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I acted inappropriately and selfishly. I was angry and had resentments, just like everyone else. However, I dealt with these problems in a way that made them worse. And once I was a full-blown alcoholic, I stopped worrying about whether or not the booze was helping or hurting: it just was. It would hold up the rug as I swept the previous day’s unpleasantness out of sight, big things that should’ve been picked up and dealt with.

Step 5:
Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

My alcoholism was making it clear to everyone: I am going to do things that will hurt and disappoint you. I also will not care enough about you to make proper amends. I’m sure my apologies sounded legit at the time: I was feeling genuine remorse. I knew I was bankrupt: I knew that I wouldn’t put up with me, if the shoe was on the other foot.

For tangential acquaintances, it was simple enough for them to walk away. Friends were a little more stubborn, but after some convincing only the die-hards remained. Extended family didn’t have a choice, so they limited their visits. My wife had seen and heard it so many times, she just turned down my volume. I became background noise out of necessity. And had things not changed, she would have to teach our daughter to do the same.

And she still may have to, because there are no guarantees.

I knew all these things, but until I told them to another alcoholic whose basic wiring was similar to mine, I was alone in my uniqueness. Doomed by my difference, which I secretly loved, because it meant I was special. Yeah, special the only way an alcoholic can be special: in my badness.

Get out the needle: popping my delusional balloon needs to be done daily. Otherwise, I end up way off the ground.

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