So, over the past 48 hours:
1) Our water heater blew up.
2) The stock market has been in freefall and hypervolatile (I'm a stock trader)
3) A looooooooong week with a fussy one month-old started to wind to a fussy close.
All of which combined are a classic "It's been a long week, TGIF, time to blow of some steam!" drinking-justifying trifecta for me.
I'll admit it: I really miss that feeling I got after two big drinks (usually two big belts, straight out of a vodka bottle). It is, quite simply, the best I have ever felt in my entire life. This will likely always remain true.
I can continue to have that feeling for very brief windows every day if I'm willing to feel utterly horrible most of my waking hours, watch my marriage fall apart, lose custody of my son and inevitably make a blacked out decision that will impact the rest of my life, irrevocably. Something that will get me sent to jail, if I'm really lucky. Something that will result in my death, suddenly or by pancreatic cancer or cirrhosis or the like, more likely.
I can have the handful of euphoric minutes alcohol reliably gives me. And nothing else in the world.
Or I can have everything else in the world. And not drink.
There are times, though their intensity, frequency and duration are already declining, where I would choose alcohol. And it is in this crystalline moment, the reality that I'm willing to make this tradeoff, that I realize that I'm essentially choosing some form of suicide over my son, my wife and myself. And I feel ashamed and embarrassed and disgusted.
BUT: I have not lost anything. I have not had a drink. By fully admitting and thinking about everything I am willfully choosing to lose, all of things I am declaring by my would-be decision to drink are not as important as 30 minutes or so of chemical intoxication, I get a glimpse of the abyss and it takes my breath away. A massive reality check.
This is good. Really good. Because whenever this happens, I know I will not drink.
Happy weekend, everyone! :goodjob:
1) Our water heater blew up.
2) The stock market has been in freefall and hypervolatile (I'm a stock trader)
3) A looooooooong week with a fussy one month-old started to wind to a fussy close.
All of which combined are a classic "It's been a long week, TGIF, time to blow of some steam!" drinking-justifying trifecta for me.
I'll admit it: I really miss that feeling I got after two big drinks (usually two big belts, straight out of a vodka bottle). It is, quite simply, the best I have ever felt in my entire life. This will likely always remain true.
I can continue to have that feeling for very brief windows every day if I'm willing to feel utterly horrible most of my waking hours, watch my marriage fall apart, lose custody of my son and inevitably make a blacked out decision that will impact the rest of my life, irrevocably. Something that will get me sent to jail, if I'm really lucky. Something that will result in my death, suddenly or by pancreatic cancer or cirrhosis or the like, more likely.
I can have the handful of euphoric minutes alcohol reliably gives me. And nothing else in the world.
Or I can have everything else in the world. And not drink.
There are times, though their intensity, frequency and duration are already declining, where I would choose alcohol. And it is in this crystalline moment, the reality that I'm willing to make this tradeoff, that I realize that I'm essentially choosing some form of suicide over my son, my wife and myself. And I feel ashamed and embarrassed and disgusted.
BUT: I have not lost anything. I have not had a drink. By fully admitting and thinking about everything I am willfully choosing to lose, all of things I am declaring by my would-be decision to drink are not as important as 30 minutes or so of chemical intoxication, I get a glimpse of the abyss and it takes my breath away. A massive reality check.
This is good. Really good. Because whenever this happens, I know I will not drink.
Happy weekend, everyone! :goodjob:
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