Anonymous Letter

Dear Alcohol

After a trial separation from you, I’ve decided that our relationship is over for good. 

What, not even friends? 

No, not in the smallest way because it never stays that way with you. 

What about our history? 

It means nothing, except to serve as a warning to stay away from you. 

But remember our first meeting?

Of course I remember our first meeting – it was blissful, you made me feel wonderful, but the cost has been devastating.  

But you’re so moderate these days, not like some of the others – the ones who black out and make fools of themselves and send terrible messages late at night?

Perhaps, but my “moderation” has had me red-eyed with a blinding headache and fuzzy hair and reading the same page over and over at night.  My “moderation” has had me believe I’m the victim of a cold husband and a depressed mother in law.  My “moderation” has had me giving up on the things I love.  

I know I am moderate compared to others, that’s more of a reason to stay away from you.  Your clutch on me would have been a slow gasping one, a clingy dismal decline – death of the worst kind.  

Ah, you say, and I know you are getting desperate.

Everyone in your family has a relationship with me – I keep you relaxed, I keep you sane, I am your social lubricant. 

I am not like anyone in my family – they drink openly, while our relationship has been a secret the past few years, meeting in the pantry, behind closed doors.  I’ve been ashamed of you.  Refilling bottles so they won’t be noticed, worrying I would be found out.  You were the source of my anxiety, not the relief!

You’ll be lonely, you’ll never manage without me.  I’ve waited for years before, I will wait again.  

I know you’ll always be there.  It’s me who won’t.  I am not alone so you can’t fool me anymore.  You relied on getting me away from others where your lies couldn’t be heard.  So many people have my back now, your strategy has been busted into the open.  

And this is what I have learned away from you and in the presence of people who really care.  

Sometimes when the soft light of dawn slopes into my room, it carries the sound of seabirds and the scent of vanilla and jasmine.

Sometimes my “cold” partner reaches across to rub my back because I am still and relaxed enough to reach out to ….. and to reach back.

Mostly I live in a kaleidoscope of emotions.  They move through me on any given day.  Delicious as honeysuckle, obnoxious as stepping barefoot into dog poo – all pass.

These days, sleep is deep and dream-filled.

Some days are almost unbearable.  Regret, jealousy, fear.  The space between days like these is becoming wider and wider.  

The longer you’re gone, the safer I feel.

My spirit is stepping closer – synchronicity, the kindness of strangers, I have something to offer again and I am.

Hopelessness slipped quietly out the window while you were gone.

I don’t want it back.  

There will be no turning back this time.  



The 11 Year Fact

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