There was a wall that looked like a door.  Well, it didn't actually "look" like a door because, well, I couldn't see.  I still can't "see" but that's not the issue.  The fact is, there was a wall where I thought a door should be.  It did finally let me through, but that's not the issue either.  Confusing?  Now you know how I felt.  Funny thing is, I don't even know why I was trying to get through the door that was actually a wall.

Picture a blind man [I'm not really blind it's just a metaphor for my inability to see].  He's standing in front of a wall, you see (hee hee), and his seeing-eye dog is behind him.  The harness-guide-leash thingy is laying on the ground next to the dog.  The dog yawns.  He's not tired, it's just a metaphor for the dog's inability to understand why the blind man is standing in front of the wall.

Now, the blind man isn't really blind.  It's a metaphor for someone who's an alcoholic.  That "someone" is me.  The dog is not a dog but is actually God spelled backwards.  The harness-guide-leash thingy is a spiritual harness-guide-leash thingy.  The wall that looks like a door is a wall that only lets through seeing people that say they are blind.  See?

So, there I was trying to get through the wall.  Alcoholics do that.  We have the ability to see things that aren't there: like money to pay the bills; like "friends" we drink with, and like the world that is out to get us.  We also have the ability to be blind to things that are really there: like powerlessness over alcohol (and drugs); our lives which have become unmanageable, and our loved ones who we hurt the most.

I told myself that the wall was a door.  Alcohol had nothing to do with it.  In fact, I was convinced that if I could just get through that door I would never have to drink again.  Or, at least, I could control my drinking.  Maybe just a glass at night.  I'd only smoke pot on weekends and cocaine would be saved for the holidays and March Madness.  That door was the key to my taking back the power over the things I loved to do.  And I was in charge.  That dog wasn't going to take me where I didn't want to go.  Nope, I'm going through the door!

BAM! OUCH!  The door didn't open.

BAM! OUCH!  The door didn't open.

BAM! OUCH!  What's wrong with this door?

My head hurt and my shoulder ached but I was undaunted.  I tried again and again and again.  The door would not budge.  I called for the dog (I'm not stupid, you know).  I asked the dog why the door wouldn't open.  He grabbed his harness-guide-leash thingy.  I could hear it scraping the ground.  "No,"  I said.  "I don't want to take you anywhere else.  I just want to know why this door won't open."  He dropped the harness-guide-leash thingy.  I turned back to the door.

Perhaps the hard liquor was impairing my judgement a little more than I liked to admit.  I bet with just a few beers I could figure a way to get through the door.  I placed my fingertips on the door and pushed.  Nothing.  More beer!  I put my palms on the door and pushed.  Nothing.  Moooorrree BEEEEER! Fingers, palms, knuckles PUSH. Nothing. Stand back!

BAM!  OUCH!  Damn door!

The dog barked.  I ignored him.  I then figured that wine would work better.  It would give me a more sophisticated approach to my dilemma.  It's something about the whole uncorking process, the sniffing, the swishing around the mouth (no spitting please - what a waste) and the shape of those wine glasses - how debonair!

Fingertips, palms, knuckles, tossed debonair wine glasses...Look Out!

BAM!  OUCH!

I thought I felt the dog grabbing my pant's leg, but when I looked back he had the harness-guide-leash thingy in his mouth.  "No!" I yelled and turned to the wall.

BAM!  OUCH!

Next I tried marijuana.  Next I tried marijuana.  I stood there a long time trying to remember why I was standing there.  "Oh, yeah, the door!"  I got excited.  I was going through the door.  So, I tried marijuana.  So, I tried marijauna.  I heard a noise behind me.  I turned and stood staring a long time.  I think there's a dog in front of me.  Is he friendly?  Whose dog is he?  Wait, the door!  I turned back to the door, but it wouldn't let me through.  Why am I here?  What am I doing?  Let's smoke some more and find out.  Let's smoke some more and find out.  The smoke clears.  Damn door!

