Last night I took my kids to their school Halloween party. Their costumes were great and they were excited to go. My older two told me I was basically their taxi. Seeing them with their friends was great and to see how different they were from a few short years ago was so cool. My oldest used to be so shy and wouldn't run around, dance etc when we would go to these type of things and last night he was the big kid. I almost choked when he was on the dance floor with his buddies and dancing up a storm. My daughter was fantastic. She was dancing with her friends then she would go off and dance by herself. I love seeing how comfortable she is in her own skin. My youngest was feeling a bit out of his element. He stuck by me the whole time (except for the last 15 minutes) and even held my hand. He is at that stage where he is aware of himself and his environment and how it affects his feelings. I could tell he was embarrassed sometimes bored and happy all at once. Eventually he did get out there with his friends and play/dance around. There were a few moments that tugged at my heart because I could see him wanting to be independent but also needing me to be there and comfort him. He of course is the 'baby' of the kids and again is at the point where he wants to fly but not too far. I so loved watching them in all their glory. I can not believe how much they are growing yet stay the same. If you are a parent this may make sense or maybe I need more coffee.
When I was drinking, before it became a daily need, I had a hard time enjoying moments or events with them. I wanted everything to be perfect for them. I would build up everything in my head on how the situation would go and if it didn't go that way, I was disappointed. Even if they were completely happy, I felt as if I had not provided a perfect experience. The reality is, kids do not care that much. Perhaps when they become teenagers, but not so much at this age. Yet again, I would put so much pressure on myself to make sure I controlled every detail so it would turn out the way I thought it should. After time, this self induced pressure became too much and I would drink more so I would not have to feel as if I had to make things perfect and would end up eventually, not participating. Last night I did not have to do that and it was wonderful.
When I reflect on my years of drinking, I see how much I did not 'show up' for life. Somewhere along the way of growing up, becoming an adult, becoming a parent, my reality became skewed. I began to try and live like others instead of living like me. I think admiring others and how they live or carry themselves is a great thing but when it becomes internal it becomes destructive. My whole life I have compared my insides to people's outsides and they never matched up; they never will. The saying 'never judge a book by its cover' is an example of what I have been doing. I will judge the outside and think that if it is 'pretty' on the outside then the inside must be the same and that just is not the truth. How many times have we witnessed a person behaving a certain way and we assume we know why? How many times have we met people who live a seemingly blissful life? You know the people in the nice homes with the kids dressed like they just stepped out of an LLBean catalog, not a stain or wrinkle on them, their hair perfectly placed and the mini van has the stick figure family on the rear window? We don't know that inside that nice home there isn't denial, emotional abuse or anger romping about. You could walk into that home and within a few short minutes be able to tell if there is that underlying layer of love and compassion or hard, cold loneliness. You can feel disconnectedness whether you can identify it or not, you can feel something just isn't quite right. That is what my home started to feel like before 'the husband' left. It was so present when I look back, but I couldn't admit it. I knew it was there but I think I thought it was temporary.
This time last year is when the avalanche of my world started. This time last year, I knew something wasn't quite right with me and that is when I checked into a psychiatric hospital and found out my anti-depressants were not working. We went away for Thanksgiving, then my middle child had her breakdown and ended up in a child psychiatric hospital, I relapsed a few times then 'the husband' left. October into the holidays has been my favorite time of year since moving to NE and today it holds recent memories of heartbreaking pain. Today, my week in the psychiatric hospital was used against me in the court documents submitted to the judge in regards to the custody/placement motion. Although it had nothing to do with drinking and was a pro-active move so that nothing bad would happen, 'the husband' and his attorney put a spin on it to try an establish a pattern of behavior in an unfavorable light. How horrible to have something that was done to take care of myself be used against me? I have had enough 'patterns' that were unfavorable that were used there was no need to pull that into the mix. I believe this is why people with mental illness do have a hard time asking for help, because when they do, there is always a section of people that are ignorant and want to use your illness against you. Can you imagine if I had a spinal cord injury and I went to a rehab hospital for 30 days or even just a week, if they put that in a motion to try and establish that my physical disability prevented me from being a good parent? I hope one day the prejudices against people with mental illness' wains.
Besides 'the husband' walking out the day after Christmas, the other painful moments came months later when in a couples therapy session when he finally explained some of why he left. I had made some comments when our middle child was out of the residential part of the psychiatric hospital and was attending the day program. The comments I made he internalized and came to a conclusion; I was a bad mother. He never asked me what I meant and why I said them. He never even brought them up to me. I never had any clue that they disturbed him so much or that what I said led him to believe I was a bad mother. I still have not recovered from hearing that statement in therapy. I don't know if I will ever recover from that. I have accepted that is how he felt and may feel that way today, but I don't know if I can ever forget hearing those words come from his mouth or hearing his explanation of why he felt that way and knowing that he chose not talk to me about what was going on and what he was feeling. That is so terribly painful. The therapist later told me that was more likely than not a way for him to rationalize and justify the decision he had already made in his mind. The therapist in treatment said the same. Of course I tried to defend him by gushing all my wrongs and everything I put him through and the therapist wanted to know why I was trying to be responsible for his actions. And I don't know. I am still doing it and I have to stop. Guilt and shame are beasts. It is what I am doing today that counts.
