A duck story, part 2.
I found myself emailing on a anon message board a bit bit. It felt cathartic. I get responses that I read - something feeling home, sometimes shame - but way it goes. I looked forward to the day when I would start to communicate and a use part the society.
THEN - I stopped going to work. Neon sign 1" Made sure to email, and most sincerely didn't not want to quit this job - but that's what I did.
The EXTRAORDINARY pain of not drinking a shot of bourbon as casually as if it were a glass of water finally took it's toll, and the teeth sinked in.
When bpa hits the 2's, rational thought goes out the window. Soon later there were loud locks at my door. I opened up to find two of my three bosses, simply asking "ARE YOU OK".
I let them inside. I told them the story. They made a deal with me that If I showed up Monday I would still have a job. They expressed the degree to which they understood alcoholism, it was painfully clear in the eyes.
And I SINCERELY - said yes. I will see you on monday. I meant it. Then they left. And I drank. Then boss #3 emailed with the revelation that he was an 8 you recovering alcoholic. And he gets it, but I have to get my **** together.
NEXT. this was monday. after emails exchanged that I lost the mental capacity to remember over the course of the weekend, 2 police officers were at my door. Now that was a conversation. Ouch.
A surreal, trippy, fear and loathing tasting mind-**** of time later I found meself in the ER.
From point A to point Z - these people did it all. Chemical detox. Kind words. Water. Not making me feel embarassed at needing a wheel chair. And I went for 2 days. And it got better.
Then. Today. My brain having at least normalized for me to be an assertive ******* - I started to hate feeling jailed. Felt almost like the burning skin, LOUD noises, lack of subtle things like allowing another man a small bit of pride when he pees... I simply made eye contact, explained the legal terms of my initial entry, and explained that I should have no legal responsibility to be here above me will.
That was 2 hours ago. The Head physican, both on call nurses/techs, a psychiatrist, pent me through a 3rd degree that I coulnd't fathom.
Because they know I was correct in asking "am I legally allowed to leave of my own recognizance". Of course, being to good men and women that they are, they obfuscated that point and redirected, quick skillfully, the simple question:
"Am I don't what's best for myself".
In any event. I did the politics, I made the hard eye contact, I appropriately looked down in shame, and took a cap to get a bottle of jack.
Maybe when I wake up up I'll correct some types. But for now - I was this to exist for first time relapse.
Then I thought - as good as this is not doing me, maybe it would be good on a site like this, particular one that gets a lot of Google indexing. Easily find-able cautionary tale.
duck
(and yeah - i screwed the pooch on this one, but I'm not ready to die yet)