Living and Birding Gratitude: Thirty Years Sober

16 April 2020 was a uniquely significant day in my life.

Thirty years ago that day I entered the inpatient chemical dependency unit of the Peninsula Psychiatric Hospital for a month. At about 8pm in the car park, I finished a beer, tucked the empty can behind the seat in Lynn’s car and walked into the hospital.

It was with Lynn’s love and support that I was able to go into rehab. I was “sleeping” on her couch those last weeks, awaking every couple of hours to drink. I was using a slab of beer a day, supplemented by a two-litre bottle of vodka every three days. This was just to try and feel normal. I wanted to stop, but I did not think it was possible, Lynn thought it was, and sorted getting me into rehab. That saved my life. No hyperbole, I would have died if I hadn’t stopped drinking. My liver was already being damaged and it would not have been safe to quit on my own. My brother did rehab over 12 times, but never quit. He died of liver failure when he was 56. I was strumming guitar in his hospital room when he died.

They kept me in the detox section for five full days (usually it’s three or less). I can remember my little room in detox. I remember lying on my bed and looking at photos in a magazine. There were pictures of red-rock desert in the US. They were so beautiful and I remember thinking, “If I can be sober. Maybe I could travel and see places like that.” I had no idea how true that would turn out to be. I had no idea that I would tour performing all across America and in the UK, Canada and the Caribbean. Then travel the whole continent of Australia birding and write a book about it. I was agoraphobic back then. I did not think any of that would ever, could ever be possible.

My supervising therapist at our group meeting the morning I was released said, “Bruce entered this program massively addicted to alcohol.” Before I was released, they showed me my chart from when I was admitted. It was recorded that although I was not visibly intoxicated, my blood alcohol content was .412. They checked it twice to be sure. It was the highest that admission nurse had ever seen. .412 is above the lethal level for a normal person with a healthy liver. They had also written in red marker on the chart, “May Injure Self.” I didn’t and I stayed. And I still do not drink alcohol.

I made my living performing in bars and lounges and I had to call and cancel gigs because I was going into hospital for a month. I remember one club where I had played for years, the owner said, “Man, I knew you drank a lot, but I have never seen you drunk.” And I said quite truthfully, “You have never seen me sober.” And he never had. Many people had never seen me sober back then. Now, the majority of you have never seen me drunk.

So I have now been sober for 30 years. Thirty years of sobriety without relapse puts me in a rarified, tiny percentile of recovering alcoholics. Believe me, I am grateful. I could go on about this. It is quite honestly the story of my rebirth.

I will leave you with three photos of me from close to the time I went into hospital. There are no selfies from rehab. We did not have mobile phones yet. Thirty years ago.

I write therefore I am. I share therefore it's real. I love.