Writing Prompt #3: Write a diary entry, dated 10 years in the future.

February 16, 2036

It’s been a long road.

With apologies to Star Trek: Enterprise, that’s not just a song lyric. It’s been a long road for me. I’m about to turn 58 years old and my life has been a series of nothing but ups and downs; most of the downs have been my own fault, either because of choices I’ve made or the way I’ve reacted to things. I’m not going to lie: I still have a lot of issues to work through, but at least I haven’t had a drink. It’s been ten years, in fact. I was in denial for a long time, but it took getting hospitalized and having to move back in with my parents for a while to get me to really recognize that I just can’t drink. Ever. I can’t pretend that I’m like other people. I can’t hide my alcoholism. I have to be open about it, and I can’t be reluctant to turn down a drink when it’s offered. I can’t go on a date and pretend I’m a normal person.

But the bigger issue was always that I can’t deny who I am. The alcoholism is part of it, but I can’t deny myself the things I want to do or the people I want to be around. I didn’t like living at the Hacienda or the Salvation Army or in Fontana because that’s just not me. I don’t want that lifestyle. I gave up most of the things I wanted to do years ago, but when Lindsey and I were together, in fact, because I felt guilty spending money on myself. I stopped buying comics, going to conventions, playing card games, and lots of other things because it all costs money, and in doing so I gave up parts of myself. I pretended I didn’t need anything and, especially after Lindsey left, I didn’t allow myself to do things that brought me joy or that I could look forward to on long days at work. And so I started drinking more and more. Part of staying sober is letting those little moments of light and joy into my life and not feeling guilty about it. I had to give myself permission to be happy.

And it’s been good since then. Things have improved. I’m working a decent job and, while I’m not rich, I have a decent amount of money. And I have people in my life now, people I enjoy talking to and spending time with. I’m not afraid to be myself anymore, and that’s helped me stay sober. If I have joy in my life, why would I want to give that up for a drink? I don’t, and I hope I never will again.

Writing Prompt #1: What person in your life knows you the best, and how did you meet?

Years ago, this would have been an easy question to answer: it was my kids. When they were little, I was the parent who mainly cared for them and we spent a lot of time together. I always tried to be honest and up front with them, and they knew me better than anyone, including their mother. As the years have gone by, though, we’ve drifted apart. I suppose that’s normal, but it bothers me. If I’m being honest, it breaks my heart every day. The fact of the matter is that they just live too far away for us to have a really close relationship. They’re all adults now, of course. Ben and James live in Sacramento, and William was living in New York until he decided to move overseas to London.

The reality is that I don’t have anyone in my life right now who knows me terribly well. I’m getting along better with my parents now than I have in years, but I don’t think they really know me that well. We don’t have a whole lot of deep conversations and we don’t have many shared interests, either. At one point, a couple of years ago, I would have said Rose Marie knew me best, but we haven’t been able to talk much for over a year and a half now. I don’t even have her phone number anymore. Until just recently, I was hoping this would just be a phase we’re going through, I’ve finally had to accept that it’s not going to change, so I stopped going to church (which was the only place I could even say hi to her at all) and I’m just going to stay away from her. I’m going to try to stay out of Perris altogether. It’s best for everyone involved, but it means I don’t have a best friend anymore and I don’t have anyone who knows me very well.

Obviously, I met my kids when they were born. I was in the operating room when all three of them were born, so I have literally known them their entire lives. Rose Marie was someone I met by accident at a Memorial Day barbeque. She came up to me while I was standing in line to get a hot dog and a hamburger and she asked me to watch the two little dogs she had on leashes while she used the bathroom. While she was gone, one of the dogs (the little troublemaker) turned around and yanked his head out of his collar and went running around the property. I had to leave the other dog with a friend of mine and go chase him down; I finally caught him after he was too exhausted to sprint anymore and I was able to return him to her, after which we started chatting and struck up a friendship that lasted almost ten years. She’s had two kids since then and I know both of them very well; whenever they see me, they want to tell me stuff and show me stuff and play, and they like to walk around with me and explore places while I watch to make sure they don’t get hurt. That ended a while back, though, and I don’t talk to any of them anymore.