My name is Mitch. I’m an alcoholic. I first said those words aloud in Austin, TX, in the second week of May 2024, after a four-year bender finally hit its limit. This is the story of my last day drunk -> and the first day of the rest of my life.

I woke up on Wednesday, May 8, 2024, hungover with the jitters. I took a few swigs of Fireball to start my day. I felt like shit, but I always did, so I didn’t think anything of it. As the morning progressed, I decided to call out sick and head to a doctor.

My goal was simple: get a vague note of “sickness” to cover my lie, go home, and drink all day. What I didn’t forecast was that doctors actually diagnose patients and treat symptoms. My “lie-covering” visit instantly turned into a medical emergency. My diagnosis? Dehydration, low potassium, an estimated BAC of 0.15 (at 11am), jaundice, and acute liver hepatitis. Thank God I dragged my drunk ass in there.

Like any alcoholic with their best intentions, I confidently refused treatment and signed a form saying so, before driving drunk back to my apartment. I did, however, “promise” the doctors that I would go get help that day. But I couldn’t go to the hospital right away; I still had Fireball shooters waiting for me in my trunk. If I was going out, best believe it was going to be with a bang.

I was tired, sick, hopeless, scared, confused -> very adjective that describes a life consumed by addiction. It was in that moment I finally surrendered: I was powerless over alcohol, and my life was unmanageable.

The Choice

Back in my apartment, I called my dad and frantically relayed everything the doctor told me, ending with my decision to check myself into the hospital. Months later, looking back, he told me, “Mitch, that day you chose life.”

At first, it sounded obvious. Of course I chose life. I was sick and needed help. But it was more than that. I had been on a self-destructive path with an obvious, final destination. That day, I diverted. That day, I chose to live. Who knows what would’ve happened to me physically, legally, or mentally if I had continued down that road.

After the phone call, I went inside to my best friend Alex and told him what was going on. Alex is my boy: there literally isn’t anyone else in the world I would’ve rather had there for me that day. We’re basically brothers, and I trust him with my life. He drove me to the hospital, where he sat with me until my name was called to be admitted. We hugged and said our goodbyes.

The rest of the day is pretty foggy. I was obviously drunk, about to go through withdrawal, and was quickly put on anti-seizure medications for the DTs. I was in the hospital for four nights while I safely detoxed and was replenished with every fluid that wasn’t alcohol.

A New Beginning

My parents flew to Texas to be with me, which was already planned before all this happened. That weekend I was moving out of my current apartment and into a new one. My parents were going to help me rally all my belongings and get me settled. We just weren’t planning on the whole “withdrawing alcoholic son” thing to be part of the festivities.

The events of that week sucked, but they coincided with situations that were almost too perfect to be true. First, I was moving out of a place full of dark secrets and memories that haunt me to this day. A new apartment gave me a clean slate with which to build new habits without interference from old patterns. I had a new drive to work, a fresh maze of apartment complex hallways to navigate, a new route to take my walks.

Second, my parents were there to help me the entire time. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have been able to handle the urge to drink on my own. Their support was huge in those first weeks of sobriety, allowing me to cement new routines and habits without slipping up. My mom helped me through doctor’s appointments, kept track of medications, and organized my apartment because I had no chance of decorating. She stayed an extra ten days just to make sure I was okay. Love you, Mom. I found a whole new meaning to what family is. Family is forever and always.

And lastly, I had my brother Alex and his girlfriend, Liv, to begin this new chapter with. I’m not sure if he realizes it, but they were a major factor in my early sobriety. Their friendship, forgiveness, and love were unwavering.

The timing of that week was curious, almost too perfect. I had Alex nearby, my parents were already set to visit, and my lease just happened to be ending, forcing me into a new, clean space free of old memories and triggers.

In those moments, I truly felt that a higher power was doing for me what I could not do for myself. After years spent neglecting God and His power while I destroyed myself and those around me, He orchestrated that May week in Austin to provide me with a new beginning. I am forever grateful for what seemed to be the worst chapter of my life, because it led me here today.