"Tim is going to Al-Anon," Tigger said when our paths crossed in the parking lot at the end of the day. "A friend of a friend saw him there."
"Good for him," I said.
"Yep," Tigger said. "Maybe he'll learn not to be played by addicts like me."
"You don't sound happy."
He ground out his cigarette. Looked away, took out another, broke it in half, and threw it into the shrubs. "I'm a horrible person," he said. "I should be happy for him, but I'm not. I hated how my addictions hurt him, but I .... damn .... I'm not a good person. Part of me loved manipulating him. He was so kind and thoughtful, he made me feel like something he forgot to flush. Making him wonder what he'd done wrong, letting him think he contributed to my drinking, it kinda gave me a feeling of power, maybe leveled the playing field a little. Is that terrible?"
I shrugged. "Sounds human. When we're low we can pull ourselves up or other people down. Pulling them down is easier. Give yourself credit for admitting you did. And put all your effort into pulling yourself up."
Today I will put my effort into pulling myself up.
Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose
(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)