Uppers!  Up, up, up.  The door is too high.

Downers!  Down, down, down.  The door is too low.

I couldn't get high enough or low enough.  Let's try them together!  Up, down, middle ground.  Like doing pushups in wet cement.  Very hard to get a handle at least until the cement dries and then you can't move.  Stuck in a rut and the door still won't open.  I'm too weak to move.

Back to the hard liquor!  At least I could move!

BAM!  OUCH!  BAM!  OUCH!  BAM!  OUCH!  DAMN DOOR!

Cocaine!  BAM!  Energy at last!  BAM!  Power!  BAM!  Grandiose dreams of success!  BAM! The door is mine!  Cocaine Cocaine!  BAM!  Energy at last!  BAM!  Power!  BAM!  Grandiose dreams of success!  BAM!  Cocaine!  Cocaine! Cocaine!  BAM!  Energy at last!  BAM!  Power!  BAM!  Grandiose dreams of success!  BAMMMMMM!!!!!! 

OUCH!

"Here, doggy, doggy, doggy.  "No!  Just help me up and get me a beer from the fridge.  Call 911 and get me to a rehab.  They may have a key to this door."

I'm back!  Feeling better than ever.  This door sure is a mystery, but I can figure it out.  Too bad the rehab people wouldn't help me.  They kept saying it wasn't a door.  I just shook my head in agreement.  Sure, sure.  Whatever you say.  Fooled them, didn't I?  I know now my mistake.  I'll just work on this door every once in a while.  No rush.  It's not like I have to have this project, you know?  Plenty of other things to do with my life.  Lot's of thing.  I'll only come here once a month or twice at the most.

BAM!

BAM!

Didn't even hurt.  There's other things I can do to occupy my time, like figure out the Kennedy Assasination.  Wow, that's hard too.  I wonder how the door is doing?  It won't hurt so much now, because I know what I'm doing.  I don't have to get crazy with it.  Maybe just two weekends out of the month.

BAM!  BAM!  BAM!  BAM!

This isn't working.  Three days a weeks! 

BAM!  BAM!  BAM! 

BAM!  BAM!  BAM!

BAM!  BAM!  BAM!

Where's that dog?  Oh, there he is.  "Good doggy.  No, put it down.  I have work to do.  BAM!

Ouch!  This isn't working.  I'm not happy doing it and I'm not happy not doing it.  What am I missing here?  Why does this door fascinate me so much?  Where does it lead?  How do I get in?  Scratching, clawing, bamming.  Damn door! Damn rehab!  Damn dog!  Damn me!

The dog moaned, and I thought I heard him say, "Wall."

Maybe he said, "All!"

All - Everything - I need all my power to open the door!  Brilliant!  Hard liquor, beer, wine, marijuana, uppers, downers, cocaine!  One at a time and all for me!  We open the door and then we'll go our separate ways.  Deal?  Deal!  Just me and the dog after this.  Yeah, and even the harness-guide-leash thingy as long as it doesn't get in the way.

Ready?  Are you with me?  One...two...three...

Hey, I don't hear you guys.  Are you there?  Am I doing this alone?  Hey?  No one's here.  I'm alone.  I'm all alone.  I can't do this on my own.  I have to get through this door.

"Wall!"  Doggy!  "Wall?  Did you say, wall?"  "Wall!"

"But I see a door."  I cried.  "Blind men don't see!"  said the doggy. 

"But I can see.  Where are you?"

"See?"

"Maybe I can't see, but I know it's a door."

"It's a wall.  I'll help you see if you tell me you're blind."

"What about the harness-guide-leash thingy?"

"You want help or not?"

"I want help.  I'm powerless over this door, um, wall and over alcohol and drugs and my life stinks.

"Come here, bend down and I'll hook you up."

"I thought the harness-guide-leash thingy was for you?"

"I'm not the one running into walls."

I hooked up the harness-guide-leash thingy and closed my eyes so I could see.  He led me to the wall that was actually a door.  And now I know why I needed to go through it.