Hello, my name is Willy Drinkwater and I am a licensed alcohol/drug counselor in the state of Massachusetts.  I have not always been a counselor. As a matter-of-fact, before entering

Eastern Hockey School in Worcester, MA, 1969. I am the goalie on the left with two fellow campers. The gentleman behind us is Charlie Hodge, a former goalie with the Montreal Canadians.

the field, I began on the other side of the therapist’s desk. 

Greenwich, Connecticut.  Yeah, that’s where this tale begins.  Ah, Greenwich -- one of the wealthiest towns in the United States.  Actually though, I grew up in the Riverside section of town, predominantly made up of people in mid-management positions and in the building trades.  This part of town could be noted by split-level ranch-style homes on quarter- to half-acre lots; not the 22-room mansions on multiple acres in the back country where many friends from my parochial school lived in.

My dad was a binge-drinker who often became psychotic when he drank; we (me, Mom, my brother and

June 2004, being interviewed by the Melrose Free Press.

sister) would drive around for hours waiting for him to pass-out if he came home late at night in that condition.  He was a behemoth of a man at 6’6” and 270 pounds.  This was not a person to get in the way of.  Sober, he was a gentle, kind, caring man. He was extremely well-read and could speak on any topic. A sort of modern-day Renaissance man.

The first time I drank it was a cold December evening when I was 11years old.  I had “liberated” a bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Crème Sherry from the attic at my house and then joined up with my buddies for an evening of night skating on the river that ran alongside our neighborhood.

That

Hockey action with me in net.

first sip felt so warm, with a slight burning sensation to it as it passed down my esophagus and into my stomach.  It was wonderful, indescribable.  The constant fear of living with a sometimes-violent binge-drinker eroded away as I began to not have a care in the world. I had to have more, and so I did.  To the point where I became violently ill.  Little did I know at the time that this would become a regular pattern throughout most of my drinking days.

From then on, I looked forward to every weekend as an opportunity to drink.  We kids in the neighborhood would take turns pilfering our parents’ liquor cabinets.  Being hockey jocks if my friends

Senior Year, 1974, St. Mary High School, Greenwich, CT.

and I were caught it was pretty much, “boys will be boys.” In this town, liquor was looked at as an intricate part of the affluent lifestyle.  In addition, I came from a family where my dad was a labor union leader.  There was the unspoken building trade’s credo, “You work hard, you play harder, and you drink hardest.”  There were no alcoholics, just problem drinkers -- those that couldn’t hold their liquor.

By my senior year in high school my weekend drinking had progressed to drinking during the week.  Sometimes every night.  I even played a hockey game one night with a good buzz on (not a particularly bright thing to do, especially in my position as a goalie).

In college, 1978, hanging out in a women's townhouse, giving them a few laughs, and threatening to hit the showers unless they could find me a beer.

A couple of All-Star Awards, a league record for “Most Shutouts in a Season,” and of course, alcohol, had me convinced that I would be a shoo-in as the starting goalie for the Division II college  I would be attending that fall.

When I arrived at college I was in the worst shape of my career due to drinking all summer and never working out.  So I was not really surprised when I became one of the first players to be cut from all squads; Varsity, JV, and Freshman.  I was a little indignant, “Don’t they know who I am?”  Then right after that was the feeling of, “Ah, screw it anyway.” 

Home from a shift tending bar in 1982, notice my Heineken antennae, yup, comedy bar times.

Now I could rationalize and justify drinking everyday.  (Years later in the start of my recovery I would change the question from “Don’t they know who I am?”  to, “Who am I?”)

Academically I started out well enough.  At the first semester mid-terms I had three As and two Bs.  By the end of the semester, however, my drinking had driven these grades to three Cs and two Ds.

I looked at college as a way to get out of a household that I saw as chaotic 24-7.  Classes were not very important to me.  What was important was the fact that

With my youngest son Allen, who was four at the time. I had been sober about a year. My family and I are on the Scotia Prince heading to Nova Scotia where my in-laws had retired in 1982. Both my wife's parents were originally from there. Yvette, (my wife), and all her siblings were born and raised in the Boston area. “Novy” is felt by all to be our second home.

