by Cheairs Graves, Redefining Typical
So beautifully packaged.
Pouring you into a cup so that I can breathe.
Waiting for that five o’clock hour so that you can help me.
Shhhh….nobody can know.
It is our little secret.
I will only bring you forth from your bottle when nobody is looking.
When he is with the kids I will sneak to the kitchen and grab you.
I will pour.
Don’t worry I won’t leave you alone for long.
I need you.
You help me.
I deserve you.
My son has autism.
Six letters no mother should ever have to hear.
Six letters that leave me on the cold kitchen floor.
Holding my knees.
Clinching my fists.
My back hitting the wall.
And I am alone.
So very alone.
And my sweet boy rolls on the ground.
In a world that I do not know.
And my precious girl. She needs me. Oh, how she needs me.
And I stand.
I walk to your most sacred place where you are kept.
I take hold of you.
My heart begins to slow because you…..my most beautiful wine…..you will help me.
And I pour you.
I take a sip.
Because you my friend -you help me to stand.
And the one glass of wine to take off the edge….. turns to two.
Two turns to three.
Three to four.
One bottle of wine turns to two bottles of wine.
And I yell at my children.
And when my husband travels I drink more.
And when he is home I drink more.
Trips to the store to make sure I have enough of you.
Because I can’t do it.
I can’t do it without you.
My sweet, sweet friend.
And then I pass out.
I wake in the middle of the night.
Face splotchy and red.
I can’t remember conversations with my husband.
My marriage-slipping away.
My daughter’s questions-“What are you drinking mommy?”
And more lies come from my lips as I laugh, “It is mommy juice.”
To make sure I have enough of my new best friend.
But I am still there.
Curled up on the cold kitchen floor.
Hands around my knees.
And this best friend.
This lovely liquid that I chose for my Oxygen Mask.
It is chocking me.
It is killing me.
And I will die.
But I can’t give up my best friend.
I am scared to give her up.
I don’t know how…..
What will I do without her?
It has been two years and ten months since I have had any alcohol.
It was on bended knee that I started seeing an amazing therapist whose grace, gift, and loving hands have helped guide me on this road of recovery.
It was with great hope that I went to see my physician who started me on an antidepressant.
It was my husband who held me tight and whispered the words “I love you. We will get through this.” when I told him that I did not know how to stop drinking.
It is with encouragement of family, friends, and you that I began to share my journey through my blog. To cry the tears in the written word and let others hold them and wipe them away.
I had to let go of that friend.
I had to say good-bye to my most precious wine.
Oh, she still calls my name.
But I won’t go back.
I can feel the pain.
I can feel the sad.
They won’t crush me.
I am not alone.
I have my husband.
They lift me when I can’t stand.
They hold me when I cry.
They rock with me when the pain feels like too much.
Yes, they are my oxygen mask.
My glorious and wonderful oxygen mask.
And they-yes they- help me to breathe.
Coyright Cheairs Graves March 22, 2012
Cheairs can be found at Redefining Typical. She writes about her most supportive and gentle spirited husband and their amazing, sweet, and fun-eight year old son Dawson who has autism and their ever moving, energetic, and peace loving six year old typically developing daughter Mae Mae. She writes about their life: the joy, the sorrow, the triumphs, and everything in the middle. She is forever in the process of Redefining Typical.You can also find Cheairs at her Redefining Typical facebook page.