Chapter 5

I’ve been thinking about the way people look at people who drink too much. Alcoholics, drunks, boozers, are only a couple of the names used. And so, what might be heard said,

‘ah, he's alright when he's not drinking. That one over there, you know, they get very messy, rowdy or mouthy or whatever when they're drinking.’

‘They're alright when they’re not drinking’.

Well, they’re not alright, just because they become another character when intoxicated.

However, “alcohol is absolutely no excuse for violence or abuse of any kind.”

The underlying reason for why they became intoxicated has nothing to do with the alcohol. As a recovering alcoholic, I can tell you. I have never met another alcoholic that didn't have underlying issues, traumas, things they just wanted to get away from. Things that never leave their minds in peace, things they have to live with on a daily basis, an hourly basis even.

Imagine that for a moment. Think of your greatest fear. Is it flying? spiders? enclosed spaces or open spaces? Whatever it is, think about it for a second or two. Is your chest tightening? Do you feel anticipation, dread? Maybe you can feel rising panic, or shame, embarrassment, or desperation for escape.

As fear builds, the world gets smaller, a lot smaller, the air feels thinner, every sound is louder. I know I’m safe now, but my body refuses to believe it. My heart races, sweat drenches me and the need to escape becomes unbearable and alcohol gave me my escape. Alcohol freed my mind from the pain, that's what it did for me anyway, it makes some people violent, I've seen fights starting out of nothing between drunks.

It's something else, another kind of trauma that happened in their life. So when they're sober, they're actually not alright. Is that fair to say?

People don't understand that this person has issues that they need help with, and maybe they have no one to help them deal with it except their buddy alcohol. That they think someone is alright, but they're not. That person needs help. And nobody talks about that. Nobody says, I wonder why they're like that. I wonder what could be done to help them with that.

By 2015 I was in an awful state. Alcoholism had completely taken over. From the moment I woke up I look forward to a drink. Cocaine was involved by now also. I was enrolled in Limerick Institute of Technology. I was a first year undergrad. The previous year I had done my ECDL ( European computer driving license). And I did a six month course in Microsoft Office specialist. I sailed through those courses.

When I was doing the Microsoft Office specialist course the lecturer had to pull me aside. He explained to me. In a very nice way now, how he was going to have to start marking the days I wasn't in. I told him in all politeness and jest, ”I didn’t give a shite! I would pass anyway.”

He had a good laugh at that and said that I was right, but, he had to mark the register. The social welfare got to see the register and they would dock me a day for every day I was missing regardless of whether I passed the course or not.

That got my attention. I have to turn up every day now. I did, mostly, and he never said anything about being late, or how late. After lunch, that was a nice time to arrive in.

Another digression session.

Before I went for treatment, in September 2014, I began a degree in business computing at the Limerick Institute of Technology. I had initially thought that by going to college and changing my lifestyle I would be able to stop drinking by myself. This was not the case. I was receiving back to education allowance when I did enter treatment in January 2015.

Before this I was having difficulty with the Susi grant, because I didn't own property, I didn't have any bills in my name, Susi wanted something like this for proof of address. They suggested I go to the social welfare and get a letter from them and that would suffice.

I went to the Ennis branch of the social welfare where I was registered and explained what I needed and why I needed this documentation. I was informed by the person at the Hatch that Susi have access to their systems and he couldn't provide me with the letter. I asked him for a statement of accounts and he refused telling me he knew what it was for and he wasn't providing it. I explained this was affecting my future, I'm going to college and I can't get there without proof of address. This is the only proof of address I can muster.

He put his hands in the air (like he didn't care), and shrugged. I went out to my car and I rang Dail Eireann. I was put through to a Ministers office. I explained the situation to the receptionists and they put me on to somebody, can't remember who now, but after explaining the situation to them they asked me to give them 5 minutes and they'd ring me back.

As promised 5 minutes later the phone rang, I was informed the letter was ready for me inside. I collected this from a very unhappy member of staff at reception, they made no comment when I asked why I had to ring the Dail just to get a statement of accounts to prove my address? what difference did it make to them where it was going as long as I was doing everything within the parameters the law allowed.

When I look back at the treatment center, it did me far more good than I realized at the time. Although I did find it difficult to relate to a lot of people and was actually asked what I was doing there by one of the councilor’s at one stage. He told me I had no problem with alcohol, but I don't really blame him for having that attitude, it was more my fault he thought that of me because I didn't know how to articulate the strange feelings I was having. A lot of these feelings were brand new to me. At 45 years of age I was experiencing emotions I should have experienced in my teens and even now I can't really explain those feelings.

While I was in the treatment center one of my uncles passed away, my uncle Michael, Lord rest him {mothers side}. I always looked up to him as an uncle, he always seemed so kind and gentle, he always had a smile for me, that's how I remember the smile on his face and the big mustache, he didn't always have the mustache, I'm not sure how long he had it for but I do remember him having one at some stage.

I played pitch and putt with him in the Donaghmede pitch and putt society. It was basically a group of drinkers who put a pinch and putt society together. I used to go play with them because I'd be in the pub with my father. The only kid there. But at least I had my uncle Michael there and the rest of those men were nice to me as well. But the fact is I should never have been there.

When he passed away nobody told me. They said it was because they were afraid I wouldn't come back to the treatment center. That's a lot of rubbish, no one had coerced me to go to the treatment center, I was the one that wanted help. It could have been very easily arranged for me to go out for the day to go to the funeral and come back and pay my respects to my uncle but I wasn't even given the option. The only reason for this to happened was that I would have interfered with their day of drinking at a funeral if I was there, it's simple as that, take it from a recovering alcoholic. I don't like the term recovering alcoholic myself, when does recovery become recovered?

