Never been an alcoholic, though in my student days I would down 8 pints of an evening. Nowadays 2-3 would be my limit (1 and a half if I'm driving). At home, with a good friend, I might halve a bottle of whisky 2-3 times a year. So I drink, but have no problem going without for months.

But I have three close friends who were alcoholics. One went to AA and made it; 10 years on, he can even have some wine with a meal, and does not revert. The other two died - both their deaths linked to the drink.

What struck me with all three cases is how alcoholics try to hold on to their dignity (in their own minds, in the later stages); it's the last thing that goes, and they will lie to themselves for that purpose. And we, the do-gooders, have to be mindful of that as we try to help them. Because for many of us it's true that "there but for the grace of God go I".

"Keith"

Don't look at me with pity,
Don't turn away your eyes,
Not even for a minute
don't pretend to sympathise.
My problems and my worries
No worse are than your own.
It's only that you drink with friends,
and I just drink alone.
And if I had too many,
And if I spill my drink,
I know that I can handle it
much better than you think
No difference between us
Despite of all that's said,
Though in the gutter I may lie
while you sleep in your bed.

Don't use me as example,
And do not point at me.
You cannot hold a candle
to the man I used to be.
Position, pride and riches
Your person don't declare,
And nothing about me say
these old clothes I have to wear .
Don't think yourself no better
If I'm just skin and bone.
My future may be certain
but your future's still unknown.
My dignity and my bottle
Is now all that I own
The bottle you may take,
But leave my dignity alone.


I do not want assistance
I do not want your frown
I'll offer no resistance
if you push me to the ground
Just turn around and leave me,
Forget our paths that crossed.
There's nothing you can give me
that replaces what I lost.
And do not count your blessings
That you're not like I am.
For I have learned the lessons
but just failed in the exam.
And if you think I'm sorry
Perhaps you could be right
But dignity I will not give up yet
        without a fight.

You need to treat the root of whatever brought the alcoholic to that state - and the problem is, there are so many paths that lead to it, and each one is individual. I have often seen well-meaning councellors invalidate the good work of others in treating an alcoholic, simply by jumping in jackbooted and full of preconceptions and prejudices.

"Kevin"

I know I look a mess and I'm a disappointment
And people find my behaviour most uncouth
But nowadays I even shave without a mirror
For mirrors only show the skin and not the truth
How can a mirror show the shame of unemployment?
How can it show you the heartache or despair?
The loss of loved ones, the absence of enjoyment,
The mournfoul thoughts that hide behind the thinning hair?
So if you caught me with my hand around a bottle
Think nothing of it, and please don't make a scene
The voice inside me I'm only trying to throttle
That keeps reminding me of how things might have been

But you insist that I need help and you can help me
And that I need responsibilities to face
And you can bring me to the path that's straight and narrow
But its' that same path that brought me to this place.
You have degrees and think that you can understand me
I'll tell you this for nothing: You don't have a clue.
How could you help me fight the devil that's inside me
If you don't recognise the devil that's in you?
So if you caught me with my hand around a bottle
Think nothing of it, and please don't make a scene
The voice inside me I'm only trying to throttle
That keeps reminding me of how things might have been

No matter how hard you try to feel what ails me
The truth is you could never step inside my shoes
So give up trying, or even worse, pretending
And with a drink between us let's declare a truce
For every one of us has something they're regretting
Although some people such regrets would not admit
And some of us will use the bottle for forgetting
and some prefer upon the likes of us to spit.
So if you caught me with my hand around a bottle
Think nothing of it, and please don't make a scene
The voice inside me I'm only trying to throttle
That keeps reminding me of how things might have been