Denial saves and denial kills. Were we forced to face all our problems without escape, the pressure would burst. Denial slices our worries into digestible bites, but there lurks a dark side.
No one sets out to have a problem with alcohol. But too many are seduced by her quiet lies. “I’ll give you a good time.” “Come and forget your past.” “If you feel weak, I’ll make you strong.” These fibs pale if you have ever heard her most treacherous lie: “If you love me, I’ll love you, too.” For if you love her too dearly, she’ll fuck you over.
Real life is complex, but a simple solution is found in a $10 bottle of Daniels. It’s a bargain for a night, until the bill is served the next morning.
Denial sooths the soul while it clouds the vision. I don’t have a problem because I drink only at night. I go to work everyday, and I don’t even get drunk all the time. Trouble isn’t poured each time I open a bottle.
An aspirin for an aching heart; a silencer of stress. She whispers lies, and lies in wait for you to swallow her untruths.
Long after awareness by your loved ones, when you, too, know you drink too much, then you, too, begin to lie. See, I went a whole week without drinking; I don’t have a problem. I can drink again, but I’ll just cut back.
We’re with friends, so it’s not drinking alone. One beer and then two. Followed by a strong double on the rocks. Then a need. An overpowering need screaming from bottom of the soul, a need for another drink. There’s a 7-11; stop the taxi comes the plea, but today you’re strong and you go home to sleep. Still, two days later, it’s another beer, but just one this time, so you’re all right. Denial is no longer your friend.
Four months, my counselor suggests. A few blinks and a quick check of my ears to ensure I didn’t mishear. Four months with zero drinks, a 100% reduction. Denial wants to lie again, but the brain and more importantly, the heart, know that this is the only way.
The first few days are the roughest. You see her everywhere, her alluring look and the false promises of fun. The decision is firm and I walk by without stopping.
It’s been eight days now. The temptation weakens, but care is paramount to not be seduced again. If I can ever drink again, it will be that (1) I can stop drinking when I want, each and every time and (2) I never, ever lose control.
I’ll see again in the New Year, but that is too far to think of now. Tomorrow is a different day. For today, just today, I’ll go to bed with nothing but blood flowing in my body.
