Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2012 06 06 Hello, My Name Is, June 6, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — DP Lyons @ 11:27 am
Hello. My name is Deon, and I’m an alcoholic.
I have always been an alcoholic. From the time my feet first hit the floor, I was headed towards my first drink. It was perfectly inevitable, totally unpredictable, and strangely unstoppable.
I will always be an alcoholic. I will always have the cravings and feelings to want to drink. Some days those feelings will stay in check. Other days, those feelings come roaring at me like the cows at the Flood farm during milking time in the new revolving carousel milking parlor.
Are you all cocking your head sideways right now with a confused look on your face? Good. Here we go then.
I remember the first time sneaking a drink of beer from a bottle. It was the most disgusting thing I ever tasted in my life, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t get the taste out of my mind. It was bitter, sweet, strong tasting beer, that bubbled up my nose and made my eyes water, and although I coughed and choked at the first taste, I knew that one day, I would have myself another taste of this amazingly awful tasting stuff.
I remember watching the grown ups who were drinking it. They all seemed to be laughing and joking and having one hell of a good time. They all seemed like they were the best of friends, and having the best of times, and it all seemed to be revolving around those bottles and cans of beer.
Our family used to go to my dad’s company picnic in the Summer time. It was a wonderful event that I looked forward to every year. It was full of family and softball games and football games and three legged races and miniature golfing and swimming. Everything a kid could want.
I remember one of those picnics, I think it was north of Lewiston, somewhere out towards Turner. Anyways, I remember walking up to the drinks cooler, which was electronically refrigerated. Nothing but the best for my dad’s company picnic.
I remember opening up the top door of the cooler and reaching in for a can of soda. As I opened it up and bent down inside to reach the sodas, I caught a whiff of the pungent aroma of the beer inside the cooler. I stood there for a few moments, completely caught up in the smell. Completely enamored with all of it. I looked around at the grown ups who were having the best time, and all, who seemed to have a beer in their hands, or on the table in front of them, or on the beach sand beside them.
I stood there, with my head stuck down inside the cooler, and breathed in deep the smell of the alcohol. I breathed it in deep, and wished I was a grown up. I wished that I was able to pick one up out of the ice cold water of the cooler, open it up, and guzzle it down.
Alcohol always had the same effect on me as I grew up. It always seemed to manage to completely consume my total concentration, whenever it was around. It always seemed to whisper to me how great it was, and how wonderful it would be for me to feel it’s full effects. It called to me, over and over again, and I kept listening.
I guess I am very fortunate that my folks didn’t drink much. They used to have a few drinks at functions, and other events, but for the most part, neither of them really drank much. I am sure that if they did, I probably would have cut loose a lot younger than I did.
I suppose that starting to drink in junior high was still fairly young though, and I suppose that wanting to get drunk every weekend from then on was a sign of things to come. Like I said, I was an alcoholic, waiting to happen.
Through my school years, I always worked and manipulated my week of school, trying to line up some of my friends to go drinking with on Friday and Saturday nights. My school week didn’t seem to matter much to me until I had achieved my goals and lined up some friends and some alcohol for the finale of the week. There was usually some drugs of some kind that were also involved, but it all revolved around alcohol.
sorry Mom and Dad, but it’s true. I loved to drink, and did so whenever I got the chance.
Those first few attempts at getting drunk were just awful. Puking and dizzy walks back up Kingsbury Hill towards home, it all seemed to be a losing effort. I wasn’t very good at it, and swore again and again that I would not ever get drunk again. I couldn’t experience the sickness and the throwing up and the incredible headache the next morning any more. I didn’t care much for lying in bed with one foot firmly planted on the floor, while my room spun around the universe. I didn’t like the feel in my nose after I had thrown up. I didn’t like the taste in my mouth the next day. All of it, I just didn’t want it any more.
As the week rolled on though, it kept calling to me. It convinced me that the next weekend would be better than the last one. I would handle it better, and all would be right in the world.
Alcohol promised me the world in the beginning. It told me that I would always be better off with it as my friend. It would never let me down, and would always be there for me when I needed it most. It seemed that I always needed it most. I always wanted it more, and worked harder to get it. I wanted all of the people I considered my friends to want it as much as me also. I needed them to crave it and have the best time with it, as I was surely trying to.
I was possessed with alcohol at such a young age. It grabbed hold of the unsuspecting teenager and had it’s way with me. It, and eventually other drugs, spun around in my head twenty-four/seven. Even before I knew what in hell was going on, it was planning and conning and manipulating my life. Molding me into the alcoholic that it so looked forward to getting to know.
Did I have an addictive personality? You bet your ass I did. Right to the hilt. As far as the eyes could see, I was working right along side of that bottle of booze. I would be the best little drunk this bottle ever saw.