I have been rambling. Processing I suppose. Like I said, this is a sad time of year. Spending so much time at the house this past week (kids were sick), was a real mind fuck too. While it was so awesome to be able to be with my kids and take care of them it was difficult being in the house for an extended amount of time and doing my typical thing. I did not have to do anything but take care of them, but it was hard not to help out a bit with laundry etc. I know 'the husband' is working a lot and taking care of the kids and I just wanted to do a few little things to make life a smidge easier for all, but in doing so it put me back in a role that I don't have today. I do not live in that house. I am not a stay at home mom today. I was in the kitchen at one point and all that was playing in my head was the day he said he wanted a separation. It played over and over and over. I could feel that repeated punch in the gut as I was standing there. I went to cuddle with the kids in the bed and knowing she had slept in that bed and they more than likely had sex in that bed made me so uncomfortable. If not in the bed, somewhere in that house. It is just wrong. Being in the house was hard and it took a lot out of me emotionally. It is weird to have feelings of relief knowing I am no longer in a relationship with him, that it is over, but also still grieving. I have to keep remembering that the end of this relationship played out like an unexpected death. It was like I knew the person was sick but it wasn't life threatening, but in the middle of the night something went horribly wrong and they died. No matter how I feel today about moving on, I still have to process all of this or it will catch me later and I am not willing to do that today.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Meeting of the minds?
Checking in. No job. Yet. I keep plugging along and I know something will come because I am doing the next right thing. I could really rock a job right now, but what can you do? PRAY!
The apartment is feeling more and more like home. My kids came to see the place with their father and they really liked it and can not wait to spend the night (kiddos, not 'the husband'). I can not wait for them to either. Hopefully in a week or so I will be able to have them for an overnight visit. Their father and I are cordial at the moment. I gotta tell you this 'situation' is fucked up. I know there isn't a 'normal' family these days, but mine right now is wickedy whack. 'The husband' and I are still legally married. 'The husband' has had the girlfriend for a lot longer than he will admit (at this point why keep lying about it?), and I met said girlfriend (we all know how that went) and now he is going to meet my boyfriend. Did your hair just curl? I know right? Yeah, it would not be happening but it is important at this time for each of us to meet who our children will be around. So yeah, the two men are meeting tomorrow. I need a reality show. Who does this? The blessing is that I have no reservation about the two men meeting. The man I am dating has been in my life as a dear friend for a while. He is one of the people that saved my life. Strange feeling to be with someone who knows your crazy, happy, sad, insecurities, demons and joys and wants to be with you regardless and can empathize. That is what I thought marriage was supposed to be and maybe it is, but it was not that way for me. Meeting this man and not being under the influence of any mind altering substances (not like the conditions I met 'the husband') is a water ride in the summer fun! I am not questioning nor do I regret my time with 'the husband', I had three wonderful children with him. We had many, many wonderful times together and made lots of beautiful memories together but I have been struggling to go forward for far too long and couldn't and today I can. Have you ever thought about or been in the position where you have put so much importance on what your partner thinks and feels about you? Have you ever put so much stock into those thoughts and feelings you turn yourself inside out trying to be what that person wants you to be? I think he had this ideal in his head he hoped I would be and when I didn't match up to that ideal he took off. However pitiful, it happens all the time. Carrying out unconditional love is not easy. We put conditions on everything and don't even know we do it or recognize we are building these ideals in our heads. Aren't our vows we take in marriage conditions? What do we do when the other can't meet those conditions? Do we pack it up because it wasn't what we thought it would be? Sickness and health. Do we get to add a clause to the vows? Are vows just pretty little sentences we say because they are flowery and sticky sweet? How do you know when you exchange vows the other is going to uphold those vows? You don't. When I got married, boy did I believe in those sticky sweet lovely words. I put everything into that moment. One lesson I have learned and am applying it to the relationship I am in now, is 'this too shall pass'. Listen, it isn't being negative nelly at all, it is being rita the realist. I have learned in recovery that 'this too shall pass' applies to the good times too. Ebb and flow baby. Ebb and flow. I think 'the husband' has found someone who will co-sign his bullshit. Validate what he needs validating and step into his 'ideal woman' shoes. I can not express the relief I feel knowing I don't have that on my shoulders anymore. He never understood that while he thought I was neglecting him in my recovery, I was trying to get better and be who he wanted me to be. I didn't quite understand that was what I was doing until it was pointed out in treatment. I wanted to be in recovery, however, I was not focusing on me, I was focusing on how to make him happy with me in recovery and that just does not work. I don't have to do that anymore. The man I am sharing this time with just doesn't care who I am. He respects my recovery and we both know recovery comes first over anything and if we feel this relationship or the other person could jeopardized this amazing gift, we walk away. We don't owe each other anything. We do owe ourselves a life of recovery. He digs my spirit and he doesn't co-sign my bull shit. I don't co-sign his either and we call each other out on the crap and we have a good healthy argument. We did that when we were friends too. We are quite different and drive each other crazy. We are in different times of our lives as well. His children are grown and mine are small. He has several continuous years in recovery and I am starting over again. He is all about results and I am all about the process. He is direct and I am not usually. He is so comfortable in his skin and I am learning how to be. Because he is comfortable with himself, there isn't this unhealthy co-dependency going on. I am overly cautious of this and tend to over do it with establishing my boundaries but I am lucky because he is ok with it and likes my independence. Again, he is able to accept where I am. Am I comparing the two? Fuck yeah I am. How do you not? The key is not to get so wrapped up in the differences to where that is all you do is compare. Being aware of the differences is fine, but constantly comparing is not healthy. I know the meeting between the two will go just fine. To bottom line is this; it doesn't matter if 'the husband' likes the boyfriend or not, he isn't dating him. Never thought I would write that sentence!
