Intervention – An Alcoholic’s Worst Fear
Once you exit the denial stage of alcoholism, you have to make a decision. Recovery or no?
If you understand the disease, you know that you are dealing with a young adult lion, and the longer you wait, the more ferocious he will be when you take on the task of trying to kill him.
The beauty of alcoholism is that it’s a lot of it is fun. You get to drink alone, with friends, and every single day. Not downplaying the lows, but also not overlooking the ups that come standard issue with the genetic curse. By skipping recovery, you are tacitly accepting the consequences of your decisions. You are accepting your decline, eventual ruin, and death. In the meantime, you get to deal with the fear of intervention.
It’s my worst fear. I love that I get to be sick without people being able to tell by looking at me.
Half the people who love me don’t have to view me as a burden, and the other half get to view me as a drinking buddy. The problem, to kinda quote the bible, is there’s nothing hidden that will not be disclosed. I will eventually have a heart attack and die.
It’s easy to trick a boozer. Threaten us with a good time. If you invite me out for a drink and I turn you down, it means I’m drinking at home. Bring it to me, and we’re on. Imagine walking into a room with a six pack. All of your friends and loved ones are there, and you are about to get down.
“Geronimo. We brought you here because we love you, and can no longer watch you be destroyed by alcoholism.”
“Uhm, can we do shots before we continue with this conversation? Who wants a beer?” military mind kicks in. Always have an exit strategy. Can’t sneak out of the bathroom window in a hotel room, but if I can make it to the door, I’m free. Gotta grab the six pack though.
It’s up to us, ultimately. I feel sympathy for others, never guilt. There is nothing more you could have or should have done. It is what it is, we are what we are, and I am what I am. Which is to say I’m far too cynical, jaded, sick, and sarcastic for anything like that to work on me. Not that it wouldn’t affect me, but I would for sure Houdini that bitch.
There are two ways to say goodbye in my book; like an asshole or like a magician.