Trudging the Road

I am tired. The divorce is finalized, but my work is far from over. I have to file two years of back income taxes, file for bankruptcy, put my condo up for sale with in 30 days, and find some place to live once it sells. I am working 9.5 hour days to make up for missing work for court on Tuesday, and I’m just completely drained.

I am still making five meetings a week, talking to my sponsor daily, reading daily, praying daily, listening to speakers in my car on the way to work, and soon I will need to get to work on my second 4th step. I am not looking forward to it. The first time around, I was happy to do it. I wanted to unload all the demons of my past. This time around, I feel like I should have known better. I knew I was an alcoholic. I knew there was a solution, and I knew how to stay sober. Still, I said “I’ve got this,” and proceeded to royally screw up my life. I used and hurt people, stole, lied, and drank my way to oblivion.

After my first fuck up, I tried to go back to AA as usual. I got a new sponsor and pretended nothing happened. Every second in every meeting I felt like a fraud. I stayed sober for some time, but it was easier to fall away from AA the second time. I never felt like I really came back anyways. I wasn’t honest and was pretending to be something I was not.

I got wrapped up in a new and exciting love at the same time my entire world changed. I filed for an order of protection, bought a car, got a fulltime job, put my son in daycare, and then filed for divorce all in the span of a month or two. I got busy, and my sparse free time was completely ear marked (by me) for time with new love. I stopped going to meetings, and eventually was left, yet again, defenseless against that first drink.

A deadly dance ensued of sober periods followed by deceptive drunken excursions. If it wasn’t such a serious, life threatening disease, I would describe some of the shit I pulled as comical shenanigans. Alas, they were not.

I would quit, start again, quit, start again, and then I got back to that hellish place where I couldn’t stop. I always end up there. All self talk in my head grew very hostile. What the hell are you doing? You know this could ruin everything. You could lose everything. You idiot! What the hell is the matter with you?! All thoughts were quickly dismissed by the obsession of how I was going to get my next drink.

I had been sober since a short stint in the hospital. Then the e-mail came that the judge had set my divorce case to go to trial. I threw my hands up and set my intentions on getting obliterated that night, and I did, bringing my partner along for the ride. I drank a bit the next day too, but something had happened and my partner decided he needed to get to a meeting and it couldn’t wait. So I took him to where I knew there were good people. My birthday was very lack luster this year as it was detox day 1, but that didn’t matter to me at all. We’ve been going to meetings together ever since.

My dilemma now is clearing away the wreckage of the past. My mistake in “coming back” the first time, was not being honest and getting everything out of me. So, I have got to do this 4th/5th step with my new sponsor. But as I said, I am TIRED. Perhaps a bit of self care and a good nights sleep will help renew my zeal to really dig in to my dirt. I suppose we shall see. All I really know is that it is something I absolutely have to do if I want to stay sober and keep growing in the program. And I do want that; more than anything in the world.

Between Life

As a human being, I still feel like a child some days. I can feel like the insecure teenager I was in high school, or the curious and slightly less insecure college student, or the pretending to be an adult “grown up.” As parent, I feel different and much more educated.

I can still remember my two best friends from HS coming to visit in the hospital after I had my son. Paraphrasing one friend, she said “[dude, can you believe you like, made a person!?]” I just smiled and laughed, but my head wasn’t wrapped around the reality of the situation yet either.

One of the most terrifying moments of my life was coming home from the hospital with that little “nugget,” as my friend would call him. I managed to get him in to the bassinet/rocker thing that he practically lived out of the first two months. My husband went out for something (probably a pack of smokes), and I passed out on the couch rocking the tiny human to sleep. I remember thinking I have no fuckng clue what I’m doing here, as I drifted off. He returned about 20 minutes later, and I don’t know why I remember this, but he said the one kind thing I can remember him saying for years before and  after that. He said, “[y]ou’re a good mom,” and he was sincere. I still didn’t have much experience in keeping that defenseless little thing alive, but I felt a whole lot better. I thought, as long as I do my best for him, everything will work out.

About a week later, I broke down in a sobbing lunacy, because I thought I was never going to sleep again. My son never slept well nor through the night until he was at least a year and a half old. It was during this sleep deprived nightmare that I found out I was an alcoholic, and with the turmoil at home (5 hour fight-a-thons), I’m not sure how I survived those first couple years. Yet here we are, and I feel all the wiser for it.  As a mom, I feel like my real age. In regards to anything else in life, this is usually not the case.

