Fighting Demons in the Bottle

Haven't talked in awhile. Lots of reasons but if I listed them, they would just sound like excuses. So, why now, you ask? I need to release [vent] the emotions, thoughts, and feelings building to an explosive climax [not the good kind].

Alcoholism. Disease? Disorder? Nasty habit? Yes, to all three BUT it depends on the person. Does genetics play a part? An addictive personality? Tolerance level? Upbringing? Or the cliche of the day: Nature vs Nurture? Once again, yes to all but depending on the person. Is there a cure? Can one just rely on willpower to kick the habit? No, to both. Do we love 'em or leave 'em? Love or Tough Love? Force them or coerce them? I honestly don't know the answer to any of those questions.

Where is MiMaw going with this line of questioning? Probably nowhere, but maybe somebody out there has some insight on the subject. My Baby Son is an alcoholic. I have known this for a long time. He has known it but only recently admitted it. Oh, he has said it in the past but he didn't really mean it. He insisted he could get it under control. Which meant to him that he could still drink... in moderation. There is no such thing with an alcoholic. He was doing pretty good for awhile, but life threw him some curve balls and he sought out the Demons in the Bottle. The Demon took hold of him and refused to let go. He hid it and lied through his teeth about it. The Demon dragged him to Hell and was determined to keep him there. For whatever reason, Baby Son decided it was not a place he wanted to be. He called a friend [not on the top of my list, but that is a whole 'nother story]. She is helping him to get into a Rehab Center, helping him through the D.T.'s and keeping me informed. The past is past... she is helping him now and IF she follows through with it... I will be forever grateful.

Why did he not come to his mother for help? He was too ashamed. For lying to me, backsliding and "letting me down". It bothered me at first, but in retrospect it is probably a good thing he didn't come to me in the condition he was in. I grew up with an alcoholic ... a disgusting drunk. Don't get me wrong! I don't have anything against drinking... in moderation. Even tying one on once in awhile is okay as long as there is no driving involved. But when I am around someone who is completely shit-faced, something inside me snaps and I turn cold. If Baby Son would have come to me... I would have no sympathy for him and would have kicked his ass rather than help him. I would not, could not, give him the help he needed. I have been on the phone with him a lot these past few days giving him words of encouragement and telling him how much I love him.

To go back to the opening remarks. Baby Son has a disease. It is genetic. He has an addictive personality and cannot quit on his own. His body cannot tolerate alcohol. My father and grandfather were alcoholics. Baby Son's biological sperm donor was an alcoholic along with other members in that family. Only Daughter gets upset with me when I question what I might have done wrong or could have done differently to prevent it. I know it isn't my fault, but I am his mother so I should have been able to do something to stop it before it got out of hand. Okay! I know that isn't true.

My heart aches. He is hurting so I want to be able to kiss it and make it all better. I cannot. I have tried in the past. He made this decision of his own accord [which is the way it has to happen] and he needs to see it through on his own... for his own sake. All I can do is show my support, love and lots of prayers.

Tomorrow is the day he starts the process of going into Rehab... as long as he doesn't chicken out. Tomorrow he fights the Demon to get out of the bottle.