I Quit Drinking, in a way

[This is, hopefully, one of what will be many “out of the blue memories” that come to me unannounced.] It’s not entirely true, but kinda true. I quit drinking in about 2nd grade. But only in a way. I hit rock bottom dancing to loud music coming out of a furniture console stereo, the kind that the 70’s were all about. I had some liquid from the cabinet in the house and my friends came to the door and there I was, grooving and smiling, tottering back and forth and they just wanted to go hang out in the woods. The look on their faces — more than pity, and eeked a raw piece of sadness from their eyeballs in to my soul. I sort of stopped then. Not really, because I hid bottles in the woods going to jr. high and more of the same in high school and I didn’t have a problem but I did have a choice to make and I made it, I would not be a drunk. I’ve learned to live with this sort of decision in many aspects of my life. Practical and calm are only the view from the outside, on the inside they keep me feeling like myself. I can spot a drinker and they are so sure they are so cool and lucid and deep and mind blowing and awesome and this is a wish and dream because they aren’t. It’s good practice for apologies. For testing friendships and health. Sadly, all the advice in the world can’t stop a person, only themselves.