Frank Gallagher?


I recently rediscovered TV after months of not even turning my set on. The show that has currently hooked my attention, and that I recently began to binge watch, has been Shameless with William H. Macy and Joan Cusack, about a big dysfunctional family living and struggling in Chicago’s rough South Side. It is a hybrid of drama and dark comedy. Both the character of Frank Gallagher as well as the narrative holds true to the show’s name- each episode is saturated with drugs, violence, and gratuitous fucking (too much, in my opionion, even for a Showtime original). Macy does a great job portraying an alcoholic deadbeat, good-for-nothing, scheming drunk who is completely inept as a father. What the viewer can also glean is that even through his stumbling, bumbling ways, Frank is smart- he seems to eloquently lie and scheme his way into money, sex, and his family’s attention, waxing poetic to get what he wants most of the time.


His character both resonates and alarms me, and as I watch him I reflect. During my drinking days, was I ever that bad? Almost as importantly, was I viewed as being that bad? I was a different kind of drinker- not the obnoxious barfly who staggers thru his days on the streets, but the quiet, basement drunk. Unlike Frank, I held a good job, never stole from my children, tried to scam the government or swindle unsuspecting people around me. Was I neglectful as a father? Never. Well, maybe near the end, in the autumn of 2016 when I was in my alcoholic death spiral. And ultimately, I learned and grew from my disasters, unlike Mr. Gallagher. Did I ever disappear for weeks at a time, not be present for my family or not show up for work? Never. I never did any of that shit.


In my final drinking days, I was emotionally bankrupt, physically spent, and living a mental prison of my own making. Who paid for my active alcoholism in the final tally? Well, to a large extent my family, but ultimately I bore the major brunt...as I should. I bottomed out, stayed there, and then ever-so-slowly came back, one grueling day at a time. I lived in a halfway house, stocked grocery shelves, and attended endless  AA meetings.  I NEVER picked up another drink. Today is sober day #1,413.  I am back- physically, professionally, socially. Have multiple great jobs, a wonderful girlfriend, and a book coming out. I run 30 miles a week with a sweet German shepherd. I look in the mirror every morning and see a healthy dude who, at age 53,  still has visible abs. No I am not Frank Gallagher. Not even close. There are guys out there who are, but I am not one of them. And for that I am grateful.

I am a recovered alcoholic, and a recovered human being. I was bad, but was never a dirtbag.

Yet, unlike me, the Frank Gallaghers of the world get to see their children.





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