Stay the course, the fog lifts and sensibility returns
Stay the course, the fog lifts and sensibility returns
My father was an alcoholic who quit the booze cold turkey ... several times. He had no use for AA because he didn't believe in God. So he'd quit cold turkey, go through the shakes, the cold sweats, the cramps and pains and aches and whatever else he went through, and after a couple of weeks he'd start to feel normal again. The shakes went away, the cold sweats went away, and he started to talk to his family once again and interact with his children, which he never did while he was drunk, which was all the time except when he was at work (he kept a job through most of his alcoholism).
So, two weeks, three weeks go by, he's feeling human once again, and what does he do? He buys a bottle and starts to drink. This happened four, five times before he finally died. At the end of his life he had sky-high blood pressure, and he couldn't take the blood pressure medication with the alcohol, so guess which he opted to take? He had a heart attack or stroke, I'm not sure which it was, and died in bed, while he was trying to quit cold turkey yet again, for about the sixth time.
Why am I telling you this? Because if you have been dry two weeks, you are right around the danger point, where you will start to argue with yourself that you can control the alcohol, that you don't need to stay dry forever. Take it from one who has observed the entire process over a span of decades -- no, you can't control the booze. One bottle, and the booze will control you. That's a certainty.
My father was an alcoholic who quit the booze cold turkey ... several times. He had no use for AA because he didn't believe in God. So he'd quit cold turkey, go through the shakes, the cold sweats, the cramps and pains and aches and whatever else he went through, and after a couple of weeks he'd start to feel normal again. The shakes went away, the cold sweats went away, and he started to talk to his family once again and interact with his children, which he never did while he was drunk, which was all the time except when he was at work (he kept a job through most of his alcoholism).
So, two weeks, three weeks go by, he's feeling human once again, and what does he do? He buys a bottle and starts to drink. This happened four, five times before he finally died. At the end of his life he had sky-high blood pressure, and he couldn't take the blood pressure medication with the alcohol, so guess which he opted to take? He had a heart attack or stroke, I'm not sure which it was, and died in bed, while he was trying to quit cold turkey yet again, for about the sixth time.
Why am I telling you this? Because if you have been dry two weeks, you are right around the danger point, where you will start to argue with yourself that you can control the alcohol, that you don't need to stay dry forever. Take it from one who has observed the entire process over a span of decades -- no, you can't control the booze. One bottle, and the booze will control you. That's a certainty.
I’ll share this tomorrow thank you.
My grandfather died from alcoholism. Served a career in the Navy. Worked on Submarines, his brothers died in WW2 and despite all the shit he went through personally. It was getting too drunk at his Birthday, walking home in the rain and died from Pneumonia a few days later.
I’ll share this tomorrow thank you.
My grandfather died from alcoholism. Served a career in the Navy. Worked on Submarines, his brothers died in WW2 and despite all the shit he went through personally. It was getting too drunk at his Birthday, walking home in the rain and died from Pneumonia a few days later.
I'm good. Good to read you're good. The suns starting to go down later, which is interrupting my wind down routine before I bed down, but when the spring solstice hits I'll correct accordingly.
I've been rearranging my living room to accommodate a new desk. I'm debating getting rid of my sofa. The damn thing is just too comfortable. It's like a demon that encourages me to take a nap.
I've also noticed that I've been practicing my flute and chanter recently. I'm not just taking advantage of the time and opportunity to brush up on my chop, but I've had this odd sensation to practice and learn funeral songs. I can't explain why, but the last few weeks I've had this odd feeling that I'll be invited to funerals and I thought it best to be ready to perform. I've even dusted off the regalia.
I'm good. Good to read you're good. The suns starting to go down later, which is interrupting my wind down routine before I bed down, but when the spring solstice hits I'll correct accordingly.
I've been rearranging my living room to accommodate a new desk. I'm debating getting rid of my sofa. The damn thing is just too comfortable. It's like a demon that encourages me to take a nap.
I've also noticed that I've been practicing my flute and chanter recently. I'm not just taking advantage of the time and opportunity to brush up on my chop, but I've had this odd sensation to practice and learn funeral songs. I can't explain why, but the last few weeks I've had this odd feeling that I'll be invited to funerals and I thought it best to be ready to perform. I've even dusted off the regalia.
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