February 2013: Color Me Drunk

A “buzzed” mom thought she was fooling everyone—until she got the picture

When my two daughters were young, I was just beginning my foray into the insidious and dark world of drinking. I would drink a glass of wine here and there throughout the day. Of course, this would hurt no one. But as the days went on and the weeks turned into months, I became inclined to fill my glass more often than not. This is a sad confession for me and one I regret more than I can convey in a brief story. I realize now how much time I wasted on my need to self-medicate, how selfish I had become, and how alcohol would eventually prove itself to be a baffling, cunning and formidable foe. Once freed from its grip, I had no interest to look back, lest I turn into a pillar of salt, like the biblical character, Lot’s wife, fleeing Gomorrah. For me that last look would only lead to another drink, and ultimately death. For this reason I choose to look forward, to fight the battle one day at a time.

Having said that, there are stinging moments that wrench my gut and pain me to my fingertips when I perform a fearless and searching moral inventory. I was not an abusive drinker; I never drove my children anywhere drunk, and was blessed that no emergency ever arose with two young children that warranted me to have to drive them anywhere while under the influence. I depended on my son, seven years older than my daughters, to make sure they stayed out of trouble. None of this made me a “better” drunk than those unfortunate ones who experienced a DUI or worse.

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