The apartment is feeling more and more like home. My kids came to see the place with their father and they really liked it and can not wait to spend the night (kiddos, not 'the husband'). I can not wait for them to either. Hopefully in a week or so I will be able to have them for an overnight visit. Their father and I are cordial at the moment. I gotta tell you this 'situation' is fucked up. I know there isn't a 'normal' family these days, but mine right now is wickedy whack. 'The husband' and I are still legally married. 'The husband' has had the girlfriend for a lot longer than he will admit (at this point why keep lying about it?), and I met said girlfriend (we all know how that went) and now he is going to meet my boyfriend. Did your hair just curl? I know right? Yeah, it would not be happening but it is important at this time for each of us to meet who our children will be around. So yeah, the two men are meeting tomorrow. I need a reality show. Who does this? The blessing is that I have no reservation about the two men meeting. The man I am dating has been in my life as a dear friend for a while. He is one of the people that saved my life. Strange feeling to be with someone who knows your crazy, happy, sad, insecurities, demons and joys and wants to be with you regardless and can empathize. That is what I thought marriage was supposed to be and maybe it is, but it was not that way for me. Meeting this man and not being under the influence of any mind altering substances (not like the conditions I met 'the husband') is a water ride in the summer fun! I am not questioning nor do I regret my time with 'the husband', I had three wonderful children with him. We had many, many wonderful times together and made lots of beautiful memories together but I have been struggling to go forward for far too long and couldn't and today I can. Have you ever thought about or been in the position where you have put so much importance on what your partner thinks and feels about you? Have you ever put so much stock into those thoughts and feelings you turn yourself inside out trying to be what that person wants you to be? I think he had this ideal in his head he hoped I would be and when I didn't match up to that ideal he took off. However pitiful, it happens all the time. Carrying out unconditional love is not easy. We put conditions on everything and don't even know we do it or recognize we are building these ideals in our heads. Aren't our vows we take in marriage conditions? What do we do when the other can't meet those conditions? Do we pack it up because it wasn't what we thought it would be? Sickness and health. Do we get to add a clause to the vows? Are vows just pretty little sentences we say because they are flowery and sticky sweet? How do you know when you exchange vows the other is going to uphold those vows? You don't. When I got married, boy did I believe in those sticky sweet lovely words. I put everything into that moment. One lesson I have learned and am applying it to the relationship I am in now, is 'this too shall pass'. Listen, it isn't being negative nelly at all, it is being rita the realist. I have learned in recovery that 'this too shall pass' applies to the good times too. Ebb and flow baby. Ebb and flow. I think 'the husband' has found someone who will co-sign his bullshit. Validate what he needs validating and step into his 'ideal woman' shoes. I can not express the relief I feel knowing I don't have that on my shoulders anymore. He never understood that while he thought I was neglecting him in my recovery, I was trying to get better and be who he wanted me to be. I didn't quite understand that was what I was doing until it was pointed out in treatment. I wanted to be in recovery, however, I was not focusing on me, I was focusing on how to make him happy with me in recovery and that just does not work. I don't have to do that anymore. The man I am sharing this time with just doesn't care who I am. He respects my recovery and we both know recovery comes first over anything and if we feel this relationship or the other person could jeopardized this amazing gift, we walk away. We don't owe each other anything. We do owe ourselves a life of recovery. He digs my spirit and he doesn't co-sign my bull shit. I don't co-sign his either and we call each other out on the crap and we have a good healthy argument. We did that when we were friends too. We are quite different and drive each other crazy. We are in different times of our lives as well. His children are grown and mine are small. He has several continuous years in recovery and I am starting over again. He is all about results and I am all about the process. He is direct and I am not usually. He is so comfortable in his skin and I am learning how to be. Because he is comfortable with himself, there isn't this unhealthy co-dependency going on. I am overly cautious of this and tend to over do it with establishing my boundaries but I am lucky because he is ok with it and likes my independence. Again, he is able to accept where I am. Am I comparing the two? Fuck yeah I am. How do you not? The key is not to get so wrapped up in the differences to where that is all you do is compare. Being aware of the differences is fine, but constantly comparing is not healthy. I know the meeting between the two will go just fine. To bottom line is this; it doesn't matter if 'the husband' likes the boyfriend or not, he isn't dating him. Never thought I would write that sentence!
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Financial responsibilities is for shmucks...so I thought
Financial insecurities are in the forefront of my mind. I have been paralyzed by these fears my whole life. I always wanted to blame my parents for my lack of financial responsibility, but it is not their fault, but mine.
When I was a kid, I never worried about money. It wasn't a topic that was discussed on a regular basis. I knew you didn't charge anything unless you could pay it off at the end of the month (which always and still does baffle me), you balanced your checkbook every month and you lived within your means. Now my dad was a spender but my mom was thrifty. If it were up to my dad we would have had all the toys and no place to sleep. Luckily my mother reeled my father in when he was 'money philandering'. I saw the financial scope growing up but could not put it into practice once I was out of the house on my own.
I was not allowed to have a job other than babysitting when I was younger. My parents wanted me to focus on school and music. I always resented them for that rule because my friends had jobs and their own money. I hated asking for money. Not that I was allowed to have much of an outside social life, but in the rare instances I would be granted freedom for the evening, I had to ask for money. One more thing my parents controlled. How dare they! When I went to college I had my first checking account. Here I was 17 years old, a book of blank checks and a fast and furious pen. Then began my troubles with money and the insecurities blossomed.
