If you have stumbled across my blog and are thinking ‘Day 16’ of what? Have a quick read about my challenge.
As our guests entered, joy leapt through me. We hadn’t seen them for a year. The last time we saw them, he had not been well. Today he looked great. Slimmer, tanned and happy. Holding his head high.
“You look really well.” I exclaimed. You could see the pride flash across his face.
His wife, as lovely as ever, relaxed and looking forward to a long and leisurely lunch.
A toast. Friends reunited.
Whispered questions about my health. I responded with gratitude and promising news. Feeling loved and cared for.
Hours later, we were having lunch with a narcissist.
How can that be?
There was a monster amongst us; belligerent, aggressive, foul-mouthed, and offensive. Not the person who had arrived a few hours earlier.
Alcohol can bring the worst out in a person. Fortunately, over the years, I have learnt to slow my drinking down to protect myself and others. See, Day 2: Alcohol to find out why. My glass of Rosé topped up with ice, over time, becoming little more than flavoured water. This is my trick. I always have a wine glass with something in it. It looks like I am drinking the same as everyone else. Self-preservation. A fine art created over years of commitment.
As the alcohol flowed, the temperament changed. The fun-loving, gentle giant morphed into an unrecognisable tyrant.
Occasionally, my tolerance levels wore thin. I attempted to stay out of the conversation, only to be questioned, “Are you ignoring me?” To which I replied. “Yes, you’re constantly moaning.” Unsurprisingly, this didn’t land well.
One heated discussion had me leave the table temporarily to gather my thoughts and wonder how I would get through the meal.
Another, after a barrage of arrogant interruptions, I stood my ground and had my say. The retort I received was “You’re a bitch.”
I have been called worse, however, ‘bitch’ really gets under my skin. My blood boiling. It took all the restraint I had left not to leap across the table and punch him to the ground.
The bill arrived promptly.
An eventful journey home only prolonged the anguish.
Finally, safely at our front door, I couldn’t help myself. From behind, I leant forward, squeezed his shoulder, and said thank you for the afternoon, omitting the word ‘lovely’, I hasten to add.
Exiting the vehicle, turning to walk away. I stopped in my tracks. Walked over to his open window, gently kissed him on the cheek and said goodbye.
“Why the hell would you do that?” I hear you cry. Because that’s just who I am.
On receiving the kiss, his eyes rose slowly, the manic look gone. Instead, I was staring back at a young boy, recently chastised by a parent. All the venom had left his tongue, the hatred gone from his eyes. A little lost boy who knew he had overstepped the mark.
With anger still fuelling my veins, I hadn’t noticed his demeanour. That didn’t come back to me until this morning, while I was mulling over the calamity of the previous day.
I felt empty. I pitied him. I felt sorrow. What should have been a wonderful time with friends had become a battleground.
All because of alcohol.
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Thanks, Liz
For anyone reading my posts who has a story in them, they are struggling to tell. I would recommend getting Anne Lamott’s book ‘Bird by Bird’. It has inspired me to create this challenge and is full of great knowledge and insight. She also has a wonderful sense of humour and writing style.
If you would like to buy ‘Bird by Bird’, please use my Amazon associate link: https://amzn.to/47Pdkx7
Surgery and Prosecco 