Often, I have wondered how my life would have looked if I had the opportunity to accept myself and live an authentic life when I knew I was different. It was the mid 1970’s and I was in my middle teen years. Living, as I was, in the heart of the blue-collar rust belt there simply was no discussion of gay or transgender issues. Those topics of discussion were either whispered about secretly or laughed raucously away as sick and perverted. Being either of those things in that part of America was a sure-fire way to be physically abused regularly or quite possibly killed. Knowing I was both brought great terror and depression. I was simply too scared to ever be me.

I believed at this time that I was lucky to have discovered alcohol. It delivered all the things other people had described in such perfect detail. It allowed me to be “okay” in a world in which I felt completely alienated. With my first drunk, I was put on the looping treadmill of alcoholism which took 29 years to exit. I wanted it every day and in as much quantity as possible. 

Being under-age at first, the quantities rarely matched my desires. This turned my attention to other, then very illegal, substances which were easier for a minor to acquire. A drug dealer never asks to see identification. However, alcohol was always first and foremost my go-to elixir.

After a failed tryst with an unwilling friend, the terror of my high school days increased a thousand-fold. I began drinking before school and at lunch time to hold at bay the terror of discovery or being outed. Yet neither happened and I managed to graduate. But I had changed. Knowing discovery could happen at any moment, I realized I had to reinforce the persona I had worked so hard to create. The two masks I would live behind for the majority of my life were fixed in place. I hid behind the facades of being heterosexual and masculine while using alcohol as the glue to hold myself together. It allowed me to deny my real self. 

When I became old enough to buy alcohol legally, my drinking really ramped up along with my pursuit of proving my false self to the world. I was constantly in a relationship with a woman. After a short stint of college, an endeavor I gave up to drink as I wished, I did my first geographic cure at the urging of my family. They saw my drinking was a problem long before I would be willing to admit it. My father was a practicing alcoholic and I tried desperately to be able to drink and function as he did on a daily basis.

I met a woman who drank like I did and we married. I always managed new relationships with women fairly well. I would tell myself this time was going to be different. This time I wasn’t going to wear their clothes or fantasize about gay encounters. Now alcohol began being a double-edged sword. It allowed me to hide my misery and at the same time lowered my inhibitions. The more I drank, which was daily and in large quantities, the more the real me wanted to emerge. And then with the birth of my daughter a new chapter of my life began. My wife decided she no longer wished to be married to me and we divorced.

This set a series of geographic cures in motion. Unfortunately, I kept taking the two most destructive things with me. Alcohol and me. I was doing my best to run from myself - to escape the real me and prove to myself I wasn’t who I believed myself to be. With only work to be responsible for, my drinking escalated even more. If I wasn’t at work or sleeping, I was drinking. The consequences of my drinking began to become more severe. I was arrested for driving under the influence after causing a major accident.

Luckily no one was hurt. It was God’s hand protecting us yet I refused to see or acknowledge it. This precipitated my introduction to rehab and recovery. My employer and family collaborated on an intervention and I went to a 28 day rehab. I knew something wasn’t right about the way I drank. I embraced the idea of rehab, as I believed a doctor could fix me. I opened up about my gender desires and sexuality but was told it was just the alcohol fogging my brain. Once I was sober those thoughts would go away. This is when I went to my first recovery meeting. Unlike so many who find an instant home, I found it to be too severe for my case. A bunch of old men talking about never drinking again and a God of my understanding. Of course, none of this was true, but it is what my brain heard. I rejected the idea of stopping altogether. I would use the knowledge provided and be the exception. I would do the about face and drink like a gentleman. During this short span of sobriety my real self-kept demanding more attention. Fear had me. The drinking resumed to drown out those thoughts.

The alcohol kept me numb enough that my internal self-hatred didn’t destroy me. I believed myself flawed in every way, yet I held onto the belief that if I could just meet the right woman everything would be fine. I went on an escapade which encompassed eight cities and four states. I struggled to find the perfect place and the perfect woman - both of which could make me comfortable in my own skin. Along the way I met another woman who drank like me. I believed by marrying her I could finally put my internal demons to rest. Now I began doing things I told myself I would never do. I began lying about how much and when I drank. I began hiding liquor all over the house. I would drink beer openly and supplement it with hard stuff unknown to my wife or guests. I didn’t do anything without booze. I became more and more unreliable. 

Yet somehow I was excelling at business. My career continued to climb because I worked in sales and my deceit and manipulations served me well. I was reaching the peak of my professional career, yet I knew everything about me was a lie. As soon as I was discovered everything I had would disappear.

My drunkenness began earlier and earlier each day. My hangovers in the morning were becoming worse. I considered a night of drinking successful if I didn’t need to vomit in the shower the next morning. There were very few of those mornings. Finally, the day came when I could no longer look at myself in the mirror. All self respect was gone. I knew I needed to stop drinking yet couldn’t imagine life without alcohol. I told my wife I needed to stop drinking and much to my horror she agreed. I started seeing a therapist to talk about it. She called me a functioning alcoholic. In my mind, as long as the word “functioning” was attached I could continue on. Then things got terribly worse over the next couple months. The “functioning” part of my description was becoming a lie. I would be too drunk to walk by six o’clock in the evening most days. No promises or commitments were kept, no matter how important. Reluctantly I called and made an appointment to speak with an addiction specialist doctor about detoxing.  My journey into sobriety began the following morning.

