Cruel Summer
Today I am grateful for my job and how it allows me to practice flexibility and creative solutions. I am also grateful for comfortable sleeping weather.
For those of you from my era, the musical group Bananarama may ring a bell. They had a hit song in 1984 with "Cruel Summer." You can listen to it here. I heard it on the radio the other day.
The song, or at least the title, was prophetic for me in my own summer of 1984. I had one year of college behind me and was home for the summer. I was coaching softball, playing some ball myself, and partying quite a bit. It was my last summer of drinking before my first real attempt to quit drinking that began in May of 1985.
My disease had progressed and drinking was a priority for me. To drink meant to get drunk. I remember stealing quarters from my mom's coin can (it was a Pringles chip can), and sneaking a beer or two from what my parents sometimes had in our basement refrigerator, leftover from some visitors, or on hand in case we got visitors. I would take the quarters to help me buy a few more taps at the bar I frequented with my friends. At the time, a tap was 35 cents. I am not proud of these behaviors, but they remind me today that I was not a normal drinker, ever. (I was able to apologize to my parents a few years later for my thefts.)
I quit drinking from May of 1985 until August of 1986. (Read about those 464 days here.) I had already been writing poetry and journaling for years, but in this time period I really churned out a lot of what I call "my drinking poems." Thank God I was writing because my feelings were pretty toxic and I wasn't dealing with them in a healthy fashion. Writing saved my life. I believe that with all of my heart.
A poem I wrote in December of 1985 even carries the title "Cruel Summer." I will spare you the 50-plus lines of pain but here are some highlights: I realize how sick I really was . . . I was at my lowest, my most frustrated, my must disgusting self . . . I was letting myself fall into my own grave and each drunk was dirt to cover me . . . I couldn't stand looking at myself . . . My memory went to hell and came back to torture me . . .
Had enough? I have. And I thank God regularly that by September of 1989, with the help of people who cared about me, I finally realized I had had enough to drink and needed some help beyond myself.
That help is still here for me today and for that I am deeply grateful. The other good news is that I am here for myself today too.
For those of you from my era, the musical group Bananarama may ring a bell. They had a hit song in 1984 with "Cruel Summer." You can listen to it here. I heard it on the radio the other day.
The song, or at least the title, was prophetic for me in my own summer of 1984. I had one year of college behind me and was home for the summer. I was coaching softball, playing some ball myself, and partying quite a bit. It was my last summer of drinking before my first real attempt to quit drinking that began in May of 1985.
My disease had progressed and drinking was a priority for me. To drink meant to get drunk. I remember stealing quarters from my mom's coin can (it was a Pringles chip can), and sneaking a beer or two from what my parents sometimes had in our basement refrigerator, leftover from some visitors, or on hand in case we got visitors. I would take the quarters to help me buy a few more taps at the bar I frequented with my friends. At the time, a tap was 35 cents. I am not proud of these behaviors, but they remind me today that I was not a normal drinker, ever. (I was able to apologize to my parents a few years later for my thefts.)
I quit drinking from May of 1985 until August of 1986. (Read about those 464 days here.) I had already been writing poetry and journaling for years, but in this time period I really churned out a lot of what I call "my drinking poems." Thank God I was writing because my feelings were pretty toxic and I wasn't dealing with them in a healthy fashion. Writing saved my life. I believe that with all of my heart.
A poem I wrote in December of 1985 even carries the title "Cruel Summer." I will spare you the 50-plus lines of pain but here are some highlights: I realize how sick I really was . . . I was at my lowest, my most frustrated, my must disgusting self . . . I was letting myself fall into my own grave and each drunk was dirt to cover me . . . I couldn't stand looking at myself . . . My memory went to hell and came back to torture me . . .
Had enough? I have. And I thank God regularly that by September of 1989, with the help of people who cared about me, I finally realized I had had enough to drink and needed some help beyond myself.
That help is still here for me today and for that I am deeply grateful. The other good news is that I am here for myself today too.
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