New Hampton School (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
grant me the serenity to grow the fuck up!
Stepping away from the homophobia, the misogynistic parents, the stagnant direction of a borderline’s life; sobriety is the key to all unanswered and ignored questions.
Supposing that someone, and I am not going to name names that is childish, slept with boys and didn’t know how they got to the kitchen floor of a neighbor’s house, naked. Assuming they had forgotten the boy’s name that they had found themselves next to. Both participants in an attempt at college age sexual stupidity, reeking of leftover sex and cheap beer.
Acknowledging that all of the above may or may not mean you have a drinking problem. All things considered, both parents are professors, both educated and well mannered, white house white picket fence, New Hampton School for Discriminatory, so on and so forth; how the hell does an adult fuck this ‘how to help my drunk daughter situation up?’
My mother, one month into my sobriety, ‘oh, its okay Ambien, it’s only wine and it’s my birthday.’
My father, ‘hey, I picked up some O’Doul’s for you. They’re in the frig.’
Both parents, ‘if you run out of your meds just give the doctor a call…She’ll be fine with the fact you need them two weeks early!’
Mother Theresa even went so far as to buy me a book about Celebrities getting sober. Later I had been told that that reading material didn’t really qualify as, worth a damn literature in the hierarchy of getting clean. It is purely fantasy.’
Well, that was okay, I can’t really read and I love a good fantasy.
Sometime ‘round November, December, the parents thought it a good idea for a family outing. Knowing their lovely Adopt-A-Daughter, Ambien not Full of Grace, a movie was always a good choice in the entertainment department.
Little room for conversation, little time for lies and absolutely no time for deep discussion about the plight of AIDS children in Africa; perfect family gathering!
We had seen Flight!
Quick synopsis:
Drunk, drugged but well trained pilot. Pilot performs near impossible maneuvers to avoid killing all passengers on board. Pilot than deals with the cunning and baffling disease of addiction the only way he knows how, more drugs, more sex and more booze.
I was pissed! What had my mother been thinking? Every time a pill was popped, a jug unplugged, a line was snorted and a sexual romp went unprotected; I felt like running out of the theater and screaming, somebody just get me a fuckin’ drink.
Educated persons handing down overly educated but obtuse wisdom with common-ness missing produces a child either unenlightened or addicted or both!
Did any of the three of us Concord NH scholars learn anything about addiction? About the struggle, about the rock bottom, about the self-loathing and hate of the world in general, absolutely not!
I walked away, immediately texting Bianca, my fat and frenzied should be drinking lite beer not real friend.
“Hey, get the weed and fantasy movie ready…I’m heading to Wakefield.”
Oh, and the ending of Flight. He finally admitted that he had a drinking and drug problem. He came clean, as they say.
What a fuckin’ idiot! I would have kept lying until there was no more truth to be found!
