Actually most of you don’t know my absolute disdain for organized therapy. My utter distrust of the whole therapeutic industry, from psychologists through therapist, psychiatrist and most certainly onward to these frikin self help group therapy sessions. The thought of handing my problems off to someone else, let alone someone I don’t know makes my skin crawl and my brain hurt. For those of you who know me, I think your head just nodded.
It’s with that, that I trudged off to my second AA session last Tuesday. Yes, I might agree that the initial session was helpful, helpful in so much as it got a lot of folks off my back, helpful in so much as it gave me a slight sense of atonement for the absolutely ridiculous behavior of the night before and a few nights before that. Perhaps it was my way of saying sorry, truly “I am sorry” in some concrete fashion.
Ya, ya… I’ll continue to NOT drink, and ya ya, I’ll continue to go to these meetings, if only to help my friends over this hump in understanding that I do not take my own bad behavior lightly. I may have an obsessive disorder around booze, I definitely have an addictive personality, overshadowing these is my absolute NEED to be liked. [A few more heads nod perhaps].
Acting badly, albeit a recent, somewhat frightening trend in my behavior, being a bad drunk, recently has scared the livin bejeesus out of me. It’s been the topic of conversation with myself frequently, especially over the last six or seven months… If I have come to any conclusion, it’s Gord, you’re forty, firstly it’s going to hurt regardless, secondly, if you’re hurting already, WELL, it might not be pretty. Of course my taking the express service to Drunkton via the Jack Danials express service bus definitely has played into, and wreaked havoc on my gentle beer drinking soul…
At this last meeting, I saw nothing but a bunch of whiners, not able to face, manage or solve their own problems [sorry guys at the West End Church, that was kind of harsh]. I saw, what my mind has always told me, a big ol’ bunch of weak people. I admit, I am never always right, and most everything I think has an element wrongness to it. I will continue to attend these meetings on your behalf, I will continue to attend to make you feel comfortable, I will continue to attend because I need to feed my primary obsession.
For those of you who see this as a great big rationalization in the process of unfolding in to one big freakin’ binge. Take note, I have promised myself [that would be me], that I would not drink, and not drink for a considerable period of time. I may not drink again. At the very least, I will not drink until such time as my emotional state surrounding the current issue is resolved. As I understand this, this will be quite some time.
The beauty is, is that most of my good friends have shown nothing but support. I have rid them of the need to give me that mental patient sympathy that many people feel the need to give when a pal checks into his own private Idaho. Since adding the meetings to my life, I have drank with pals, enjoyed there company as they swaggered into that beloved place. I have sat alone in my church on my pew, watching the game and talking with the stranger next to me. I have looked my pastor in the eye and said with nary a hint of regret, “can you get me some soda and lime”… These last few days have not been without some pressured moments, but you know what my friends…
