Thank you - "perfectly imperfect" is exactly the nerve I was reaching for, so to have it land with you means a great deal. And yes, of course you can ask.
Hello, I didn’t intend for the day to slip away from me. I apologize if I was rude. I did not expect a series of unfortunate events, as I have been told many times Over the last year I have to much stored not enough publishedI . I will be on if you have a chance get back to me if not get back to me when you can .Nicole
Yes. I'm an alcoholic. There's no softer or more accurate way to say it, so I'll just say it. I've been ill with this for fifteen, maybe twenty years. I have not had a drink in a year. Those are two different facts, and keeping them apart is its own kind of survival.
Here's what the disease is very good at hiding: it's democratic. Unfortunately - or, as I've slowly come to believe, fortunately - it doesn't read your résumé. It doesn't care how disciplined or capable or accomplished you are. If anything, competence is where it prefers to live, because competence is such a convincing disguise. It takes everyone. That isn't an excuse; it's just the mechanism, said plainly.
What you did is harder than you think. You asked, gently, the exact question I had been walking around for those fifteen or twenty years. I could keep avoiding it that long because it almost always arrives with a verdict already attached. Yours didn't. You asked with respect and no conclusion - and that is the only form of the question a person can actually answer.
So it moved me. And, more unusually, it made me stop and think instead of reaching for the answer I'd kept ready for years. That pause told me something: it's the reason I'm here at all. Not to perform recovery, but because of who turns out to be standing on the other side of these words. And that keeps surprising me - it's you, and people like you, and it is genuinely, unexpectedly beautiful.
Thank you for asking the question I needed someone to ask.
Thanks for being honest; it's not always easy. … this I know. I wanted to let you know that
at least do it before I wake up my daughter for a meeting. She’s upset because it’s her only day off, and she works at the library. Haha... She feels personally attacked by mandatory meetings. I understand her, but if I show it, she’ll get into a mood only I can bring her out of or talk her out of. Ha ha, I’m not just asking a question, getting a response. I will get back to you.
Sincerely, Nicole, I deleted the entire message because I started rushing. I’m a hazard in the mornings, both with my time and my words.
Have a nice morning I’ll respond whenever you have the time get back to me
I usually do not ask; I actually have no reason to ask except that your story is very familiar to me in a way, yet very much more about the experience … I don't know exactly how to define it, so I'll just ask. Did you drink? You speak of your daughters and your journey. I don't want to assume, but I understand what you're describing. Not literally; I am asking for a few reasons; I'm talking in circles. I am not very good at just asking a question; I guess it was the way I was raised, or simply I don't like to pry. Prob both, like I said- circles! 🤯 Old habits die hard, except for a few very necessary ones. Are you speaking of yourself, and did you drink? I'm sorry but if I try and figure out how to ask I’ll be here all night. Haha idol minds but with genuine respect
This is one of the kindest things anyone has written to me - thank you. That you read it so closely, and felt the weight under the plain words, means more than I can easily say.
And your first impression wasn't a mistake. You thought it was about a lover, and in a sense it is - the glass behaves exactly like a ruinous love: the thing you'd disarm yourself for, again and again, telling yourself this time it's tender. That you reached for romance before you reached for the truth is the most honest reading it could have had.
One quiet thing beneath the armor line: the danger was never the soft spot I already knew about. It was the strong one I trusted.
That is bittersweet. Perfectly imperfect; it’s one of the strongest pieces I’ve read.
It hits so close to my heart in a very important way. Can I ask you a question? If not, that is okay too.🔖
Hello Nicole,
Thank you - "perfectly imperfect" is exactly the nerve I was reaching for, so to have it land with you means a great deal. And yes, of course you can ask.
Warmly,
Dominic
Hello, I didn’t intend for the day to slip away from me. I apologize if I was rude. I did not expect a series of unfortunate events, as I have been told many times Over the last year I have to much stored not enough publishedI . I will be on if you have a chance get back to me if not get back to me when you can .Nicole
Nicole, no apology needed - life gets loud sometimes. I hope the words find their way out of the drawer and onto the page. Take care of yourself.
Dominic
Hi Nicole 🙂
Yes. I'm an alcoholic. There's no softer or more accurate way to say it, so I'll just say it. I've been ill with this for fifteen, maybe twenty years. I have not had a drink in a year. Those are two different facts, and keeping them apart is its own kind of survival.
Here's what the disease is very good at hiding: it's democratic. Unfortunately - or, as I've slowly come to believe, fortunately - it doesn't read your résumé. It doesn't care how disciplined or capable or accomplished you are. If anything, competence is where it prefers to live, because competence is such a convincing disguise. It takes everyone. That isn't an excuse; it's just the mechanism, said plainly.
What you did is harder than you think. You asked, gently, the exact question I had been walking around for those fifteen or twenty years. I could keep avoiding it that long because it almost always arrives with a verdict already attached. Yours didn't. You asked with respect and no conclusion - and that is the only form of the question a person can actually answer.
So it moved me. And, more unusually, it made me stop and think instead of reaching for the answer I'd kept ready for years. That pause told me something: it's the reason I'm here at all. Not to perform recovery, but because of who turns out to be standing on the other side of these words. And that keeps surprising me - it's you, and people like you, and it is genuinely, unexpectedly beautiful.
Thank you for asking the question I needed someone to ask.
Warmly,
Dominic
www.qualityofbecoming.com
Thanks for being honest; it's not always easy. … this I know. I wanted to let you know that
at least do it before I wake up my daughter for a meeting. She’s upset because it’s her only day off, and she works at the library. Haha... She feels personally attacked by mandatory meetings. I understand her, but if I show it, she’ll get into a mood only I can bring her out of or talk her out of. Ha ha, I’m not just asking a question, getting a response. I will get back to you.
Sincerely, Nicole, I deleted the entire message because I started rushing. I’m a hazard in the mornings, both with my time and my words.
Have a nice morning I’ll respond whenever you have the time get back to me
Unnecessary going in circles
I usually do not ask; I actually have no reason to ask except that your story is very familiar to me in a way, yet very much more about the experience … I don't know exactly how to define it, so I'll just ask. Did you drink? You speak of your daughters and your journey. I don't want to assume, but I understand what you're describing. Not literally; I am asking for a few reasons; I'm talking in circles. I am not very good at just asking a question; I guess it was the way I was raised, or simply I don't like to pry. Prob both, like I said- circles! 🤯 Old habits die hard, except for a few very necessary ones. Are you speaking of yourself, and did you drink? I'm sorry but if I try and figure out how to ask I’ll be here all night. Haha idol minds but with genuine respect
Hi Ghezal,
This is one of the kindest things anyone has written to me - thank you. That you read it so closely, and felt the weight under the plain words, means more than I can easily say.
And your first impression wasn't a mistake. You thought it was about a lover, and in a sense it is - the glass behaves exactly like a ruinous love: the thing you'd disarm yourself for, again and again, telling yourself this time it's tender. That you reached for romance before you reached for the truth is the most honest reading it could have had.
One quiet thing beneath the armor line: the danger was never the soft spot I already knew about. It was the strong one I trusted.
Thank you, from the heart.
Warmly,
Dominic
www.qualityofbecoming.com