But I also think I didn’t want to see them for what they were at the time.
Friends and family would mention that Jake smelled like alcohol, but I was too busy smelling the roses.
My therapist once said: “If you have family members who are alcoholics, you have no choice but to stand by them.
I feel kind of heartless writing that, but I’m thinking in terms of what I would tell my closest female friends or my sister if they asked me what you asked me.
There’s nothing wrong with being a supportive friend to him while he figures out his alcohol addiction.
I was vulnerable in a way that I’ve never been again.
I also realized that my asexual tendencies at that time—which resulted from my troubled home-life coupled with sexual orientation shame and simply being a late bloomer—could be quelled by alcohol.
Soon enough, that merry-go-round becomes a hamster wheel and even after you’ve grown up and moved out, you still run races you’ll never win.
And ache for a love deep down in the recesses of your being–in that unfillable void–that you’ll do anything to feel OK and thus you reach out for stuff: people, food, money, status, drugs, anything. When I was 18, I moved in with an alcoholic/addict who was verbally abusive and a perpetual cheat.
I could retell the same joke 5 times and get the same laugh out of it. I dropped Daria off at her her house and my head was spinning.
This was little work on my part to remain funny and interesting. I see Tom the next day, and bluntly ask, "Daria is telling me that you two hooked up." Tom goes, "Yea, I fucked her." and starts laughing - without any hint of regret or shame.
Unfortunately, as with many addictions, not all recovery attempts have a happy ending attached.