and he stoppeth one of three

I felt I had to redeem myself by staying relatively sober and straight at the Christmas party last night. In September when I visited my friends Wayne and Kathy, I had to call and apologize the next day. Kathy told me then that I was funny, not at all indiscrete, and that actually my fall into the guitar case could have happened to anyone. It’s wonderful to have friends who lie to make you feel better, but I really don’t want to establish a pattern. I think I did better because my hangover was gone by 11 this morning. The worst I did was dropping a glass of water I drinking when I tried to alternate wine and water. Actually I did that twice, then decided it was time to slow down. I got a new glass of water, wondered out of the kitchen, and started talking to an interesting man in the hall. I had seen him when he came in earlier, grey hair and a time worn face, but with a twinkle in his eye and a definite spark in his manner. The conversation we had was about writing, which he knows I do, music, from the jam session going on in the other room, and alcohol, which he is not drinking and I am. He is not a man for small talk and he has no time for BS. He scans me like Jean Luc Picard at the helm of the enterprise, and I tell him the truth, that I am married to an alcoholic, and that I fear my son is taking that same path. He asks me why I don’t leave. I try to lie and tell him I don’t know, but he does not allow me my rationalizations. I try again.
“Maybe I’m afraid”, I say defensively.
“Or maybe you are playing the martyr” says Jean Luc.
“I know I have done that in the past, but I am trying to stop.”
“It’s your pride,” he states definitively.
“Perhaps,” I agree cautiously. He starts telling me about Al-Anon meetings and I start making excuses for why that won’t work. “I’m not religious, “ I tell him firmly, thinking I’m going to get a sermon shortly.
“I’m a Buddhist,” comes the reply. We talk for a while and he does what the Baptist that reared me called “testify”. It’s not the kind of thing I normally stand still for, but there was something about him that made the medicine palatable. Finished with the conversation, Jean Luc left me there to think. Pride is one of the seven deadly sins I do believe, an extremely tricky one. I mean lust is so clear cut, so simple, and I have no question that it has already earned me a place in hell. I just don’t know about pride though. Seems like if I had any I would have left long ago, but maybe it’s the martyr problem I have, the one I learned at my mother’s feet. I am so weary of this fence I’m straddling, and I know honesty is the only answer. Some people have a gift for holding a mirror for others to view themselves, and Jean Luc is such a man. I’ll let you know how the meeting goes.