With or Without It

 Sometimes I wonder, is alcohol the problem or am I the problem? (Sorry Taylor swift. It’s actually me). Probably best to let that one go, as Rob Bell warns us of “abstract theological discussions that can tie us up in knots for years” (Love Wins, page 12). I say F the chicken and F the egg. I’ve got bigger fish to fry anyway (as I go from the frying pan into the fire. Thanks mom). Sorry if I’m boring you. Let’s get to the heart of the matter (even if you don’t love me anymore).

Sometimes I get so excited I could almost…take a drink (woah that’s not the right answer). Yeah. But then I reach for the nearest coffee and realize it’s all the sustenance I need (man doesn’t live by bread alone). If you remember from the previous lesson, alcoholics drink in good times and in bad times (and all the in between times). And it’s the good times I miss: a birthday cocktail (here I come Long Island), a New Year’s Eve champagne (although I never did drink many of those anyway. Just sounds nice), a st Patrick’s day beer ( is any beer any day). We went to Don Giovanni’s for my birthday and they had a full and beautiful liquor bar. It glowed, literally. So I stared down at my chicken piccata. Would a drink really have made my meal or my birthday any better? I like to think it would (just a little icing on the cake (But we all know it won’t take one drink, and it won’t be over until the fat lady sings and the skinny lady is bent over the toilet)).

 Heads up, new lesson: “the need to be better is to cease to be good.” At least, that’s what they said on Christian radio. That quote sticks with me for some reason. Because of the nugget of truth. Sometimes better is really better, and still really good. But sometimes we ruin a good thing by trying to improve it. I could name some examples, but I’m sure you can think of your own. A guy in my trailer park told me once “there’s nothing that a drink won’t make worse” (and that was before I fell off the wagon. I wish I had got the gist of it. Thank you, life experience (Sorry, if I’m pooping on your parade, but that advice is just for alcoholics. All you normies continue drinking to your hearts content)). So we’re going from good to “better” to actually way worse. It’s like bad advertising. And we’re the suckers who eat  (I mean drink) this shit up, because this is a disease (inherited or adopted. Doesn’t matter) and we’re crazy. The literal definition of insanity. Flying high on sweet emotion and earning brownie points until we need the hair of the dog. And the dog is dead, and the party is over. Please don’t sing, fat lady.

So if I want to be good I’ve just got to stay good, and know that better is the promise of tomorrow (I should really write inspirational literature. Sobriety for Dummies…?)

So I’m holding on loosely, but I won’t let go. I promise.

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