the direction of my mouth, choking on fusel fumes, grabbed a jar of cucumbers and washed down with pickle.
- Well, how? - Asked Seryozhka.
“Class,” I squeezed out and gave him a thumbs up.

Seryozhka, immediately poured another half a glass.
– And now I! He said conspiratorially quietly, not taking his naive, blue eyes off me.
Everything swam in my head, nausea rolled up and it became unexpectedly hot.
“Drunk, I suddenly realized. “So this is how it happens,” I thought.

I felt insanely cheerful at this thought and I laughed out loud:
- And I'm drunk! - Everything is double before my eyes!
Objects around and the truth, behaved somehow strange. I was rocking and the whole house seemed to be rocking.
Seryozhka did not linger and also drank his dose. Masterfully hooted and also washed down with pickle.
- More cool! He was the only one who could speak.

I poured myself some more. It seemed the world had changed. I became brave, strong, cheerful.
I wanted more of this happiness. The blood roared happily in my head.
- More! - More! - Demanded an excited brain.
I drank the second glass, nearly vomiting it back up. The taste of moonshine was just disgusting.
But what can stop me now? “Because it’s fun to be drunk,” the thought swirled in my head. I obviously enjoyed it.

I went to the mirror and looked at myself. Eyes turned red, reflection blurred
. It's not very good. Parents, although they themselves are drunk, can notice. In addition, Serezha and I were quite stormy from side to side. Gray, of course, pretended more. After drinking the second glass, he just began to fall off his feet. We began to carry him in our arms, trying to help him up. But he only mooed and yelled songs. He seemed to enjoy it too.

Fooling around, we opened a jar of hard-to-find condensed milk that was hidden from a friend for the holidays and everyone got smeared trying to eat it. The condensed milk made us sick and we vomited in the yard for a long time, spewing the remnants of surrogate alcohol from the young organism. Then we still floundered in the freshly fallen, first snow, sticking to passers-by and shouting indecent songs, for which passers-by threatened to turn us over to the police. But we had fun and not scared at all. And it stuck in my brain - when I'm drunk, I'm strong and fearless!

Naturally, in our youth, we did not drink often and not much. A bottle of fortified port 777, for three, was a magical drink. Once, for the new year, we even managed to buy a three-star, Azerbaijani cognac. To this day, I remember him with disgust.

As I got older, I met geologists who came from the "fields" fabulously rich people. Salaries in hand, issued in thousands of rubles, and they instantly melted in drinking and orgies. We, seventeen-year-old boys, liked the company of these cheerful, bearded people who had seen life and, moreover, were absolutely not greedy. They gladly treated us to drinks and cigarettes. They told stories from life and just funny stories.

At the age of 18, I went to work as a loader at the base. A new unknown for me has begun adulthood. Every morning, a team of loaders of 8 people bought 20-30 liters of beer and drank it all in a day, instead of water. Sometimes we switched to vodka, since the availability was through storekeepers. Even when there was an absolute deficit in the country, we could buy many things and products "by pull" for ourselves. The salary was 300-400 rubles. For a young kid, at the time, serious money. But everything went back to drinking and partying.

After the army, I returned to another country. He left to serve in the Soviet Union, and returned to the CIS. The crazy nineties began. My friend, Seryozhka, became involved in racketeering, worked with northern highways, gutting truck drivers. Soon they did not share spheres of influence with another group, and their entire gang was shot in one of the showdowns. They just took out a Kalash and fired clips at 20-year-old boys who played adult games. Sergei is dead. I also tried to get into the criminal business, but I came to my senses in time and took up legal trade.

Drinking continued almost every day. A lot of money began to come in and it had to be noted, with partners and suppliers, with cops and bandits, with wives and mistresses. A bottle of beer in the evening became mandatory. Then two, then three. Business began to collapse. I was just not interested in making money, because I already had everything.

One evening, I realized that I had become addicted to alcohol. Decided not to drink anymore. Didn't drink for a week. Then he took the beer again. Then I didn't drink for a month. And so with varying degrees of success. There was an addiction. So the days, months, years passed. Simple beer no longer inserted, he began to buy strong. One and a half for the evening and the world is beautiful.