After getting married and working for a bit (I was paralyzed looking for a job after moving to NE), 'the husband' wanted me to get more involved in our financials. I always used the excuse 'well, I don't know how to do bills' to run away for learning to actually do the bills. When the kids came and I was at home, I was the one spending the money. Budget was not really in our vocabulary. And once again 'the husband' would ask for me to get involved with money matters and again I would run. I had great intentions on helping and learning about bills, budgets, insurance etc., but I was easily overwhelmed and would become paralyzed. It didn't help that we didn't think the same way so when he would patiently try to explain and I did not understand, I would react in anger. That was the only way I knew how to react. If I was angry then I wouldn't have to feel dumb for not knowing these basic life skills I had never used. My lack of participation in our money matters was one of the many downfalls in my marriage. The financial burden landed on him while I ran away. If I did not comprehend something and it caused discomfort I looked for a way not deal with the situation and eventually would drink over it. We're broke, I should drink. We have some extra money, let's celebrate by blowing it all on alcohol. We have just enough to cover bills, let's drink and put ourselves in the hole. I'm stressed about bills, let me drink. I have anxiety about the next time 'the husband' asks me to be involved in the financial matters, I will drink and I will be less anxious. The next thing I would know, I was drunk and useless. Once again I did not participate and it was the beginning of many things 'the husband' would have to do on his own. Financial insecurities and financial accountability are ideas and actions I am working on today.
Right now, I am looking for a job. I haven't been in the workforce for 10 years. No college degree and no marketable skills at this time. If I could find a job that required being an ass/nose wiper, referee, short order cook, and housekeeper rolled into one, I would most definitely qualify. I have been hitting the streets filling out applications and also online. I updated my resume (which dates back to the 90's) and have sent that out as well to a few jobs. I am not looking to be the Director of Human Services or Project Manager, I am looking for a simple job that does not require much thinking or has a high stress level. For now that is all I can handle. Going back into the legal field is a definite no. The demanding pace, stress factor and explosive personalities would be the perfect storm for me today. Not to mention I have been out for so long, many things have changed and I would start at the bottom. I'm not too good to start at the bottom, but when I weigh the emotional toll that type of job creates to the starting salary, it equals misery. Not where I want to go today. I do know what I want to be when I grow up and have taken a few teeny tiny baby steps to start the tumble weeds a rollin' towards starting that journey when the time is right. Being in the job market in this day and age is not easy. The economy and lack of jobs isn't what is scary to me though. I am terrified of rejection. Always have been, even though I have been rejected consistently over my lifetime it hasn't gotten less shitty. Those events could be seen as learning experiences, but I am not there yet. Just walking into a place and asking if they are hiring is a huge deal for me. HUGE. Filling out an application is a HUGE deal for me. The feelings of being less than, not good enough, stupid and useless flood over me every single time I walk into a place of business. That is my disease doing its damnedest to get me off track and get me that much closer to a drink. It may not happen today, but once I start feeling those feelings for a period of time, the drink is inevitable. Today though, when I have those thoughts I tell myself that I am useful, I am smart and I am capable. As silly and trite as it sounds, those affirmations work. I'm no Stewart Smiley, but damn it, I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me!
I will get a job. I will work hard so that I can provide the basics and take care of myself. And if I am lucky, I will make enough to where I can help provide the best I can, for the kids too. It won't be much but it will be what I can do and that will be enough. I am showing my kids whether they realize it or not, that you can fall down flat on your face but if you have just a smidge of willingness, you can get back up, hold your shoulders back and stand proud and tall. I am doing that every single day I stay sober. Facing down my financial fears is scary, but doable. I just may be one of the lucky ones; not having a specific career affords me the opportunity to try new things.
When I was a kid, I never worried about money. It wasn't a topic that was discussed on a regular basis. I knew you didn't charge anything unless you could pay it off at the end of the month (which always and still does baffle me), you balanced your checkbook every month and you lived within your means. Now my dad was a spender but my mom was thrifty. If it were up to my dad we would have had all the toys and no place to sleep. Luckily my mother reeled my father in when he was 'money philandering'. I saw the financial scope growing up but could not put it into practice once I was out of the house on my own.
I was not allowed to have a job other than babysitting when I was younger. My parents wanted me to focus on school and music. I always resented them for that rule because my friends had jobs and their own money. I hated asking for money. Not that I was allowed to have much of an outside social life, but in the rare instances I would be granted freedom for the evening, I had to ask for money. One more thing my parents controlled. How dare they! When I went to college I had my first checking account. Here I was 17 years old, a book of blank checks and a fast and furious pen. Then began my troubles with money and the insecurities blossomed.
After getting married and working for a bit (I was paralyzed looking for a job after moving to NE), 'the husband' wanted me to get more involved in our financials. I always used the excuse 'well, I don't know how to do bills' to run away for learning to actually do the bills. When the kids came and I was at home, I was the one spending the money. Budget was not really in our vocabulary. And once again 'the husband' would ask for me to get involved with money matters and again I would run. I had great intentions on helping and learning about bills, budgets, insurance etc., but I was easily overwhelmed and would become paralyzed. It didn't help that we didn't think the same way so when he would patiently try to explain and I did not understand, I would react in anger. That was the only way I knew how to react. If I was angry then I wouldn't have to feel dumb for not knowing these basic life skills I had never used. My lack of participation in our money matters was one of the many downfalls in my marriage. The financial burden landed on him while I ran away. If I did not comprehend something and it caused discomfort I looked for a way not deal with the situation and eventually would drink over it. We're broke, I should drink. We have some extra money, let's celebrate by blowing it all on alcohol. We have just enough to cover bills, let's drink and put ourselves in the hole. I'm stressed about bills, let me drink. I have anxiety about the next time 'the husband' asks me to be involved in the financial matters, I will drink and I will be less anxious. The next thing I would know, I was drunk and useless. Once again I did not participate and it was the beginning of many things 'the husband' would have to do on his own. Financial insecurities and financial accountability are ideas and actions I am working on today.
