Parting Glances: One ray at a time . . .

When I was five my mother — very gently putting me into the bathtub for my Friday night scrub — would say, "Easy does it." Years later it dawned on me, she really meant, "If you're going to get yourself into hot water take your time."
"Hot water" — or what Hollywood cowboys and Indians called "fire water" — got its toehold on me at 15. I shared a bottle of wine in a friend's basement. I was so excited by this forbidden fruit (without cherries) that I got what was then known in anatomical circles as a "boner".
That initial alcohol swelling moved brainward for three decades, with many embarrassing moments. I ignored the flashing lights — the sirens — until I faced a hard choice: booze or my sanity.
There's an expression used in 12 Step Programs: "Sick and tired of being sick and tired." I couldn't live with alcohol and I couldn't live without it. I was trapped. Before I finally hit bottom (now you know I'm not a top!) I measured my waking day with vodka. gin, beer, and guilt.
(Another expression: One drink: too many. Two drinks: never enough.) I managed — barely — to hold down my job without being fired — though I was told one boozy Xmas to seek help. Or else.
That was 23 years ago, and the gifts of my continued sobriety include reasonably good health, a saner way of looking at life (my column to the contrary), and a creativity I knew nothing about when I chugalugged. [I couldn't have focused to write a PG column when drinking. My "art" was limited to doodling on bar napkins — now quite valuable on e-Bay bidding, I'm told. Don't I wish.]
When I hit ground zero I experienced my own first-hand version of gay author Charles Jackson's novel, "The Lost Weekend." Recovery wasn't easy. There's no magic. I had to work diligently at changing self-defeating habits, avoid friends or acquaintances who were boozers, and face the truth that my life was a mess. I had to rebuild my mental, physical, and immune support systems.
Now I get up without hangovers, blackouts, shakes, strange (very) bed partners, panic attacks, 90-proof wet dreams, er, nightmares — paranoia (well, maybe one or two right-wing induced moments). My life's become much simpler (not simple minded), modestly manageable, delightfully optimistic. I like myself as I am: gay, gingerly over the hill, occasionally the curmudgeon. Happy alone or with friends.
Having 'fessed up — this BTL issue is about health — l'll share recovery tips. First: get reliable help. (AA has a long-standing success record, and has right from its start accepted gays and lesbians. Secular Sobriety's another important approach, without Higher Power concepts.)
Alcohol takes a huge toll on the body and its healing resources. Consider taking extra-strength vitamin supplements: 1000 mgs of C; 50 to 75 mg, B Complex; 400 IU of D, plus 1000 mg of calcium and magnesium. Omega-3 Oil capsules are a plus. Cut back on coffee, sugar, diet colas. All, in excess, contribute to recidivism jitters. Drink herbal teas. If addicted also to cigarettes, focus on quitting alcohol.
If your booze addiction is too far gone, get professional help IMMEDIATELY at a medical rehab facility. (I chose Cottage Hospital.) Unsupervised "going cold-turkey" can be extremely dangerous. NEVER try it. If you suspect you've got a problem, you do.
There are hundreds of LGBTs who have turned their screwed up lives around (and lived to tell the tale). Hey, friends, you're looking at one of them. What can I say? Bottoms up!