One morning this week, I was greeted with the news that a friend from my past – a girl (let’s just call her “CB”) who was a good friend of my extended family – was dying from cirrhosis of the liver and, barring a miracle, only had mere days left on this earth.

That just didn’t seem possible.  My mind instantly flashed back to our teens during the summer of 1974.  I was spending the summer in my beloved East Tennessee and had made friends with CB and other kids at the church my aunt and uncle were pastors of in the area. 

Looking back it seems that each summer day was spent laughing, cutting up and roaming the rolling hills of McMinn County.  Usually at the center of the laughter was CB.  CB lit up any and every room she walked in to. Smart, athletic and had a genuine heart of gold.

Her mom and dad were true saints who took a genuine interest in people – even this long haired, smart aleck kid from Arizona.  They took a bunch of us kids to spend a few days at a cabin on Watts Barr Lake and we all had the time of our lives.  Again, during most of the laughter, CB was right in the middle of it.

I don’t know when CB started drinking.  From what I’m told, my childhood friend had a drinking problem her entire adult life.   I do know that, regardless of the age she started, it started with just one drink.

I don’t know what fears, insecurities or demons she was trying to drown. Based on my memories of her, I didn’t think it was even remotely possible for her to have any.  However, as Henry David Thoreau is often quoted, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them”.  I don’t know what unsung song that CB is taking to her grave or what quiet desperation made her feel that the only shelter from her storm was in a bottle.

I do know that CB is about to leave husband and a teenager that I know she loves dearly and they her.  I know that her mom would do anything humanly possible to save her daughter. No parent should have to bury their child.  I know that CB’s wide circle of friends feel the same way.

I also know that, if you are wrestling with the same or similar addictions, you can get help – today!  You can’t rewind the tape of your life to when you took that first drink but you can stop that tape of quiet desperation and plug in one that allows you to sing the song within you.  Please, if you’re battling the battle, get help now – not after you finish the alcohol that’s in your home; not after the party you’ve obligated yourself to; not after you try yet one more time to see if you can lick it on your own.

Right now, contact an organization that can help you.  If you don’t know who to contact, may I suggest Alcoholics Anonymous?  Just like you haven’t been drinking alone, neither will you go through recovery alone. 

Pick up the phone and call. Now.