That's just the body began to falter. While you drink, it seems like nothing, but when you tie it up, everything comes out. Yes, and drunk I became violent. It’s better not to go outside at all, it’s tempting to fight, or in general, to kill someone, just like that.

Once I got drunk and realized that I had no more strength, I needed to do something. I called a friend, a priest of the Protestant church:
- Valera, come! - I feel bad!
- What's happened? he asks.
“I’m thumping, I need help,” I answer into the phone ...

Valera arrived in 30 minutes. I happily met him, after running to the store for the “last” can of beer.
“I’ll finish it and won’t do it again,” I decided to myself.
Brother Valera, as a wise man, listened to me and finally said:
“Satan is tormenting and testing you.
You need faith in God!
You can't overcome that kind of power on your own.
I looked at him in confusion with drunken eyes and could not understand if he was telling the truth, or was he trying to intimidate me?

I myself am a believer, but not religious. I read many books on this topic and realized that there is only one God. They just call it by different names. But to believe that your worthless personality, Satan personally became interested, my mind refused. After seeing my brother Valera, I went to bed, deeply puzzled.

A few days after this conversation, I flew like on wings. Didn't drink or even crave. But Friday came, I quarreled with my wife over a trifle and got drunk again. I was sitting alone at home and suddenly such sadness came over me.
- Well, what is it?
“Is it possible that I, an adult, strong man, cannot stop drinking this filthy potion?
- Yes, I can do anything! You just need to believe in yourself!
“I’ll take it and throw it right now, all beer glasses, out of the second floor window.
- And let only your Satan try to stop me!
With these thoughts, I grabbed a beer glass (you know, such a tall, thin-walled one) and shouted:
- Well, what can you do, Mr. Satan?
With all his strength he threw it out the window, right on the pavement ... There was an alarming silence.

I couldn't believe my eyes and instantly sobered up. The glass lay on the pavement, absolutely intact, gleaming under the lanterns, with its label.
— This cannot be! - A thought flashed - this can never be!
The glass, the walls of which were only a millimeter thick, the glass, which even falling on the linoleum in the kitchen, shattered, suddenly turned out to be whole and unharmed.

My drunken brain couldn't keep up with the facts. I had 10 of these glasses, seven of them I broke, accidentally dropping them, or even just putting them in the sink. One is downstairs and two are still on the shelf. I went to the kitchen and took the remaining glasses. He turned them over in his hands. Ordinary beer glasses. These are given by beer companies for various promotions. I once collected a whole collection of them and used them for normal purposes for their intended purpose.

The experiment had to be repeated. I went to the window, looked down and saw the existence of the first glass. There was no one around, it was already night outside. I swing and throw another glass down, there is a quiet ringing, the glass bounces off the asphalt and falls intact next to the first one.

I have goosebumps running all over my body. Maybe it's "squirrel"? - Sweeps in a sober brain. I pour the rest of the beer into the sink, take the last glass and understand that now, I will definitely stop drinking forever. I read a prayer and suddenly I remember the lines from the Bible “Do not tempt your Lord.” I hesitate a little, because I really tempt.

I decide to throw away the last glass. I throw, the sound of breaking glass is heard - thank God! The glass flies away from the rest of the brothers in misfortune. The edge of the glass breaks off, but looks almost intact. This is good, so it’s definitely not a “squirrel” that I calm down.

After praying again, I go outside to remove the glasses from the asphalt and generally clean up around the house.
We need to start doing good deeds.

Tomorrow begins a new sober life!

Have you read? So stop drinking. As soon as the new year has begun, there is a reason. Just a reason not to drink, but to quit. For good. Forever.

Helped us:

Anatoly Alekhin
Professor, Head of Department clinical psychology And psychological help RGPU them. A. I. Herzen; MD

The end of February, 1996, a month ago I turned 16. How I was waiting for this number! I thought a miracle would happen, a prince would appear in my life or something like that. But nothing happened. I'm still the same gloomy tenth grader in black martens who desperately wants to look cool.

