He stared at the yellow bile in the toilet bowl. Vomiting had become a morning ritual. Denial was a powerful force, and had now become his best friend. The vomiting was a result of a perceived ulcer he told himself, and denial agreed. Following the morning ritual, he would slip into the garage where hidden bottles of vodka lived. Just a sip to relax, he told himself, denial helped him forget that there were typically many trips to the garage during the course of a day…just to relax. “24” for him had its own special meaning.

Listerine breath mints, Dentyne Gum, and cologne were close friends as well, masking the scent of his denial. Hiding became part of his fabric, his personal demented landscape.

Denial also liked to play jokes on him. He would occasionally workout in the morning, a spin class or an hour on the Elliptical, proving to himself he was really just fine. Denial laughed. Following the workout he would have a little vodka with his coffee, justifying his drink as a reward for exercising.

Other rituals had also become prominent in life. One he practiced often was lying to his wife. “I am running out to get a paper” he would tell her…translation…”I am running out to get some vodka”. When she confronted him with the bottles of alcohol she found in the garage, he calmly lied to her, denial at his side….”I believe those were there before we moved” he replied.

Near the end, he had an increasingly hard time getting out of bed….”depression, flu, heart issues” he would say, knowing the hidden bottle of Gatorade with vodka was close by. This year he wasn’t able to get out of bed to watch his children open Christmas presents. Denial was very proud of him….he had become a complete fraud.