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As I write this, a hurricane is bearing down on New England, and the town I live in looks like it will be hit very hard.
So I spent last evening hustling around our backyard, putting stuff in the garage. It took an hour of hard work, and I was moaning and groaning the whole time about Hurricane Henri. Then I stood back and stared into the mountain of crap I’d just lodged into the garage and realized that I would probably have to unpack it in a few days, too. Great.
But toward the end, I came in and had dinner, and as I sat there, I thought about what a gift it was that my family could rely on me during a hurricane now—that’s only because I am sober. Actually, during any emergency-type situation over the last 12-plus years, I was available.
And we’ve had a few. Two of my kids fainted from dehydration over the years. My wife had our third child during my sobriety—that was my first sober childbirth. And there have been quite a few storms where it must have been nice to have me not drunk in case anything went haywire.
That sounds like such a low bar, doesn’t it? Hmm, I wonder if Dad is functional today?
But it’s also entirely how things did NOT used to be. For two of my wife’s childbirths, I was obliterated in the delivery room. For the second one, I was in my final year of addiction where I could have died on almost any single day. I was to the point where I was either going to die or get help. During that childbirth, I was barely able to speak or stand up, and spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom puking in the sink. Imagine having to rely on THAT guy for anything. Sheesh.
I also was a constant source of complication for everybody around me. Some days I complained of extreme foot pain. Some days I complained that the medication was making me sick so I needed to lay in bed all day. I had regular injuries involving my feet. Some were real, some were fake, some were a combination of real and fake. I know the lying was exhausting and tiresome for me; I can’t even fathom how it felt to be on the other side of that. Oof.
My life is different now. If one of my kids passes out, or somebody finds a spider in their bedroom, or a hurricane is coming, I can be counted on. I mean, yeah, I’ll whine and try to get out of carrying stuff into the garage for a few minutes. But eventually I’ll do it, and at least I won’t be puking in the sink!
ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke.
Two men walked into a bar.
You’d think the second one would have swerved.
(Credit: AA Grapevine, November 2001, Fritzi J. from Conyers, Georgia)
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