I had a decision point yesterday where I could have become an alcoholic. I had a small glass of wine and wanted more. I am rereading Claudia Black's It will never happen to me, about the way that children cope to survive in an alcoholic family. It was published in 1981 and I think that I read it that year.
I am the eldest child and the "responsible one". The "little parent". Very, very capable. And I am the one who acts out.
That leaves the "adjuster" and the "placator" for other siblings. Though all of the roles can be shared and traded by all.
There were a number of triggers that made me want to crawl in to the bottle. I feel that I have failed in a relationship, in a big way, and will go on failing. "Responsible ones" don't do failure very well. I am dating someone and I don't want to enable or be the enablee and I am afraid. I am afraid of failure there too. Yet, it's the healthiest and most intimate relationship that I've had. I keep testing it, because of course, trust is an issue. And lastly, I took the "are you an alcoholic" quiz in the back of the book. I answered a qualified yes, or sometimes, to three questions: it said "you are definitely an alcoholic." I said, "Bullshit." And then I thought about it and that you don't have to drink to be an alcoholic and then....
.....I wanted to crawl into the bottle. I wanted to drink the whole thing. I knew that if I did I would not be able to sing in the choral concert that night and I would stay in the bottle and I would hurt my daughter and my family and fail to open my medical practice and lose the relationship and all sorts of relationships.....
.....and I still wanted the anesthesia. Freedom. Darkness. Oblivion. Even being sick as a dog, which I am if I have more than two drinks. I get sick on two drinks if I am too tired.
I wrote a poem about wanting to crawl in the bottle.
I got dressed for the concert.
My daughter called from a birthday party. She had started feeling sick and I went immediately to rescue her. I put her straight to bed at 6:00 pm.
My partner showed up with soup and I ate the soup, feeling cared for.
No time for makeup.
I got in the car and went to the concert and sang. The orchestra was wonderful and festive and the chorus was dressed in black with Christmas scarves or shirts or vests. The audience gave us a standing ovation after we sang. They loved it.
I made the right choice. But it is hard for me not to sympathize with those who choose the bottle. And it felt like a near thing.
Blessings on the season and tears for the lost. One by one, let them be found.