I Went To Rehab And All I Got Was This Rash

That isn't entirely true.  I never got the 'rash' but a few others did. But yes, I went to rehab.  For 30 magnificent days I got to focus on me, taught why my thinking is screwed up and how to actually change my way of thinking. My time there was truly magnificent. Of course there was the rehab drama.  And being new (hopefully I will never be a pro) to the whole rehab thing, this (the drama) is quite normal.  Oh the things you learn. Can you imagine 25 plus people together everyday all day who have a thinking issue?  There was some seriously dark comedy going on there. Raw, unscripted emotional days where we were all trying to just survive for five minutes. I believe it will take me several blogs to go through my experiences, but I can tell you that going to treatment was the best gift I have ever received.  My brother & sister in law and a few friends were the key to me leaving the state and going to Georgia for 30 days.  

Let us start at the beginning. How did I go from relapsing in February to kicking ass to a fast decent into hell on earth? First things first.  I lost my spiritual path. I hoped off onto the self will run riot highway and got in the fast lane.  So quickly I crashed and burned.  Those who know me or read this may wonder 'why in the hell can't she get this whole recovery thing?'.  It isn't a matter of getting recovery for me, it is a matter of practicing what I need to do everyday to stay in recovery, and the list is long.  One day that list will be second nature, but today it is long and arduous.  No way am I complaining, it is just not normal for me to do what I need to do.  Changing everything is no easy task.  Undoing a life time of distorted thinking takes time, vigilance and patients.

Okay, so I had a brilliant idea to go and meet my husband's girlfriend. Yep, you read that correctly and I won't go into details this second, but later I am sure I will as it contributes greatly to my twisted thinking.  Anyway, I thought I should meet this woman. Why? Yeah, that is the question of the century. I don't know why, or at least I don't have a valid reason.  I think I just have this addiction to emotional entanglements.  I am an emotional masochist.  I hate it, but it hurts so good. I have for so long played that victim role while saying I am not a victim, that I just can't tell when I am lying to myself and when I am not.  I justify/rationalize my behavior because I do not know what healthy is most of the time. I just don't know what is good for me.  What I think is good for me is always the wrong choice.  It would kick ass if there was a good decision and bad decision buzzer that went off.  Of course the bad decision buzzer would be some kind of shock impulse. Think the Pavlovian Theory.  Conditioned response. But yeah, those buzzers don't exist.  I can create them over years of time by sober experiences and references, but again, time is a major player in my recovery process. Okay, I go and meet this woman.  Not my best idea.  Go to a two hour meeting and after the meeting I go to the liquor store and by a soda. Nah, I bought me some vodka.  Remember, one MUST have a sense of humor, but in NO way am I making light of what I did and/or my disease. What I do next is part from memory but mostly part from being told by others.  I buy the vodka and drive to a playground as it is becoming dusk.  I remember chugging the vodka and pulling out my bottle of klonopin.  I had a prescription and never abuse them when I am sober, but you put that drink in me and all bets are off.  I remember counting out at least five milligrams and throwing the little white pills in my mouth, tilting my head back feeling as if my neck would break and letting the vodka wash them down my throat while my esophagus burned.  I didn't care.  Death was being beckoned and I was not afraid. I poured more booze down my throat until I felt that numbness take physical affect.  I may not have felt the booze burning anymore but I was waiting for an emotional genocide to occur.  I was drunk but in the worst emotional pain and had absolutely no hope. No hope anything could change.  No hope anything would get better.  I had nothing. The cold emptiness was still there but I was drunk.  Nothing changed.  I did not feel any hope or relief from drinking.  Yes, that is what I wanted but booze doesn't provide relief or any sense of normalcy anymore.  It doesn't work and it hasn't for a very long time.  I knew/know this but I picked up that drink anyway.  I picked it up because I am powerless over alcohol and my life had become unmanageable. I drink when I don't want to drink.  I drink when I know in my wise mind that everything will stay the same yet be 100xs worse because I drank.  When I am in that place of no hope, I don't care that everything will get worse.  How can a person who knows that a drink will kill them still drink?  Only if you are an addict can you understand that question. I continued to drink and take more pills.  At some point I remember thinking I wanted to go to a church and pray.  While at the playground I vaguely remember texting with my brother and sister in-law.  I don't remember calling a very dear friend of mine and rather grotesquely vocalizing my wish to die and why.  I did call him and I basically gave him a verbal suicide note.  By the grace of God, I made it to that church. I say the grace of God because I drove in a blackout.  I have absolutely no memory of driving.  I am paralyzed by sickness just thinking that I drove in a blackout.  I had never driven in a blackout.  It is by the grace of God I did not kill anyone or myself.  The elevator falling sensation is taking over me while I type.  Horrified.  Once at the church I drank more and took more pills (so I am told).  A friend of mine called and kept me talking until they found me.  They were just going to take me somewhere to sleep it off until they saw the klonopin.  At that point I tried cramming more into my mouth but this friend hit my hand so the pills went everywhere.  At this time my friend knew I had to go to the hospital.  Another friend was called and they called rescue.  It was written down that I drank a liter and a half of vodka and took 16 milligrams of klonopin. My stomach was pumped.  I came to at some point the next day in the psychiatric emergency room in the hospital.  When I came to, I wasn't sure if I was dead or not.  Truly I had no idea.  I remember looking around at the white walls, dim lights and smelling that institution smell.  I for sure had died.  I looked down at my chest and on my scrub top was blood.  What was the blood from?  I felt my i.v. immediately and it was sore and uncomfortable. Was the blood from the iv? I don't know.  Once I realized I was alive and in a hospital I was terrified.  I was not aware of much other than I knew I had not wanted to live and somehow I had failed at dying.  I was not grateful that day. I was mad that I made it and was breathing.  What was to follow is very blurry also.  There are several days that are vague at best and quite frankly I lost more time.  Not knowing, not having any memory of my actions and decisions felt as if I was in a black hole.  
My heart hurts.  I need to take a break from telling my story.  I needed to write and may do more tonight. For now I need a cookie.

