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WHISKY LULLABY – – By. Mike Rudon Jr.

WHISKY LULLABY – – By. Mike Rudon Jr.
November 16
14:33 2018
By: Mike Rudon Jr.

He put that bottle to his head
And pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had
To get up off his knees

My article has absolutely nothing to do with whiskey. It’s never been my poison of choice. Maybe it is yours. I don’t know. Neither is this about a lullaby. But I just really like this song – maybe because it’s so sad, but so real too. I’ve probably mentioned it before, but alcohol is the most sinister, insidious thing. It comforts, even as it destroys. It provides a moment of pleasure even as it steals your soul. So this guy comes home from the war, back home to his wife who, wonderful woman that she is, has been patiently and faithfully waiting. Except that she hasn’t. He walked in on her and another man. His mind and heart are broken, and he turns to alcohol for the only peace he can find.

Long story short, he drinks himself to death. She, in turn, is so consumed by guilt and pain that she turns to alcohol. And drinks herself to death too. What a hell of a thing.

I mean, let’s be real here. How many of us drink to ease some sort of pain? To make something feel better inside us. To forget, for a moment, something we’ve done, or something that’s been done to us. Just one drink, and then another, to ease the anguish and loneliness and pain and uncertainty and insecurity and fear and anger and guilt – you see where I’m going here? There’s always something, a reason to drink. Remember that column I wrote what seems a lifetime ago – Everybody Hurts? We do. And some of us turn to alcohol for peace – maybe the only peace we can find.

Me, I worry incessantly. I worry about things I’ve done in my past. I worry about the future. I worry about friends I’ve lost. I worry about people I’ve hurt. I worry that one day I’ll be all alone and nobody will care. I worry about bills. I worry about my family. I worry about everything under the sun. Leave me alone long enough and I’ll worry about climate change. And whether it is a blessing or a curse, or both, I have a mind which never shuts down. And sometimes I literally feel that I will explode – or implode. Not sure which one it is. And in those times, many of those times, I have turned to alcohol. And believe me when I tell you – with that first sip of rum & coke, my poison of choice, I feel a sense of peace. You know in those cartoons where steam comes out the character’s ears? That’s how I feel. Like all the weight of the world is gone.

In that moment, I am okay. You know sometimes when you’re fluffy, as I am, and you put on clothes that don’t really fit you right and you feel uncomfortable all day? Always tugging here or there? Always feeling off? Well, for me, I take a drink and I don’t feel uncomfortable anymore. I don’t feel fluffy or fat anymore – suddenly I’m gloriously voluptuous and it’s a good thing. It’s real. I’m willing to bet a whole big bunch of us drink because it makes us something we’re not – it gives us a confidence we don’t have. I don’t need a phone booth to change from Clark Kent to Superman – two rum & cokes and watch my frigging cape blow in the breeze.

But. But. But. Read carefully. There comes a time in our lives when we understand that this same thing that comforts us, and uplifts us, and turns us into Avengers or at least X-Men with mad superpowers destroys us and destroys everything that we love. When we realize that, it’s HUGE. When we understand that we want to be different, to be better – it is HUGER. Hold on to that for all you’re worth. Because you will make it. I will make it.

So like my friend Will Smith who pursued happiness in what is one of my favorite movies – I’ll call this part of my life – finding myself. I could also call it giving thanks. In my articles I’ve exposed myself to scorn and ridicule and no doubt disgust. My rationale, when people have asked, is that after humiliating myself in so many places and so many ways for years under the influence, should a few hundred words subject me to crippling shame? I think not. What I’ve found, since coming out of the closet – not that closet, this one – is support.

There are persons who have reached out to me, to share their stories or just to talk. A lot of people on Facebook, some I’ve never spoken to, have dropped by to support, to share a few words of advice or comfort. Incredible, isn’t it. And then there are those who stick by me through thick and thin. There are not many of them. I have lost more friends and destroyed more relationships than I can count – and those persons who see something in me and are willing to hang around for the grand finale, are valuable beyond mention.

The End.

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