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    BWS Stories - Contest Winners

    Contest Winners - No More -1st Place WINNER of Sue Silverman Writing Contest!

    Lynn Obermoeller is an author of articles and essays. Lynn resides in St. Louis, MO where she is a member of St. Louis Writers Guild and serves as editor of the electronic newsletter, Here’s News!

    No More -1st Place WINNER of Sue Silverman Writing Contest!

    I woke up when my leg touched something wet, and I ran my hand over the moistened sheet. I sniffed. Urine. I jumped out of the bed and glared at my boyfriend sprawled across the mattress in his wet underwear. I staggered to the bathroom mirror and squinted my eyes trying to focus as the inside of my forehead pounded through my skull. My stomach churned and I wanted to hug the toilet. My hair was crumpled, my eyes bloodshot, my face pale with dark circles under my eyes. I leaned against the counter, steadying myself and stared into the mirror, long and hard. “You, my dear, will never drink again.”

    I continued to view the ugly reflection.

    “This is it. You know that, don’t you?”

    I answered myself. “Yeah, I know. No more. Ever.”

    Before that evening, I had wanted to find out how to get my boyfriend to quit drinking or at least how to manage his drinking. I thought Al-Anon would help me accomplish that task. The program wanted me to focus on myself. I didn’t quite get it. During the six weeks they recommended I attend meetings, I figured I’d learn something to control my boyfriend’s drinking.

    The program taught me to be honest with myself, and I questioned whether I too had a problem with alcohol. I decided to experiment and prove I could stop drinking after I had a slight buzz or after a few glasses of wine. That would put my mind at ease that I didn’t have an issue with drinking.

    My boyfriend and I planned a romantic getaway weekend. Upon hearing that our room came with a complimentary bottle of champagne, I decided after we shared the champagne I wouldn’t drink anything else for the rest of the evening. After the champagne, we headed to the nearest lounge and continued drinking. Maybe we had another bottle of champagne, or three or four. Maybe we drank some wine or hard liquor. Whatever we downed, it was plenty. Most of that evening is a complete blur. I can only imagine what fools we looked like on the dance floor and how obnoxious we both acted. I would like to bury the flashbacks that come to mind.

    But I never buried the vow I made to myself. That was 20 years ago. I’m glad I remembered the next morning what I had been trying to prove. “No More. Ever.”
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