Post Piece

[honeydumplin]

The following is a link to an opinion posted in the Washington Post a couple of weeks ago. The views expressed in this article do no reflect that of myself, and have been posted for informational purposes only. Since I could not post something without some sort of response to an article of this nature, I've also included my opinion of it at the bottom of the post. Please, pardon the sarcasm. I couldn't resist.

The Big Book tells me that my hat is off to someone who can moderate, or stop drinking utilizing another way, but it is my experience, that it is only through a spiritual experience that I can recover from a hopeless state of body and mind. How unfortunate it would be that both wet drunks, dry drunks, and society as a whole would deprive ourselves of not only the spiritual aspect of recovery, but also the motivation to be happy, joyous, and free altogether from the bondage of something that I feel, could never be removed by moderating my drinking, or by the use of pharmaceuticals promoted in this article.

I must also state, that there is no bias from me personally against the use of such drugs for other mental liabilities that often accompany drunks like myself during the course of recovery. These have helped, and continue to help a lot of people. I'm just totally against what is commonly regarded as a "silver bullet" theory quite prevalent in the text of this article.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinio...f4d_story.html

Wasn't it Dante who said the pathway through hell leads to heaven? Or more along the lines in this case, of Da Vinci crying out for the wretched people to open their eyes?

So what about that forty years, and forty thousand miles of built-in alcoholism that I brought with me to the first meeting? What exactly makes that go away? Huh, doc?

You know life for me was all about the booze, man. And I ain't just talkin' about the first two or three either. What was I supposed to do with the rest of the night Doc, suddenly become this social butterfly that sits around making chit chat with a swizzle stick. Yeah, I'm so good at that.

Alcohol for me was the whole in the doughnut. What becomes of that whole now?

Does my sexism, my stealing, lying, cheating all of sudden, vanish? My warped psyche that existed beneath the surface of layer upon layer of drug and liquor-injected turmoil, and frustrated obsession that turned my compass for right and wrong totally upside down. What about that?

And then there's my family, my friends, my employers, subordinates, co-workers, and neighbors. My landlord. You know I screwed all of 'em over doc. Should I just take one of these pills and walk around them now like everything's cool?

Oh the voids that I now have. The minutes, the seconds, the hours, and the days of abandonment that's engulfed my life with no one to talk to, no one to listen to.

What happens to me when's there's nothing but me in an empty room with a prescription bottle and the cocaine monkey on my shoulder goin', “C'mon man, this'll be okay just this time.”

Naw, if someone comes up and assures me that I can have a few drinks, live a normal life, I'm gonna look at them like they're nuts, then get as far away from them as possible. Hopefully around another poor drunk whose alcoholism lead to the end of his rope too, has what he wants, and is willing to it give away for the rest of his life too.

Sorry doc, but just 'cause the tornado stopped, doesn't mean I left Kansas.