I Think It Needs To Be Said . . .
I know you read this blog, so I know you'll see this . . .
You probably think I've been dodging your phone calls on purpose the last couple of days, and . . .well, you're right, I have.
I needed some time to process everything that happened and to decide what to do about it.
I don't know quite how to say this.
I'm trying to find the right words, but it'll come out the way it does, and you'll take it however you will. You might get angry, but there's nothing I can do about that, really.
I think it needs to be said, so I'm saying it, OK?
And know this right off the bat: if I didn't care I wouldn't be saying it at all. The fact that you're reading these words should say alot.
I wouldn't do this for just anyone.
First things first: I'm not going to tell you you have a drinking problem. I don't believe in being preachy and holier than thou, and I'm not going to be that person on my high horse looking down at you. I'm not like that, OK? That's not what this is about.
As I said, I'm not going to tell you that you have a problem with alcohol, but isn't it possible that you do? Many times we talk on the phone and I can hear the alcohol in your voice. You slur your words. Sometimes I can barely understand you.
If it was one isolated incident, I could overlook it, but that has happened on many occasions.
That troubles me a little.
But the kicker came the other day when we were out. "Lunch, shopping, and possibly Happy Hour" were on the agenda.
Lunch didn't happen, shopping didn't happen -- but drinking did.
You had no interest in shopping, checking out the art museums, or anything else I suggested.
You wanted to drink.
And you did. Starting at twelve-thirty in the afternoon until you passed out at four o'clock at Leon's, falling off your stool and striking your head on the floor and bleeding all over the place, forcing me to call an an ambulance for you, and trying to contact your husband but you were too drunk to remermber his cell number.
Oh, you have your excuses.
You hadn't eaten anything. You were still feeling the "effects from the night before", you didn't know how drunk you were getting, etc.
Part of me blamed myself. "Gosh," I told myself, "I should have known you were that drunk. I should have done something to keep you from drinking that much." I was kicking my own ass for letting it happen.
But then I thought, "She's a big girl. She should have stopped herself."
And I think I'm right about that. You should have been able to stop yourself. The fact that you didn't suggests (to me, anyway) there might be a problem there.
Doesn't it to you?
Some of the things your husband had to say after the incident were eye-openers also.
"This isn't the first time she's done this" "Once she starts drinking, she can't stop" "I've had to bail her out many times before" "She doesn't have an off switch" "This happens all the time"
I'm not just going strictly by that, though. It's what I've observed for myself that has me concerned.
You frightened me the other day.
You truly sincerely did.
You've apologized to me profusely, I know. Every message on the voice mail has started and ended with "I'm sorry".
"I'm sorry you had to see that", "I'm sorry I put you through that". "I'm sorry that happened"
I'm sorry, too.
Not that I had to go through that.
I'm sorry you didn't know when you'd had enough.
I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to visit the museum - there was a really great exhibit. I think you would have enjoyed it.
I'm sorry I didn't get to show you the funky furniture at Nuveau, or to have a mohcciato at the City Cafe. I'm sorry we didn't get to go to Lambda Rising or to check out the retro "vintage clothing" at Dreamland.
I'm not trying to condemn you, OK? I consider you a friend.
That's why I think you should think long and hard about the things I'm saying.
Go over the checklist and then ask yourself if you think you have a problem. And if you think you do, you should probably try to get some help with it.
I'll do everything I can to help you.
Think about everything I've said, and then get back to me.