I was a High-Functioning Alcoholic-& I was Damn Good at It.

My wedding day was magnificent.

My wife was stunningly beautiful, all of my friends and family were there, and the afternoon was perfectly sun-drenched. I have a lot of magical memories from my wedding and the births of our four children-the kinds of memories that will last a lifetime and sit at the top of my list of proud experiences. These were the kinds of days one might expect me to declare as the best days of my life.

But they weren’t. Not even close.

The best day of my life was January 10, 2018. That’s the day I declared to the world that I was an alcoholic.

Except for my spouse and my parents, my declaration was a shock to everyone I knew. My wife and I owned our own moderately successful small business, our kids were smart and healthy, we were active in our community and with our church, and our house was well-maintained with a neatly trimmed lawn. I was a high-functioning alcoholic with no outward signs of calamity.

But on the inside, I was slowly dying.

My wasn’t getting worse as time passed, but my alcohol-induced depression was becoming debilitating and deadly. I would wake at 3 a.m. Monday mornings, after a weekend of drinking, in a panic-unable to catch my breath and with thoughts…