As I enter into the last chapter of my life, I look back and smile.
The smile is genuine; I am truly grateful to be alive and with a woman I still can’t stand to be away from for any length of time at all.
But it almost never happened.
Because I’m an alcoholic.
I always will be.
Every alcoholic is and always will be.
It is not a temporary visitor, no.
More like a squatter-from-hell you can’t get out of your house.
Retired now and sober for seven years, the desire is still there.
It will always be there.
I was once kicked out of a court-mandated Alcoholics Anonymous meeting because when it was my turn to “share” with the group of chain-smoking coffee addicts, I had the arrogance to inform them that I quit drinking completely and it happened in an instant.
I didn’t need any “steps” to follow.
Or prayers to recite.
Or slogans.
Or chips.
I told the men and women that I just had to find something I loved more than alcohol. I guess, in hindsight, I insinuated it was EASY and ANYONE could do it.
What a dumbass.
I was immediately thanked for “sharing” and ushered out the door as fast as they could get me out of there.
“You don’t have to come back, in fact, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”
Like an idiot, I thought I had secured a “victory” because the old guy that escorted me out gave me back my court orders signed off without having to attend the other nine sessions.
I think next to diabetics, alcoholics are the biggest liars on the planet.
But both are not “conditions.”
They are diseases and neither discriminates; they will both hasten your premature departure from this sphere of existence.
We tell our doctors, “Yes doctor I am exercising regularly, watching my diet carefully, not eating sweets or drinking sugary sodas and certainly not drinking any alcohol.”
Then the results from our A1C come back and we are shocked to see an 8.5.
For reference to you non-diabetics, a “normal” person without diabetes would show a number no higher than a 5.0 or 6.0.
The doctor isn’t shocked one bit; he knows you’re talking shit.
The numbers don’t lie.
So he silently listens to our lies, nods and prescribes more and more powerful doses of vital organ-destroying medicine, and moves on to his next appointment.
After yet another night of reckless drinking (and driving home) my moment of self-realization came when I was awakened in the middle of the night with my soulmate pounding on my chest with both fists and shouting me into consciousness.
“You’re robbing me of my future!”
And I finally got the memo.
I was no longer the smooth-talking, bullshit-spewing Mr. Vegas, the riverboat gambler with money and more women that I could keep up with.
I was a sixty-year-old piece of shit drunk.
A highly educated, well dressed, professionally accomplished piece of shit drunk.
And I stood to lose the only person I love more than myself.
I will end this fervent plea to any one of my fellow alcoholics out there: It is never too late to stop. Obviously the sooner the better, but if and when you can stop, you’ll be amazed at the beauty that’s been around you for your entire life.
Before you are able, the first “step” should be to respect and LOVE YOURSELF!
Stay well (and keep fighting!).
