A Story of Addiction

So, I most certainly cannot write a personal memoir without discussing the topic of addiction. This is a story I wrote for a creative writing class in 2005. While a bit melodramatic and the wording is still a little "cludgy", I think it is a good way to get it started.

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Five days. I can’t believe it has been only 5 days since I made the wager with my wife. It seemed like such an easy bet – 30 days without a drink.

This drive home seems longer then I ever remembered it. All I can think of are the worms writhing inside of me, craving for a cold pint. They are eating away at my insides, leaving in their place a cold emptiness. Their presence comes and goes like the ebb and flow of the tide. Nothing seems to quell their hunger but time. Like a dog before an earthquake, I can feel when they are about to feast, but can do nothing about it. I can only wait.

This hiatus is ripping at the fabric which defined me for the last 10 years. I am often anxious and uncomfortable in my own mind trying to figure out who this person was before the drink. There is a lot more time in the day and I don’t know what to do with it.

But all of this pales in comparison to the demons that speak to me in my mind. They try to rationalize why I don’t need to torture myself. Their whispers send chills through my spine but I can’t seem to drown them out. The voices creep in at all times of the day and night, when I am least suspecting or prepared for them.

You are as healthy as an ox! A few beers aren’t going to kill you.

I started drinking, like a lot of people, in high school, although my drinking was not something I did at parties, but something I did to escape reality. In college, I drank because that’s what you do in college - weekend binge drinking followed by Sunday morning coming down. In college, I began to come up with new reasons to drink. Thursdays become the 3rd day in the weekend. Monday night football with the guys always needs a good supply of beer. The years are punctuated by holidays drowned in bloody marys, margaritas, and eggnog.

You are still young with lots of life ahead of you! Don’t waste the time you have now.

The addiction creeps into your life like a malign cancer. You never see it until it finally erodes your soul bare. I guess I am “lucky” that I have been surrounded by drunks my whole life, so it makes it easier to smell when the addiction rolls in. My father, grandfather, a couple of uncles, and I have suspicion that a few others have all had it. I grew up knowing how to mix a drink. I have been good in previous years of catching when my drinking got excessive, and had successfully cut back. “Only during the weekends” I would tell myself. Then it became “only every other day”. Recently, I have given up giving myself rules. It wasn’t until my wife and I had a conversation about the last time I went a day without beer. I couldn’t think of one. I was regularly drinking a six pack a day during the week, and volumes more on the weekend.

You have a good paying job, a good family, and a happy home despite drinking. What’s the harm?

Cirrhosis was the cause of my father’s demise. Sadly, this did not curb my drinking, and in fact, the first thing I did when I learned of his death was to sit on my back porch and drink Shiner. I knew his death was coming, but I was surprised that it took him so soon. He was only 50. After his death came the task of cleaning out my mother’s house. There we found hundreds discarded liquor and beer containers throughout the attic and his car. It was only then that we truly knew the extent of his drinking. I had caught him once or twice drinking at lunch time when he would come home from work. It was likely that he was doing that every day. I am amazed that he could hold a job for any extended period of time, but I guess he grew accustomed to that state.

You don’t drink anywhere near as much as your father! He is the one who had the drinking problem. You never drink before or during work.

My world is now under a barrage of temptation. As I work my way home, I am constantly reminded by my old haunts - Plucker’s, Crown and Anchor, Posse East, Trudy’s. Their signs seem bigger and brighter then ever, trying to seduce me into succumbing to my demons. My car is flooded with tunes that remind me of alcohol. I have come to realize that most of the music I listened to made references to beer or getting drunk, or parties, or paradise.

You are the life of the party when you drink!

I am ashamed that I am having such a hard time with this endeavor. I have been successful in changing just about everything in my life, when I put my mind to it. But this is different beast. Each day is a roller coaster and I ride it white knuckled and tense. I have no idea how I am going to make it through this weekend without anything. This will be the first weekend I’ll be in dry dock and on top of that, the biggest game of the season is this weekend.

It’s Friday! The work week is over. You have to have a beer to celebrate!
Everyone has a beer or two after work to unwind.
You’ll just have a couple.

Five days was a good run, but I can’t do this for a month. A few beers won’t kill me this weekend. I have worked hard this week and could use some congratulations. What if we win the big game this weekend? I’ll have to celebrate, right? What if we lose? I only have two beers in the fridge so I’ll just drink those. I just won’t go get any more this weekend.
I pull my car into the garage and I can almost taste the beer. Man, what a long drive that was. My mouth is salivating like a mangy dog. Oh how good it will feel going down! I’ll put some music on. Some blues, no, wait, I think some country will be better. As I open the door to my house, I am greeted by my two retrievers and my wife, glowing with happiness to see me. My wife’s eyes dance wildly and her smile melts my heart. She throws her arms around me. I can feel the dogs making figure eights between my legs, waiting for their turn to get some attention.

One more day. We can wait one more day.