Lapse/Relapse

After the drama queen events that have consumed my last few days, it occurred to me to talk about a matter of importance for people struggling with booze or drugs or whatever, and that’s the difference between a lapse and a relapse. Putting aside dictionary definitions for a moment, in this context, it’s straightforward enough. A lapse in your sobriety is an interlude of intoxication that’s short-term, may involve great drunkenness etc, but is over quickly enough. It’s not harmless or pleasant but it is just a lapse. A relapse, on the other hand, is a full-blown re-descent back into the Hell from whence you came and from where you may never return.

So despite the ambulances, the heart wobbles, the sobbing and collapsing that occurred last week, I think what happened to me last week was simply that – a lapse. And this isn’t a fantasy of self-delusion or pretence that what happened wasn’t bad: it was really bad. If you’d have seen it, you’d probably have had a relapse all of your own. But I think it puts matters into a clearer and more honest perspective. As I was laid up in hospital sobbing and snivelling, my heart jumping around like a deranged rabbit, the doctor said, ‘Look, you can be a vegetarian for ten years, eat a burger one day, and then go back to being a vegetarian the next. You’re still a carrot-munching weirdo at the end of the day, nothing has changed, you just had a burger one time. Big deal.’ Same with alcoholism. I lapsed, but after nine months of not drinking, I’m basically still sober. Nothing has changed in that sense.

Sometime later this nurse, a big brusque Aussie guy with seemingly no time for anyone came to do my obs. ‘How ya feeling?’, he said like he couldn’t care less. Like shit, I said. He caught my eye, and a beat of understanding passed between us, and his voice softened. ‘I’m an alcoholic too’, he said. ‘Seven years sober last week. And you know what I think? I think that when you love the drunken version of you, then you’re a true alcoholic. To the rest of the world you’re the most obnoxious fuckwit on earth, but you love your drunken self. Love the sober version of you instead and you’ll start to get better’. And off he went, leaving me in my bed to ponder the angels sometimes sent to guide us.