Edith Ann - don’t be sad about missing the times with your daddy. My daddy left home when I was five and he was gone to the bar so much I didn’t even really know he had left. It is hard to miss something you never had - so just be happy that you have good memories and a newer, healthier daddy. And now you can make new memories. I do remember when daddy would fly in from Alaska every couple of years to spend a day with us. He would arrive in a taxi (no body in our town took the one taxi we had - that was only for rich people), he always wore a beautiful tan suit with a long tan coat. He was soooo handsome. He would give all of us kids $5 and we would run off to the store. By the time we got home he would be sitting at the kitchen table singing “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” and mom would make us go to bed. In the morning he would be gone. But I can still remember how big my heart would swell when I saw him getting out of that taxi.

Well, Edith Ann, my mom and dad used to have a “cocktail” every night and sometimes more than one. And they were a little bit silly but not obnoxious, if you know what I mean. Then, when my dad died, my mom was so sad and alone that she had her cocktail in the afternoon and again in the evening. And she cried a lot. (I mean a real lot). But, later, when she was a very old lady, she stopped drinking cocktails and got cranky. I’m not sure how I feel about all of that. love, Maurine p.s. Do you know of a 12-step program for chocolate chip cookieism?

Interesting… I need a drink.

i just do not understand this piece. anyone who has lived with an alcolholic, or had a loved one who is or was an alcolholic, knows the terrible pain the disease causes every person with any contact. the family, the employers, the co-workers, the friends, the neighbors,the other drivers on the street, pedestrians, pets etc etc etc. the nonchalant attitude toward a devastating disease is beyond me. i guess i am not hip. only sober 26 years. and i did it for me……then for all the others. my disease never was pretty,,,not in college,,,not during a successful career…never. and nobody misses my drinking. even as a small child i knew when an adult ‘wasn’t right’. adults who are drunk or very hurtful to children. an adult who has a few ‘fun’ episodes,,,,’tipsy’ or ’ situation comedy-drunk’ cute, will quickly turn to abusive language, mean behaviour, anger, violence and other very unfunny behaviour. i think little miss Edith Ann is in denial and without contact with reality.

Edith, Lily, & Jane, Haven’t seen you guys in a few days. I hope all is well with you. :)

Alcoholism. like drug addiction has so many facets. Alcoholics are often introverted extroverts. And alcohol allows an alcoholic to fill that unfillable hole, where the wind blows cold. The sharp edges of the world soften in a sigh and for just a little while, bridges are crossed and the world seems a safe place to be.
Of course, it all goes pear-shaped, quite quickly. And the hole soon becomes a bottomless pit of release and remorse, chasing each other in an ever downward spiral of fear.
With recovery comes struggle and change. Those around us can have wistful memories of the early or the occasional or the momentary flashes of fun, of vulnerability, of personableness that accompanied that first warm flush.
But frankly, I miss those times when he was a little high. Does anyone know what I mean?
Yes Edith Ann, I know exactly what you mean. And as an alcoholic I loved those times when I was “a little high”. Unfortunately, I could never maintain that moment. It is what differentiates me from someone who is not an alcoholic. There is no question of stopping at being just “a little high”. The search for that ability was my desperate quest for the holy grail. And finally one day, I had to face the fact, that it was unachievable. I lived my life in a nervous, depressed fog, that only became bearable when I drank. But then, it was only bearable for a little while. And the next day, it was all even worse.
I could not change. I could not grow. Not until I stopped drinking. And whenever I start to miss those early easy times, when I was just “a little high”, I immediately remind myself of the bottomless, circular pit of fear, release, and remorse that inevitably followed.
Drink life. Let it break you, wide open.