Friday, 20 May 2011

Denial

I don't have a problem with drink,
She has a problem with my drinking.
It is her problem, not mine.
I can take it or leave it
But why should I leave it?

Whisky, whisky my friend in a bottle
Warming and welcoming,
Never judgemental,
Soother of stress
And calmer of chaos.

She has her white tablet,
Her friend in a bottle
That she takes as she says
She is depressed by my drinking.

The miserable bitch
Blaming me for her problems.
Could I take her or leave her?
It would be easy to leave her.
No wonder it is that I visit
My friend in a bottle.
Always warming and welcoming
And never judgemental,
My friend in a bottle.

Anna :o]

With thanks to Poets United for the inspiration
and also apologies as it just needed a title!

With very special thanks to Addy at Alcoholic Daze
and Linda at Immortal Alcoholic for increasing my understanding
of sharing your life with an  alcoholic.

16 comments:

bttrflyscar said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
bttrflyscar said...

family is a difficult thing...I felt the anger in this poem, very powerful, and mine has a title too! lol!

Belinda said...

I have witnessed this exact denial from someone in the clutches of substance abuse. You captured it flawlessly.

Alcoholic Daze (ADDY) said...

Just how it is. An honest portrayal. Thank you for the kind words.

Jinksy said...

Thought provoking...

thingy said...

You have captured the mindset quite well, Anna.

Sometimes, nothing else can be seen but that next drink.

sharplittlepencil said...

Glad you acknowledged the friends who helped you by sharing their journeys. My mom was alcoholic; I was big into experimenting with drugs in my 20s.

Self-medication of any kind is an indicator that there's something bigger going on. I always ask friends who confide their alc/drug stuff with me if they are not only going to meetings, but getting counseling with a licensed therapist. It was through that process that I came to my diagnoses and confronted the "monster under the bed" who was actually the monster ON my bed, my dad.

Great post, babe. Amy
http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/05/20/render-surrender/

Mary said...

You have told it like it is. I like that quality, and I like your poem!

Henry Clemmons said...

Reeeeked of real. Had me right there, caught up in the honesty, ugly or not, of the moment. Great job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ella said...

I'm related to an alcoholic; you really captured the essence of the addition. The refusal to admit there is a problem, the allusion of smoke n' mirrors or amber gold liquid or little pills.
Addiction comes in many forms, shopping, food, the desire to please, drink, smoke, gamble, and etc.
Powerful prose~ Well Done~

Dave King said...

Powerful and compelling, I liked this very much indeed: no wasted words, no sloppy sentiment, it has the smack of realism.

Friko said...

Good, Anna. Frightening.

Addiction is always a life destroyer; there are two kinds with which I personally am very familiar: gambling and prescription drugs, both now in the past.

Perhaps I'll try to write about them too, although no poem of mine could compare with yours. It'll have to be prose.

Frances Garrood said...

You are so good at this, Anna. Admitting addiction is three quarters of the way to doing something about it, but for an addict, that's a very long journey. So many never make it.

Elizabeth said...

Lived with it for years. Then got a divorce when I saw my children begin to follow in their father's footsteps. Example is good, acting on the "absolutely no more", is even better. Thank you for the reality check,

Elizabeth

Madeleine Begun Kane said...

A beautifully honest depiction!

HyperCRYPTICal said...

Thank you for your kind comments folks and sharing your histories.

My addictions - this computer I think and also since a cough in January - cherry Soothers!

Anna :o]