It's a warm spring day, we hang out in the grove. Four girls and a guy whose birthday we are celebrating. This is my first time drinking champagne - more than a sip, and not in the company of my parents.- it works magically. I feel grown up, relaxed, and I love it! After the first bottle, we start a game: we pass a match to each other using only our mouths. With each round, the match becomes shorter, and the game becomes more exciting. In the end, T. and I kiss. This is more than strange - after all, I never liked him.

Then I did not yet know that to make a person more attractive is an easy trick for Monsieur of alcohol. Soon I will be dancing in clubs and singing karaoke. Steal books, jewelry, candies and chips - just to demonstrate courage and sleight of hand. Lying is no worse than Munchausen. Get acquainted first and immediately offer sex. And also take drugs, run away from a cafe without paying, walk around the cemetery at night and drive drunk - nothing was impossible. We found each other with alcohol. And how did I live without it before?

I found a special thrill in hangovers. You drink - and the world is immediately clear, I am weightless, merge with it with every cell and gradually dissolve, as if I were not a body, but a consciousness, a pure spirit. Morning, T. and I are alone in the pizzeria, languidly polishing beer with vodka from a cold pot-bellied decanter. We love each other so much. T. is gentle as a cat, because I have money, and I decide whether to repeat the decanter. I nod to the waiter, T. rejoices.

We have a strange relationship. He is such a typical narcissist. And I, having drunk, each time announced to him that I was leaving. Brought to tears and received emotions. Then she met G. - and left forever. He was caring and loving. Got me hooked on heroin. Then I got tired, and I also left G.. A whirlwind of acquaintances and non-reciprocal loves began to spin (normal guys were not eager to meet a drunkard).

In those years, I was surrounded by many friends - a drinking buddy was easy. But it didn’t matter to me with whom to drink, where and what. I drank with strangers, taxi drivers and cops (thank you guys for not touching me, sorry I don't remember your name). I drank alone, I drank on ICQ, I drank under the radio.

I think I had depression. I didn't belong to myself, I didn't control anything, and I never knew where I would find myself the next morning. I was driven by alcohol. The body roamed uncontrollably around the city, and, believe me, it was a wild adventure. The fact that I'm alive is a miracle, I could have died a thousand times.

And I wanted warmth and peace. Happiness, simple as a sandwich with sugar. I remember wandering with a gentleman, staggering along a dark street from one tavern to another, I looked at the luminous windows and imagined how people live behind them, how early they go to bed and read Jane Eyre under the light of a night lamp. And I remember that aching melancholy - why can't I do it too? Coming home, she laid out the sofa and fell right in her clothes. And dreamed of pajamas with bears. In difficult moments, I disconnected from the outside world and went into myself.. I imagined how I come to visit a fictitious aunt - she lives far away, no one will get to us. In a cozy little house, my aunt is frying pancakes for me, and I look out the window, there is a red mountain ash and a cat is walking. And I don't need anything else. And the aunt asks: “Pour some more tea, Yulechka?”

Alcohol was my medicine, the only remedy that reconciled with reality and gave comfort. I leaned on him like a cripple on a crutch. A sober life seemed dull. But it was worth adding alcohol, and everything flourished. I loved everyone, even myself. Whatever happens, pour alcohol into yourself, and it will be better. And then add - to make it even better, even more pleasant, even more love.

I didn't realize it would be the other way around. I remember how I went for a supplement - alone, to a gas station, because my husband was already asleep, and the stores were closed; how she drank all night, and at five minutes to nine she was already standing in front of the shop door; how she swam drunk and almost drowned; how she was ashamed of her swollen face and hated herself; how it was coded and broken; how with horror I looked through outgoing calls and messages in social networks in the morning. How I was afraid one day to wake up in prison or not wake up at all.

Hangovers were long gone. The next morning, the body did not even take water, every day my stomach hurt. I was afraid to sleep - I went to bed with the light on and the TV on. At least once a week the house is a mess, and I can't get up because my head is splitting, tremors, burned throat, fever, chills, heart and brain behave as if they are leaving me forever. The husband was not happy with this situation, threatened with a divorce. Yes, I myself already understood that the games were over, alcohol would kill me, I had to pull the stopcock. She jerked. I got it on the third try.

