Change

The Monsters play here



Man. The world is lurching drunkenly towards oblivion and I'm writing about my own posts and the comments I've received, specifically about the post preceding this one. Have I reached the nadir of narcissism?
Maybe, but if I don't write it, no one will.
How's that for narcissism?

*Applause*

Numerous readers have commented that perhaps I should forgive myself.

I have forgiven myself, or at least I have started trying to, which I suppose amounts to very nearly the same thing. Writing that story was part of the process; the beginning really.
I wrote it nearly a year ago.
See, last September I almost died. Years of drinking had opened numerous tiny holes inside me, and suddenly those tiny holes joined up to create one gigantic rupture. It took three days of surgeries to patch me up- initially I was told that my chances were "not very good", but somehow I did survive.

It was after that crisis that my life actually started flashing before my eyes; though perhaps 'flashing' is the wrong term, as it was more like looking at pages of a book-I'd look at things as long as I felt necessary and then turn the page, seeking further clarification in the unread pages to follow. The more I read, the more I pondered, and before long I was hating myself for being such a worthless alcoholic that it had ( I thought) ruined my life forever.

At the time it seemed obvious: I was a Bad Person.

Surely I'd find ample evidence of my core rottenness if I looked hard enough.
Where better to begin than my early childhood?

But as I grappled with this memory, I realized that it's pure foolishness to hold myself to blame for the actions of my child-self, as I was just as much a victim of those times as the poor fatherless child for whom I caused so much grief.
My rational self knew this and needed no forgiveness, but my heart?

That is different.

It didn't cry for forgiveness for something I did when I was five years old, it was screaming for release from 25 years of alcoholism and all the bad things that alcoholics do if they live long enough to do them.

So , yeah, that kid is real and if he's still alive, I am sure that the pain he felt at that moment still lives on inside him, just as I am sure that, from time to time, 'little things' trigger painful , vivid memories of his very real and timeless grief and loss.

It's like that for all of us. Reach into enough cookie jars and eventually you'll find one containing a mousetrap.

Or a bear-trap.

But really, the writing of the tale was just an exercise (and an exorcism) ; helping me to work through my own, much more immediate trauma, and that poor kid was just as much me, seen through my own, albeit older, eyes as he was himself. I wanted something...some understanding...

More than anything, I wanted some hope. I wanted to live through the coming winter and I wanted to see the following spring.
I wanted change, but I was terrified of changing.
I wanted to stay sober, but was afraid I lacked the willpower to do so.

Now, it's a year later and I have achieved those modest goals. I've faced heartache, shit jobs, the death of a loved one, my 40th birthday- all without drinking.
If you are an alcoholic, you will understand how hard it was to do that; if you aren't an alkie, consider yourself very, very lucky.
Now, dreams notwithstanding, the urge to drink is gone. I have found other ways to cope, and though many sacrifices had to be made, it was worth it.
One Hundred Percent worth it.

I feel strong. Forgiven by myself.
Ready for change.

------------------------------

This morning I got a call from the company whose job offer I turned down last week.

Would I be interested in a position if it included more money and heath coverage starting from Day One of employment?

Hell, yes. Sign me up!

Somewhere, someone is feeding my personal info into a database and checking my background. I have some not very good things in my permanent record, but I passed the BG check for the Bank Job, the Insurance Job and the Law Job, so I'm optimistic about this latest test, especially since no urine is involved.

It's been over a year since I left my drunk-self behind. That part of me died on the operating table and I hope never to resurrect it. It's time, as I have been told more than once, to "get on with it".

All I need is a chance, a spot of luck and some forgiveness.