I did not have to be hyper-vigilant, wondering if my family and I would survive another of my Dad’s late night arrivals.  My lifestyle at school was that of a fraternity rat with a wild comic bent. Most days revolved around playing Kitty-Whist (card game) in the cafeteria between and after classes, listening to southern rock with my friends, and “road trips” to anywhere  In the afternoons, we would hit the local “Packie” to get that evening’s drinking necessities.  When I arrived at college in 1974, Massachusetts had just lowered the drinking age to 18, (guess they knew I was coming, huh?).  To help matters, the college pub was open 7 days a week.  As I look back now, I can see that drinking for me really was not an effort to have

With Yvette, my wife, coming home from another trip to Novy.

a good time; rather, it was so I could feel nothing, absolutely nothing.

I flunked out of college after my sophomore semester with a .08, four Ds and an F.  I returned to Greenwich where I worked various jobs for the town -- from the beach crew to the road crew.  My family was convinced that I must have been doing drugs and/or had a bad acid trip for this to have happened.  “Alcohol?” they said.  “No, it just is not possible that alcohol alone could have been the cause.”  Well, it was.

After a year off, working, laying low, and not drinking, I reapplied to my former school and was readmitted.  This time I swore it would be different!  And for a time it was.  At this stage I practiced controlled drinking with just an occasional binge to pass-out episode.

Then I picked up a job as a bartender for a local restaurant chain (the perfect job for an alcoholic I might add, or so it seemed at the time.)  I started dropping courses left and right, skipping classes, and partying 24-7.  What should have been a four year BA degree, ended up taking me a total of eight years to finish (1974-1982).

For several years after college I continued to tend bar.  My drinking at this point was mainly off-and-on binge-drinking, usually to the point of blackout and/or pass-out.  During this time I began to get a reputation as a comic bartender.  Usually I could be found telling my customers comic stories, jokes, or doing impressions of local area characters and celebrities.

A couple of stand-up comics who used to frequent my bar suggested that I approach Boston’s top morning drive-time rock ‘n’ roll station with my scripts.  After making a few phone calls, the morning DJ invited me in to read my material and listen to me do some of my character voices. I was asked to join the crew as an intern.  Comedy writer by day, stand-up comic by night.

My comedy style is high energy, frenetic.  I draw on my life experiences and the absurdities of life as I see them around me.  In my early stand-up, I did talk about my drinking: “You know Budweiser is not just a breakfast drink,” and “I never met a beer I didn’t like,” and “24 hours in day, 24 beers in a case, coincidence?  I think not!”  I did quite a few parodies of songs while at the radio station.  Instead of Jingle Bells, mine was called Shopping Malls, (copies available on request).  Comedy allowed me to be ok with myself, drinking never gave me that.  Today my comedy focuses on all mental health.  Or as I say, “Mental Health -- The Oxymoron.”

During this time in my life I had flirted with a twelve step program, never really thinking that I belonged.  In later years I would discover through my addiction studies that those of us who binge drink, seldom see our drinking as a problem or issue. We tend to be the hardest to reach.

Being in comedy, I really only came home to crash and get ready for the next gig.  Family life was non-existent at this point. Being a typical alkie, it was all about me.  It was really starting to take a toll on my wife, (plus we had a young son at this point).  My wife would only get glimpses of the real me, which she described as a sensitive man that cared about everything and everyone.  In later years, she confided to me this is what kept her hanging on.

The turning point in my addiction came one night when my wife of five years confronted me. “I don’t think I can take this anymore,” she stated.  Seeing her standing there crying and sobbing somehow tweaked a part of my soul that I was not even aware of until then existed.  At this point she began to attend Al-Anon, the support group for families and friends of alcoholics.

So on December 10, 1985 I began my sobriety and have not had a drop since.  What has made this possible?  Probably the most important key for me was laying out a plan of action.  Hope, without a plan of action, is pretty much dead in the water. I began by going to ninety twelve step meetings in ninety days.  This is not twelve step talk, rather, it is suggested by addiction professionals, (to date, I have not met a single person over the years in a twelve step program that would disagree with this plan of action).  I started working on myself, not only through the twelve steps, but through individual therapy and other types of support groups.  I realized early on that if I did not change the person that initially stopped drinking, I would more than likely pick-up a drink again at some point.

