Dire Wolf (continued)
It’s always reminded me of the song “Dire Wolf” by the Grateful Dead. The lyric is: When I awoke, the Dire Wolf, 600 pounds of sin,Was sitting at my window – all I said was, ‘Come on in’
That’s what my drinking was like at the end – the agent of my demise sitting on the other side of my door and all I could think to do was open that door to it one more time. Where a normal person would be pushing the furniture up against the door to keep it out, I would cheerfully fling that door open: “Come on in!” No matter what horror, embarrassment, or degradation had resulted from my last binge, the moment would come where I would again blithely invite that misery into my life. That’s what it was like – there was almost a joy to it – probably because I knew oblivion waited on the other end of that first sip. I knew I could not and would not stop after the first sip. Even though I’d spent every moment that I drew a sober breath agonizing over this insurmountable, deadly problem, when the moment came to drink again, I did it without even a moment of hesitation or reflection. It’s as if I was hypnotized. At that moment of truth, my memory and reason always failed me. Once I took the first sip, my problems would slip away for those few hours and I would again have peace, but only until I came to.
And then, one day, I stopped letting it in. I can’t explain why. It was a day just like any other. My latest drunk had been just run of the mill; certainly not my worst. I’d been sticking my toe into a twelve step program – just sort of lingering around the fringes – for a few weeks. My head cleared enough for me to realize that I really wanted to quit drinking, but I was more afraid of admitting that I had a weakness than anything else. One Monday morning, the mental anguish, the remorse, the shame and the physical problems finally overcame my pride. I asked for help and I got it. I entered a treatment center in February of 1999 and haven’t had any mind-altering substance since that day.
Darren
32, New York City