We walk upon these stairs so deep, not knowing for what they keep.
A deep dark mystery awaits us there, there…at the bottom of the stairs.
For those so bold to go, to that place we do not know, we tread down steadily upon the keep, still not yet knowing how how wide or deep.
And yet we go, with heads held high, we go down boldly without a sigh.
And when we land we see the place, and see the mirror that reflects our face, and yet we go still boldly still, to that place that will surely kill.
What hope remains, is still there too, a place of solace for me and you. We hold to that, heads held up high, and move on boldly without a sigh…
Uptown, downtown…today it’s Midtown. I had high-hopes for today, to not drink, but perhaps my high-hopes were not realistic. Today is our Canadian Thanksgiving holiday. I have no family close-by, no friends close enough in heart to invite me to celebrate with them, and so for the 6th year in a row I spent the day alone. Well, not exactly. I went to my “Cheers” and did enjoy a couple hours with a friend there. He celebrated Thanksgiving last night with his family. Today, he was back to work and coincidentally stopped in to our mutual cheers spot. So that was nice, at least.
Thanksgiving is a time for family really. Since I have no family left, I guess it’s not a time for me. The memories of Thanksgiving’s past remain, however, sadly — and happily. I had many good years with my family in times past. For that I am truly grateful, truly thankful. So, it’s not a bad day, despite my being alone now. I have those beautiful memories.
That said, I still WISH I could to this day still celebrate. My children didn’t even wish me a happy Thanksgiving this year….probably because they know that I am still alone and don’t know how to deal with a father who they have mostly ignored for all too many years now, their still being so closely tied to their Mother. My son is 34. My daughter is 26. They both live within 3 blocks of their dear Mother.
Meanwhile, all these years my kids continue to celebrate everything without me, year in and year out. I have been left out of all of that for 23 years now, thanks to the horrible devastation of divorce. Oh well. Thank God for my beers tonight. At least they helped me to get through yet another one.
So tonight whilst I am thoroughly enjoy my beer-fest, the guy who I recently asked to sponsor me came in to the restaurant for dinner. He sat at the bar, alone. I heard him say that his wife and child were out and about somewhere, so he was on his own for the evening. I carried on with my bar-buddy. We had a few more and then left. Just before I left, James came over and wished me well. Shook my hand even. Very nice of him. He’s been sober for 22 years. He’s around 48 now. Anyway, it was nice to see him.
So, I’ve been on the cusp, so to speak, of quitting the drink. Each day, however, I seem to find an exceptional reason to avoid the inevitable. The “inevitable”, yes. I know now that I can easily quit the drink if I choose to do so. I might suffer a couple of days feeling odd or out of sorts, but I won’t go through and major alcohol withdrawal, I know that now. As my therapist said to me recently, “You have no problem stopping…your problem is deciding to stay stopped”. How right she is. I guess that makes me very lucky compared to those who have to go through huge alcohol withdrawal when they finally stop.
Well, here’s to tomorrow. Yet another day that I have planned to stop. I know that I need to. I know that I must. I know all of that. I just need to do it.
Downtown, having had my fill of swill, I watch. I watch the young couple flitterpating between them, I see the way overweight guy coming in for even more — pizza.
And then the owner is fawning over his beautiful Japanese girlfriend who just came in, trying to swoon her with some sort of wings, in a foil pan.
He looks at her with great hope and expectation. She gorges, casting no glances towards the one who, now obvious to me, kept her alive for yet another day. Food first! Sex later, I suppose.
Were I younger, or in power like this fellow, I would be tempted to do the same…until…until I watched her so desperately, voraciously devour the food….
And then he asks her for $3 so that he can tip the server. What??? She meekly agrees and digs into her layers of purse and pockets to find it.
Hunger — for food or sex or in my case alcohol, surpasses everything. Tonight I see both sides of a coin that should not be tossed.
I wrote this in response to someone here going through her own hell — as the spouse of one of we drunks. I think it can stand here as a statement of the devastation that alcoholism can cause in families.
36 years ago my best friend, who was 21 at the time, came home from university one day. He entered the garage where he expected to see his alcoholic father doing his usual puttering about the garage on his various woodworking projects. Instead, my friend found his father swinging from the rafters. So ended years of living with a relentless alcoholic, so ended the fights between his father and mother, so ended the drunken rants. So ended my friends University studies. And so began my friends own gradual slow but sure spiral down the same path of misery. I never forgave his father for doing that — that way. Sometimes there IS no solution. Only the hoped for better out of nothing but bad options. Living in hell while still alive, not knowing what’s coming tomorrow. How to choose when there are no good choices? We hope for the best, I suppose.
Yes, I’m a bit drunk. That said, I have had some useful direction from a few here. I’m going to rediscover my youth. When I was in elementary and high school (more true disclosure happening here now) I was an amateur Magician, doing magic shows for kids Birthday parties throughout, starting at age 11.
In High-School, I acted and sang in our musicals. Since then–nothing! Time to end that time!! I live in a great city — Vancouver, British Columbia. The theatre and film/TV industry is HUGE here! I’m aiming for that now. Yes, I know alcohol is rife in it. No, I do not plan to engage in that part of it.
No, not another drunken poem. Rather, a sober confession. Truth is, I’m just a damn drunk. Will I ever quit, before IT kills me? That’s debatable.
My son texted me this morning. He thinks I just need to make some changes in my life, like “stop hanging out with a bunch of schlubs at the bar”. I had to agree with him — that there are nothing but schlubs at the bar. Does that make me one and the same? My son doesn’t think so. God bless him. I just asked the schlub next to me if he thinks I’m a schlub and he replied, “Hell no homie, you ain’t no schlub any more than I am!!!” Ok, so that’s decided. Time for another beer to celebrate!