“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
― Edgar Allan Poe
The worst addiction this old geezer has ever had was food. I used food to punish meself and to have something to blame my being so unhappy. I know a thing or two about addiction.
Sometime during the holidays, a very dear friend to me started drinking. Nothing new in that, this dear friend has a long history of taking to the bottle. Has endangered his life with the drink.
For the longest time, my friend tried to pretend that he was not drinking. The signs were all there. I thought it was time to tell him that I knew.
I went to visit. I sat my friend down and told him how I felt about what he was doing.
A long time ago, another friend had a problem with alcohol, and dealing with him made me realize that the only way I was going to get anywhere was to be totally honest. I told my friend that I was not stupid and that I did not like being treated as if I was. I told my friend, this new friend, that I was not going to try and shame him or criticize him. I knew that he was not going to stop until he can to the point that the drink was not that important anymore. I wanted my friend to know that I cared. I was there for him. The only thing he needed to do was to stop trying to pretend that he was not drinking. Stop hiding what I knew was going on.
We had a long talk that night I visited. My friend broke down and cried. He told me that he was so very unhappy with how some things in his life had turned out. He hurt and the drink make it easier to deal with.
I read somewhere that drinking alone in your room was the worst kind of alcoholic. I told my friend that he needed to get out more that be around people. I guess he heard that part real good.
Shortly after my visit, my friend started frequenting a bar just cross the road from his home. No longer was he sitting alone drinking, he now had a bar to go to. My friend drinks to start the day, he drinks to even out the mid-morning blues, the afternoon downs and the evening of regrets. The drinking has not slowed.
There are times that my friend invites me to join him. I do. Sometimes I will have a drink, but more oft than not I just have a diet soda. Somewhere in my brain I believe that my being there slows him down.
My friend knows full well that his drinking is not doing him any good. Preaching to my friend is not going to work and my joining him from time to time is not adding to his problem. My hope is that he hears me when I tell him not to open up a bar tab. That he should be careful with people he meets and try to get back home safely.
Most mornings I make it a point to stop by and check up on my friend. I encourage him to clean up and eat something. It makes my very sad to see him shake in the mornings. Even more sad to see that so much alcohol is making him unsteady on his feet.
There may well be some who feel that I am not being a good friend. That I should call the hospital and have my friend taken away. It is not as easy as that. My friend still can turn down a hospital visit. At the end of the day, it is his call.
Rather think the best thing I can do is to continue to let my dear friend know that I care, and that come what may, he must know that he is and will always be my friend.
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