The 7 Ds - Seven Stages that Marked My Slide Into Addiction

The 7 Ds

This insight is act one, of Part I. I call it The 7 Ds—seven stages that marked my slide into addiction. They didn’t arrive all at once, and they didn’t leave all at once either. But naming them helped me understand the shape of my story—and maybe they’ll help you understand yours.

1. Determination

As a kid, I was fiercely determined. That drive carried me far—especially in business. I was relentless, ambitious, and always pushing forward. But that determination was powered by self-will run riot. I thought I could control everything, including myself. I didn’t realize that the very trait that helped me succeed was also laying the groundwork for my downfall.

 

2. Drinking

It started with binge drinking. At first, it was social, even fun. But I drank like I did everything else—all in. I didn’t know moderation. I didn’t want it. Drinking became a reward, a release, and eventually, a requirement.

 

3. DT Drinking

Then came the shift. I wasn’t drinking to celebrate anymore—I was drinking to survive. Morning drinking became my version of coffee. It was how I managed the shakes, the dread, the fog. I was drinking to function, to feel “normal.” But it was drinking to the power of ten—desperate, mechanical, and terrifying.

 

4. Disconnection

This is where I lost myself. I became completely disconnected—from God, from purpose, from people. I was spiritually bankrupt. I’d sit alone at home, headphones on, watching the same music videos over and over again. I wasn’t living—I was just numbing. I was isolated, hollow, and lost.

5. Danger
By this stage, I was in serious physical danger. My liver was 18 months away from failure. My digestive system was inflamed, my kidneys were under strain, and my skin had taken on a sickly tone. I was bloated, sweating through the night, and waking up with tremors that only alcohol could calm. My body was screaming for help, but I was still pretending I could manage.

I was one of the “lucky ones”—blessed, perhaps, with a liver of steel. But I was also playing Russian roulette. Many alcoholics don’t make it this far. Some die quietly from cirrhosis or pancreatitis. Others go out violently—through suicide, overdose, or drink-driving accidents. Globally, it’s estimated that over 3 million people die each year from alcohol-related causes. That’s one person every 10 seconds.

And yet, I hadn’t crashed a car. I hadn’t attempted suicide. I hadn’t landed in jail. So I told myself I wasn’t “that bad.” But the truth is, I was dying slowly. I was a walking time bomb—one seizure, one blackout, one bad decision away from catastrophe.

What’s worse, I had normalized it. I had built a life around managing the damage. I knew which drinks would settle my stomach. I knew how to time my intake to avoid the shakes in public. I knew how to lie to doctors, to family, to myself.

This stage is deceptive because it doesn’t always look like danger. It looks like functioning. It looks like “just tired” or “under pressure.” But inside, the body is breaking down. And the soul? The soul is already on life support.
 

6. Denial

Even then, I couldn’t admit it. I was getting MRIs because I thought something was wrong with my brain. I was hiding alcohol, wearing a mask, pretending I was okay. I was living in full-blown denial—until I couldn’t anymore.

 

7. Despair

This is the final stage before many of us reach out for help. It’s the “what’s the point?” moment—rock bottom. For me, despair wasn’t just sadness; it was the collapse of hope. I told myself I’d drink myself to death or disappear to Thailand.

In AA, I’ve heard countless stories of despair: one member who attempted suicide multiple times; another who planned to live in a caravan just to keep drinking without burdening his family; and a woman who listed her house for sale to access the equity—enough money to drink until it ran out, or she did.

It’s a dangerous place, but also a critical one. Without that depth of despair, I might not have stuck with AA. I might have kept justifying, bargaining, pretending. Despair stripped away the illusions.

At my own rock bottom, I received what I now see as a gift from God. My thinking was so distorted, I decided to quit cold turkey—despite knowing the risks. An alcoholic’s brain runs in permanent overdrive to function with a nervous system depressant like alcohol. When you suddenly stop, it’s like a car with the wheels spinning at 10,000 RPM and the handbrake suddenly released. The result? A violent launch—off a cliff.

Twenty hours after my last drink, I had a seizure. Then another, hours later, in the Emergency Department. And in that moment, I remember thinking: God’s not mucking around with me anymore.

It left me with nowhere to hide—and my belief in God came hurtling back. That’s what made surrender possible.

 

The Turning Point: Altered Attitudes

When I finally accepted I was in denial, something shifted. That surrender led me to AA—not just Alcoholics Anonymous, but what I now call Altered Attitudes.

It’s a return to the start of the alphabet. A reset. A reorientation of how I live and think. For me, Altered Attitudes means living by three spiritual principles:

• Powerlessness – Accepting that I can’t control alcohol, people, or outcomes.
• Surrender – Letting go of self-will and trusting something greater than myself.
• Inventory Management – Not of stock, but of self. A daily practice of self-discovery, honesty, and growth.

These aren’t just ideas—they’re tools. They help me stay grounded, connected, and useful. They’re how I stay sober, and more importantly, how I stay free.

PART I

A strong advocate for freedom, limited government, and enterprise-driven progress, Jason also draws deeply from his personal recovery journey—an experience that reshaped his life and fuels his commitment to growth, contribution, and principled living. Through writing, speaking, and service, he continues to learn, share, and speak with purpose.

I can be engaged (on a remunerated or volunteer basis) to sit on Boards, Committees, Advisory and Reference Group Panels, and to speak to Business, Community, and Youth groups. I’m also open to providing comment to media on topics where I have relevant experience or insight. Please feel free to make contact.