Thirty years ago, I expected to die from alcoholism. Suicidal ideation gave way to a complacency that I would just drink myself to death. Mired in hopelessness, I went through the motions of life, pretending to teach, pretending to do research. Despite my every instinct, I managed to ask for help. Today, I am a happy, successful member of Alcoholics Anonymous with a lively career in mathematics. I share my story hoping to help even one person who is now in the place I was all those years ago.
Going off to a top-tier graduate school opened my eyes to the reality that having a knack for mathematics was just one possible starting point for study, not a free ticket to success. Among my colleagues were people who knew how to face challenges and work hard when things did not come easily. I felt increasingly out of place and turned to self-medication to avoid the reality of my situation.
My gift got me through a PhD, but without distinction. I took a post-doctoral job that I felt I didn’t deserve. My drinking became heavier and I started to accumulate the subsequent embarrassments that I will leave you to imagine. Suicide started to seem like my best choice. Hanging on by my fingernails, I started a tenure-track job at a nice university. As my outer façade became increasingly difficult to maintain, I squeaked through the tenure process.
One summer, I supervised a brilliant student’s summer research. It made me cry to realize that I had once been just that promising, but my prospects for success in mathematics were now few. I encouraged others to think that I was just a mediocre mathematician who spent too much time working on teaching (I didn’t), which was better than being known as the drunk that I was. It was during this period that thoughts of suicide gave way to the idea that I could simply keep drinking and be dead in some small number of years.
When the voice on the phone told me, “We have a drop-in meeting that you could attend today,” I said something akin to, “Don’t you know who I am?” Alcoholics build up narratives of sweeping grandiosity and unreasoned pride. I was no exception. I drank for two more weeks while awaiting a one-on-one intake appointment. The doctor helped me learn about alcoholism, explaining the difference between abstinence and recovery. I knew that I wanted to recover, but did not believe it possible. I asked, “How can I go home and not do the thing that I have done every day for ten years?” He answered with a question: “Do you think you could go to an AA meeting?”
Through that crack poured the light of recovery, though very, very slowly. I was extremely reluctant to embrace what I was told. Don’t mathematicians, with our pride in rigorous proof, always think that we know best? Over time, I’ve learned to listen for a match between the voice of my best inner self and the voice of the loving community of people in recovery. That combined wisdom leads me to discern my next right action, the most basic of which is not to pick up the next drink.
格雷斯(被弗朗西斯wonderfu苏l writings as “good things you didn’t earn or deserve, but you’re getting them anyway”), I’ve been sober since my first AA meeting. Relapse is very common and I don’t look down on people who experience it; my continuous sobriety is a reflection of the depth of my desperation when I finally was able to ask for help.
这个故事是由匿名写的。Why do I write anonymously? In Alcoholics Anonymous, we say that “Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.” In order to maintain my own practice of this simple program, it is better if I do not step forward as myself, but rather as one of many whose stories are like my own. This story is not really about me, but about the help available to anyone who, like me, has experienced “incomprehensible demoralization” from drugs or alcohol.