A Dear Ron Letter

A Dear Ron Letter

by Karen Davis

 Dear Ron,

    Bear with me as I have chosen to write a letter to say all that needs to be said. This way there is no possibility of being interrupted or persuaded. I write strictly from the truth that is mine to own.

    I remember the first night we formally met. I had seen you at gatherings thrown by my parents and parents of various friends and relatives. You even visited my neighborhood from time to time invited by some boys I grew up with including my older brother. But it was at Nick’s place where we became truly acquainted.

    The air was crisp with the late autumn season that breathes such life into me. As I walked from my front door to the car filled with friends picking me up, I detected the scent of fresh lit logs by neighbors after my own heart with an eagerness for that first cozy glow of the fireplace and its accompanying crackling sound. I was a grade ahead of my age with looks that aged me further still. This was perfect as a barely teenaged girl, and which thankfully reversed as I got older. So, I awaited the Louisiana sanctified age of fifteen (at that time) for the privilege of obtaining a driver’s license. Meanwhile, I was an abiding and eager passenger along for the ride with my weekend warrior cohorts. On this night that I remember with affecting clarity, we were meeting up with other friends at Nick’s place before joining in on the long-lived tradition of New Orleans Friday night high school football.

    At Nick’s, a friend introduced me to you and while I played it cool pretending to already be familiar with you, looking back, you came across a little too familiar. There was no way of knowing that night how much of a ride I was about to go on. The little bit I got to know you that evening left a lasting impression on me. I wasn’t sure when I’d get to be with you again, but I was in some hesitance as I looked forward to it.

    In the beginning, I kept things at my pace and my comfort. We would meet up where my friends and I planned to get together celebrating the end of the school week and things went smoothly. I enjoyed getting to know you with prudence and not having to meet up every weekend. You gave me a sense of confidence and ease, but I also enjoyed time apart.

    Time went on and so did my life with you, both surprising me as if I had no say in things and where this was taking me. I am not sure when the tipping point took place and getting together with you occasionally turned into every weekend then turned into us pretty much always being together. There I was associating all good times with you being there as a given. At bad times, I needed you even more. Days that were simply there, so were you. I didn’t think twice about it. I didn’t think for myself at all.

    I couldn’t get enough of you. I wouldn’t let getting together with you rest. Even knowing that you had become no good for me; I didn’t stop clinging to you. Time in its practical sense escaped me. Life itself had one meaning as I fell deeper and deeper into you at the cost of me. I grew up in age and found my way despite my dependence on you. I wish somebody could have put a restraining order on me to keep me away from you. That would not have mattered though. The one thing that was missing in my futile attempts to break myself free from you and our unhealthy relationship was unconditional support.

    I knew we were not meant to be and that I had run myself ragged leaving pieces of me scattered along the road that was taking me away from all that was good. It took that one day when each breath I was still allowed to take had become torturous to do so. Being alive meant devastating loneliness and shame and hopelessness no matter how many others were in my life. It meant guilt over how much less of a friend, a daughter, a person I had become as I made you the center of my existence.

    I made a phone call. It wasn’t the only choice I had running through my head that day life was suspended in despair. I had no thoughts of whatever my next move to get away from you once and for all would look like to others. Others who couldn’t see the wrong in you. Something pulled me to reach out in my disgrace. Were there really others who would know what I am going through without my having to say many words at first and who would give a damn? Miraculously, somewhere inside of me I wanted to be saved. I didn’t know this about me. I was locked so tightly in our relationship, and you had me believing I had little to no worth. I was outside of myself when I placed that phone call that led me to life with its promise of warmth and cozy fireplaces.

    That was over 15 years ago. I realized your existence would go on without me but mine would not with you. Facing that fact and acting on it has made room for all that is good in life whereas before there was no such possibility.

     I was born with big brown eyes and the make-up for growing tall with long legs but very little athletic aptitude. I was born with a brain that made school very easy. I was born programmed to eventually need glasses and contacts. I was born sober and with a gene that means I am meant to stay sober. I was born needing to say a forever goodbye to you Ron Bacardi and every one of your cousins including the distant ones of wine and beer.

    Others can imbibe in your liquidity and be fine with just a bit of you, not me. I allowed you to make choices for me. I allowed you to take this wonderful brain of mine and rule it. I went from the blue of Hawaii to being a Pink Lady and even became loyal to a White Russian. Then, it was you, Ron Bacardi all dressed up with a lime and a fancy name that brings me here today. There’s no place for you in my life. There is no life of my own with you in it. It’s not you, Ron. It’s me. Therein lies true power!     

    A Blue Hawaiian, as lush as that sounds and as good as it was at Nick’s that night began my journey of first denial and then enlightenment. A journey that had me, the perfectionist, feeling so lame. “Seriously, I can’t simply have a drink like everyone else?”, I thought and tormented over. Wine with dinner? Beer on game day? Cocktails at cocktail parties or out with friends? No?!  Me, I am to live outside of the social norm I thought I was thriving in? Me, a fallen social butterfly? Fallen, only so that I could soar.

    After fifteen plus years of sobriety, I felt moved by gratitude to put down how I no longer see my journey as me a victim nor a shameful weakling as some would cast their stone away from their own not so sweet spot onto me. I see my light and my voice this lot has cast upon me. I am a strong credible trustworthy voice screaming out how immensely trying it is to say goodbye with finality. A finality that encompasses and embraces stopping the death of you—the whole and true you. A finality that is so fragile, it requires a new and life affirming commitment with each morning’s cup of coffee and each evening’s cup of tea.

    Here is what I have found along my true path. Life and the good people in it are on the other side waiting for you with such vivid and soul filling experiences and memories that can never be reached in a substance dependent life. Your worth was given to you the day God intended you. Reclaim it and do the excruciating and heart filling work that is your personal journey.

    And for all that don’t know the hellish struggle that addiction is, first, that is truly wonderful. Second, know that addiction leaves no social status, gender, ethnicity, or intellect untouched, and that it is not as simple as a matter of choice. Stop believing that! There is no truth nor light in that thinking. Pandora’s box is open. The toothpaste is out of the tube. The bell has rung. The genie is out of the bottle. And…I am done with the cliches.

    What I am saying is that most of the things people can become addicted to are widely acceptable in our society. You don’t know that you are one that can’t live with it more than you think you can’t live without it until you’ve joined in the participation of it like so many around you. It is only in time that you see that it isn’t simply a pleasure for you like it is for others. Quite the contrary. Others can partake in spirits as they get together or wind down after a long day. For me, for us, it is spirits of another kind. Demonic ones that if allowed inside you take over you and render you harmful to yourself and to all around you. Reach out, for the good of you and the life God gave you so that you can then be of good to those in your life and those whose journey looks like yours. Join your life. Nothing is over. Many blessings await you along with pride as shame falls away when you discover what you are truly made of and that you do have so much to give and so much to live.

    Goodbye Ron and company! Hello, beautiful baffling exquisite trying and meaningful world!