One of the most important beliefs for me is that my sobriety begins each day when I wake up.  Each day is a fresh opportunity to grow and develop further as a human being.

When I look at the past I do so in order to improve my present and future, not as a scapegoat to avoid the fear of change in the present.

In the tenth year of my recovery I was diagnosed with Bipolar II type disorder.  This definitely helped to explain to me why all the meetings in the world could not prevent my mood swings.  This actually could be another article for me to write on, namely, being a Dual-Diagnosed person.  Thank God for twelve step programs, though.  For if I had not gotten sober first, I doubt that I would have been able to see this other issue that needed to be confronted and dealt with, (on a daily basis, just as I do my addiction).

Today I am ok with myself, who I am, and where I am at this point in my life.  I work full-time as a senior staff counselor on the inpatient psychiatric unit at Melrose-Wakefield Hospital, in Melrose Massachusetts. I am on staff at Cambridge Health Alliance where I specialize in motivational/educational presentations to the dual-diagnosed patients where I also provide support for patients’ families. In addition, I am a national speaker for Depression, Bipolar, Support Alliance (DBSA). I have alos started a business venture, “Entertaining Education” where I present workshops on various topics such as stress reduction through humor, and drug/alcohol issues. 

As crazy as it may sound, I still do have the fear of success.  That said, I still plan to return to the stage.  I want to use my comedic talents to educate the public on mental health issues.  We are at the stage in society where people can now discuss addiction issues much more openly than, say, even ten years ago.  However, it is in the other areas of mental health such as depression (20-25 million Americans) and bipolar disorder, (2 million Americans), that there are still major stigmas to overcome.  Probably the one addiction issue that I am highly concerned about is the number of drugs, such as oxycontin, or crack cocaine, that even through a one time use can cause an instant addiction to spring forth.

For those of you who are concerned that a loved one or friend may have an addiction issue I have several suggestions.  Talk with them and voice your concerns.  If they try to immediately stop your dialogue, or, become defensive, you more than likely have hit a sensitive nerve.  Those of us with addictions will often be hypersensitive to such talk if we are not following a recovery path (heck, even if we are following one for that matter).  Secondly, leave drug/alcohol material such as self-quizzes around the house where they will come across them.  Sometimes the best path is the one of least resistance.

What not to do?  Do not become their caretaker.  Do not allow their addiction to control you and your life.  I do not doubt for a second that families who do end up in this state believe they are doing what is in the best interest of that person.  However, you are dead wrong.  I have seen this time and time again when working with families of an alcoholic or addict where I can hear the person’s addiction trying to manipulate the whole family.  Statements from the addict such as, “No really, it is definitely going to be different this time” or, “Come on, this is only my first time in treatment,” are ones to beware of.  Ask them what their course of action is going to be to stay sober.  This will give you an indication of their sincerity and honesty.

For those struggling with their own addictions, identification with others is a major key.  The first time I heard another alcoholic talk about being in a room full of people and feeling like they were all by themselves, I realized for the first time that I was not alone.   Many alcoholics feel this way during their drinking days.  Many people get hung up on the question, “Why am I an alcoholic?”  This question can perpetuate continued use.  Until one gets sober, this question is impossible to answer.  As a matter of fact, even sober, one may never realize an answer to the question.  Fact is, it is the wrong question.  The question should be, “Am I an alcoholic?”  Then the answer is either yes or no.  If it is yes, then maybe I should be making some healthy changes for myself to take back control of my life

Thanks for the read,

-- Willy Drinkwater*

* When I worked in radio, every Friday the DJ would thank all of us on staff over the air by name.  Usually 5 or 10 minutes after that, people would call in wanting to know what my real name is.  Well, it is actually William not Willy.  Drinkwater is my real last name however.  It is an old English surname that has three possible meanings: One, those who were too poor to afford mead or ale; Two, those who were prohibitionists; lastly, and definitely my family, those who when they drank always seem to take it to excess.