Remember that we deal with alcohol–cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us.
Cunning, baffling, powerful. Sly, deceiving, confusing, perplexing, bewildering, mighty, having great influence. It isn’t the liquid itself that possesses these qualities, but my desire to drink it in the face of my imminent destruction. I’m reading a biography of e. e. cummings, and in it he describes his friends who went to their alcoholic deaths as “lemmings,” members of a group who follow an unthinking course toward mass destruction. e. e. apparently learned to successfully moderate his drinking. Lots of others did not.
To be a little lyrical, I sometimes can picture my alcoholism as something alive and separate from me, but part of me. A hideous parasite that will kill us both. Sayings like “the disease that tells you you don’t have a disease” resonate with me. “That’s your disease talking,” makes sense to me. It’s like there’s this entity that is bent on self-destruction. I know it exists. Like e. e. cummings, I’ve seen the people go to their deaths, brought there by their own hands.
I think that for me, for today, the part that wants to kill me is weak and actually dormant. I’m smarter than it. I’m not deceived. I’m not confused about this, at least. The part of me that wants to live is more powerful than the force inside me that wants to die. The liquid has no power over me while it remains in the glass. The program has given me the power to leave it there for today.