Me a few days ago; they looked as if all the blood had drained from their bodies, filtered through bleach and then reinjected back into their veins. I mean they looked “Ghost White” – not an easy feat for full blown alcoholics, our usaul facial tone is “Baby Bottom Pink” or Raspberry Red!

Now, 7 months prior I’d been drinking with 2 of my dinking budies at our local watering hole, on Sample and Powerline, if you’re a South Floridian – you know the spot. We called ourselves the “3 Drunk Men” because there was nothing wise about us, if it could be drank it was – eveporating and being devoured faster than early morning dew.

After we closed that spot down for the night, we went over to my place. How? We drove of course! Once we arrived, that’s when it happened – without warning! My teenage son barged in with his crew, drunker than a pack of monkeys on fermented fruit. I don’t know, but for the first time I saw what I must look like when I’m drunk. They bolted to his room faster than a surface to air missile. I felt like a bystander witnessing an accident from outside my own body – everything happened in slow motion. At that very moment, I said “ENOUGH!” Look what I’ve left my son – “A legacy of Alcohol Addiction.”

I’ve gone through the entire rodeo show of the 12 Steps. I’ve gotten knocked off and trampled by the bull of Alcoholism mor times than I can count, but this was the first time I welcomed it. I knew this time had to be different – “do or die”. I had a son that depised me more than satan, a broken wife that tried her darnedest to support me and my life of regret.

I called my old (AA) sponsor and practically begged him to take me back. I did this in front of my full blown alcoholic buds – of course they found it amusing. Then I told them they had to leave not because of their laughing but beacuse I’d drank my last bottle and I was going to get my shit together even if it killed me. They looked at me with pensive eyes and said ” come on man, you know and we know you’ll be right back here drinking with the rest of us within 24 hours – so save yourself the grief, let’s finish this fucking scotch and go bowling”. For a moment I almost bought into that suggestion, but the image of my ”drunk as a sunk” son was to fresh in my mind. I told them that I loved them, that I won’t be seeing them for a while and that I needed them to respect my decision. In fact, I went on to say that the next time they saw me I’d be as clean and sober  as virgins sheets.

7 months later my friends with absolute amazement plastered over their faces, see me walking out of the local EZ-Mart, not with a bottle of my beloved scotch, but with my most prized possession my family. It was a feeling you can’t pay me enough to sell. My son and I are both in recovery, attending meeting, reading theaablog.com, intherooms.com and going to as many gatherings as we can find. My wife and I are working extremely had to to fix our marriage – I’m trying to right all my wrongs. It’s not easy, but being a slave to alcohol addiction is much worse.

Peace,

Thanks for letting me share.

Foreworded to Ron Kerronian

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Me a few days ago; they looked as if all the blood had drained from their bodies, filtered through bleach and then reinjected back into their veins. I mean they looked “Ghost White” – not an easy feat for full blown alcoholics, our usaul facial tone is “Baby Bottom Pink” or Raspberry Red!

Now, 7 months prior I’d been drinking with 2 of my dinking budies at our local watering hole, on Sample and Powerline, if you’re a South Floridian – you know the spot. We called ourselves the “3 Drunk Men” because there was nothing wise about us, if it could be drank it was – eveporating and being devoured faster than early morning dew.

After we closed that spot down for the night, we went over to my place. How? We drove of course! Once we arrived, that’s when it happened – without warning! My teenage son barged in with his crew, drunker than a pack of monkeys on fermented fruit. I don’t know, but for the first time I saw what I must look like when I’m drunk. They bolted to his room faster than a surface to air missile. I felt like a bystander witnessing an accident from outside my own body – everything happened in slow motion. At that very moment, I said “ENOUGH!” Look what I’ve left my son – “A legacy of Alcohol Addiction.”

I’ve gone through the entire rodeo show of the 12 Steps. I’ve gotten knocked off and trampled by the bull of Alcoholism mor times than I can count, but this was the first time I welcomed it. I knew this time had to be different – “do or die”. I had a son that depised me more than satan, a broken wife that tried her darnedest to support me and my life of regret.

I called my old (AA) sponsor and practically begged him to take me back. I did this in front of my full blown alcoholic buds – of course they found it amusing. Then I told them they had to leave not because of their laughing but beacuse I’d drank my last bottle and I was going to get my shit together even if it killed me. They looked at me with pensive eyes and said ” come on man, you know and we know you’ll be right back here drinking with the rest of us within 24 hours – so save yourself the grief, let’s finish this fucking scotch and go bowling”. For a moment I almost bought into that suggestion, but the image of my ”drunk as a sunk” son was to fresh in my mind. I told them that I loved them, that I won’t be seeing them for a while and that I needed them to respect my decision. In fact, I went on to say that the next time they saw me I’d be as clean and sober  as virgins sheets.

7 months later my friends with absolute amazement plastered over their faces, see me walking out of the local EZ-Mart, not with a bottle of my beloved scotch, but with my most prized possession my family. It was a feeling you can’t pay me enough to sell. My son and I are both in recovery, attending meeting, reading theaablog.com, intherooms.com and going to as many gatherings as we can find. My wife and I are working extremely had to to fix our marriage – I’m trying to right all my wrongs. It’s not easy, but being a slave to alcohol addiction is much worse.

Peace,

Thanks for letting me share.

Foreworded to Ron Kerronian

No Comments