You Always Hurt The Closest To You

As regards his general attitude to the war, you must not rely too much on those feelings of hatred which the humans are so fond of discussing in Christian, or anti-Christian, periodicals…is is usually a melodramatic or mythical hated directed against imaginary scapegoats…thery are the creatures of that miserable sort who loudly proclaim that torture is too good for their enemies and then give tea and cigarettes to the first wounded German pilot who turns up at the back door…the great thing is to direct the malice to his immediate neighbors whom he meets every day and to thrust his benevolence out to the remote circumference, to people he does not know.

C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, 27,28

I’ve asked both of my parents multiple times why they didn’t just give up on me. I had lied and hurt them continuously for eight years. How many sleepless nights had I caused? How many times had they worried if I was alive, dead, hurt, in jail? What made it so easy for me to keep handing them the aftermath of my alcoholic spiral?

Often, the answer I get is the rote “we are your parents and we will always love you”. But why? I had given them so many reasons not to. So many of my motivations were to spite them. I was sick of them babying me, telling me I had I problem I didn’t have, threatening me with treatment, taking my car, kicking me out. So what? I’m a grown man. I didn’t need them. How wrong I was. At 32 years of age by the grace of God, I’m beginning to understand that they aren’t just overprotective idiots.

We hurt the ones closest to us, the loves of our lives, our firm foundations, the most and the deepest. We know that we can stab them in the heart and they will forgive. Or, we take for granted that they will. We know every button to press, exactly the most precise point to cut with the scalpel of words to make them bleed out. Yet, through my drunk years, they would stitch and bandage their wounds and keep on fighting.

I’m almost embarrassed as I write this. Not to relay the information, but just thinking about all the times I have drunkenly screamed at my mother or girlfriend. How I was too drunk to have the common courtesy to send a text and let anyone know where I was or if I was safe. I would be nicer to my friends (let’s say drinking buddies) than I would be to those closest to me. I would rather move into a tiny little house that should have been quarantined so I could drink in peace than live under the “iron fist” of my parents. Pride and stubbornness were a contributing factor in my downfall.

In sobriety, I realize the grace that my closest allies have. I know that I am having a terrible time with continually forgiving someone who keeps doing me wrong. I know it is because I am holding others to my own expectations of myself and have to stop viewing people through my lens.

I have had my fair share of ultimatums. The last couple of them have stuck. My girlfriend’s last ultimatum contributed to my sobriety. I think it hit just at the right time too. I was close to rock bottom.

The quote above really struck a chord in me. How often have we all done this? We treat the closest people to us like dirt, but are sugary sweet to friends and acquaintances? The answer is that those closest to us hold us most accountable, as they should. The mistake we make is assuming that they will always be there to pick us up when we fall. I know at this point that I have too much skin in the game to assume. If I pick up the path I was going down, I will lose them. She will leave me. My parents will not be as forgiving. They may say they will, but do I really want to test that theory? I have pushed the envelope for long enough.

This isn’t to say that I will be a perfect model from here on out. I will slip up and take advantage of their kindness, as they will mine. But it won’t be because of alcohol. Cling to the strength and safety of your true allies. Show them you love and appreciate them. Make every effort to not hurt them. For us addicts, they have put up with us in times when any other person would have given up on us. Keep that thought as a constant reminder. There is a lot at stake now.



The Honeymoon is Over

A dear friend of mine who attends my home group sagely advised me that if I was starting to feel worse, I was getting better. I was told this about 30 days into sobriety. I had just achieved my first chip and I was on cloud nine. (Many AA groups use a colored chip system for varying lengths of sobriety). I didn’t get his gist at all. I felt better in mind, body, and spirit than I had in a very long time. Sure, it’s a daily uphill battle, but to this point, I was flying up that hill.

His experienced prediction was right, though. I started to feel the end of the honeymoon period very recently, right around my 90-day celebration. A little context: Continue reading “The Honeymoon is Over”