Right now, I am looking for a job. I haven't been in the workforce for 10 years. No college degree and no marketable skills at this time. If I could find a job that required being an ass/nose wiper, referee, short order cook, and housekeeper rolled into one, I would most definitely qualify. I have been hitting the streets filling out applications and also online. I updated my resume (which dates back to the 90's) and have sent that out as well to a few jobs. I am not looking to be the Director of Human Services or Project Manager, I am looking for a simple job that does not require much thinking or has a high stress level. For now that is all I can handle. Going back into the legal field is a definite no. The demanding pace, stress factor and explosive personalities would be the perfect storm for me today. Not to mention I have been out for so long, many things have changed and I would start at the bottom. I'm not too good to start at the bottom, but when I weigh the emotional toll that type of job creates to the starting salary, it equals misery. Not where I want to go today. I do know what I want to be when I grow up and have taken a few teeny tiny baby steps to start the tumble weeds a rollin' towards starting that journey when the time is right. Being in the job market in this day and age is not easy. The economy and lack of jobs isn't what is scary to me though. I am terrified of rejection. Always have been, even though I have been rejected consistently over my lifetime it hasn't gotten less shitty. Those events could be seen as learning experiences, but I am not there yet. Just walking into a place and asking if they are hiring is a huge deal for me. HUGE. Filling out an application is a HUGE deal for me. The feelings of being less than, not good enough, stupid and useless flood over me every single time I walk into a place of business. That is my disease doing its damnedest to get me off track and get me that much closer to a drink. It may not happen today, but once I start feeling those feelings for a period of time, the drink is inevitable. Today though, when I have those thoughts I tell myself that I am useful, I am smart and I am capable. As silly and trite as it sounds, those affirmations work. I'm no Stewart Smiley, but damn it, I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me!
I will get a job. I will work hard so that I can provide the basics and take care of myself. And if I am lucky, I will make enough to where I can help provide the best I can, for the kids too. It won't be much but it will be what I can do and that will be enough. I am showing my kids whether they realize it or not, that you can fall down flat on your face but if you have just a smidge of willingness, you can get back up, hold your shoulders back and stand proud and tall. I am doing that every single day I stay sober. Facing down my financial fears is scary, but doable. I just may be one of the lucky ones; not having a specific career affords me the opportunity to try new things.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Rehab Continued...
Locked in a Psych ER for a day or so then moved to a Phsyc ward was very dramatic. Plain horrible. My memory of the stay is broken into pieces. I did on the fourth day check myself out AMA (against medical advice). I got hell for that, but I had talked to my therapist who came to see me, and she agreed that the conditions I was in were scary and I shouldn't be there.
My brother/sister in-law flew up from VA and when I checked myself out they, and a dear friend were waiting for me in a little room. They asked if I wanted to go to rehab and I said yes. I asked when, they said that night. I asked for how long, they said at least 30 days. They took me back to the house where I scrambled to throw clothes in my neighbors bag I had borrowed then I drank.
I do not remember much about the airport or how I even made it through security. I remember getting on the plane and my seat was the last seat in the back. I remember feeling like who fucking cares, fell into my seat hoping I could buy a drink. Next thing I know, I come to and we are in Atlanta. I struggled to get out of my seat and off the plane. I looked at these huge signs, intoxicated and exhausted. I found the Baggage Claim sign and started to follow the signs. I remember thinking that Atlanta was a huge airport and I didn't know if I could make it to baggage claim without passing out. As I walked I told myself I could do it, just keep walking and following the signs. I found baggage claim and my driver. After retrieving my bags, we went to the car. I got in, got buckled and passed out. I again came to in front of a huge house. Got out, half awake and literally stumbled in. I think I remember seeing people on a couch. It was 11:30 pm Thursday, July 26th. I went into the office while the Tech did my intake. I have no recollection of what questions they asked me. I vaguely remember a nurse, a doctor, smoke break and a huge flop in a chair exclaiming 'This is fucking ridiculous". I remember being taken to my room and pretty much flopping into the bed clothes and all.
The next morning showed up fast. I ate, then sat through something called 'Community' where they read some passage and people said their name and spoke about the passage if they wanted. All I wanted was for everyone to quiet down (it wasn't a loud crowd that early in the morning) and I wanted to go back to bed. Yeah, no. This wasn't a spa or anything revolving around leisure. The house was huge and lovely but you didn't decide when you could participate. That was fine, but I did want a few more hours of sleep.