I can remember my heart beating over middle school crushes like it was yesterday. Not so long ago I snuck out every night to hang out with my friends. Only a handful of years ago I was thriving in academic glory in college. I’m certain I just got married recently, but somehow I have a 3 and a half year old and am over a year into divorce. When the hell did all this happen?

Now I’m in this weird in between space. I have a not so new partner, but we are evolving and recovering anew in sobriety. I have a young child who is dealing with grown up situations. I have a stable job that I am ready at any moment to leap from to a more enticing opportunity or more fulfilling career path. I have had a home for six and a half years, filled with both horrible and wonderful memories, that I will soon have to leave. My days with this last name are numbered, and I have so much uncertainty about the future that I’d be terrified if it weren’t for the amazing program known (or not) as AA. It is the one constant in my life that will always be there, and as long as I lean on it, I know I will be ok.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Twisted Middle

After the birth of my son, I no longer had a 9-5 job to go to every day. I had a 24/7 job of keeping this tiny human alive, happy, and healthy. It’s both a terrifying and wonderful thing. After about three months, I started to feel like I had a grip on keeping the bundle of needs thriving, and I started to get stir crazy.

Longing for my old life, I started inviting old friends over. I could finally have a drink again! After all, I deserved it. Well, this is when I began down the path that would lead me to the rooms of AA. I knew I used to drink a lot. I classified myself as a “partier” in high school and college. I became a bar fly while my then boyfriend and I were dating. I was a connoisseur of fine beers. The bar we used to go to had 40 different beers on tap and a revolving door of new kinds. There was always an excuse to go. I thought it was normal to go there every day. It didn’t phase me when we weren’t able to afford the pricey micro-brews anymore and just ordered draft light beers that were cheap. None of it gave me pause.

It was only after I had my son that I started to realize it was not normal. I was home alone all day, every day. I was lonely and simultaneously dreaded my husband coming home. We fought all the time. I was exhausted from doing everything to take care of our son and home. He felt working all the time was doing his part and thought I was unappreciative. I began to drink every day. I got sick and was living off of soup, cold medicine, and beer. I realized I had a problem looking in the mirror one day. I saw a soulless, selfish person unable to stop herself. But I tried anyway and stopped cold turkey. I went through such bad withdrawal I had to go to the hospital over night. It was a wake up call.

I found two AA meetings with babysitting and never looked back. My husband resented this new part of my life. We grew farther and farther apart. My shame of being an alcoholic kept me from leaving him sooner. Every fight we had he would drag it up to sling in my face. A couple times he told me to go buy a bottle in anger. I stayed in the relationship out of shame until I finally forgave myself. I had healed, had a beautiful son, and decided to give my marriage one more truly all in chance. I let down all my guards and recommitted to being a partner to my husband.

The morning after we were intimate for the first time in a long time, I found out he was having an affair with his employee. Good ol’ Facebook Messenger tipped me off. My husband was asleep, he hardly used Facebook, and I was confused why the Messenger “ding” went off on his phone. It was a reply. “I love you too. Have a good day too,” followed by a mess of kissy faces and hearts. The words and hearts blurred, my husband woke up and snatched his phone before I could read much of it. He tried to play it off, but I’m no idiot. I was done.

I turned in to a paranoid creeper for a few weeks. Checking our phone text logs, his social media, etc. He met with her the night after I found out. He said he had to meet her in person “to end it.” That was a lie I wouldn’t find out until several months later.

Queue round two of marriage counseling. The counselor, although intelligent and compassionate, seemed hell bent on keeping us together. I was over the marriage at this point and was buying time until I could afford an attorney. I started a bartender job at a snooty Italian joint so I could save money from my tips without him knowing. He was very controlling and hated that I had a job. He eventually caught on to my motives for saving money.

I had to start recording my phone calls with him. He would threaten me with anything he could and deny it all to anyone else. I finally accepted that if I was ever going to get away from him, I had to be okay with the worst he threatened to do to me. It was a micro-step of faith in something outside of my miserable little world. Then, I was free. I was free of that horrible fear based grip, and he was pissed.