What's A Drink Or Two? Or Three?

Someone very close to me told me today that she's going to start going back to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. We had dinner the day before and it was after that evening she decided to seek help.

I don't think rock bottom has to happen to decide to make things better. Not everyone waits  until they're diagnosed with cancer to quit smoking.

But still. She had a few drinks before dinner and then two with the meal. Not terribly impaired afterward and after all, it was a stressful day. And I'd grown up never really thinking twice about that kind of thing. Okay. I lied. In a high school psych class alcoholism was defined as something to the effect of not being able to go without alcohol. I thought about my dad taking martinis with him on a backpacking trip and an accusatory lightbulb went off in my head that shined on everyone around me. But then, when I left school, I noticed the way a lot of twenty-somethings drink. And I stopped thinking about it.

This person had done AA before, but edged out of sobriety eventually. Never really seemed a big problem that she was drinking. Then again, I only learned a few months ago that she'd done AA before. And another reason not to worry is that she's always been high functioning. Never lost a job because of drinking. Might have fallen behind on a lot of deadlines, but that could've easily been attributed to a lot of life factors. I've known a lot of high functioning alcoholics, to use the diagnostic jargon. So nothing seemed too abnormal.

Thoughts are running through my head. I'm proud of her for taking this step again. And maybe this should be reason to stop worrying, because things are getting worked out. But I can't help thinking that I should've been worrying before. And guilty that I wasn't. And then I feel guilty for feeling guilty because this isn't about me.

Since I left this persons house today, the thought has crossed my mind several times that I'd like to talk to someone about this. First, I think 'I don't really know who I'd call.' But then I think 'There's nothing to talk about. "Person" drinks. We know. "Person" is seeking help. This is fantastic. So what's there to tell?' 

Last week, I felt more emotions than words, so I melted crayons in my oven and used them to put the emotions onto paper. And I fingerpainted with watercolors. Today, hard as they were to get out, I'm glad I chose to use words. This is an event I need to revisit and it's better to leave something less abstract.