I stood at the brink

I stood in our bedroom, suitcase in hand, staring at my wife. Completely confused, she stood staring back. I could feel my 13 year old son's eyes burning a whole in my back. I am pretty sure in that exact moment, none of us had any idea what the hell was happening. All I know is I was high, but not high enough. All I could think about was getting higher and getting a drink. Although I smoked almost an ounce of weed in the last six days, I hadn't had a drink the whole time. One thing was obvious, I wanted a drink. No, I needed a drink so desperately I was ready to walk out on my family to get it.

As the tears streamed down my wife's face, I heard my son say, "Dad what are you doing?"

"I'm outta here." I blurted out, unable to turn to face him. I'd seen this kind of hurt in my wife's eyes every other time I had sworn off alcohol. But I had never put this kind of hurt on him before. As wasted as I was, I knew that was one thing I couldn't handle.

"What? Why?" He managed to choke out.

"I thought if you caught me smoking weed again, I had to leave." I said to both of them my eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet being I couldn't bear looking either of them in the eye. "Besides, I've been drinking again, too. And I'm not going to stop doing either. "

I can't even begin to explain how it felt stand there and almost casually tell my family I was choosing my addictions over them. But there it was. I was done with them. Actually, I was done with life and the only thing I could think of doing was to end it. My decision was final. I was going to empty the checking account, buy a couple ounces of weed, a few half gallons of cheap tequila, drive to Las Vegas and drink until I died.

Yeah, I know. "Leaving Las Vegas". Not very original. What can I say, I had a business trip there a week earlier and that's when I came up with the plan.

Quickly, I turned, walked past my son and out the bedroom door. As I passed my son, he began screaming, begging, pleading with me not to leave. Feeling him grab my shirt, I twisted away and roughly ripped my shirt from his grasping fingers. Knowing he couldn't stop me by grabbing me, he tried to get in front of me. Carelessly, I brushed him aside and continued toward the door to the garage. Halfway to the door, I heard my wife call out.

"You've never tried treatment." Her voice sounding desperate.

For some reason, the word treatment rang in my ears. "You mean rehab?" I heard myself ask almost involuntarily.

"Yes, rehab." she repeated.

Apparently, I agreed because the next thing I realized I was standing in the Emergency Room explaining my Vegas plan to a nurse.

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Paul Gavin