Groups were all day and there were meals, free time and two 12 step meetings in the evening then followed by the coveted phone time. Even numbers one day, odd the next. 10 minutes total time for your phone call. This didn't sit well with anyone, especially me. After some time being there, people in my life on the outside were getting frustrated that they had not heard from me or that I didn't call enough. It was not in my control. Phone time was difficult. Hearing a person's voice you care about on the other end and being so far away was heart breaking. Talking to my children for the first time almost sent me into 'sad-out'. Hearing their precious little voices and what they were doing was beautiful until they brought up their father's gf. That first conversation with them, I learned their father thought it was appropriate to introduce his gf and her kids to mine. I felt as if I were going to die. I mean I truly, TRULY thought I was going to die. How could someone be so selfish? These children have a mother who is all the way in N Georgia, who left without saying goodbye and their father thinks it is a good time to introduce a family into their lives and it just so happens he is screwing their mother. He told me on the phone it was in a group. His idea of a group was him and the kids and her and her kids. I think I have mentioned in other blogs this is the woman he was caught having an emotional affair with and a woman he works with. You can imagine knowing that he chose to have our children around her while I was in treatment without any say in the matter and hearing my babies talk about being with her and her kids was ridiculously painful. I would not wish that kind of pain on any parent, even 'the husband'. I sincerely could not do that to another human being while they were at their lowest of their lows, to disregard the appropriateness of how it could affect our kids. This sounds Oscar winning dramatic I agree, but the frequency of visits with gf/kids increased and moved into a few mini vacations, one being where the husband and I honeymooned and the other at her beach house. Also the two of them thought it appropriate to have 'over nights' as well. Meaning she and girls slept over at my house (her in my bed and the husband on the couch) and my kids and 'husband' over at her house. Can you imagine? Especially when my kids don't sleep through the night. They come down to go to the bathroom, get water etc. I asked him if he thought the kids actually slept all night and he responded that he slept on the couch. He doesn't get it and doesn't realize our kids know. From what I have heard from them, and the questions they have asked, they know she isn't just his 'friend from work'. To not throw their father under the bus, I have pretty much had to gloss the truth over with a thick brush. But it is to protect them from thinking badly of their father. That is not nor ever will be any motive of mine. Back to rehab, so I was derailed when I heard my children speak of the woman I had met for the first time several days prior and soon after decided I wasn't worth living sent me into a fit of sobbing. I ran up to my room, closed the door and balled up in the corner and wailed. I wailed like I had lost my mother all over again. I wailed and felt that deep black hole of nothingness drop me down like I was falling from the heavens with no parachute. I sounded like a wounded animal. I stomped my feet, screamed, wailed and stomped more. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt. This went on for 45 minutes. It was as if someone was punching me repeatedly over and over in the stomach. I couldn't breathe and the breaths I did take were shallow. It was like the day after 'the husband' told me he wanted the separation. I could not fathom this man was once again making a decision that hurt me. Hey, I know now it doesn't reflect on me but I did not know that that day and damn, did I feel worthless. Today I know, his choices and decisions reflect on him only. It shows what his character and moral value make up, not mine. Not saying his is wrong, but it does not match either my character or moral values.
I believe a day or so later or maybe it had already happened, I found out 'the husband' had filed an Emergency Motion for Temporary Custody and Placement of my three kids. A judge granted his emergency motion. I lost custody and placement and exclusive rights to the house. I also have supervised visitation. I accepted that at that moment in time, I was not safe to parent my children. Today I am. And I am for many many reasons. I have been home with my kids for ten years. And while 'the husband' has said that I was not a good mother (and he did in front of a therapist, while I was sitting there), I know I am a damn good mother. I just have a disease. I have a disease that I have been seeking treatment for for almost two years. I fight this disease every day. It is one day at a time. So while in treatment, I am a long, long way from home, informed I have lost my rights to my children (temporarily) and lost my home and 'the husband' is playing house with my children. I had the ability to walk out those doors. I signed myself in and I could sign myself out. But I didn't. I stayed. I wanted to walk out and go back to NE and crack some heads, but I knew I had to get a foundation going for my recovery. I knew if I left that property before my time was finished, I would drink. I knew that I could not drink and I knew that I couldn't do anything about my situation other than let time pass until I could change it. I knew I wanted recovery more than I wanted to die. I knew I had to take care of myself before I could take care of my babies. I knew that my anger would pass and I knew I would get better. It says in the Big Book of AA in the chapter Working With Others "Burn the idea into the consciousness of every man that he can get well regardless of anyone. The only condition is that he trust in God and clean house". For me that means that I can get well regardless of 'the husband', 'the girlfriend', 'the in-laws' or anyone else for that matter. It says in the chapter How It Works: "Resentment is the 'number one' offender. It destroys more alcoholics than anything else........If we were to live, we had to be free from anger". I knew staying in treatment was the only way I could learn how to start living without resentments. So that is what I did; I stayed.
My brother/sister in-law flew up from VA and when I checked myself out they, and a dear friend were waiting for me in a little room. They asked if I wanted to go to rehab and I said yes. I asked when, they said that night. I asked for how long, they said at least 30 days. They took me back to the house where I scrambled to throw clothes in my neighbors bag I had borrowed then I drank.
I do not remember much about the airport or how I even made it through security. I remember getting on the plane and my seat was the last seat in the back. I remember feeling like who fucking cares, fell into my seat hoping I could buy a drink. Next thing I know, I come to and we are in Atlanta. I struggled to get out of my seat and off the plane. I looked at these huge signs, intoxicated and exhausted. I found the Baggage Claim sign and started to follow the signs. I remember thinking that Atlanta was a huge airport and I didn't know if I could make it to baggage claim without passing out. As I walked I told myself I could do it, just keep walking and following the signs. I found baggage claim and my driver. After retrieving my bags, we went to the car. I got in, got buckled and passed out. I again came to in front of a huge house. Got out, half awake and literally stumbled in. I think I remember seeing people on a couch. It was 11:30 pm Thursday, July 26th. I went into the office while the Tech did my intake. I have no recollection of what questions they asked me. I vaguely remember a nurse, a doctor, smoke break and a huge flop in a chair exclaiming 'This is fucking ridiculous". I remember being taken to my room and pretty much flopping into the bed clothes and all.
