Last week I was wondering what to make this month’s column about, mostly due to me dealing with various pressures that come with daily life, something that happens to us all.
Usually I can pick a subject matter and bash out five hundred words or so on it with ease.
However, this month I wanted to talk about substance abuse and addiction, a subject I deemed too heavy for the Dolphin Talk’s readership.
Then I was talking to a friend who moved to Las Vegas and she told me this was the anniversary of her dad’s death.
I recall her father well; the first time I met him was when I was a teenager at my best friend’s house as he was a friend of my friend’s father. I recall how he introduced himself to my girlfriend at the time with the nickname of “Butterball” and kissed her hand.
Later I would find him to not only be a humorous man but a man who was smart in his own right and also a good Human Being, something that is hard to find in our modern times.
Sadly this man, who’s real name was Ron, was troubled by the demon of alcohol abuse.
Besides the good times I had around the man I also witnessed the pain and behavior of his disease. I remember him putting a small amount of tap water at the bottom of his empty Wild Irish Rose bottle, trying to get the last few drops out of it.
At the time I thought it was amusing, but later on, after I confronted my own demons of addiction I found it to be something else, something I can relate to all too well.
My past is littered with bad and hard times and to find a buffer from that I turned to drugs and alcohol. I have spent thirty plus years in denial about that, even when I quit the heavy drugs and just did the “safe” stuff like beer and marijuana.
Somewhere right now one of the five thousand plus that receive this publication might be going thorough the same thing, or are living with or love a person who has these kinds of issues.
I wanted to write about this because I feel the need to reach out to others who might need this help, to try and save the Butterballs of the world before the disease does it’s final dance.
Sounding preachy is usually not my normal method of operation, but in this case I think it is important enough to examine.
One thing I wished to put out here to my reader’s is whether you are an addict, know an addict or deal with an addict in some facet of your life, you must know about the pain that comes with every drink or indulgence.
These people are running from ghosts of their respective pasts as well as themselves in most cases. If you know a person in this particular pickle you might be scanning these words while saying: “I have tried and supported till I’m blue in the face but he/she never moves forward.”
This is because the change has to come from within, not from the outside. The person has to want it and want it bad; they have to face every fear and button every button, no matter what the cost or pain.
Butterball was a light in this world like every soul ever born from man or beast or plant, he had his own load to carry which he found too heavy and the help he sought in the bottle made him weak, not strong.
However, there is hope for every butterball out there if they want it; there is a light for every dark corner in their minds and a place where their soul can rest without all the pressure and debauchery of self destruction.
I realize this column might stir up some emotions in some of the readers so I am wiling to correspond with anyone who is struggling with this and might even write a second Fish out of Water column about that (without your identity being known of course).
So please feel free to write me at my public email about this subject matter (or anything else you may want to ask for that matter):
