I grew up in a nice, middle class neighborhood, with nice, middle class values.
I’d watch television shows featuring happy, normal families and happy, normal people.
All around me, normal people were going about their lives.
I felt like a pretender, a square peg in a round hole.
Something was wrong. Some element was missing…I just didn’t know what.
I was a frightened, angry little kid who always acted out and got into trouble. A scholastic disappointment to my parents, who have shaken their heads on more than one occasion and wondered: “Where did we go wrong?”
As what so typically happens, I grew up to be a frightened, angry big kid. In my case, I discovered alcohol and pot, and my main mode of communication pretty much was sarcasm.
I don’t want to brag or anything, but if being a smart ass wiseguy was a marketable commodity, I’d have been the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.
Anyway:
Fast forward to my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
A.A. was something I always avoided. But now as I look at, my whole life was spent moving towards A.A.
I found my answer at that first meeting: I’m an alky. That explained a lot of things. Imagine my surprise. I’d seen them in action, but I didn’t knew I was one.
That’s why my mind doesn’t quite work like your usual guy in the street.
Here’s a rare and scary glimpse into how my mind works:
I’m watching a TV show, and there’s a scene with a guy sitting at a bar nursing a drink.
Suddenly, there’s a crash and explosion (or something like that) outside.
He jumps up and races out the door.
Logic dictates that the focus would follow him out the door to see what happened.
Meanwhile, I’m focused on the drink he didn’t finish.
(My brain, and welcome to it.)
Over the years, I’ve known plenty of Earth People.
One glass of wine and they’re done…I am constitutionally incapable of doing that.
I recognize my inherent insanity when it comes to alcohol, and accept that I have summarily forfeit
the privilege of drinking.
When I pick up, think of a lobotomized lab rat hitting the feed bar.
I’ll just keep going until I keel over.
The main difference between me and that test rodent is I’m not surrounded by technicians in white lab coats and clip boards, busily taking notes as they watch me go at it.
The only people who even remotely understand that kind of behavior are alcoholics, so that’s who I make it a point to hang with.
My life has gotten so much better:
I’m clean and sober (that’s kind of a big deal) and
I don’t wake up on the floor.
Some positions I’ve held required random drug testing, and once upon a time, I’d have been toast.
Now, my attitude is: “Take all the samples you want, knock yourself out.”
That’s some heady freedom.
Over the years I’ve known my fair share of people who failed those things and were drummed out of the company (ala Chuck Connors in ‘Branded’).
HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:
The one place I’d always avoided is the place that fits. Things now make sense. When I’m with my A.A. family, there’s nothing the matter with me: I’m not some subpar disappointment of a human being. I’m one of the tribe and I finally found where I belong.
