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AN INSPIRATION
TO US ALL |
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I have a very close relative who is one of my heroes. I think
about what she's done, and my heart swells and my admiration grows each
day.
I'll give an example. She went with her husband and her
children for a week's vacation a few months ago in Costa Rica. And while
her family was swimming and sunbathing on a beautiful beach, she climbed
into their rental car and drove 45 minutes, every day, to a small town
deep in the jungle.
That was the only place she could find that had an Alcoholics
Anonymous (AA) meeting.
There are demons inside her brain, and she is heroically
silencing them, day after day after day. It's been many years since her
last drink, and the battle rages on. And she refuses to lose.
I bring the subject up because it seems to be everywhere
lately. Maybe it's my age, but at least four friends are struggling with
alcohol problems right now. It's on my mind, and I wish I could help.
But there's not very much anyone can do, other than offer
support. They basically have to do it on their own, and that's what is so
damn heroic. They're improving not only their own lives, but the lives of
their friends and family. How admirable.
I can only imagine the degree of difficulty. So many are
unsuccessful. The disease grips the best and the brightest, but
intelligence has very little to say. It's an equal-opportunity sickness,
and there is no logical way out.
My grandfather was an alcoholic, and he lost the battle. The
alcoholic gene, or addiction gene, obviously runs in our family, and I
often wonder why it struck one of my close relatives and not me. Pure luck
of the draw.
I like alcohol. I went out last weekend with three male
friends and we were all, as is politely said, over-served. We weren't
driving, and we had an absolutely fabulous, memorable time that we'll be
talking about for a long, long time. And considering how I felt the next
morning, I might do it again in five years or so.
I enjoy beer and wine. I like the relaxed and euphoric
feeling I get from one or two glasses at the end of a day. I often think
of W.C. Field's line about why he drank: "I'd hate to wake up in the
morning thinking that was the best I'd feel all day."
But I'm not an alcoholic. I'd rather have milk and cookies
late at night, instead of another drink. Alcohol doesn't affect my life or
my relationships. So I don't need to quit.
That's a good thing, because I'm not sure I could.
My close relative did, and we all know others that have quit drinking. I
have the deepest respect and admiration for all of them. They've
recognized their demon, and squashed it for another day. But tomorrow will
bring more dangers, and there is no relief in sight.
My four friends are in the very early stages of their
battle. One of them is only 18 years old. He can't drink for the rest of
his life. He'll go to college soon, and he'll watch his friends slam down
beers and get stupid. He'll watch them laugh uncontrollably, and he'll
listen to their mindless, alcohol-infused chatter.
His friends will probably be too young and immature to recognize
how strong he is to resist. The older I get, the more I understand what an
accomplishment it is to not drink. But I'm sure I didn't feel that way in
college. He will have to be a pillar of strength to overcome the
knuckleheads he'll come across.
My other three alcoholic friends are my age. I'll be the one
they hang out with, and I might have a beer or glass of wine in their
presence. I can do that, and they can't. Lucky me.
But they need to know how much I admire their sobriety. I'm
amazed at their discipline, their fortitude, their strength. I can only
hope that I would have the ability to do what they're doing. They're an
inspiration to us all.
They're my heroes. They need to know that. It's all I can do. |
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