I was brought to a recovery meeting, the first one in my life that I had an actual interest in. The first thing I heard and noticed was laughter. I couldn’t believe it. They were supposed to be a group of people talking about not drinking but they were having fun! I didn’t understand how this was possible. When all of the talk of God and a higher power started I believed I was doomed. The only impression of God I had was the one imparted on me by my grandmother. It was not a loving and forgiving God. Being a negotiator with God over the years, my end of the agreement was never fulfilled. This caused great worry and concern. Luckily, I had picked a sponsor who patiently walked me through.

We began working the twelve steps. My life had gotten physically better by virtue of just not drinking. Emotionally I was restless, irritable, and discontented. I realized I had to embrace the whole program, including the higher power thing, with all the earnestness of a dying man. So, I did. I developed a sense of a loving God. Life changed dramatically. I began to enjoy being sober, despite the fact my wife/drinking buddy decided she didn’t want to stay. A huge part of me was relieved because I knew my wicked thoughts were going to return and they were easier to hide if I was alone. I got involved with multiple service positions and being social. I went to parties I was getting invited to. The misery of not being my true self was hidden well behind my masks. Dating different women became my norm - anything to prove to myself I wasn’t whom I believed myself to be.

I met and began dating an exciting and understanding woman. We eventually married. The belief was fostered that I could be honest with her about who I was. At first things went well as I began slowly to reveal myself. My sense of hope was growing. Maybe I could finally be completely honest with another human being. When I finally was, things began to deteriorate. Though I understand it now, at the time it seemed a huge betrayal. It was nothing of the sort. She made the decision to give me the freedom to explore the true me. We divorced and I finally had to come face to face with the real me. 

Terror was the word of the day. I was much more afraid of admitting to the world who I was than of alcohol. After many years of sobriety, I decided drinking was a better option. This began a three-year run of pure hell. My consumption far exceeded anything I had ever drank in the past. I quickly became an around the clock drinker consuming over a fifth of liquor a day. For this small person it was unimaginable. Almost immediately, I wished I had my sobriety back. My incorrect assumption was that since I had years of sobriety, I would know what to do to regain it. But I was consumed with fear and self-loathing, both about my relapse and about who I really was. The thought of telling people I had known for almost twenty years that I wasn’t the person they believed themselves to know was overwhelming. I attended lunchtime meetings, swearing I would remain sober, and then drink within hours of leaving. Sometimes I would simply skip the meetings and drink. 

In the same way that I didn’t want to be an alcoholic, I didn’t want to be gay or transgender either. I desperately wanted to be “normal” - whatever “normal” is supposed to mean. I began countless trips to detoxes and rehabs in an effort to find someone to fix me. My wish was to find someone to take responsibility for my sobriety. What hasn’t been mentioned during this whole time was my connection to God. I had rejected the idea of a god who would place all these burdens on me. Therefore,  instead of relying on a power greater than myself, I was only relying on myself and other human beings.

The day came when I was at the jumping off point. I had been seeing a therapist who was helping me become okay with my sexual identity. The sheer fear of coming out coupled with no God to turn to with that fear kept me drinking. Then the gift of desperation was granted to me. My choice became clear. I either had to turn to a God I didn’t trust or end my life. I decided I wanted to live. I prayed for the first time in several years. I knew I needed help and I asked for it. I admitted to myself that I knew nothing about how to stay sober. I started taking suggestions which earlier I had thought unnecessary and absurd. I moved into a sober living house with a group of straight men half my age. Humility was the rule of the day. I began working the twelve steps again as I never had before, being open and honest about who and what I was. I peeled off the first of my masks and showed the world my sexuality. It was difficult and humbling. It was terrifying at times. But I had by now reestablished a reliance on the God of my understanding. Not all of my old friends were understanding or supportive. There was, however, a whole new batch of friends who were that exactly. I became very active again in the fellowship, both in LGBTQIA+ meetings and regular meetings. 

I started seeing a new therapist. As we delved deeper into my sexuality, my gender identification came more and more to the surface. It became time to begin to finally live as my authentic self - a self I had known of since childhood and had spent a lifetime trying to ignore and drink away. With the help of my Higher Power and my therapist I began my transition. Scary doesn’t do the feeling justice. I was about to let the entire world see the real me. Sober. The second mask was pulled away. I will never forget when I announced my name and gender change at my non-LGBTQIA+ home group. I expected the worst possible reaction, but I received nothing but love and support. Many were and still are confused about the transition, yet they met me with love and support anyway.

It hasn’t been easy. Not all have been supportive and that is okay. The God of my understanding lets me know on a daily basis that I am walking the correct path. I have become super active in my LGBTQIA+ home group. I have gotten a job as a peer counselor. I carry this message wherever and whenever I am able. I work extensively with newcomers, especially young LGBTQIA+ members. We as alcoholics overcome so much self-hatred to find sobriety, which is even more pronounced in the LGBTQIA+ community. Yet God carries us. The steps change our self-hatred into the spiritual experience of self love. We learn to be open about who we are and to give away what was so freely given to us. Today sobriety is my freedom. Living my authentic self would not be possible without the freedom being sober offers me.