The Need for Brightness

Yesterday, a friend of my housemate, who, I suppose, is almost my friend because I get on with him, came to visit. Because my housemate tends not to get up at a reasonable hour, it gave me half an hour to talk to the new Friend, who has known said housemate for nearly a decade, about what we think the current state of play is.

As I have said in the past, my current housemate has some longstanding issues, which are somewhat psychological, but have now become entangled with the amount of alcohol that he drinks (isn’t that always the case?). We both agreed that there is a problem – but we both feel utterly powerless. He knows we are concerned, but whenever the issue is raised, normally after a lot of drink has already been downed… on his own… it just leads to the usual denial. The best alcoholic is the one that has convinced himself that he isn’t an alcoholic. And so the conversation goes in circles. To me there is no doubt he is an alcoholic. He cannot drink in moderation. He doesn’t drink socially. He drinks to escape reality.

His parents are aware, and they are worried. He has been the doctors over his original problem, which he takes the usual concoction of Happy Pills for, and has been to see a psychologist (who prescribed stronger Happy Pills as the solution). Whether they react to alcohol, making him even more strange (as he was only a couple of nights ago – ludicrously happy) is another matter entirely.

But what can any of us do? He seems OK at the moment, but I’m sure we’ll have another bout in the next couple of weeks. I even discovered that he’s now taken to lying to his friends in order to keep them happy. There’s something desperately wrong, but he is an adult making irrational choices. But we don’t have any right or power to stop him from doing it. His parents are hundreds of miles away, and they have already dropped everything and came out to his aid once before.

It seems awful, but all I can do is wait and help when he falls down again. This happened the other day, and I wrote about it then. But it is hard on me… I don’t have support here, whereas I did when this happened to me and my former housemates back in Hull – we all had each other to talk it through. But now… hmm. I wait for the timebomb to go off and I pick up the pieces.

This is quite a disappointing note to have to make in this blog, because, apart from this situation, everything else in my life is going pretty well. I’ve made some good progress on my university work, and I’m so “in tune” with my “real” job that it doesn’t bother me any more. The only thing that does bother me is the fact that I have to iron shirts and trousers all the bloody time.

Oh, and the massive hole that forms in my bank account on the 23rd of every month. I’m sick of thinking about money all the time, and the London rent really is starting to take its toll.

Roll on brighter days – for all concerned.

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