Phase12 : "Off the record..."

If you wonder how an alcoholic makes it through the day without getting caught, keeping up a daytime job as if everything is normal, trying to lead normal outward behaviour as if a non-drinker, then the answer is they dont!. They just think they do. They think that no-one has noticed the slight change of mood, the daytime dissappearances, the excuses at lunchtime, the physical appearance change, and the overpowering unmistakeable odour of drink. I thought it was all invisible. How wrong I was, looking back. An how taken aback I was when my boss confronted me about it for the first time......
......."Come in, take a seat" he said, "over there.", and he pointed to a particular chair directly opposite his. It was not busy in the office today, but he still insisted on closing his door, rather than leaving it slightly ajar, as normal. This is obviously serious. Projects?, workload? cant be appraisal? The adrenaline started to kick in, which was starting to counter act the normal Vodka start to the day, that I had become so reliant upon. I had brought my cup of coffee with me, but just thinking about reaching for it made my arm noticeably quiver. Oh how I needed my sure-fire remedy now. 2 mouthfuls, thats all it would take then Polo mint after. Result would be no more shakes. My customary swigs, just after I parked in the car park, and just before I prepared for the dya ahead, were well and truly negated now. As I contemplated, I hadn't noticed him sitting down. My attention was drawn just in time, as he started to speak. "It has come to my attention, that a number of people have commented that you seem to smell a lot recently of....... Alcohol....", he paused at the word, waiting for me to react. I kept as still as I could, trying as much as I have ever in my life, to stop shaking. I looked surprised, or as best as I could imagine what surprise would be, then replied. "I'm not sure I know what you mean?". Had I slurred my answer? Had my mask of invisibility been swept away, to reveal the Alcoholic beneath. The next few minutes involved questions about talking honestly, and openly, and that help is available for those with "problems". I did not flinch for a second. Instead, denied EVERYTHING, and gave some lame excuses. I came out of the office, and went for a little walk. Somewhere that I knew, or thought I knew, a welcoming voice would be. That voice would be mine, my "inner voice", after having swigged 3 more mouthfuls of the clear Russian brew.
I now realise that being called "blind drunk", was ironic, in my case. It did not refer to slightly blurry eyes, or clumsy. No. I was "blind" to what everone else could see. I was blind to what was happening to me mentally, physically and emotionally. I was "blind", and I was a "drunk".

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