What I am most addicted to is sadness.

The sorrowful feeling that begins as a knot in your chest and spreads throughout your body, intoxicating, numbing you to the reality that things will get better, they also do. The anguish that takes hostage your mind, contaminates your thoughts with the certainty that your existence is worth nothing in this world.

Is there any sweeter feeling than that of defeat? Is there a more exhilarating experience than the fall from the peak of hope, landing in the comfort of failure and resignation? After a journey into the possible, is there a more welcoming sight than of cynicism?

Sadness humbles, it cleanses our souls of impractical dreams and unattainable fantasies. In misery and suffering, we learn to surrender to what we are and relinquish the burden to become what we could be. 

It is in sadness, only, that I find happiness.

I watch him in the morning and his hands shake as he brews his first pot of coffee. There will be two pots, every day. About halfway through the first pot, his hands stop shaking. And halfway through the second pot, they start shaking again, providing an easy excuse as to why they started shaking in the first place. Too much caffeine. I have a busy day at work.

When he arrives home, the first thing he does is crack a beer. It doesn’t matter if we are walking out the door in two minutes, he will start that beer. If we go to friends, he drinks to be social. If we go sailing, he drinks to relax. If we go to dinner, he drinks to make it special.

If we stay home, one beer turns into two, three and four. Then come the rum nightcaps – one, two and maybe three. When we finally settle in to watch a little TV, he is sound asleep within 15 minutes, his head tipped, appearing to break his neck. And of course, he is snoring that loud resonating snore of a drunk.

Yet he is up the next morning, bright and early, ready for the day, with no evidence of the alcohol abuse from the night before. No headache. No hangover. Nothing but the shake of his hands.

I ask myself – Can someone this functional be an alcoholic? Is he an addict or just someone who enjoys drinking as he claims? And most importantly, I ask – Should I just ignore it?

He is a joy to be with, drinking or otherwise. He grabs life with gusto and we have so much fun. Our life together is wonderful and the envy of all we know. Should I make trouble by bringing this up at all?

He took a stay-cation and one day I left to have lunch with friends. When I came home it was obvious he started on Beer 1 hours before and was probably on about Beer 4 or 5 or maybe 6. The truth was never to be revealed. Granted it was a vacation day but he had a drink in his hand for the next 11 hours. Push had come to shove and I had to say something.

The discussion did not go well. On hindsight I did everything wrong when confronting someone with an addiction. I accused, I called him an alcoholic and I ruined his vacation.

But somehow my words sunk in. It’s been a few weeks and he drinks but not nearly like he did. Just last night, we were discussing another health issue and I mentioned that for what it’s worth, his hands weren’t as shaky. And his immediate answer: Yeah, but I still drink too much.

Step one: Admitting you have a problem.

I would rather you remember me as a star

Worshiping me for sewing solar systems together

Blinding, searing, a white dwarf

One rotation away from exploding

Consuming even black holes in all of their might

I would rather remember you as a lightning storm

Striking, lighting me aflame, electrocuting

Brightening up my world for only seconds,

Giving me just enough to stick around

Teasing, taunting, tormenting

Blackening my flesh, you ate away like acid

You burnt out my stitches then blamed me

For falling apart

But instead I'll remember you for your waters

Feeding, rejuvenating, growing me stronger

And you'll remember me for my willingness and understanding

For drinking your rainstorm even when we both knew it was polluted

Crave and crave and hunger and light and the darkness swallows it all.

Hunger insatiable I lie through teeth rotting and screaming a need I have never known.

Lights extinguish one by one they run from me everyone darkness consuming.

I used to want but want is need is must is at all costs. The one I want the one I want I need.

What is want? I only know the need the must the craving that eats me inside out bones ache.

The ache is there the need is gnawing now roaring drowning out the world I used to see.

I have not seen felt heard you all this time it was the roaring in my ears I'm quieting it.

But through the quiet even now I feel the gnawing softer roaring softly.