A member of the social welfare attended the treatment center on a weekly basis to help any new patients with any social welfare payment issues they may have, address change etc. When I was called to speak to the lady I explained how I was on back to education allowance and had just finished the first semester as a first year undergraduate in LIT (Limerick Institute of Technology).

This lady then decided that I was to stay on the back to education allowance as it was the same amount of money as job seekers allowance, and it would also mean I would not have to go to the post office every week on the bus from the treatment center. It would also relieve a lot of paperwork that she now did not have to do she told me. I accepted what this lady told me as true and correct as she was a representative of the government of Ireland or social welfare however we choose to look at this. Now they are forcing me to repay that money as they say I was on the wrong payment. This has caused me huge difficulties mentally and physically. Again I can get no one to listen to me or look into it properly.

They were taking 15% of the weekly job seekers allowance, a person can write to them and ask them to reduce this amount to ten Euro or at least a minimum of ten Euro. I have done this on more than one occasion and indeed it has been changed to the ten Euro on more than one occasion, but the following week, it goes back to the 15%. The evidence is in the bank statements and the emails. Nobody listens.

I was doing really well in LIT except for the drink and cocaine. The drink was every day, the cocaine, weekends only because it was too expensive. And be under no illusion. That was the only reason.

I would finish classes and head for a college computer. If I couldn’t find a free one quickly enough, I was gone. If it didn’t start up fast enough, I was gone. Something mightn’t load fast enough, I was gone. Thinking back, I don’t think I ever lasted more than 20 minutes and I was gone.

I debated whether I should say this or not, but I have no choice I believe. I'm not a religious person but I do thank God that I've never killed anyone drunk driving. I look back at when I was doing that and I wish I could stop myself. But that's foolish and impossible. What I can do, is guarantee, As God is my witness, that's right, Steven Condra will never drink and drive again.

Also, which you might find surprising at this point, I still had a relationship with my adopted family. I won't go into the ins and outs but any visits were rarely, if ever, peaceful if my parents were involved. There was always something to say, there was always something to give out about. So for this reason amongst others, I stayed away as much as possible.

My sister found Cuan Mhuire in Athy. Once I made contact with them. I had to phone every day to see if there was a place available for me. This was more to make sure you want to be there as far as I can tell. Totally reasonable, as addicts can change their minds at the flip of the switch. I rang them every day to find out if there was a bed available for me and after about 10 days I was told there was one.

I don't even remember what day of the week I went in but it was around the 4th or 5th of January 2016. They were very kind and explained all the rules to me. One of which was they had to search your bag on your way in to make sure you didn't have anything you shouldn't have, drugs, alcohol, medications etcetera. If you did have medication of any kind it was taken from you, and dispensed to you at appropriate times dictated by the label on your medication. There is a nurses station in the main building and that is where you go for all medications.

I didn't have anything, I hadn't had a drink in about 3 days when I arrived. A lot of people arrive in intoxicated, probably trying to get one last hurrah before treatment. That's my guess anyway. The first week is just detox. As I'm sure you can imagine everybody coming in is at a different level of addiction and it can take some longer than others to detox.

It's a 12 week program. For the first week you must remain in your pajamas. You aren't allowed off the ward for want of a better word. I'm not sure how many bags was there but it was roughly about 10 available. The people you meet in this first week become your classmates for the duration of your stay.

I was offered Librium which is used in the short term, I believe it is used to help mitigate the effects of alcohol withdrawal. I don't really know much about it other than that. I didn't take any because I didn't feel I needed it which was fine because after the second or third day I was sleeping properly anyway.

So as I said, in the first week you're in your pajamas the whole time, that's to stop you trying to move out of the area. It's very easy to spot somebody in pajamas when everybody else is in normal clothing around the rest of the treatment center. You're fed I think it was five times a day, small meals, to try and help build you up again, because a lot of people who come into a place like this are in a very emaciated condition I suppose.

At the end of the first week I, along with the rest of my group were moved into the general population. It was up to four people to a room depending on what room was assigned. We had a little shop, it was small but they sold the essentials. Shower gel, soap, sweets etc.

Bed time, lights out, for the first week was 10:30pm. From week two it changes to 11pm and remains that time for the duration of the treatment. There are designated smoking areas but nobody is allowed outside after lights out.

Mass, breakfast, classes, then you do your job. Everyone gets a job.

Part of the treatment was keeping a copybook. An A4 notebook, filled week by week — lessons, metaphors, reminders. The first one was a snail. Slow down. Don’t rush. Nothing gets fixed overnight.

We were told to keep that book for life. To return to it when things became dangerous, confusing, or loud. It was meant to ground you.

I gave mine to someone I trusted, right after I left Cuan Mhuire. He wanted to try help someone he loved he said, that he could maybe get some insights from what I had written he said. I told him how important it was. I made him promise he would take care of it, that he would know where it was.

Five years ago, I started asking for it back. Since then, I’ve been put off. I've been told there hasn’t been time to look for it. That it might be in an attic, or a shed — somewhere. I can’t ask him directly anymore; he has me blocked.

I don’t have the book. I don’t have the words I wrote in those twelve fragile weeks of recovery. All I have is memory.

When — if — it ever returns, I will share it openly, for anyone who is interested or needs it. That was always the point.

Until then, I rebuild it from memory. Slowly. Like the snail we were told to draw in the first week.