But that title was taken by Mr. Eugene O'Neill (one of the greatest playwrights of the last century). Maybe, for me, this post should be called "Long
Night's Journey into Day." You will see why in a moment and I apologize (sort of) for the length of this post. But this time it's not a
political/religious rant but one I hope helps another who may have found his or herself in the same boat. Here goes...
I turned 40 last September. Celebrated my 12th anniversiary a few weeks prior and have a seven year old little girl who is the absolute joy of my life. We live in a nice house of around 4K square feet and in a good subdivision. I attend church every Sunday and am active in many of our church's outreach ministry programs. My truck (Tacoma w/ one bad-ass stereo) is paid for as is my wife's loaded Avalon XLS. I also have some very dear friends who I would trust with all of my heart and a family whom I love deeply and who reciprocate this love back to me as well. I landed the dream job around the same time too, $50K a year plus a killer incentive/bonus package that would have set me on the road to a long and prosperous career and eventually a very comfortable retirement.
Did you notice the phrase "would have" in that last sentence?
I lost that job. Also nearly lost my marriage to a wonderful woman I usually refer to as The Better Half. Also would have lost the nice house and, maybe most painfully, would have lost almost all contact with Melrosette. And the truck with the kickin's stereo? That would most likely would have become my new home.
Why?
One word:
Alcohol...cunning, baffling and powerful.
I have known for many, many years that I drank more than I should have. Sure, having a couple of cold ones at the end of the day is no big deal, right? And a few shots isn't that big a deal when hanging out at a party or splitting a pitcher of margaritas over a plate of Mexican with TBH on a Saturday night...I can handle it. No problem, right? Hey, I never have had a DUI and have never laid a hand on TBH or Melrosette in anger. So I have it all under control, right?
Wrong. And nearly (not figuratively) dead wrong.
TBH finally, with tears in her eyes and a desperate, pleading tone of voice that I had never heard from her ever before, begged me to get help and, finally, I did. I took three trips to Peachford here in metro Atlanta to finally get all of the alcohol out of my system. The last trip there I was admitted following a huge binge where I drank nearly an entire half gallon of vodka in less than five hours. No telling how many beers I drank along with that as chasers.
Detox is a %@!@%, y'all. My blood pressure got so high during withdrawl (high 190's over high 160's) that I had to be admitted to Northside hospital. The sweats and shivers came so suddenly and were so severe that I literally cried out loud, begging God to take it away from me...or just go ahead and kill me. Anything to get this over and done with...it is not surprising that Peachford does not allow any shoelaces, belts or similar items in their facility. Suicide is very common amongst folks like me who have become such slaves to alcohol as I was.
How much of a slave was I? I would regularly go three or four days (sometimes more) without food, drinking only vodka and beer. I had lost nearly 30 pounds and my voice creaked and cracked like an old rocking chair, scalded by the copious amounts of straight liquor I had ingested. My daughter...my precious, precious, sweet, angelic little girl, no longer wanted to come near me. It was kindly yet firmly suggested I take a "leave of absense" from my church duties, something I held so dear. TBH had long since thrown me out of our bed room since I smelled so strongly of alcohol that she couldn't sleep. And forget having sex. It had been months since I was able to rise to the occasion if you know what I mean. My blood alcohol was 0.336 when I was admitted in to Peachford. One or two more drinks and I would have been comatose. Three, maybe four more drinks and I would have been dead.
The good news? Today I am 46 days sober, 47 days when I go to sleep tonight, the longest period of sobriety I have had since my late teens. I refer you to my age of 40. Do the math. That means that over half my life I have been drunk.
I cannot erase the past. I cannot erase the memories of the trouble and heartache I have caused my family and friends not to mention the abyss I created for myself. An abyss that nearly took my life.
But I can go on...
One day at a time...
With My Lord holding my hand, gently guiding me through this recovery. A recovery that will last a lifetime.
But a recovery that is well worth it. Melrosette hugged me today, so tightly that it nearly took my breath away from me, when she found out that she would be in the 1st Grade talent show. TBH and I hold hands again when we walk with each other shopping at Kroger or around our subdivision or on our way in to church (where I have been given my old duties again). Melrose Sr. and Mama-melrose came to visit this past weekend to be with us for Easter. Sr. told me he was proud of me for being man enough to admit that I was licked and that I sought help when I finally hit rock bottom.
I'm about done here for the night so I better wrap this up. If you, gentle reader, take one thing from this message, may it be that if you or someone you love has fallen in to the depths of addiction as I have, please, PLEASE get help! There is a way out from under the crushing defeat and the horrific despondency one feels from the powerlessness that is alcohol and/or drug addiction. Believe me. I know.
I f you or someone you love has fallen to this disease, please know there is a way out. Alcoholics Anonymous, Coaine Anonymous, a pastor or member of the clergy, trained counselors that specialize in addictions are out there. The only catch is, you or your loved one must go to them...they cannot go to you if you continue to hide from the reality that today just may be the last day of your life if you continue feeding your addiction. Again, believe me. I know.
This is Melrose, signing off for the night, sober and glad for it. Time for a prayer of thankfullness to God for helping me make it through day 46 of my sobriety and I pray Lord that You guide me through day 47 tomorrow. I cannot make it alone, Lord, but through You, I can.
