Can you quit a thing that you like a lot?

Working to clear overgrown sections of the property, sweating and  dizzy in the  hot sun. A gardener hired for the day who sings and shouts as he works, to the delight  of the dogs who are all confined indoors. I hate  having to cut back now  when it is  so dry, but  by autumn parts of the garden will have become impassable.,

 

Spontaneous remission of addiction? I  know  two  sober friends who simply got sick and tired of being sick and tired, the  desire to drink or use  just left them overnight and  didn’t return. For   most of us it is not that  simple but here’s  Dick van Dyke,  an irrepressible  Peter Pan:

Despite his relentlessly upbeat nature, there have clearly been darker times. He talks openly about fighting alcoholism, which led him into deep depression in middle age. “I was an alcoholic for about 25 years. In the Fifties and Sixties, everybody had their martini, everybody smoked incessantly. The funny thing is that all through my twenties and early thirties I didn’t drink at all. Then we moved to a neighbourhood full of young families with the same age kids and everyone drank heavily, there were big parties every night. I would go to work with terrible hangovers which if you’re dancing is really hard.”

He checked himself into treatment clinics twice, but they didn’t help. “I was in deep trouble, you get suicidal and think you just can’t go on.” Did he really contemplate suicide? “I had suicidal feelings, it was just terrible. But then suddenly, like a blessing, the drink started not to taste good. I would feel a little dizzy and a little nauseous and I wasn’t getting the click. Today I wouldn’t want a drink for anything.”

 

New Year’s Resolutions and  that feisty optimism about  quitting. A  jaunty poem from Edgar Albert  Guest to  strengthen resolve another  day or two. If only recovery  had  more to do with  grit and less to do with surrender:

 

On Quitting

How much grit do you think you’ve got?

Can you quit a thing that you like a lot?

You may talk of pluck; it’s an easy word,

And where’er you go it is often heard;

But can you tell to a jot or guess

Just how much courage you now possess?

You may stand to trouble and keep your grin,

But have you tackled self-discipline?

Have you ever issued commands to you

To quit the things that you like to do,

And then, when tempted and sorely swayed,

Those rigid orders have you obeyed?

Don’t boast of your grit till you’ve tried it out,

Nor prate to men of your courage stout,

For it’s easy enough to retain a grin

In the face of a fight there’s a chance to win,

But the sort of grit that is good to own

Is the stuff you need when you’re all alone.

How much grit do you think you’ve got?

Can you turn from joys that you like a lot?

Have you ever tested yourself to know

How far with yourself your will can go?

If you want to know if you have grit,

Just pick out a joy that you like, and quit.

It’s bully sport and it’s open fight;

It will keep you busy both day and night;

For the toughest kind of a game you’ll find

Is to make your body obey your mind.

And you never will know what is meant by grit

Unless there’s something you’ve tried to quit.

 

 

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