Skip to main content

Addiction


Just because I have written about my life, and my personal struggles with alcohol addiction, does not imply that I am an expert on addiction. I can tell you all you want to know about what impact alcohol had on my life but I can’t tell you what it is for you or your loved ones to suffer from addiction. Experts are available to help and I am not one. I would encourage you to seek help if you think you or a loved one needs it. I do hope that what I have written about will give you hope in the power of human kindness and hope in the miracle of redemption for those who reach out for help.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Memories of Grandma

Memories of my grandma and the smell of the soap in her bathroom. She had a collection of decorative soaps that she had displayed on the counter over the sink; shaped like flowers and clusters of grapes, small cakes with bright colors and floral perfumed scents. Later on, when my mom was a grandma, her bathroom was filled with rose scented soaps and lotions. It must be a grandma thing to fill the privy with fresh scented bath products.

Missing Pieces

After I finished B. Coming Burl, I was fortunate to have many people read it who had grown up with me and knew for themselves, or who had grown old with me telling them my stories of a misguided youth. Several of them reminded me about stories that I either (1) had to edit out during revisions, or (2) had forgotten to include. So now I have decided to share a few of these missing pieces - teasers for those who haven’t read it, and a bonus for those who have. One story was from way back in the mists of my youth, when I was about four years old. We would make periodic pilgrimages to Nogales, Mexico as a family to buy essentials. I have fond memories of the small family-owned grocery store where my dad would buy cafĂ© combate in small burlap bags, which the owner would grind for us in the back of the store, filling the space with the most amazing smell of fresh coffee. We would buy salsa from the factory and my brothers would buy fireworks to blow things up when we got home. Th...

The Truth

My childhood was not normal. I had many unusual opportunities and life experiences; I grew up on a pseudo-ranch with a cow named hamburger and we lived in a caboose for part of the year. I was fortunate to have a loving family and I was given opportunities for which I am forever grateful. I was curious and sensitive to my own feelings and the feelings of others, a trait that is not common in all young boys. I may not have been the most well-behaved kid but I was careful to try and not hurt anyone, and when I did I felt awful about it and I made amends as best as I could. I was never afraid to tell the truth. This book is a testament to that. I can’t say it was easy - telling the truth never is - but I grew more confident each time I told a story that hurt me in the first telling. Each subsequent story, no matter how painful, became more and more important for me to tell. I didn’t write under an alias, a pen name, to hide my identity. I originally decided to do it because I d...