I am an alcoholic. Always have been, always will be. My next drunk is just one drink away. My next OUI is just , well, that’s a lot farther away now than it used to be. I guess in some way, God was looking out for me? Or at least He was looking out for everyone else. Ha. It seems there was a point in my life when it didn’t matter where I was going, if I was driving, I had a beer between my legs, and several more on the floor of the back seat, not very far from me.  I remember rushing to the little corner store after work to grab a six pack. That first can, the way it bubbled down my throat. It was perfect in every way.
I have lied with alcohol. I have cried with alcohol. I have strained and completely wrecked relationships with alcohol. I have wreaked havoc with alcohol. I have been ripped apart by alcohol. I have had it up to here with alcohol, and hopefully that is enough.
I spent so much of my life thinking about ways to hide getting drunk. I’m not sure if you’re aware if it, or not, but I am a fairly big guy. I don’t hide very well, especially when I’m drunk. Hello?
I have spent so much time trying to convince myself that it was all worth it. I have wasted so much time, letting alcohol take up so much of my time. I have wasted so many wonderful days that could have been. I have wasted so much, and thank God that I haven’t had to pick up a drink today.
Oh of course, there were a lot of happy, fun times with alcohol. There were so many joyous, happy occasions, as long as I had enough to drink. There were so many wonderful things that it let me have as it was sinking it’s teeth deeper into my innocence and unsuspecting ignorance. It kept allowing me to have things to have, crave, lust for, yearn for, and desire. I just wish that I could have noticed all of the things that it was keeping from me.
I had so many passions as a child growing up. I had so many wonderful things in my life to look forward to. I remember jumping out of bed each morning because I couldn’t wait to get out there, and be me. There were so many wonderful things in my life, and so many things that I liked to do, and that I actually was very good at doing.
Over the years, alcohol stripped a lot of those things from me. It ripped away so much of my passion. It tore away from me a lot of the things that I held so tight to. It promised me that everything would be ok without these things in my life. It convinced me that I would be better off without all of the clutter and chaos in my life. It swayed the passions and strangled the cravings for life as it replaced them with false hope and misguided aspirations.
I am an alcoholic, and I choose to live today without it. I have so much to live for today. I know how much alcohol took from me, and I am fully aware of how much it is still waiting to take from me, if I let it.
I suppose if I chose to, I could blame this alcohol thing on just about anybody, or anything. I could justify why I drank so much for so long. Just put me on Dr. Phil, or Oprah, and I could easily convince any unsuspecting soul that it wasn’t my fault. I could wrap my head around any twisted logic that I could muster up.
Unfortunately, it would all be a pitiful attempt at putting the blame on anything except where it belongs, with me. It was all me. 100 percent me, and no one else but me.
There are a lot of people out there in the world that don’t struggle with the addictions of mind altering substances. They are very fortunate in that respect, and I can honestly say that I will probably never understand how their psyche works. I used to wonder what was wrong with me. Some people still do. I always wondered why I craved the taste and feel of alcohol so much. I often wondered where my life would have led me if I could have been stronger and wiser with my decisions. I know that hind sight is 20/20, and it isn’t going to do me a bit of good. I am where I am because of the choices I made in my life.
It is so simple, to just not drink. That’s one of the good old sayings in A.A. Keep it simple stupid. I used to wonder what that meant. As I figured out what it meant, I wondered why it took me so long to figure out what it meant.
Actually, I am still working on it.
I plan on writing about being an alcoholic only once in this blog. Like politics, I will deter from it, and rely on other things to plot my blog posts.
I do have things in my life these days to be grateful for. I do have purpose in my life. The kind of purpose that I never knew about. There has always been a purpose in my life. The purpose had always been there, and I continued to overlook it on a daily basis. The purpose was plain to see, but hidden from view. I hid it. All on my own. Well, me, and alcohol.
There have been so many passions of mine that have been misplaced over the years. So many wonderful things that were shoved into the back of the closet. So many incredible events that were overshadowed with the dull gray clouds of alcohol. Sometimes, it seemed to rain every day, and I just stood outside in it. No umbrella. No rubber puddle stompers. No rain coat. Nothing. Just me, standing there, like an alcoholic, looking up into the dreary sky as the rain fell, wondering why I was getting wet.
Only one thing, only one set of points should come out of this post.
I am powerless over alcohol. My life had become unmanageable with the use of it. I can not manage to keep away from alcohol on my own, and still struggle with it a lot of days, as I do with my other addictions. god can help me to stay sober, and give my life new purpose. If I step back, and let him guide me, I will have a much better chance.
I think I will let Him.
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2 Responses to “2012 06 06 Hello, My Name Is,”

  1. Anonymous Says:

    WELL WRITTEN SON —LU-DAD

  2. Paula Says:

    Deon: Both Richard and I have read this, today, and are deeply touched by your brutal, direct, deep honesty. I wish anyone with an addiction, past or present, personal or within their family, could read this. You laid your soul bare and I am proud of you for daring to teach us the lessons, once again. PJ


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