Wednesday, January 27, 2010

 

The end of my month without drinking


[click on the photo to enlarge it]

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my experiment of going for a month without drinking. If you haven't done this yet, I urge you to read the comments to that post. They were some of the most surprising and moving things I have ever seen on this blog (much more so than any of my own writing). For example, consider this from Ginger Hunter, in discussing alcoholics in her own life:

As with most things, I use a swimming analogy to understand. An addict is like a drowing person. You may or may not be able to help save them, no matter how strong a swimmer you are. If they absolutely do not want help, you only risk your own life in trying.

There must arise in that person a desire, for more, more normality, more health, or maybe for just less harm. All I know to do for a drowing person is be there, ready to assist, and keep fighting for that to happen, while keeping myself afloat and clear of harm. The risk to this is that ultimately you will most likely watch the person you love die.


Or this anonymous comment:
Thank you for your candor, Prof. It is huge to me, because my own mother was an alcoholic. When she came to pick me up at school, she thought no one noticed her drinking.... I know it hurt her when I told people "I don't have a Mom," but that is what I wanted to be true. I just hope that your acquaintance does not have kids.

There was also this note of hope from my old friend Kevin Doyle:
Rather than add to the stories recounted here, I would just like to say that my professional career (primarily in addiction counseling for the past 25 years now), while sometimes frustrating, has been tremendously rewarding because people can and do recover. The hope that exists among recovering people, in groups like Alcoholics Anonmyous, is palpable, real, and inspirational. I "feel the pain" from the other posters, but encourage them not to give up, to keep trying, to consider Al-Anon or ACOA groups, to consider an intervention, but above all to keep at it.


Today marks the successful end of my month without drinking. The results were good: I didn't miss it much, and the routines of my life did not change a bit. My family and friends were understanding and supportive (obviously, I was pretty public about it).

As the stream flows into the river, the river flows to the sea; too many just let the water carry them until they are far from all that they loved and desired and in a place, adrift, they would never have chosen. Every once in a while, we all meet these people, older people, who have children off someplace, unseen, the ties broken, who have a transitory life that seems infused with a bitterness and sadness that envelopes everything. We back away from them, sometimes quickly, because it is not good or rewarding to be near them, but they hardly notice; they are still in the river, floating away, down to the ocean where that one drop will disappear amid all the others, too many to count.


Comments:
Osler, is that the weird cartoon you based the law review article on, the one you talked about in sentencing class?

Anyways, the story you are telling is very sad. I don't have much advice for you, other than to hope and pray.
 
Anon. 12:16-- yes, it is the scene where young Oblio is cast out of the Land of Point and into the Pointless Forest. That is his mother at the very start (it goes unexplained why she is a giant rock-like thing and her son is a normal kid).

It seemed to fit the post on a couple of levels.
 
This may be the wrong folksy, West Texas saying, but...

"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

I think good people often worry too much that they're not doing enough to make up for the moral failings of others. We cannot (unfortunately) live the lives of others, and we often have to let them make the mistakes we see coming that they do not. Watching an addict like you describe here is one of those times. All we can do is be there to help out in the rebuilding.
 
I'm sorry about your friend. It sounds like you are realizing there is nothing you can do. Just another story now: My family learned that the hard way with my mother, who hid her drinking very well (though the resulting behavior, not so much). White wine made her fat and unpredictable and often mean. My dad tried everything to get her to stop (he did not drink at all, as he was an SBC pastor), but nothing worked. He didn't believe in divorce, either. It was really hard to watch them grow old together, separately but in the same house. I stopped spending holidays with them eventually, and now don't see them much at all.
 
Prof. Osler, have you thought about just continuing what you have been doing, and not drinking at all in the future?
 
I first saw your blog when Bob Darden pointed it out to me. Then I began to read it. Great and poignant stuff. Peter Fonda mingled with Harry Nilsson mingled with fine writing and a keen eye for human depths and human dilemmas. Thank you. I'll be reading.

Gardner Campbell (a fellow Baylor blogger)
Director, Academy for Teaching and Learning
Baylor University
www.gardnercampbell.net
 
Welcome aboard, Gardner-- I'll add you to my blog roll.
 
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