Friday, September 21, 2012

Frenemies of the Drink

Rocky has been sober for 1 year, 6 months, and 21 days.

It's funny how the past experiences with my alcoholic husband still lurk in the thoughts of my everyday life.  I wasn't the addict, so why am I so affected?

I've spoken before about the threat of relapse. It's everywhere. I feel like it's sits on Rocky's shoulder taunting and teasing him all day long,

I'm right here for ya lil' buddy.
I'll never leave you.
You can always count on me.
I'll be there when you feel happy,
I'll be there when you feel bad.
I'm with you forever.

I don't know if Rocky feels the same way about this little relapse creature parked next to his ear, whispering sweet nothings, beckoning him to to indulge just once.

Just once.

That's all it would take for our little empire to come crashing down. 

I feel as though sometimes I'm in competition with this little devilish thing, as absurd as it sounds. I'm more fluid to Rocky than the drink is. I am ever changing, hormonal, non-stagnant. I can get angry, or cursed, sad, or excited, furious, or even gloriously elated! But the drink, well it's like a brick. He knows what to expect from it. He knows what it will do to him. He knows how to use it effectively for anger or excitement. The drink never talks back to him, it never questions his actions, it doesn't ask more from him, and it doesn't ask less. He can manipulate it to accommodate his emotions. 

But then I laugh. 
Because it's silly.
Because really, they are 
(And how funny is that?)

But Rocky turned his back on his frenemie, for me. For us. For our children. For himself. And I remind myself that my stubbornness, disdain, general bull headed-ness, and no nonsensical approach to addiction was all specifically designed and destined for Rocky. I was made to take this journey with him. And just like addicts are not to give in to the power of addiction, I won't give into power of HIS addiction as well.

Because me and his addiction are not frenemies.
We are like countries at war.
The drink is an insurgent.
It will not invade my country.
It will not win.

It will not beckon him within his sorrows.
It will not call to him during his joys.
Because I will be there. 
I fight this fight with him
I fight it,
for better,
for worse.
I fight it for my friend.

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