Simple tests for complex problems do not work. The disease of alcoholism is recognized and defined by Alcoholics Anyonymous as (among other things) “cunning, baffling, and powerful.” I believe this to be very accurate.

Regrettably, alcoholism is not a disease that can be easily “tested for” or proven or dis-proven. If you, a loved one, or anyone else you know believe you may have a problem or feel that you or they drink too much, it is certainly worth examining further. However, in my own experiences and the experience of others, I have seen a variety of tempting but ultimately unproductive ways to approach that examination.

The first and most frequently-used simple test is, I believe, among the worst because it is so inaccurate: “Do you ever drink alone?” This is far too black and white a question, yet is considered by many laypeople to be a good jumping-off point for deciding that an intervention is in order for anyone who answers “Yes.”

The most simple rebuttal I have to that is the scenario of a single person who wishes to occasionally have a drink  but does not drive after having even a drop of alcohol (a very good policy, by the way). If they go home and have one or two drinks after work by themselves, they would answer “Yes” to the question of whether they ever drink alone. Are they an alcoholic? Not necessarily.

A friend of mine who is aware of the fact that I am a recovering alcoholic and I were talking the other day, and he said, “Man, what a day I had! I felt like I really could use a drink after I got off work.” He then sheepishly apologized for saying that to me. I told him no apology was necessary – alcohol is in our society, for better or worse, and you have to get used to that.

He then asked me if feeling the “need” for a drink after a stressful day at work was a sign that he had a problem. It took me a minute to really process that and formulate a helpful answer. In the end, I replied:

I don’t think it’s that simple. Many people have days like that from time to time, and sometimes a drink is a nice little treat for someone after such a day. If you find yourself feeling that way quite often, or if you have more than one after a stressful day, you might have a problem. But it’s a cunning and complex disease, not one that is prone to simple tests. It’s good to ask yourself questions like that, but from what I know of you, you do not have a problem.

There are many other “basic” tests that people try to use. In the end, I think they are at best overly simplistic and, at worst, are used by some people to rationalize the outcome they want – “I don’t do x” (where x is a basic test), so “I do not have a drinking problem.” Alcoholics are masters of rationalization, often attempting to apply rules to limit their drinking (such as “I will not have a drink until 8 p.m.” or “I will only drink beer from now on”) to “prove” they don’t have a problem.

Would you like some simple tests? The first one is quite basic but requires honest, thoughtful reflection in responding to be of any use:

Are you concerned about the impact of your alcohol consumption?

If you have reason to ask this, whether you are asking it of yourself or with regard to a loved on, I would encourage you to spend some time reflecting on why you are asking the question.

Another simple test is:

Do your hands shake uncontrollably when you wake up? Do they stop shaking after you have had one or more drinks?

Aside from neurological conditions, the “morning shakes” are often a sign of physical dependence on alcohol. If they “clear up” after you drink, you need help. Now.

Other signs of alcohol dependence include:

• waking up one or more times during the night to have a drink to “help you sleep”
• profuse sweating when not drinking and/or while sleeping
• periods of time that you cannot remember
• obviously, a strong odor of alcohol (or even rubbing alcohol if you drink vodka because “it doesn’t have an odor”)
• aside from an odor of alcohol, many heavy drinkers will have a very strong odor of vinegar in their perspiration; if you smell vinegar when you wake up, your body is going into a state in which it cannot process the alcohol properly; again, get help – immediately

Alcoholism is indeed a very cunning, baffling, and powerful disease. It is progressive – without help, it will continue to get worse and worse. It is also fatal if untreated. If you get nothing else from reading this article, please get this. I have friends who drank themselves to death. I nearly drank myself to death. It is a painful, lonely, slow way to die.

There is help. There is light at the end of the tunnel. And there is no shame in it. Because we are anonymous, there are far more people who have struggled in similar ways than you know. You can get help. Just ask.

Please feel free to contact me anonymously if you don’t know where else to turn.

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Hi, my name is Gretchen, and I am an alcoholic.

I really shouldn’t have so much to bitch about.

Born an only child, and growing up as something of a “military brat,” I have always been an introvert who learned to play the role of an extrovert. Moving across the States (and the world) frequently as a younger person, I learned early on how to “fake it to make it.”

Ironically, decades after learning myriad techniques for getting by, it all came crashing down around me and I lost my ability to cope, my house, my job, my car, and most of the people who I always suspected – who I knew deep-down inside, in the dark of night where my tears were the only sound to drown out those nagging voices of doubt, fear, and self-loathing inside my head – I was sure they would abandon me once they figured out the faker underneath it all. Whoever the hell that faker had become.

I started drinking at a fairly young age by American standards. Of course, people have commented that I looked and behaved as though as I was older than my chronological age for all of my life. That used to feel like a compliment – I was quite the “popular” teenager, although strangely most of my so-called friends turned into hoodlum Houdini’s once I doled out the booze I had acquired with my fake ID and deep voice.

As a teenager I was curious, and was often told how smart I was. One day a friend and I decided that smart+curious=trip to a parent’s basement to scope out anything of interest. Among the treasures we found was The Bartender’s Guide to Mixology. Not just any guide, nor just for any bartender, but THE Bartender’s Guide to Mixology! Naturally the bookshelf it was in had very few other books, but the bottles in the shelves combined with this book of magic potions was all we needed.

So there we were, two curious, allegedly smart nerds, about to have our first drink. The choice was made – something called “a Manhattan.” The first one was wonderful. So was the second. Shortly thereafter we were the two nerdiest 14-year-old drunks in town. And so began my career as a professional alcoholic.

Throughout most of my adult life I lived a “traditional” life in public and a rather different one in my own head. I thought of myself as a social drinker, never having more than two drinks in public. As tears went by and life got more complex, I continued to use wine as a “social lubricant.” What could be the harm in that? It was just wine. I never consumed more than two glasses of wine in public. And I was the belle of the ball, the person whose table people rotated around so they could share in witty bon mots about the shallowness of others, refreshing small talk wholly reflective of the total nothingness that is suburbia, mindless chitter chatter for we, the upper-middle-class masses, to pass the time in between PTA meetings, mowing the lawn, polishing our nails, and otherwise giving the Brits a damned good run for use of the title “Lives of Quiet Desperation.”

As the mundane drone of life went on, I began to find that two glasses of wine was not enough to get me through the various social outings that I felt obliged to go for fear that the other attendees would all talk about me in my absence. So I learned the delicate art of “pre-drinking” – consuming as much wine as possible as quickly as possible in the alloted time when no-one else was home.

Even while engaging in pre-drinking, I rigidly maintained my two glasses in public rule. Not once did I break that limit. After all, I told myself, I had the “post-drinking” to look forward to. And of course, it was still just wine. once I was home, safely ensconced in my private chamber of alcoholism, I could and did drink until I passed out. I even started adding in an occasional nostalgic Manhattan.

Eventually the blackouts started arriving, along with the mornings of discovering new bumps, bruises, and scrapes (always accidentally self-inflicted, to the best of my knowledge). Hangovers were a thing of the past. If I woke up with a headache, or shaking hands, or just thinking I could use a drink, that would mark the start of that day’s pre-drinking.

Days become weeks, weeks became months, and months became years. Over time, the few people I had not totally isolated myself would periodically try their best to help. Some asked if I was trying to kill myself. My answer to them was always “No, of course not.” But inside I knew I was choosing a very slow, very painful, and very selfish form of suicide.

At times I even thought of taking a quicker way out.

At other times, the best of intentions from some people actually made things worse. But today, looking back, I am grateful. I walked the line and got a chance to start over.

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