I get it sir. You are a raging alcoholic. You cannot control your cravings for alcohol and cannot stop drinking. It has likely cost you your job, ruined your family and destroyed your health. Some people just shouldn't drink and you sir, are one of those people.I am sure you didn't mean to become a degenerate drunk, but there you are, flat on your back, unable to control your actions.
As I look around the room and see your crying family, I can't help but notice how well kept your home is, how well it is decorated and how nicely it is furnished. I scan the pictures on the wall and see you as a happy boy, a smiling groom and a jubilant father of the bride. How did it go so wrong?
Your distraught wife tells me that you have been on a binge for a few days and that she had to take your keys and lock up the booze. She has been through this many times before. Obviously, she didn't find the bottle you had buried in the planter or the one hidden in a jacket pocket.
So here we are. You are lying flat on the floor, your eyes are open and you can follow simple commands. Any attempt at communicating however, results in gibberish. Your family thinks this may be a suicide attempt, as you placed a bottle with a few unknown pills in it under the chair next to where you lay. That and the weak-ass suicide note you left on the desk.
I get it. You have a disease, you are an alcoholic. What I don't get is why you manipulate the people who love you most.
We all felt it. The entire crew. Maybe it was the way you seemed to smirk as you lie there while your tearful family told us your history. Maybe it was that weak-ass note you left or the placement of the pills. Regardless, we all felt that somehow, you were able to run the show and call the shots of this dramatic scene.
We treated you professionally despite our reservations. That is what we do, we are professionals. It is our hope that you find a way to dry out and lead a normal life. Failing that, we hope that you can be a little less selfish and stop manipulating those who care about you. Stop the manipulation before they stop caring.
****
I know the last few posts have been a little dark, what can I say. I am on a roll.
Thanks for reading,
Schmoe
Some days you just need to walk away
12 hours ago
Dark or not they are a stark reality. I often wonder, behind all those closed doors, how many families are going thru this very scene, night after day after night? Coming from an alcoholic family, I find it very selfish also, Capt! In your own words, strong work!
ReplyDeleteStay safe as always!
Gia
Dear Captain Schmoe,
ReplyDeleteLike Gia, "dark or not they are stark reality". And I also come from an alcoholic family. The healing you saw that needed doing was to the whole family, but you were only authorized to treat the disease that time. It sucked for you.
You did what you could. The rest of them, I am sure, remembered this. For a time, it made them step quietly around dear old Dad. But later, they had the time to find it as miserably stupid as you did. I hope they got treatment. I hope the bastard went to twelve step. I'm glad you tell the truth.
Sincerely,
Ann T.
Yep, gotta agree with Gia's 'stark reality'.
ReplyDeletethis is the kinda stuff we see day in and out, sometimes it's hard to write about anything else when this is what we see. It's does you good to get it out and you write very well.
I'm glad that you share your stories.
Dark secrets. I didnt grow up with any alchoholics in the house. I'm the lucky one obviously. But, I did hear quiet whispers about my paternal grandmother on occasion. Never enough to fully understand when I was younger. She died two weeks after I was born. On Christmas Eve 1965. Not even the birth of her first grandchild (me) could change the inevitable. My father found her that night. She choked on her own vomit. My father NEVER drinks and now I know why.
ReplyDeleteSounds familiar. Too familiar. Eight plus years one day at a time.
ReplyDeleteWow. Looks like I might have picked at a few scabs with this one. I hope no one is bleeding too badly.
ReplyDeleteCongrats to you Lt. Morse, that's a hard row to hoe.
Wish I thought of it sooner, this has been the best eight years of my life. (I've got lots of bandaids)
ReplyDeleteDear Michael Morse,
ReplyDeleteI honor you for those eight years. I know plenty of people who have not chosen so well.
One thing I know, people need to know about struggle, too. They need to know people can change how life goes forward. Knowing this helps me every day.
Dear Captain Schmoe,
I think it was a wonderful post. Mr. Morse is right. We can take it! Band-aids all around.
Thank you for a significant post,
Ann T.
Reality at it's finest and accurate to a T. The only thing I disagree with is alcoholism as a disease, in my opinion it's an addiction, because if it's considered a disease so is everything else that we abuse and use in excess including food, medication, greed, power etc.
ReplyDeleteCapt. Schmoe - i believe that is OK that post are little dark. I will call it realistic. Mostly our lives are darkish with occasional (more or less frequent) glimpses of bright light.
ReplyDelete