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  1. Well. Reading this is timely. Last night near midnight I received a call from the husband of a dear friend. They live in a different than I, all of us on the east coast. My friend is an alcoholic who has relapsed. Again. Hard. His husband called to ask me if he could send my friend to me for a couple weeks (or a month). He would pay for me to keep him. The husband “needs” to get him out of the house, to send him to someone he respects and thinks highly of, who will be a good influence, and help him sober up. You can imagine all that went through my head. Or maybe you can’t. But try. Clearly the answer to this request is an emphatic “No.”

    I come from a family of genteel alcoholics. I am not a drinker. My home is dry. I choose not to socialize with heavy drinkers. I also know that I am not the Savior. I have no power to willfully change someone’s life. The gift of free will is real. Everyone exercises it including active alcoholics. We make our choices. The big affront is that my friend’s husband’s ask was to hire me to unburden him. I have all sorts of theories as to why – sexism, racism, hubris, entitlement. “No.”

    All that’s left is how to convey my boundary in a civil manner, defining it while leaving no room for discussion. My boundary is not debatable. “No” is my power source.

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