Alcoholism is an Asshole

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I used to be so in love with You.

What? Are you kidding? On a day like today? I would’ve been all over You. Cold. Sharp. Crisp. Glug. Glug. Glug. Beer. Wine. Vodka. Rubbing Alcohol. Name Your Poison.

Suddenly empowered. No longer the short, chronically-in-pain, unpublished, loser of a wife. No. Tall, healthy and successful. All legs and no regrets.

I saw You yesterday. Up close and personal. Retched at the puddles of warm white wine. The clink-clank pained my ears as I stuffed 15 of You into garbage bags. My nostrils twitched at the vomit-stained towels. I flinched as the lies landed upon me, branding my already burning skin. Lies I recognized as my own, a pattern slipped into as easily as a worn pair of jeans.
 


I admit it. I still think about You. Once in a while, my heart flips when I hear the pharmacist confirm an order for: Hydrocodone. Oxycodone. Dilaudid. Adderall. Name Your Poison.

Sometimes, my pupils dilate as I witness a gymnastic pour at the bar. My empty stomach twists. I imagine the sharp stream coursing down my throat into the welcoming waters below. Splish. Splash. Toss down a couple of opiates. Then a couple more. My pulse quickens. My flesh swells in anticipation. And for 20 minutes I am coming harder than I ever have in my life.

Relapse is awesome. You are magic.

Relapse is awful. You are a magic trick.

You dazzle in your cunningness. The infinite and glorious light of You, beams of euphoria I had just been riding, fade away. I am falling. One by one, the lights go out. Like a gigantic light switch, or, many hundreds all at once. Click. I am cut off. From my husband, friends, and family. From my God. From myself. I am alone, and it is darker than it has ever been in my life.

I am crawling toward a light I can no longer see.
 


I wish I could take you outside and beat You up. Taste blood on my lips as I pummel You into the ground. Kick dirt into Your eyes, and spit upon the quivering lump of You.

Take. That.

I used to beat up little girls because of You. When I was 7, I would march across the playground. Scan. Point. Announce. “I’m gonna beat you up.” Justified anger vibrated through my curled fingers as I knocked those wide-eyes gals off their innocent feet.

“Daddy just needs to go on vacation.”

I knew everyone was lying. Kids aren’t stupid, you know. I knew You had my dad.

You took my dad.
 


I will not be angry. Because that’s what You want.

I didn’t understand You before. I do now.

Every morning You show up, bright-eyed and full-of-tales. You remind me how other people aren’t in constant pain. They have their health. More money. A new house. A big career. And they get to have a glass of wine at night to take the edge off!

[Yeah! How come!]

Well, I have something stronger. And I’m not afraid to say it. I hope the light of my God burns You into a permanent crisp so I never have to deal with the noise of You again.

But I know You are not going anywhere.

You’re not a demon or the devil. You’re just a disease. And for today, I know how to treat You.

I thought You lived inside my heart, but—ha, ha—there’s no space in there for You. I am not in love with You today.

You live inside my head. I will not listen to You as I walk away from my friend until she is ready. I feel my heart crack. I taste salt on my lips from the tears. But I will not listen to You.

[Don’t You fucking take my friend.]

You no longer empower me.

I don’t believe You anymore.

I am kind. I try. I have a God.

I’m not the loser.

You are.

You have a gift. I wonder if it is the magical gift given to you for all the suffering. It is so special. So captivating. The kind of talent that cannot be taught. — Jessica Snow Wilson
Just, Wow! Is that book published yet? If not, the literary masses are being deprived. — Joe Foley
This was absolutely amazing. Brought tears to my eyes. Maybe cause I have almost 9 months sober (the longest I’ve had in 3 years) and I’m grateful for the life I have today? Hydrocodone, OxyContin, Fentanyl, Morphine, Cocaine, Meth, Adderall, Alcohol, and Xanax were my many drugs of choice. “I hope the light of my God burns You into a permanent crisp so I never have to deal with the noise of You again.” is so powerful! You are describing my experiences. — Simone Brodey
Amazing! — Raffaele Ragonese
I’m crying. So, so, so beautiful. — Danielle Mercier England
Poet. — Katherine White
Every time I read your passages I just want to read more! Such a beautiful writer. — Alexis Dillard Hermann