Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Holiday Hangover

Exactly 7 years ago today, this evening to be exact, I was behaving badly.

I was in a drunken blackout. My wife and son had vacated the premises, taking refuge at her Mother's house. Incidentally, this was the evening we were celebrating Christmas at my In-Laws' house, so we were all supposed to be there, yet I wasn't.

Instead, I was running around my front yard, threatening to kill my daughter's Step Dad. My ex-wife is the one that informed me of my exploits on that dreadful evening, since I have absolutely no recollection of the incident.

And, as was tradition at the time, Arlington's finest was dispatched to my abode to handle the situation. At one point they had me on the ground with their Nine's drawn, a deadly bead on my noggin. My 10 year old daughter revealed this little nugget of info to me. She was watching her Daddy. To this day I am still bothered by this particular part of the evening.

I remember coming to, on the couch, with Christmas Vacation playing on the DVD player. I was alone, wondering where everyone was. My only thought was to call Sarah, my Mother-In-Law, and tell her I was coming over. She said, "okay". It was at this point that I figured something might be wrong. In a fog of waxing anxiety, I drove on over. 

When I got there, I was greeted by my Brother-In-Law and James, my Father-In-Law...oh, and the Police.

James declared that he wanted me off of his property. Well, I wasn't leaving without my daughter, so one of the officers went into the house to ask her if she wanted to leave with me.

She told him that she did NOT want to leave with me. I don't blame her.

So, as I stumbled to my car, one of the officers offered to drive me home, which was incredibly kind and unbelievable, since they could have easily arrested me for driving while intoxicated. The sad story of my pathetic life.

The entire family was terrified of me. I'm sure it's a Christmas they'll never forget. Nor will I.

So, the 'Hangover' the title refer's to is the memory of my ultimate, drunken romp. It finally ended on Jan. 11th, 2007. I will always remember my last 'drunk'. It will forever hang over my head as a healthy reminder of how things used to be. I will not dwell on the past, nor will I shut the door on it.

Somewhere this holiday season, there's a homeless mother, with kids, wondering how she is going to shelter her family for the evening; wondering how they're going to eat. While we sit around making merry about a jolly old man in a red suit, delivering toys, those kids are probably simply grateful just for receiving a meal on Christmas. 

I'll wager that that homeless family is very aware of 'the Reason for the Season'. Today, I sure am.

With that hanging heavy upon my heart, I know that today I am truly blessed. I am the wealthiest man in the world. I am also extremely grateful. One thing in particular I'm grateful for is that I no longer have to drown myself in alcohol to suffer the Holidays.

Today, I focus on being with my family this time of year, and reflect upon what could have been if I never got sober. 'Grateful' just scratches the surface.

Today, that same Father-In-Law welcomes me into his home whenever I want to visit. Our relationship is on an entirely different level. We truly love each other immensely. What a blessing. Yes, I'm still married to the same woman. And yes, she is quite possibly insane!

Merry Christmas, Everyone

-coop


Sunday, December 1, 2013

"A Descent Into the Maelstrom"

Please forgive me if this comes off as pretentious, but I cannot understand how a reference to one of my favorite authors hasn't occurred to me until now.

The author is good 'ol Edgar Allan Poe. The short story is A Descent Into the Maelstrom.

Of course, I'm using this as a reference to the disease of Alcoholism. Now, the story bears no resemblance or insight to the typical journey of an alcoholic. But, what I wish to confer in this epistle is a series of uncanny, seemingly harmless occurrences that I consider the incipiency of my alcoholism.

In my elementary school days, I vaguely remember hearing of a mysterious author by the name of Edgar Allan Poe. I believe it was The Raven that first peaked my interest. But, it wasn't until Junior High that I came across the story A Descent Into the Maelstrom. And, I can clearly remember what vexed me so about this particular title: what in the hell is a maelstrom??

The rest of this story unfolds in a predictably typical, mundane fashion: I discover that a maelstrom is a gigantic whirlpool, I read the story, love it, Poe becomes my favorite author, alongside Conan Doyle. It's also around this time that I discover the wonderful, pleasing, warm, cozy embrace of King Alcohol.

Thus, this marks the beginning of my own descent into the Maelstrom. Yeah, this does seem to be a tad bit cheesy, but it really does present an accurate metaphor.

My drinking career, early on, is a classic study in adolescent experimentation. It was fun. I was breaking the rules, yet I was being hailed a rebel. A ground-breaking visionary, representing my fellow Jr. High Schoolers as a force to be reckoned with!

I will admit, my early drinking career was quite fun up until I I graduated High School. That's when things really started to go south. My behavior slowly went from decent to despicable, and it was then that I started drinking to forget. That, in turn, began the deterioration of my self esteem. All of that combined with spiritual bankruptcy makes for one miserable alcoholic. Only, I really didn't know I was miserable. 

Now, from that point up to the time I embraced sobriety, there were moments of happiness, but they never lasted very long. It also seemed to me that I was drinking to extinguish those rare moments of happiness. I'm pretty sure my ex-wives will corroborate this detail. 

So, there's my metaphorical presentation for the week. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am grateful I survived my encounter with the maelstrom. In the story, three brothers were in the maelstrom and only one lived to tell about it. That's a 33.333...% survival rate. Compared to alcoholism, that's pretty good.

-later, coop