A Story

I used to be bad to drink.  My friends and family said I had a problem.  I said I’m not hurting anyone, leave me alone.  It’s my life.  Then bad things started happening.

Drinking became my life, my only life.  It was all I thought about.  All day, every day and every minute.  I drank at home, at work, when traveling, and if I couldn’t drink, I was plotting how to sneak a drink.

A few years later I was alone, all alone drinking.  No one wanted to be around me anymore.  Which was fine with me.  I wasn’t hurting anyone.  It’s my life.  What’s wrong with everyone?

I had been drinking for four days straight.  Drink, oblivion,  pass out, wake up drink, drink, oblivion, wake up etc.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

I woke up at 3 a.m.  Reached for my bottle.  It wasn’t there.  I searched and searched.  What I found was my loaded 38.

I sat down with it and placed it in my lap.  I looked up and there was my bottle. Hidden in plain sight.   I automatically reached for it.  My 38 tumbled to the floor.  As I tried to catch the 38, I knocked the bottle to the floor too.

I was staring at the gun and bottle like I’d never seen them before.    It appeared I had two choices.  I chose to live!

RGH

2-1-19

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