What’s in a drink? That which we
Call a potion
By any other name would intoxicate
As much.

Or something of that nature…

We all have out poisons: the Big Hairy One might like fermented mammoth milk while ENIAC Gamma the Ninety-Second may opt for the jolt of alternating current. (I have been on a wee bit of a Kuttner kick lately. It doesn’t show too much, does it?)

In any case, Yours Truly has quite a liking for expensive single malts and bourbons. Which is why I would be terrible at being an alcoholic: the fortified wines and such would not make it past my palate. There is nothing quite like going to bed with an expensive limited edition bottle of whisky and waking up not too hung over (because of the high quality of the alcoholic beverage in question) on a work day. Yes, that was me a year ago. Needless to say, being a man of modest means, that did not last too long. However, initially as a precaution and later as part of therapy, I have been eschewing the allure of the golden tinged liquid washing up and down my palate and embouchure, slightly burning the sensitive flesh, and, eventually, slowing down and calming my worried mind.

It begs the question, how did a poor immigrant kid, unfamiliar with the western ways, develop such a rarified taste? Well, upon first moving to this land of milk and Honey over twenty years ago, I have met a young man, originally from the same part of the world – only few years older than me – who would become my friend and mentor. He is still my friend and, due to my unfortunate tendency to not interact with the outside world, he does still manage to play the latter role from time to time. He always had “good taste”. Though not snobbish, he does like the good things in life. He was the first person to introduce me to Scotch whisky. Later on, I have met other people, read about the alcohol, tried different stuff… But I will always remember myself as a 17-year-old, drinking my friend’s Johnny Walker Black Label, and trying to learn thus insane to English language.

Interesting Daily Prompt today… What would I do if I unexpectedly lost a loved one?

About four and a half months ago, the one I thought of as “the love of my life,” the one who – for the first time – made me feel like the life is worth living, has left me in a rather less than gracious manner. So my reaction to that loss was to go into a complete mental and emotional meltdown. Granted, the breakup was not the source cause of that but it did send me flying over the edge. That dark time became the darkest and lowest in my experience. I went from being with the most amazing woman in the universe to contemplating ending my existence. Without her in it, life made no sense to me. It felt as though my soul had been torn asunder and a giant hole in my chest was then filled with cold and heavy darkness. A darkness so crippling that it was nearly palpable. In other words, Yours Truly did not handle that loss well. That dark time continued uninterrupted until Thursday before last, which is when I finally grasped what a prick of a woman she really is. That said, even though I am no longer under her spell, I still have feelings for her. I probably always will care for her.

Moving on is hard. Through her behaviour she certainly made it much easier for me to do so but it is never easy. She did not die but the person I have loved with all of my heart, with every fibre of my being, with the entirety of my existence is gone and I am mourning that loss. I am mourning the loss of what I thought we shared, of the way she made me feel, of the future I dreamt we would have had together.

This blog is the record of this process. It is also the most surprising consequence of the breakup. I was never a “writer.” Writing was never an enjoyable activity. Reading has always been a staple of my life but writing has been a tremendous chore. The unending stream of compositions in school was the bane of my existence. And yet, starting this blog felt like a natural action to take in response to the events that overtook me. Not only has writing this blog helped greatly in my therapy, it has also made my life better. It made me more aware of many aspects of my life.

In retrospect, this is the lesson that You has learned: if you experience a traumatic event, do something (an activity) that you would have never considered doing before. In order to deal with a traumatic event, you need to think about it, to consider it from different points of view. That is hard to do if you are constantly obsessing about it. Shockingly, obsession and considered thinking do not exactly have a symbiotic relationship. So start a blog, sign up for a pottery class, volunteer – just get yourself out of your own head.