When You Play With Fire, Someone Always Gets Burned
Why Do Some People Recover and Others Never Do?
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My father’s side of the family was full of big drinkers. “We’re Irish!” was a common refrain at parties, Christmas, birthdays and their favorite day of year… St. Patty’s Day. I suppose it’s no surprise that my father succumbed to a life wrecked by addiction. He never stood a chance.
When everyone was young and healthy, these parties felt lit. Boisterous, joyful, and fun loving. But over time, age breaks down even the strongest. The alcohol still flowed like a river, but parties felt less fun and more chaotic. People seemed edgier. Watching a 20 year old get rip-roaring drunk is “fun” and “harmless” (in our society) but a 40 year old? It feels more nefarious. Sadder. Depressing.
After my grandparents died on that side of the family, we lost touch with most of the rest. The aunts and uncles, the cousins I only rarely interacted with on Facebook. Life went on and the family connection we all had in common was now gone. Sometimes I wondered what happened to everyone, though. Or I would hear a heartbreaking story of a family member falling deeper into their addiction. Occasionally there would be happy news, like a new baby or marriage.
Yesterday I connected with a few folks from that side of the family though. They were in town and they wanted to see my kids, and see how the house remodel is progressing. My uncle, who I’ll call Dave, took several breaks during our visit to go out in the 100 degree heat and have a smoke. Same ole Dave, I thought.
But at dinner, something surprising happened. We got to talking about my book, and they asked what the topic was about. I told them it was about sobriety, mommy wine culture, and healthier ways to manage the mental load of motherhood.
“Do you wanna know how I did it?” Uncle Dave asked.
Even before I had a chance to ask him how he did what exactly, he tugs on his gold chain around his neck where poking out from under his collar was the Alcoholics Anonymous symbol.
“27 years” he said and I could see a glint in his eye; a prideful tear hiding just behind his eyelid but eager to show itself out.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Uncle Dave and that whole family never stood a chance, the way I saw it. They were fed this heavy drinking culture since the day they were born. They grew up believing this is just what our family does, and it’s in our blood. All I could think the rest of their visit was if Uncle Dave can do it, anyone can do it.
I don’t say that lightly. It still breaks my heart that my dad never did it. And he tried. He was in and out of AA meetings for years. He did rehab. He faced interventions. I resigned myself for a long time believing that some people never stood a chance and my dad was one of them.
But that’s just it! Uncle Dave was one of them too! And he DID IT. So what was the difference? I don’t know. But what I do know from my dad’s experience was it was through his suffering and addiction that I found the strength to quit. It forced me to come head to head with a problem that had the potential to get far worse before it got better. Without my dad’s struggle, I would have swept the signs away far longer than I already did. I might be still drinking. I might have tumbled down my father’s same fate.
“I’d be dead if I didn’t quit,” uncle Dave said softly. And I nodded my head. I think he’d be right. He wouldn’t stand a chance.
Some people come out of addiction alive. Others don’t. Yesterday Uncle Dave reminded me there is hope for anyone. And my dad’s memory reminds me still that addiction kills even the best of hearts and intentions. There’s no formula for who will make it out alive because when you’re playing with fire, someone is bound to get burned.
There’s only one way to come out of this dreadful existence unscathed and it’s not “you just need to learn how to moderate” your fire play.
If you feel the heat of the fire. If you see the smoke. If you smell the singe burning your nostrils. If you can taste the ash in your mouth as you breathe… Stop asking if you’re going to get burned and get out of the damn house like your life depends on it.
You won’t just save you’re own life. You’ll keep your house from burning down, too.
My book, It’s Not About the Wine: The Loaded Truth Behind Mommy Wine Culture, is now available for pre-order here.
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