In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
PS: If I personally can help in any way, in-box me with your first name and a number where you can be reached and I promise I will do all I can to help.
PPS: War Eagle, hey!
I turned 40 last September. Celebrated my 12th anniversiary a few weeks prior and have a seven year old little girl who is the absolute joy of my life. We live in a nice house of around 4K square feet and in a good subdivision. I attend church every Sunday and am active in many of our church's outreach ministry programs. My truck (Tacoma w/ one bad-ass stereo) is paid for as is my wife's loaded Avalon XLS. I also have some very dear friends who I would trust with all of my heart and a family whom I love deeply and who reciprocate this love back to me as well. I landed the dream job around the same time too, $50K a year plus a killer incentive/bonus package that would have set me on the road to a long and prosperous career and eventually a very comfortable retirement.
Did you notice the phrase "would have" in that last sentence?
I lost that job. Also nearly lost my marriage to a wonderful woman I usually refer to as The Better Half. Also would have lost the nice house and, maybe most painfully, would have lost almost all contact with Melrosette. And the truck with the kickin's stereo? That would most likely would have become my new home.
Why?
One word:
Alcohol...cunning, baffling and powerful.
I have known for many, many years that I drank more than I should have. Sure, having a couple of cold ones at the end of the day is no big deal, right? And a few shots isn't that big a deal when hanging out at a party or splitting a pitcher of margaritas over a plate of Mexican with TBH on a Saturday night...I can handle it. No problem, right? Hey, I never have had a DUI and have never laid a hand on TBH or Melrosette in anger. So I have it all under control, right?
Wrong. And nearly (not figuratively) dead wrong.
TBH finally, with tears in her eyes and a desperate, pleading tone of voice that I had never heard from her ever before, begged me to get help and, finally, I did. I took three trips to Peachford here in metro Atlanta to finally get all of the alcohol out of my system. The last trip there I was admitted following a huge binge where I drank nearly an entire half gallon of vodka in less than five hours. No telling how many beers I drank along with that as chasers.
Detox is a %@!@%, y'all. My blood pressure got so high during withdrawl (high 190's over high 160's) that I had to be admitted to Northside hospital. The sweats and shivers came so suddenly and were so severe that I literally cried out loud, begging God to take it away from me...or just go ahead and kill me. Anything to get this over and done with...it is not surprising that Peachford does not allow any shoelaces, belts or similar items in their facility. Suicide is very common amongst folks like me who have become such slaves to alcohol as I was.
How much of a slave was I? I would regularly go three or four days (sometimes more) without food, drinking only vodka and beer. I had lost nearly 30 pounds and my voice creaked and cracked like an old rocking chair, scalded by the copious amounts of straight liquor I had ingested. My daughter...my precious, precious, sweet, angelic little girl, no longer wanted to come near me. It was kindly yet firmly suggested I take a "leave of absense" from my church duties, something I held so dear. TBH had long since thrown me out of our bed room since I smelled so strongly of alcohol that she couldn't sleep. And forget having sex. It had been months since I was able to rise to the occasion if you know what I mean. My blood alcohol was 0.336 when I was admitted in to Peachford. One or two more drinks and I would have been comatose. Three, maybe four more drinks and I would have been dead.
The good news? Today I am 46 days sober, 47 days when I go to sleep tonight, the longest period of sobriety I have had since my late teens. I refer you to my age of 40. Do the math. That means that over half my life I have been drunk.
I cannot erase the past. I cannot erase the memories of the trouble and heartache I have caused my family and friends not to mention the abyss I created for myself. An abyss that nearly took my life.
But I can go on...
One day at a time...
With My Lord holding my hand, gently guiding me through this recovery. A recovery that will last a lifetime.
But a recovery that is well worth it. Melrosette hugged me today, so tightly that it nearly took my breath away from me, when she found out that she would be in the 1st Grade talent show. TBH and I hold hands again when we walk with each other shopping at Kroger or around our subdivision or on our way in to church (where I have been given my old duties again). Melrose Sr. and Mama-melrose came to visit this past weekend to be with us for Easter. Sr. told me he was proud of me for being man enough to admit that I was licked and that I sought help when I finally hit rock bottom.
I'm about done here for the night so I better wrap this up. If you, gentle reader, take one thing from this message, may it be that if you or someone you love has fallen in to the depths of addiction as I have, please, PLEASE get help! There is a way out from under the crushing defeat and the horrific despondency one feels from the powerlessness that is alcohol and/or drug addiction. Believe me. I know.
I f you or someone you love has fallen to this disease, please know there is a way out. Alcoholics Anonymous, Coaine Anonymous, a pastor or member of the clergy, trained counselors that specialize in addictions are out there. The only catch is, you or your loved one must go to them...they cannot go to you if you continue to hide from the reality that today just may be the last day of your life if you continue feeding your addiction. Again, believe me. I know.
This is Melrose, signing off for the night, sober and glad for it. Time for a prayer of thankfullness to God for helping me make it through day 46 of my sobriety and I pray Lord that You guide me through day 47 tomorrow. I cannot make it alone, Lord, but through You, I can.
In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
PS: If I personally can help in any way, in-box me with your first name and a number where you can be reached and I promise I will do all I can to help.
PPS: War Eagle, hey!