The next morning showed up fast. I ate, then sat through something called 'Community' where they read some passage and people said their name and spoke about the passage if they wanted. All I wanted was for everyone to quiet down (it wasn't a loud crowd that early in the morning) and I wanted to go back to bed. Yeah, no. This wasn't a spa or anything revolving around leisure. The house was huge and lovely but you didn't decide when you could participate. That was fine, but I did want a few more hours of sleep.
Groups were all day and there were meals, free time and two 12 step meetings in the evening then followed by the coveted phone time. Even numbers one day, odd the next. 10 minutes total time for your phone call. This didn't sit well with anyone, especially me. After some time being there, people in my life on the outside were getting frustrated that they had not heard from me or that I didn't call enough. It was not in my control. Phone time was difficult. Hearing a person's voice you care about on the other end and being so far away was heart breaking. Talking to my children for the first time almost sent me into 'sad-out'. Hearing their precious little voices and what they were doing was beautiful until they brought up their father's gf. That first conversation with them, I learned their father thought it was appropriate to introduce his gf and her kids to mine. I felt as if I were going to die. I mean I truly, TRULY thought I was going to die. How could someone be so selfish? These children have a mother who is all the way in N Georgia, who left without saying goodbye and their father thinks it is a good time to introduce a family into their lives and it just so happens he is screwing their mother. He told me on the phone it was in a group. His idea of a group was him and the kids and her and her kids. I think I have mentioned in other blogs this is the woman he was caught having an emotional affair with and a woman he works with. You can imagine knowing that he chose to have our children around her while I was in treatment without any say in the matter and hearing my babies talk about being with her and her kids was ridiculously painful. I would not wish that kind of pain on any parent, even 'the husband'. I sincerely could not do that to another human being while they were at their lowest of their lows, to disregard the appropriateness of how it could affect our kids. This sounds Oscar winning dramatic I agree, but the frequency of visits with gf/kids increased and moved into a few mini vacations, one being where the husband and I honeymooned and the other at her beach house. Also the two of them thought it appropriate to have 'over nights' as well. Meaning she and girls slept over at my house (her in my bed and the husband on the couch) and my kids and 'husband' over at her house. Can you imagine? Especially when my kids don't sleep through the night. They come down to go to the bathroom, get water etc. I asked him if he thought the kids actually slept all night and he responded that he slept on the couch. He doesn't get it and doesn't realize our kids know. From what I have heard from them, and the questions they have asked, they know she isn't just his 'friend from work'. To not throw their father under the bus, I have pretty much had to gloss the truth over with a thick brush. But it is to protect them from thinking badly of their father. That is not nor ever will be any motive of mine. Back to rehab, so I was derailed when I heard my children speak of the woman I had met for the first time several days prior and soon after decided I wasn't worth living sent me into a fit of sobbing. I ran up to my room, closed the door and balled up in the corner and wailed. I wailed like I had lost my mother all over again. I wailed and felt that deep black hole of nothingness drop me down like I was falling from the heavens with no parachute. I sounded like a wounded animal. I stomped my feet, screamed, wailed and stomped more. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt. This went on for 45 minutes. It was as if someone was punching me repeatedly over and over in the stomach. I couldn't breathe and the breaths I did take were shallow. It was like the day after 'the husband' told me he wanted the separation. I could not fathom this man was once again making a decision that hurt me. Hey, I know now it doesn't reflect on me but I did not know that that day and damn, did I feel worthless. Today I know, his choices and decisions reflect on him only. It shows what his character and moral value make up, not mine. Not saying his is wrong, but it does not match either my character or moral values.
I believe a day or so later or maybe it had already happened, I found out 'the husband' had filed an Emergency Motion for Temporary Custody and Placement of my three kids. A judge granted his emergency motion. I lost custody and placement and exclusive rights to the house. I also have supervised visitation. I accepted that at that moment in time, I was not safe to parent my children. Today I am. And I am for many many reasons. I have been home with my kids for ten years. And while 'the husband' has said that I was not a good mother (and he did in front of a therapist, while I was sitting there), I know I am a damn good mother. I just have a disease. I have a disease that I have been seeking treatment for for almost two years. I fight this disease every day. It is one day at a time. So while in treatment, I am a long, long way from home, informed I have lost my rights to my children (temporarily) and lost my home and 'the husband' is playing house with my children. I had the ability to walk out those doors. I signed myself in and I could sign myself out. But I didn't. I stayed. I wanted to walk out and go back to NE and crack some heads, but I knew I had to get a foundation going for my recovery. I knew if I left that property before my time was finished, I would drink. I knew that I could not drink and I knew that I couldn't do anything about my situation other than let time pass until I could change it. I knew I wanted recovery more than I wanted to die. I knew I had to take care of myself before I could take care of my babies. I knew that my anger would pass and I knew I would get better. It says in the Big Book of AA in the chapter Working With Others "Burn the idea into the consciousness of every man that he can get well regardless of anyone. The only condition is that he trust in God and clean house". For me that means that I can get well regardless of 'the husband', 'the girlfriend', 'the in-laws' or anyone else for that matter. It says in the chapter How It Works: "Resentment is the 'number one' offender. It destroys more alcoholics than anything else........If we were to live, we had to be free from anger". I knew staying in treatment was the only way I could learn how to start living without resentments. So that is what I did; I stayed.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
I am going to have to bounce between my treatment experience and what is today.
Life is not how I think I would want, but it is what I need.
