The Faces of Addiction

I think when most people think of addicts or alcoholics, they think of sitting in the gutter with a needle in your arm or a skid row bum. That idea is changing slowly. I confess that even as an addict, I have at times thought that as well. I thought I haven’t lost much, how bad can I be. My first sponsor in AA told me that when she first saw me come through the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous, her first thought was “what a waste, a beautiful woman like that”. The important thing is that I came through the doors of AA.

There are men and women out there who are sitting in their nice homes, with 2.5 children and nice cars. They work and take their kids to school. Everything appears great except that they are dying on the inside. It could be the prescription they keep hidden in their purse or the flask they keep hidden in their coat pocket.

In some respects the addict on the street is better off. No one expects them to do anything different. The soccer mom, however, has to keep her secrets. Each day she wakes up hoping that a miracle of sobriety will happen and she won’t need to drink or take her “prescription” medication that day. Each day she is disappointed and the cycle starts again. I am her. I have the hatred and disgust for my weaknesses. I alternately rant at God and beg for His help.

Tomorrow I will stop.

Tomorrow I will stop.

Tomorrow I will stop.

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