One night around that time my Daddy sat me down. It was a quiet night, a night not defined by anything but cold weather and space. He looked at me in the penetrating way that only his eyes know, burrowing deep inside me.
“You have two downfalls Katie. Alcohol and bad men. If you avoid them, you’ll be fine.”
He patted my knee. I looked back at my book, not speaking.
For me, men and alcohol go hand in hand. I force situations with men, drunk, believing love is something I can catch. Three-quarters of the men I’ve known would not have been in my life without beer.
I love alcohol. I love how it makes me feel in my body, I love how it makes me feel about myself, I love that for a few short hours I don’t have to hear voice that constantly scolds me in my head. I feel, for the only moments in my life, that there is no one watching.
The next morning I always feel like I’ve slept with someone I shouldn’t have. I wake up feeling dirty. I shower, violently, trying to scrape the mean hangover off me. I’m so sick I can hardly walk. I’m always so disappointed in myself, the disappointment vibrates through every part of me.
There are many definitions of alcoholism. It’s not that I can’t stop drinking. It’s not that I drink all the time. It’s that alcohol changes me more than it changes most people.
...
As winter dawned, the separation between my mother and I was volcanic. My mother has the gift of honesty. Her ability to see and speak the truth is supernatural.
“Katie, you have a drinking problem. What are you doing?”
I wasn’t ready to meet that truth. Instead, I yelled at her, I distanced myself from her, I convinced myself that she was always wrong. And in some ways, maybe she was. You can’t expect people to hear what they don’t want to.
“We have a family history of alcoholism. I’m one. You’re one. Get your life together.”
I’d leave the room. I’d drink in secret. Her concern for me was palpable, the judgement so heavy it suffocated me.
I would try every month to quit drinking. With a really bad hangover, I’d promise her it’d be different. I’d tell myself to stop obsessing over men, to quit them until I was healthy.
Today is a new day. Tonight is the last night. Tomorrow you’ll stop. You only need yourself to be healthy.
The thing is, I wanted the strength to believe those things. I wanted the strength to be clean, in a soul way. But the temptation was too great, the relief they provided was too sweet, the crutch was too comfortable.
A quote I read once rings true. “You’ll do anything long enough to escape the habit of living until the escape becomes the habit.”
The escape became the habit. I just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment