It was Sept., 1989 and the “instrument” God was using (unknown to me) was after me to have some “discussions.”
At the time my father was in the hospital. His alcohol mangled body and mind about to relinquish their fight against dying and I had become emotional although, many years before I swore that I wouldn’t cry when he died.
Fr. Tom McC, Catholic priest, thought I needed to talk.
We had a couple of brief talks and he started to ask me about my drinking. Being the good alcoholic I was, I thought I did a good job of “sugar-coating” the level of my alcohol consumption. Fr. Tom asked me how often and how much I drank. I had replied that I was having a few drinks almost every night well, because, you know, I was under a lot of “stress.” He just sort of shook his head in acknowledgement (so I thought) and didn’t seem to deny me my “excuse.” Now, what I hadn’t told him (lying by omission) was those few drinks I had almost every night were being poured into those giant McDonald’s soda cups.
If you’re anything like me, these conversations led me to the defining moment of my alcoholism. You see, Fr. Tom was asking me about my DRINKING! I’m going to safeguard that “right” under any and all circumstances! AND – I’m going to prove to you that I don’t have a dam* problem with booze! So I made the decision, THE DECISION, which defined me as an alcoholic.
Do you have any idea what that decision was?
I’ll let you know later…
