I guess it has always been a problem.  And . . . I can think of any number reasons to point at for the Why.  Do I blame it? No – there is no blame here.  As I am learning . . . it is what is.  And it is a part of me, now, for 40 years . . . this November.

It has always been a part of me (I think I said that), but it wasn’t until I turned 35, or thereabouts, when I first realized its full potential.  Well . . . truth: maybe I needed my wife’s help to point it out.  One Wednesday (or something), and maybe I was 36 at that point, I woke up, and there sitting on the keyboard in the office – a neatly printed two-page definition. Jenny standing at my shoulder giving commentary.

Now – I have tried to give it some thought myself.  Why only then . . . at 35?  And I am not sure if I really have a good answer. It, maybe, just finally overpowered me.

I know at that time (2005) my job had me lightly stressed, Eva, our second, had just been born, and I had this thing — BMoxie just then starting to float around my head.  And could *that* be why it finally came out?  I mean WTF – I had finally found, after 35 years, my true and ultimate direction (I think). So how could *that* be the blame?

But nonetheless it happened, and as I refer to it now – I say, my switch simply broke.  It all started one night . . . that year.  A night maybe not unlike last night, nothing crazy in particular — but beer cans opened . . . I sat alone and I thought.  Nothing to stop me — a full 15, easy, and only in a matter of a few small hours.

That first binge (as I have been known to connect them across a couple of days) went on for a week or so . . . maybe. I went at it every other night, probably, and I still wasn’t really drinking during the daytime . . . yet. Fortunately, though — that time, I saw it and I put it away.  I didn’t drink at all for a couple of weeks after that.

Now, don’t get me wrong — it’s never been (even now) like I have to have a drink everyday or that I can’t drink socially and be normal. I have and do do this, often times with full control and an ability to shut it down.

But sometimes . . . ha’well.  And it probably showed up a few more times before I found my wife’s report. I mean – it’s not like I was necessarily trying to hurt myself or wash away pain or quiet thoughts . . . rather, and more often than not, even now, it has to do with the simple celebration of some moment from my day. And when I am in these phases, and before I know it, a twelve pack is as easy as said and done.

But . . . I would always quiet it, and . . . I would eventually go back to normal. You know — no drinking for a week or two, light drinking at event, a six pack in the frig, and one or two a night, light drinking at an event, a night off, a twelve pack in the frig, then an eighteen pack in the frig, another binge, and repeat . . .and this cycle would roll on across a month or two . . . 2006, 2007, and dot dot dot.

My friend told me just this past weekend and actually rather casually, It is kinda like a train that will gain momentum . . . . And once it gains momentum, it’s simply a matter of inertia.  That train (he said) is not going to stop until some sort of equal and opposite resistance forces it stop.

For me – the equal opposite, I see it, has usually always been another person: my wife and a fight (never physical) or in one case my mother (embarrassing), but sometimes such things as a . . . errrmmm . . . botched tile job or a . . .  but there has always been something that shuts it down . . . and well, some have been more painful and/or poignant than others.

b’low ‘erysabi . . . I planned a big surprise . . .  I’m gonna fight for what I wanna be . . . . And I won’t make the same mistake . . . b’cause I know how much time that wastes . . . FORTUNE IS THE KEYYYYYY!

I am fortunate to have several friends (like that) that know exactly where I’m at right now. And while I feel that maybe this story is real and true, it may just as easily be a simple figment of my diseased brain.

Still, I’ll leave it as it is above, and I will add these last few fun facts: The night I returned from hiatus (remember the family vaca, and Barry can testify), well, the wife essentially kicked me out of the house . . . my mother arriving to cart me away.  The next day and after all the apologies spilled, I ended with a promise to never, ever drink again. Yeah! It is true, and sad that that promise lasted only a full three weeks.

And that binge lasted only a full four days. You see, last Friday, a great week, ended for me with a DUI arrest and a night in the home-of-the-Wire Baltimore’s Central Booking station.  And while I am not ashamed to share the details surrounding that incident, I will say only that I made a series of bad decisions over a span of about 45 minutes.  Decisions that while I regret may offer me an opportunity for further enlightenment, and the possibility for the removal of my few remaining roadblocks. Yes! I am absolutely, 100% looking at this (my arrest) as a life-changing experience.

And so . . . you see, my dear friends — I am an alcoholic.  I have known and accepted this for awhile. But . . . I do think I did need this to happen (and fortunately the way it did).  I know now that I can NEVER touch another alcoholic beverage EVER again – and it is just that simple.

And while you may be tempted, I do not need you to try to fix me.  And I’m sure this probably scares you (News flash: It scares the shit out of me too).  What I do need, and why I am telling you — I just hope that you will be there. Just where you are and where I can find you, while I work on this myself (but with the help of the others).  A thing that now must be dealt with, later to file away under a category called — life.

*******

Thanks for reading and sincerely yours. jb bartkowiak

Sub-Heading Credit: The Waiting Room by Fugazi — http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTWSSCYUD4E