Drowning My Regret

I hate to be like a dog with a sock, but I can’t seem to shake the fact that one in three drowning incidents are alcohol related. I mentioned this statistic in the blog post on Saturday, and now I can’t get it out of my mind. It’s the symbolism, the poetry of the concept that’s haunting me. People who drink drown their sorrows. People who drink drown.

Now that I’m sober, I try not to look back with regret at what I have done and what I’ve lost. It’s quicksand thinking: step in with one foot and suddenly you are neck deep in melancholy. But, this morning I am overwhelmed, flooded, drowning in memories.

I shudder when I think of the times I snorkeled solo and drunk in the Staniel Cay Creek – a dredged waterway to the Exuma Sound with a stiff current, frequent shark sightings and a blue hole.

I reminisce about the pool at my old house with what feels like a punch in the gut…the great times, the dangerous times and the loss…

I obsess about all those poor drunks who find themselves swimming in unforgiving water.

And because I am inherently positive, I keep thinking of the old David Lee Roth song lyric, “I ain’t drowning, just waving…” and I smile.

I’m alive after all.