The first time was not easy. It seemed that all people knew my shameful secret and made fun of me, miserable. In the grocery store, I trotted through the alcohol section. Once my husband and I bought a 50-gram bottle of rum for soaking dried fruits for a Christmas cake. While we were standing at the checkout, I had a fever due to anxiety - now the cashier will wink and say: “You don’t take something, Yulia. Waiting for more tonight." What a cashier! Having met old acquaintances a couple of times, I pretended that I was not me. I didn’t see my brother for a whole year, retired from all social networks, changed my phone number and address Email. I wanted to dissolve or fly to the moon.

Having licked my wounds in solitude and mentally strengthened, I realized that I was tired and no longer wanted to be ashamed. I want to come out and share my experience. So in the fourth year of my alcohol-free life, I started my blog, and every time I jump to the ceiling when it sobers someone up.

At some point, a psychotherapist appeared in my life. Together we found out that I can't express anger, say no, I don't recognize my feelings and I don’t really understand where I end and the other person begins. Sometimes I just recounted my days or the past to her, surprised that she didn't wince in disgust.

There was a feeling that, after quitting alcohol, I got a box with broken glass from which the vessel was to be glued. I wanted it to be beautiful and function properly. Make it so as quickly as possible, because so much time has been wasted for nothing! But I moved slowly and slowly. When despair overwhelmed, she lay down on the sofa, ate chocolate and scrolled Pinterest. Cried and freaked out. Didn't drink. The next day it got easier. I learned that the one who walks slowly will go far, and I calmed down.

Nothing reminded me of alcohol anymore: not only did I distribute glasses and glasses, I excluded all triggers, including the old playlist. I became a vegan, for the first time in my life I looked into myself, found my inner child and tried to love him. In any incomprehensible situation, she meditated. She opened the world of psychology and self-development. I took a course of antidepressants and B vitamins. I thought, read and wrote a lot about “why people drink,” and gradually my demons began to recede.

Now I'm 36. The last time I drank was 6 years ago. How do I live? Amazing. Got a cat and pajamas with bears. I don’t want to light up, offer my husband a threesome (thank God, he didn’t agree!), write to incomprehensible people and be ashamed of my actions. No more need to escape into the alcohol dope or hiding in the house of an imaginary aunt. I live here and now real life without stimulants, and communicate with real people. My hands hold the steering wheel and, thank God, they do not shake.

The editors would like to thank Studio 212 for their help in organizing the shooting.

We are waiting for your reaction. Do you have anything to say about what you read? Write in the comments below or [email protected].

During the rehabilitation process, the patient performs homework and one of them" History of my illness. A person has to analyze everything that is connected with his illness.

Natalya Sitneva

The most difficult thing is to see yourself from the outside and accept that these are the consequences of your actions. Step by step, a person is moving towards his bottom called "alcoholism" and is recovering step by step.

YULIA M.

I stood at the window and looked at the roaring train rushing past. Everything was shaking inside, his hands were trembling, his head was breaking, tears of despair rolled down his swollen face. The first day after a month of drinking. Empty inside...

Life was in full swing in our large three-room apartment. Mom in the kitchen with his father discussed some family matters, the son, who is already thirteen, was engaged in the player. But I am alone, complete loneliness who needs me? Nobody ... I wanted one, so that the whole nightmare, what is happening to me is over, I don’t care in what way, I wanted me to be gone, there was no this excruciating pain, there was no despair and loneliness. I wanted to live differently but I didn't know how!

Today I stand at the window, looking at the train passing by. Meamuses and pleaseswheel rattle! My son comes into the room, hugs me, he is already eighteen."Hello mommy, I missed you!" Warmth and tenderness spread through my body. "I love you son!"

Today, peace of mind settled inside me,I have been sober for six years, thanks to my friends, thanks to a Higher power, thanks to the fact that there are all of you, myAlcoholics Anonymous!

