There are many of us who enjoy a cocktail, or a series of them from time to time, but we swing back to a state of equilibrium in short order. She likes to drink. There is a big difference as is evidenced by the collection of empty wine bottles that embarrassingly clink and slam from the recycler into the garbage truck. It wasn't always this way, but the last 3 or 4 years have become  a challenge. It isn't me, she says, nor is it the royal us; yet we have no idea what it is that drives her all consuming insanity.
Then there are the children. All full grown adults with small children of their own. Three out of the four don't drink at all and have developed the unseemly trait of judgementalism. They have seized the moral high ground, and like two year olds who have discovered the power of the word "NO!" have dug their heels into the fabric of our family demanding contrition and an end to the worshiping of the fermented grape.
 
This proved to be the battleground during the holidays in late 2014. "We can't have Nana like that in front of the children! We don't want them exposed to a person who needs help getting out of the chair." Her reply was genuine sorrow and promises, promises that she knew she would never keep. The kids threatened not to come for Thanksgiving, and Christmas Eve's supper was iffy until the last moment. 
Then there was me. Angry with the kids. Smug 30 somethings who have no idea what their own lives will look like when they reach 60. Angry with her because she would never quite be able to get through the evening without "finding a bottle she forgot she had" or getting a friend to bring one along. In the end it was essentially me bartering a truce so that we all could be together for those meals. 
In the end I made some foolish decisions about what I refer to as "My Program." I remember arriving one afternoon at the edge of the abyss. That is a place that promises comfort in its warm breezes but brings the fury of hell upon those foolish enough to enter. I remember it quite clearly. It was a sense of giving up because of the despair I felt and I longed to be held in the arms of the comfort of the abyss. And then I stepped in.
 
It has been a long three months. There hasn't been a moment that I truly enjoyed. The constant agita, the feeling of being constantly stuffed, the clothing not fitting right or at all anymore. Like they say in AA, "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired." The kids will continue to stage their rebellions, and in between therapist visits and her SMART program she will continue to drink. The truth is that I can't control anything but myself.  All of you here at DB have always been kind, supportive, and accepting of me. This is the one place that I heave felt some peace and general self improvement.
 
It is good to be back home.