Nicely done.

I read both your and Kristi Coulter’s articles.

I have a lot of experience drinking. I have a lot of experience not drinking. I have been successful at both. Currently, I am on a twenty-three plus year streak of not drinking. I had help from groups and God.

One of my beliefs about sobriety is that there is no solution whatsoever in being a victim. I am not saying that there is no such thing as a victim. Quite the opposite. Most people who have a drinking problem are victims of one sort or another. I never experienced sexism, but I have stories too. My point is that the solution lies elsewhere.

This is particularly true for people who are victims. Because let’s face it, if you haven’t been victimized, and you’ve never seen yourself as a victim, then you’re not likely to use being a victim as the reason why you drink too much. It’s the person who has the stories who has the problem.

I had a tumultuous childhood, at times. My parents loved me, and still do, but there were drugs and booze in the house, often. I remember staying with neighbors one time for a week. They tried to convince me and my brothers to bathe every day. We bathed once a week at that point in our lives, which we thought was an achievement. It was more than before.

And well, from there my life just turned into all kinds of stuff. Use your imagination about home, and what might have happened out in the world.

But telling the war stories, and getting sympathy, because there are plenty of people willing to give you sympathy, has nothing to do with sobriety. Worse, it will do you in. Acceptance and gratitude are the keys.

I am a white male. For the most part I understand my privilege, or at least how other people see my privilege. My story is a little different than the standard narrative. I wasn’t set up to cash in. And by the time I sobered up, many opportunities had passed me by.

But in sobriety, I absolutely understand my privilege. I have literally, hundreds of times, thanked my lucky stars that I am a white male. Oh, and straight. Because early on in sobriety I saw the connection between not being a victim and long-term sobriety. And at least I didn’t have gender, race, or sexual orientation to add to the myriad other ways that I was tempted to see myself as a victim. It may have saved my life.

Selfish? Maybe. But I was in the business of not dying. I still am. I blame me for my problems today, not people around me. That’s my privilege.

Of course, that is my story. Other people have different stories to tell.

Early on in sobriety, after about five years, I hit it off with a young woman in her first year. She was a lesbian. We talked, drank a lot of coffee, and hung out after meetings.

Up came her one year anniversary. She wanted me to watch her take a chip. The meeting turned out to be gay and closed. I wasn’t sure I should go. She dragged me in. I was right. I saw people I knew. They were outed.

I didn’t go back. Once the people I saw knew that I would respect their privacy, we were good. But they had a right to be there without me showing up. I get it. They identified in a way that helped them stay sober.

But as for me, I’m just a garden variety drunk, and I am incredibly privileged. I doubt that Julius Caesar could do half the things that I can do. I can drive to the lake and swim. I have two awesome cats. I can hike in the park and take pictures of rattlesnakes. I can bring home Chinese food and watch cute animal videos on the couch with my wife. I can fly to Boston and watch a baseball game if I want. Life is good. I have no complaints.

And I am not a victim.