go through life sober as an alcoholic
By: Drinkless Sakyong
I can never drink alcohol. I had my chance. I ruined it. I cannot go there. That ship sailed, and it crashed. In my first forty years of life, I proved as much to be true. I could be like the drummer for Stone Temple Pilots, who overdosed a few months ago. I can hear his reasoning, “I’ve got this. I can handle just a little. It’s been long enough that I am cured. Just once, for old time’s sake. I can handle it.” No you can’t, dummy. All that will get you is death. AND MISERY.
My daughter and I recently traveled to Twin Falls so I could attend the funeral of a friend. On the way home, we traveled the long way so we could stop and enjoy an hour at Miracle Hot Springs in Hagerman, Idaho. As we drove by the Black Bear Tavern, somewhere I drank once underage, I thought, “I can drink there now. I am of age, I am legal.” But I can’t drink there, or anywhere. Ever again.
Going to the hot springs brought memories of old trips to hot tubs and hot springs where I would conceal my alcohol in plastic adult sippy cups so my kid wouldn’t know. Alcohol was like a secret naughty friend I worked so hard to bring along, nurture, and protect. A friend I could never get enough of. Never. A horrible, naughty friend.