MY WAY TO AA

Hello! My name is Oleg - I'm an alcoholic .I want to tell you how I came to"AA".

TO alcohol started to get used to early childhood. From the age of 5 or 6, on great holidays, they poured me 25 grams of Cahors red wine.

I liked the attention from adults. At the age of 12-13, while in the country on vacation, I bought a bottle of red wine, supposedly for my grandfather, and drank her alone without a snack. It was for my birthday. After booze began to become more frequent drink together with classmates, in front of the lights at school, on New Year, on February 23 and so on.

Then service in the "SA" in the elite branch of the military "VDA special forces" there it somehow stopped, but sometimes there too drank.

Then demobilization and I could not enter civilian life in any way. started drinking more and more. This affected my health, I was already working in the garage on an excavator, I began to beatalcoholic epilepsy. And I had to change many jobs, although God did not offend me with physical health, and the army added.

Then he got married, started a new way of life, started drinking less. Even the district police officer was surprised that the area became quieter. But I didn't stop there. Family troubles, then the 90th year, lack of money, unemployment in the city.

And I went to Moscow to work, because in the city I was not hired anywhere. Didn't give me rest alcohol and with it an acquired disease -alcoholic epilepsy .

Earnings were good, prosperity appeared in the house. And again I returned to booze, but with caution so that an attack does not occurepilepsy .

While everything went smoothly, if something happened, then only at home. My medical mother and wife told me that I alcoholic, and I did not agree with this and always exploded when it came to this. I said that I not an alcoholic because I'm in control, and alcoholic he cannot control himself. I decided to prove to them. Gathering willpower into a fist didn't drink a year and eight months, but then went on a drinking binge for three months.

I was on a business trip in ... the area of ​​\u200b\u200bthe village of S ..... The district police officer came to me and woke me up. Oleg, he said, remove the tractor from the square, otherwise it prevents the buses from turning around. The tractor really stood in the middle of the square opposite the Sverdlov monument for two days, I don’t know how I put it there.

Months I didn’t drink for nine, and again I drank. This went on for a long time, only my binges became longer.

At every business trip, I told myself and my friends that in this city sow drunkenness and depravity, so it happened. My wife and mother begged me stop drinking or code, looking for addresses where they could help me.

My wife threatened me with a divorce, but this did not frighten me, it only annoyed me. My wife stopped talking to me drunk, but only sawed with a hangover. Because I have drunk such a state, just bring a match and I will explode like a keg of gunpowder. My hand is heavy, but I didn’t know the measure, so I could kill by chance. Cruelty just poured out of me.

Once this happened, my wife said something, I took her by the hair, opened the burner on the gas stove and forced her to breathe, she struggled, but could not do anything. I suddenly got scared thinking what would happen if my daughter ran out and saw this picture and let my wife go.

And in the morning she came up and said calmly: "Oleg - there is no money for coding, but there is a drug treatment center, let's go there, they can help." I remembered everything that happened yesterday and understood that something had to be done. He gave the go-ahead and we went to the center, they pierced me and dripped me - brought out of drinking registered, sent to a psychologist - a woman.

We began to walk together with my wife, but I did not understand anything. As soon as my wife went on vacation, I again went to hard drinking for a month. When I arrived, I stopped by myself, but I went to the doctor and asked for more substantial help, and he answered me that he did not have a charity center and that he could only send me to a psychiatric hospital. And for me, this meant that my specialty can be put an end to. I said that I would try it myself and then the doctor assigned me to another psychologist.

I told the psychologist about my problems, and we began to work on first step. This got me very interested. I received support and began to understand my mistakes.

Now I'm in our society"AAfour and a half years, but I had two breakdowns. Today I have been sober for two years and five months, I am proud of it and regret that I did not come here earlier.

This year, our community turned 10 years old, I was the assistant host at the anniversary evening, and the psychologist and, as I believe, my mentor, whom I got to when I turned to the drug treatment center for the second time, was the host. I am very happy and my family is very happy that I have foundsobriety and peace.