The past few days have been difficult but doable. I had not mentioned (only as I have not gotten to it in my treatment/rehab story), but I have temporarily lost custody and placement of my children. I have accepted it, but I do not care for it, and today I do not think it necessary. Knowing the circumstances in which the emergency motion was filed had been unknown while in treatment. The timing is a bit unsettling. Suggestions by those who actually have my best interest in mind, have made very important facts come to light and are showing me the way. While difficult, I know my motives. My motives are ONLY in the interest of my beautiful children even though some motives by others are disguised as in the best interest of the children, they are transparent. I have chosen to believe the best in people only to be disappointed or hurt. I have been manipulated and had the shame slathered on so that I allow myself to feel guilty about certain decisions I have to make. That will not be the case anymore. I will not allow myself to be put down or be made to feel horrible.
It was pointed out to me the chain of events that occurred for many months prior to my relapse. And while I am the one who drank, I must remember I have a disease. The disease factor of my alcoholism is easily forgotten by many. While I can't expect people in my life to learn about my disease, I have always hoped they would. I can't expect people in my life not to lash out at me because they are ignorant about the disease. I am surprised (not sure why) that those who have dealt with this disease in the past have quickly forgotten their stance, their position then. It is similar to an alcoholic who has forgotten their last drunk. It happens, but can cause a serious lapse in judgment. Anyway, I am bouncing here...My thoughts are scattered as I have to pack some things this week for my move. It is sinking in that my children will not be living with me. I feel a deep pit and have to remind myself constantly that it will be okay and it will get better. Another hurtful process I am going through is that my 'husband' has been putting things in a bag or making stacks of things that are mine. I have not been ordered to vaca the premise nor have I relinquished my rights. My only guess is that is his coping skill. If I am not present in the home then he doesn't have to deal. I have much empathy for him. I know what it feels like. I have had much empathy for him the past month or so, and I don't know why. I haven't even been angry. Frustrated yes. But I see what I see. And I see a man with no real direction. I see a man who just wants to be loved and validated and because I can not do that now (he didn't think I was able to do that for a while, but I was) he has started to believe his own bullshit, as we say. I know because I have done it for years; play the victim. I also know him better than he would care to admit I'm sure. My therapist in treatment told me I have to let him do his thing and if he spirals (which is being seen by some, not just me) I can not swoop in and clean the mess up like I have before. Not being a martyr, he has had to clean up many of my messes. What I saw in treatment was I had been enabling his behavior. I never felt I was, I always felt I was strong. But enabling someone's behavior is not always obvious. I was enabling in the non obvious way. He had enabled me as well. He didn't know he was and he didn't really have a choice because he didn't know what he didn't know. However, I have some experience with it now. Anyway, I am hoping this week goes ok. It will no doubt be emotional but it can be done. How lucky am I to be able to feel? Truly grateful!!
Life is not how I think I would want, but it is what I need.
The past few days have been difficult but doable. I had not mentioned (only as I have not gotten to it in my treatment/rehab story), but I have temporarily lost custody and placement of my children. I have accepted it, but I do not care for it, and today I do not think it necessary. Knowing the circumstances in which the emergency motion was filed had been unknown while in treatment. The timing is a bit unsettling. Suggestions by those who actually have my best interest in mind, have made very important facts come to light and are showing me the way. While difficult, I know my motives. My motives are ONLY in the interest of my beautiful children even though some motives by others are disguised as in the best interest of the children, they are transparent. I have chosen to believe the best in people only to be disappointed or hurt. I have been manipulated and had the shame slathered on so that I allow myself to feel guilty about certain decisions I have to make. That will not be the case anymore. I will not allow myself to be put down or be made to feel horrible.
It was pointed out to me the chain of events that occurred for many months prior to my relapse. And while I am the one who drank, I must remember I have a disease. The disease factor of my alcoholism is easily forgotten by many. While I can't expect people in my life to learn about my disease, I have always hoped they would. I can't expect people in my life not to lash out at me because they are ignorant about the disease. I am surprised (not sure why) that those who have dealt with this disease in the past have quickly forgotten their stance, their position then. It is similar to an alcoholic who has forgotten their last drunk. It happens, but can cause a serious lapse in judgment. Anyway, I am bouncing here...My thoughts are scattered as I have to pack some things this week for my move. It is sinking in that my children will not be living with me. I feel a deep pit and have to remind myself constantly that it will be okay and it will get better. Another hurtful process I am going through is that my 'husband' has been putting things in a bag or making stacks of things that are mine. I have not been ordered to vaca the premise nor have I relinquished my rights. My only guess is that is his coping skill. If I am not present in the home then he doesn't have to deal. I have much empathy for him. I know what it feels like. I have had much empathy for him the past month or so, and I don't know why. I haven't even been angry. Frustrated yes. But I see what I see. And I see a man with no real direction. I see a man who just wants to be loved and validated and because I can not do that now (he didn't think I was able to do that for a while, but I was) he has started to believe his own bullshit, as we say. I know because I have done it for years; play the victim. I also know him better than he would care to admit I'm sure. My therapist in treatment told me I have to let him do his thing and if he spirals (which is being seen by some, not just me) I can not swoop in and clean the mess up like I have before. Not being a martyr, he has had to clean up many of my messes. What I saw in treatment was I had been enabling his behavior. I never felt I was, I always felt I was strong. But enabling someone's behavior is not always obvious. I was enabling in the non obvious way. He had enabled me as well. He didn't know he was and he didn't really have a choice because he didn't know what he didn't know. However, I have some experience with it now. Anyway, I am hoping this week goes ok. It will no doubt be emotional but it can be done. How lucky am I to be able to feel? Truly grateful!!
Saturday, September 8, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, February 17, 2012
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.
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.
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