snapped

relapse. one drink and i am no longer me. one drink and i have no concept of reality. this time i overdosed on pills. not because i wanted too but because that first drink, i lost my sanity.
i was strapped down to a gurney. i tried to eat the rest of the pills in the hospital. i was belligerent. my blood pressure and heart rate were so low i was on the verge of heart failure. i pulled out ivs. i came to again in a locked down security section of the er.( i only all of this because i was told, i was in an utter blackout and only remember very small pieces). i was committed and wait listed for the nut house. fortunately there weren't going to be any beds available and after talking to a million people they let me go after 34 hours instead of the 72.
i almost lost the chance to hug my kids again. third relapse and the progression almost killed me. i have worked so hard but i haven't truly surrendered i suppose. i thought i had. i thought i had. i don't know how to surrender my will.. i am thick headed and stubborn and haven't gotten the program. they say keep coming until the program gets you.
the day i was released from the hospital i drug my sorry ass to a meeting. i knew if i didn't, there was no way i would go back. ever.
i am still in shock i did what i did, but i know it wasn't me. i can't stress enough how horrible this disease is and how badly it wants you dead. how much it tells you that you don't have a disease. one drink almost killed me.
i have been surrounded, enveloped and smothered with love from my people. it is what is keeping me afloat right now.
i don't want to die. i truly, truly don't. but one drink and all bets are off; i become someone who doesn't, can't and won't fight to live. i don't care period. i was willing to let my kids wake up and find me dead. that's what alcohol does to me.
know matter what is happening in my life, i can't drink. i have been through fucking hell since october. the pain unbearable at times. i have outside help. i have inside help. yet i can't stop once i start. i am absolutely terrified and scared for myself more than i have ever been and i sincerely hope monday was my bottom. because if not and i relapse again, my bottom will be without a doubt, death.

disgust

i am about to snap like a twig.
i am living in hell.
insanity. chaos. flip flopping.
in a pressure cooker. i really am a fucking mess. a sober mess. but a mess. i want some fucking peace. i don't like these feelings. not because i'm uncomfortable with them, but because i used to thrive off them and i don't anymore.
i am fighting a battle without any weapons. i am up to my thighs in thick, dark, gooey muck with weights tied around my ankles trying to make so headway. oh my god. make this stop. MAKE IT STOP.

