Little Story About Alcoholism, Friendship, and Death
I went through an alcohol rehab program and found a friend to the grave. I did not expect it will happen soon.
This month, I will turn five years I gave up drinking. For a month, I had to visit the hospital daily and spend time there from 6 AM to 3 PM every day.
We were learning how to live sober. Quite a lot of people were there for us. Psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers, nurses… Many people were there with us, teaching us how to survive sober.
I met G.M. there. I was 38, and he was like 43–45 then. General manager in a multinational automotive company. The funny guy he was. Quite often, we were like two schoolboys doing pranks. Nobody actually was angry about that. We were sober.
After a month, the second part of rehabilitation starts, called family therapy, where you must bring someone from the family or a close friend to discuss what life looks like after the hospital.
After a year or so, you are done, considered clear, and smart enough not to start drinking again (*90 percent get back to alcohol at some point).
G.M. get back to work, I sold my company and start a new one. We often had coffee together or maybe lunch and everything seemed fine. He managed to establish communication with his kids again (due to divorce, his kids are with their mother, his ex-wife). Everything seems to be normal.
However, it is not common knowledge that alcoholism is a great friend of anxiety and depression.
G.M. commit suicide with a medicine overdose. Rest in peace, my friend.
I love you,
Danijel
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