by Pat Ritter
final drink of alcohol. Here is the story. Often I am asked ‘how’ I beat alcoholism. It’s quite simple – stop drinking alcohol. It’s similar if you want to lose weigh – keep your mouth shut. There’s a little more to stop drinking alcohol than stop drinking.
The greatest love of all is the love we have from our parents. From as young as I can remember I loved my father and mother, more particularly my father, I suppose because of the macho image. Research tells us from the age of six years we begin our behavioural patterns to guide us through our life.
In my case, my father is also an alcoholic – he’d never admit he has a problem, however, from my life experiences, he is an alcoholic.
Growing up with an alcoholic father played a huge part in the behavioural patterns in my life. I learned to become a people pleaser or more exact, a rescuer. When I look back at the time of learning these habits, I still continue to see my father drunk, abusing my mother and my sisters.
To soothe the situation I’d make my father a steaming hot cup of coffee and see him drink a mouthful of coffee than drink a mouthful of cold beer. It was ludicrous for any human being to do such a thing.
Each Saturday night became a repeat from the previous Saturday night.
He arrived home from the hotel totally plastered and feeling self pity. I continued to serve him the steaming hot coffee and see him perform his usual ritual of drinking the coffee and then the beer.
Growing up with a father like this person who failed to show any love or affection caused me to mirror his actions when I became a father and husband. I played a similar role to that of my father, but did not become abusive or threatening as he had done.
On the morning of the 13th January 1977 my wife gave me an ultimatum, I either do something about my drinking or she was going to leave and take our two children with her. I didn’t realise the significance of the ultimatum until I made her a promise. I promised I would never drink alcohol again. I haven’t touched a drop since that day. It didn’t stop me from being a dry drunk.
It took another twenty years before I realised how significant the behaviour of my father’s drinking had on my growing up to witness his drunken behaviour.
At aged forty-five years old I learned to change my behaviour I learned from my father’s drinking; to become responsible and accountable for my own actions.
Without making the promise to my wife, I would never have enjoyed the life I’ve had. It would take another lifetime for my wife to again trust me.
Word count: 489
Come Back To Me.
Letter or Monologue:
Cyril we spoke on the telephone the other night, somehow we were disconnected. You mentioned Jean is unwell and you, yourself haven’t been in the best of health. I’m sorry to hear this sad news.
Remember the time we met. It was back in 1972, in May of that year. I bought my new wife to live in Stanthorpe. You worked at the Ambulance Station and me across the road at the Police Station.
We’d been called to a farm where a young fellow hung himself. He’d been in Australia only a short time and missed his homeland. I held him whilst you severed the cord from around his neck. We lay him on a stretcher and transported him to the morgue.
We’ve been friends since that day, thirty-nine years. We’ve certainly crossed a few dry gullies together since then. Life has its ups and downs and as you would be aware of the many you, yourself have suffered and presently still continue to suffer. I still find it hard to believe you need to inject insulin four times per day to arrest your diabetes. It must be tough.
And poor Jean, you told me before we were disconnected she’d suffered three heart attacks and is unable to speak. This is terrible news. She is your soul mate, Cyril.
My life has gone on since I lost the one and only woman I ever loved. It’s been eight years since she passed on after losing her fight with cancer.
Actually, I thought at the time I’d never recover from losing her, but now have met another person very similar in personality. I’m in love again Cyril and never thought it was possible to love two people in one’s lifetime. They each are so similar in personality and habits. You’d swear I’d been with the one person for thirty-one years, yes Cyril we were married thirty-one years when I lost her, and then after a couple of years find another person so similar to continue my life. It frightens me at times.
I have a wonderful life.
Come back to me Cyril when you can and we’ll finish the conversation we were having on the telephone. If things get too tough think of the many times we sat around the kitchen table at Stanthorpe playing canasta when the temperature outside was below zero. We hungrily ate the pikelets you cooked so well.
Until then my friend remember I will always be there for you and Jean.
Word count: 425