Pretty much takes the pressure off. My parents, several psychiatrists and an assortment of sedatives over the years eventually convinced me I was somewhat delusional. Now I’m at that point where my experience has taught me to never love anybody who treats you as though you’re normal… they’re usually just the hospital staff.
Ruffie throws down the gauntlet. Good stuff, to be sure.
I’ve never ever liked the term ‘Alcoholic’. It conjures up dark and negative images and quite frankly doesn’t gel with me.
A friend of mine who is a counsellor has a very apt saying:
“Nothing has a meaning until you give it a meaning”.
I have applied this saying for my own sanity on a number of occasions and this works for me.
Am I an alcoholic? No, I am a non drinker. Was I an alcoholic? No, I had a love affair with alcohol but the relationship went tits up and we’ve gone our separate ways! Will I be an alcoholic in the future? No, because I wasn’t one in the first place!
Who decided to give the label to the love affair? Who gave it a meaning? Who called it a disease?
Don’t get me wrong, if the term works for you then by all means use it…
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