spreadin the mess

i am so tired. mentally and physically. 
i have cervical cancer. yep, you read that right.  i can't give you an exact stage. i was hesitantly given one but the doctors said they really won't know until my surgery march first. they will be going in very aggressively and taking out most of cervix. what i can tell you they could see it was cancer from the colposcopy results.
i have been very positive about all of this as i believe mind, spirit and body are all connected and i want to be sure to keep balanced. right now i am at the top of the see-saw and the bolder is at the bottom and i'm stuck and can't move.
i am basically raising my three kids alone. yes, the husband sees them and takes them one night over the weekend, but i am basically doing it all. so much has happened since i last wrote, and i wish i could write that it is all wonderful and positive. the shit fairy has stopped at my house and hasn't left. 
i feel like part of my soul is gone. i am actually starting to feel physical pain from the cancer which i didn't expect. i don't know why, i just didn't. over tired, stressed, run down, emotionally drained, and am wishing upon a star my mom was here.
i wish she could come up and stay with me. rub my ear, tell me it will all be okay. help me with the kids, take me to my surgery, and just well....take care of me. but she is no longer on this earth, so i hope for her spiritual guidance through all of this.
i am finding great inner strength that i didn't have which does feel really great. but the burden of life has me hunched over and sore. my heart, my soul, my head, my body are all sore. i cry so much i can't believe i haven't lost a tear duct in the process, or that i can even produce more tears. 
i will make it through the best way i can. i have amazing friends that support me, love me and keep me going. i need to focus on what i have and not on what a don't have, which is the person i have been with for 15 years. he is no longer the man i married and it has nothing to do with 'just growing' apart.  much more complicated and layered.
i will find some hope today. i will stay on my path, that has become the high road. i will continue to do the next right thing. i will continue to be in constant contact with my HP. i will continue to forgive myself. i will pray for others. i will do the best i can. i ask anyone that reads this to please send healing and loving vibes our way; especially to my children who are really the ones getting screwed here. xo

why not me?

that is a phrase i have heard so many times in the halls.  instead of the why mes, why not me? 
i could a) change my thinking to: why not me and find a silver lining, pewter maybe or hell i'd go for a tarnished piece of metal or b) go ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT?  or c) all of the above.
i get life is life. even just spoke about it.  the muddy flood that is coming down from the pipes are suffocating to me, but i'm not unique there is at least a handful of people in the meetings that have been through something similar as me. maybe not all the same time, but i bet there is one around here who has. 

getting close to being separated from my husband for about a month. marriage counseling, check! individual counseling, check! in home therapy for one of the kids, check. finding your biological father's brother and sister then finding out you have two half siblings....at first hearing how they were so excited that i found them ( i was only looking to find medical history, not looking for a huge family reunion) then within two days, the aunt and siblings want no contact with me whatsoever because of what my birth mother did. and that was she broke up their home and i am the result. i don't blame them. i don't know how i would feel. this all in about a 72 hour time frame (biological family). heavy shit. you do, you don't, you do, you don't want to acknowledge me. sure, a bit hurt but not surprised. but there is that hysterically historical trigger; abandonment.  I MEAN SHIIIIT...come on.  my husband announced and left the day after christmas (it was a total surprise)  then a few weeks later i was within 72 hours of being told how happy and excited people were to know i was alive and well to being told no contact with the half siblings and aunt. yeah, it stings. how can one not think they are creating this negativity? that they aren't doing something to deserve this? 
while originally furious with the husband leaving, it is the best for now.  the way he handled it was juvenile to say the least, but we are able to be cordial. then today happens. this by the way, is why i have been living minute to minute.  you slightly open up, completely honest and get a response that was honest, not said to be hurtful, but again, the big slash of muddy water as a truck drives by and almost pushes you backward with the force of the splash inertia. (i have absolutely no idea if that word would be appropriate there, but i love that word and i think it has to do with movement and velocity....so i used it.) 

there absolutely HAS to be a reason i am experiencing so many new, different, uncomfortable, painful, yet some happy thrown in there series of events. here we go again waiting for the answer to be revealed when i am ready. must have faith in that, it has worked so many times in the past, therefore i know it exists. but can't a girl catch light???

