Spilt Wine

It’s funny to me how people react when I tell them that I am an alcoholic and that I attend A.A.. I told my father Monday night and his reaction was pretty much par for the course with everyone else I tell. He gave me a weird look and didn't know exactly what to say except that he didn’t know I had a problem. I could sense the awkwardness. It’s always awkwardness when I tell people. Sometimes, I swear I can hear crickets chirping in the background during the awkward silence that falls after telling someone of my past addiction. That is probably why no one ever talks to me about it. They don’t know how I guess. What’s ironic about the whole ordeal is that no one ever talked about my drinking, though plenty knew I drank too much and now on the other side of the fence, still no one talks about it. The white elephant remains. That is why my meetings are so important to me, because that is where my disease is openly talked about and I am constantly encourage to fight on, live on and love on. I rarely get that from other people except my wife. Even Christians, get weirded out. Actually, Christians seem to be the most judging, which is odd and hypocritical. They don’t actually say anything verbally, they don’t have to. I see it in their body language and the distance they establish after I tell them. I find it disappointing that instead of rejoicing over the miracle of recovery and healing, they see me as damaged and a liability, as in the back of their heads, I could return to the old. Then again, I could be wrong about this and all of this could be just in my head. I don’t know; it’s just something I feel when I do share myself and my journey thus far.