Then out of the blue, one of the custodial workers walks in to empty my trashcan. He just does this to visit many times, as I have told him repeatedly that I can empty my own trash can, but he does it anyway.
Anyway, he scared the hell out of me. Out of the blue, he started talking about his AA meetings he went to. Very strange. I guess it?s well known around here that I have stopped drinking and smoking for the long haul. It seemed as if he was trying to recruit me into going to one of his meetings or something.
He had told me stories of how he was now 25 days without a drink, but still smoking. He told another story of how an AA member at the meeting said he had given up alcohol for about a month, but was smoking twice as much pot now.
He then told me that he had quit once for 5 years, and then drank again for several years. Then he quit for 3 years, and began drinking again. He had many, many periods of just a few months. Start and stop. He said that when he had stopped for the 3 years, he went back to drinking even more than he did before. Then he said when he relapsed after the 5 years sober, he started drinking twice as much as he did before. He said that you think you can go back to the way you drank before, even if it was still excessive, but it got worse each time.
This scared the holy crap out of me. I asked him, ?In the back of your mind, were you trying to make up for those years of sobriety, by drinking even more??
He says, ?Yea, I guess I was.? He continued, ?If I just work the 12 steps every day, I am OK. Then I stop going to meetings, because I figure I?m OK, and then I start drinking again.?
When he left, I felt a terrible sense of hopelessness. I have never been to an AA meeting, and I never plan on going to one. The last 400+ days I have been abstinent, have been based on my own personal program of self-reconstruction and re-alignment. Because that program has many similarities to MWO, I felt that this forum was the place to be for support, and to ?give back? what I have learned to others.
I told him of a television commercial I saw last night. In it was an older fellow, in an elaborate and very expensive personal home wine cellar. The guy was inspecting his bottles, of which there were hundreds. He had that beatific look on his face, of immense satisfaction. The commercial was for some investment firm for retirement accounts or something. The psychological message was that if you save your money with so-and-so, you too could have this ?magnificent? wine cellar, probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and live the ?good life? in your retirement years. The ?fine? life. The ?excellent? life. Yea, right. In my mind, total unmitigated horse manure.
I told the guy, I reacted with disgust, and hatred of that advertising firm and the commercial. It made me sick to my stomach. The ?good life? my ass. I might just as well have a cellar full of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of sarin nerve gas. Glass bottles full of vomit and despair.
So, he smiled, and probably did not understand what I was trying to say to him. I fear that he is 25 days of feeling deprived again, and working the 12 steps for however long it will take him. I fear that he knows he will relapse again, and AA is just a vehicle for him to take breaks away from the destruction of the poison. I fear that someone else is forcing him to go, with an ?either/or? proposition. I fear that he goes to take ?long vacations? from his real love, which does not love him in return.
He seemed happy enough, and was gushing about the benefits of the AA method. Something just did not seem right though. Something deep, and insidious. Something terrible in our culture, that elevates ethanol to an almost ?religious? status. Hence that commercial, and its terrible subliminal-psychological lie that alcohol is congruent with the ?good life?. That if used in just the ?right amount?, then human life is enhanced. That those of us who use, or have used in excess of the ?right amount? are morally defective forever. I was deeply shaken by this visit.
I will examine the foundations of my program with a microscope. Like looking for the smallest possible crack in a homes foundation, I will not let it slip by. I will not say, ?OH it is just a tiny little crack, and won?t matter.? The hell it won?t matter.
I could see it in that custodial mans eyes. The tiniest cracks in our foundation will split wide open when the earthquake hits. I know one thing. The earthquakes will come, and cause everything built to come crashing down, if those cracks are left as is. I will bore tunnels into my sub-conscious, no matter how excruciatingly painful, and put in steel re-bar from where ever I can find it.
Maybe his visit was not coincidental. Maybe his story for me was not random.
He scared the hell out of me. I do not need this fear.
Neil
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