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I had a longggg day earlier this week, and I had to hit the grocery store at about 9 p.m. I was grumbling about having to yet again sprint into the store right as they were trying to lock the doors at closing time because my kids wanted this or that for their lunches the next day.
As I was hustling through the store, I ended up right behind another guy who was motoring around at 60 MPH in a 25 MPH zone.
But then, from 10 feet in front of me, he stopped. So I stopped.
Then he started moving again, and I started moving again. Then he stopped again, so I had to stop again.
He kept staring to his left and then walking a step to the right, then halting and looking back to the left. It looked like somebody had a DVR and was hitting pause, then play, over and over again.
After a few seconds of that, I looked over at what kept drawing his attention. It was the alcohol cooler. All that White Claw and Mike’s Hard really seemed to be calling to him.
I don’t know the guy. Don’t know what was going through his head. But I recognized the pull of that cooler. I recognize wanting to walk the other way and trying to flee the scene… but having to stop and listen as my own inner voice attempts to talk me into it.
Maybe I should.
Ah, I probably shouldn’t.
But maybe I could tonight? Just a few?
But I probably shouldn’t.
I bet I could.
No, seriously, don’t.
I’m just going to take a look.
(Two minutes later: Walks off with two six packs.)
Oof. How many times did I do that whole conversation in my head? 500 times? 1,000 times? And I’d say I almost always caved in to my own rationalizations. It was like the Death Star tractor beam, pulling me in as I tried to hit the gas pedal to go the other way. But I rarely ever got away.
The guy in the store eventually pivoted three or four times before ultimately going over to the cooler and opening the door. I didn’t even want to see if he got anything; it didn’t matter.
What did matter is that I cruised right on past. I felt no pull myself. What a miracle. For all the other ups and downs of recovery, of piecing your life back together, of trying to figure out how to lead a life without mind-altering and puke-inducing amounts of drugs and alcohol… the most basic gift I have been given is the freedom to not get stuck in quicksand in that one aisle of the grocery store.
Did I perhaps buy a peanut butter cupcake and two Reese’s Big Cup peanut butter cups and almost overdose on peanut butter at 10 p.m. last night? Yeah, maybe I did. But I’ll take that over the way most of my nights used to end. I’d much rather be hesitating in the candy aisle than the beer cooler, that’s for sure.
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.
Nervous about hearing his first Fifth Step, a young priest asked an older priest to sit in on the session. After the AA member had described a few of his experiences, the older priest motioned the young one to step out into the hall.
“Cross your arms over your chest and rub your chin with one hand, like this,” the older priest directed him.
The young priest tried it.
“Good,” said the older priest. “Try saying, ‘I see. Yes, go on.’ And, ‘I understand. How did you feel about that?’”
The young priest complied.
“Now don’t you think that’s a little better than slapping your knee and saying, ‘No way! What happened next?”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, November 2000, Shirlene H. from Bountfiful, New Hampshire)
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