She sits perfectly poised, waiting to be handled with care, her curves fitting the shape of my hand perfectly. Waiting to be consumed. Enjoyed. To brighten my day or perhaps mellow me out.
She’s seductive, rich, sometimes crisp, and refreshing. Always there to greet me, no matter my mood. She can leave a deep burgundy tint to my lips, almost better than my favorite lipstick. She makes me feel lighter and more at ease.
Full of flavor and seemingly has no limits, except when I reach the end of the bottle. Then like any ravaged love affair, the morning greets me with a harsh light and reflection of all that she brought along with her.
A headache and sometimes a queasy stomach, yearning for hydration and sustenance of something other than tannins mixed with alcohol. The burgundy shade on my lips has turned to a darker shade of blue that stains my now dry mouth leaving me with a reflection that I would rather not gaze at for too long.
The wine bottle love affair has consumed me for quite a few years. Sometimes it’s hot and heavy, a constant companion to the stress relief that I seek to help lighten my burdensome load.
She is a constant friend, sitting quietly awaiting to be consumed by my
attention. Her sidekick, the wine glass, is always ready to fill my hand with its cool, smooth embrace. Another soothing touch to try to calm the racing emotions in my head.
There are times when the wine bottle is a much-needed date. An occasional break from every day. She waits patiently for the next interlude. Sometimes it is brief. Just a glass, or maybe two.
It’s in those other tumultuous times when the wine bottle seems bottomless and I feel insatiable. Searching for a need that can’t be met. Longing to quiet the voices in my head that seem to pull me into a zillion different emotions. That torrid longing to feel good, to feel loved, to sometimes feel numb to all that doesn’t appear to be perfect. That’s when the love affair needs to be pushed away. That is when it is most dangerous. That is when I discover that what feels like love, isn’t love at all. It’s a bandaid to what I am truly yearning for - to be loved, to feel good, to be seen in my very real life.
She will always be there. In good times and bad, highs and lows, waiting to be caressed and consumed by one that appreciates her full-bodied flavor. Yet with this love affair, there needs to be balance, compromise, and control.
There will be times when she has more control than I do, but with this relationship, I must always take it back. I must always be the one to say when enough is enough.
So, why did I write this? Well, for several reasons but mainly for you. See, what I have learned is that no matter if you drink or not, you have a relationship with alcohol. It’s all around us. The challenge is when this disease infiltrates our lives. Whether you are the one fighting the disease head-on, or if it is consuming someone that you love, it impacts so many lives. No one is immune.
Because of that, I ask you to love yourself enough to figure out how alcohol impacts your life, your family’s life, and those around you.
This is a tough bridge to cross because it’s endless. It’s a bridge that must be crossed every damn day. But know this - I see you. I understand you and you aren’t alone.
Till next time -
Xo,
B.
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