wow.

i have no idear (North East thing) where to begin. from the time i picked up until now hasn't been all that long in the sands of time, but in this cracked up head of mine it feels like six months.

i have been in a shit storm without any rain gear. no lie.  no exaggeration. no pity party and no victamese. 
apparently, if your life wasn't torn apart while drinking, it can when  you get sober. i'm in a total  mind fuck.  i'm learning so much about myself and what my foundation is and how well it was constructed.  i'm still standing and i have not wanted a drink, that is a testament to my 12 step program. 

thank the universe for the 15 months i have in (not continuous), because i have 'heard' in those months. i just need to get out of the way.  doing the very best i can and setting boundaries and have given up trying to defend my right to be sober and stay sober. and no offense to those who think i am not balancing well.  the words are said out of love, but you aren't in recovery.  i can not expect you to know what you are saying is like asking a one month old to walk.  tolerance, willingness (hopefully grace), and the faith to know I WILL GET THROUGH, is making these weary legs move one foot in front of the other. 

it isn't even 24 hrs right now. it is minute by minute. and i'm okay with that.

take 2

dec 8th & 9th i chose to pick up and drink. i had an absolute bullet proof excuse. except for the fact there are people with MANY 24hrs...and they have some serious tragic thing happen in their life and STILL did not pick up a drink.  For those of you who are not alcoholics, but sometimes may have a cold beer after mowing the grass or a glass of Cabernet while cooking; could even you not drink if someone died, was going through cancer, lost a child? i do not and can not have that luxury of being able to have that first sip.  i am a drunk.

 funny thing about my program; you screw up and IF you make it back, generally you are received with open arms and encouraging words. Then there are those salty dogs that have taken a liking to you and hand your ass right back, ripped to shreds. You love them the way they love you, and if it were anyone else in the program; out would come a symphony of tears. I had both.

yeah, i am mad. but more sad. the first time i went it out, it was a genuine text book version of how someone may pick up a drink (or 1,000) and not even realizing they are doing it. i drank because i did not come into the program because i thought drinking wasn't fun. oh hell no, i came in because i knew i had a problem, but waking up feeling like car oil is in your veins, the vice grip on your head is at its last twist, and sound and movement make you queasy was a still fun (sarcasm) only, until you pick up the drink and it goes away and the evil momentum takes off again and again.

this time i loudly and clearly defended my right to drink. yep, called people just so i could say nope, not listening. who in the hell does that? i sat in the parking lot for 30 minutes people watching, trying do decide if i wanted to be one of 'those' people. then i went in and bottle sat for a good 20 minutes in the bag on my counter. then the brim was full of chemical smelling red liquid. another 10 minutes go by. burn, down it goes. you slam the rest otherwise you won't be able to drink it, but damn it you are defending your right to drink and not feel, go numb, foggy.

i heard two women around my age speak tonight about something they make have turned another cog in my recovery. they said ' i'm an alcoholic. when i first came in, i really thought when they said the craving and obsession go away, they mean forever.'  and i identify with that. first was fun, second to purposely numb my insides. and my insides look like those broken shells people buy and put into glass lamps (which btw, is like so mid-80s, put them away). they all, at one time housed a living creature. now they are left in a big glass holding tank where they are the living creature inside a shell. that shell being me of course.those shells will never do anything else. they are useless, broken, jagged and lost all their color. it's time to throw them away and fill this glass holding tank with something serene, flowing; a never ending ebb and flow of some vibrant  life.

i don't know how i am going to do this. i feel like the first time i walked in the halls. said i would not get another token of time, and people would not leave me alone about it. i didn't want another one. lord, i could hold a poker tourney.  yet i got one today. my bestie in the program purposely did chips, so i had to go up there. otherwise that would have prodded more attention on me.  i don't want recognition like that.  i just want to stay stopped. 

it is unnatural to be sober for me. how i redirect my thinking so that alcohol isn't an option is terrifying.  just for today.  keep it in the day. 24hrs. sometimes it is hour to hour. i would love to say, yeah it is that simple and anyone can do it, but for me, right now it isn't that simple.  i won't give up no matter how exhausting it is to get to the place where it is simple.  but i am tired.