The new addition.

My grand daughter was born Saturday, Aug 27. She was six pounds eight ounces and very healthy. Holding her in the hospital at less than twenty four hours old, looking down on her tiny face her little hands... The almost indecernible little smile that came when I gently brushed her arm with my finger while she slept. I realized how completly and utterly small I was. For many years my days were centered around myself. I wanted everything my way. I wanted people to act like I expected. I wanted the world to revolve for me alone. But this. This little girl, this miracle, this is life. Beauty. Unconditional love. Trust. I was drunk when my first daughter was born. I thank God that I was sober for this. When I talked about by years as an alcoholic father with my daughter the other day, I told her I knew that Id hurt her in many ways. I know there were times she was afraid, hurt, angry. I told her I wanted to set it right if I could. How could I make right the wrongs of so many years?
She smiled softly, looked me in the eyes, and said "just be a good grand daddy".
I will be the best one I can.

My Story (part two)

From the very start, I drank differently from others. While they were busy sipping away on their beer, bating their pole, or counting their cards, I was downing two or three. I got drunk fast and often got sick. As I met more and more new friends, it seemed that they all drank and/or smoked dope. I worked in restaurants during the day and partied at night. Just a few nights a week at first, then every night. Days that I didnt work, I began spending at the local pot suppliers house. People liked me, I blended in easily, made friends, and got lots of free dope and booze. I never saw a problem comming. I never drank more than three to five beers at a time, even though it was a daily routine. I knew guys that drank 12 packs, did hard drugs, drank liquor. I figured they had a problem.
I could hold a steady job. Older people trusted me. I never fought or passed out. Every thing was cool. I met a girl around the time I turned twenty one, and we moved to Florida. Im not sure what happened, mabye I missed my friends, or my lifestyle, but I began to drink a little heavier. I graduated to a six pack a day, seven days a week. I worked in a seafood restaraunt, and they served beer. Every night I filled up a gallon jug and brought it home. By the time my first daughter was born a few years later, I was drinking a 12 pack and getting high every day. I kept up my job, always had a car, and paid the bills. I just drank at night, so again, I figured it wasnt a big deal. No problem. At two years old my little girl learned to bring daddy two beers from the fridje. I always pulled two at a time, because one was gone in minutes. Beer was for drinking, not sipping. The next year I was drinking a case a day. Thats twenty four cans of beer. And that was on work days. On my days off Id drink two cases. Soon I noticed that if there was no beer I was miserable. I found out I had to drink... it was no longer a choice. I needed the beer. Our bills fell behind. I started loosing jobs. My wife and I began to fight.
One day I came to the dreaded conclusion. I had it. I had "the drinking problem"