Day 5: Reality
Chutzpah
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: NC
Posts: 115
Day 5: Reality
Ok.. This is going to be a long one. Baby is sleeping and toddler is in preschool.
Do you think there is usually some certain traumatic event that brings on full blown alcoholism? That we decided to drink our pain away instead of finding way to deal?
In Jan. 2010, I was leaving my abusive ex. He warned me, "if I cannot have you, nobody will". That night, he burned the house down. Poured gasoline in front of my bedroom door. Lost everything, not even a tooth brush. But I had my most precious gift, my 1 year old.
I was a f#cking mess, I was taking pills and drinking. I somehow managed to keep going to school and working. I had bad anxiety even though he was in jail. Every night after I got the baby to bed, I got drunk to sleep.
I have a great man now but kept on drinking. We went and saw a therapist last week because my drinking was really outta control. You see, crazy arsonist is getting out of jail next week. I don't even like thinking about it, my heart starts to race. After we saw the therapist last week, I thought my head would explode. We just touched briefly on the abuse but he thinks I need intensive therapy, says I have PSTD.. And guess what? Bringing up this crap made me want a drink more than you know. Usually, I am a high end gin girl, Tanquery, Sapphire but at that point I would've drank an Icehouse.
I am supposed to go and see the therapist alone today. I don't know if I want to do this. I am committed to being sober but bringing up the past just makes me want to drink. Can I just bury it and move on? I feel like I am headed in the right direction by myself.
And now, since I am sober, if psycho ex comes after me; I have full confidence I will not miss my target with the .45. I can see now, I am not staggerring and the shakes are gone!
Do you think there is usually some certain traumatic event that brings on full blown alcoholism? That we decided to drink our pain away instead of finding way to deal?
In Jan. 2010, I was leaving my abusive ex. He warned me, "if I cannot have you, nobody will". That night, he burned the house down. Poured gasoline in front of my bedroom door. Lost everything, not even a tooth brush. But I had my most precious gift, my 1 year old.
I was a f#cking mess, I was taking pills and drinking. I somehow managed to keep going to school and working. I had bad anxiety even though he was in jail. Every night after I got the baby to bed, I got drunk to sleep.
I have a great man now but kept on drinking. We went and saw a therapist last week because my drinking was really outta control. You see, crazy arsonist is getting out of jail next week. I don't even like thinking about it, my heart starts to race. After we saw the therapist last week, I thought my head would explode. We just touched briefly on the abuse but he thinks I need intensive therapy, says I have PSTD.. And guess what? Bringing up this crap made me want a drink more than you know. Usually, I am a high end gin girl, Tanquery, Sapphire but at that point I would've drank an Icehouse.
I am supposed to go and see the therapist alone today. I don't know if I want to do this. I am committed to being sober but bringing up the past just makes me want to drink. Can I just bury it and move on? I feel like I am headed in the right direction by myself.
And now, since I am sober, if psycho ex comes after me; I have full confidence I will not miss my target with the .45. I can see now, I am not staggerring and the shakes are gone!
Member
Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: Bethlehem, PA.
Posts: 1,781
Here's some links you might enjoy Vichole, if we understand the process of what goes on in the brain I think we're less likely to restart the process.
Corrupted Choice
The Pivot Point | Psychology Today
The Brain is Vulnerable to Hacking by Drugs | Psychology Today
Is Addiction the Result of Brain Evolution? | Psychology Today
Corrupted Choice
The Pivot Point | Psychology Today
The Brain is Vulnerable to Hacking by Drugs | Psychology Today
Is Addiction the Result of Brain Evolution? | Psychology Today
Member
Join Date: Dec 2011
Posts: 19
My traumatic event was finding out my unborn child (at 20 weeks) had a serious congenital disease that we knew would leave him with a slim chance at survival. He passed away at 6 days old. The heavy daily drinking started then. That was 2.5 years ago, and had been going strong until 5 days ago. Congrats on 5 days to both of us!
What has brought me to this point is a combination of things. I did seek out some therapy which helped me deal with the death of my child, but the drinking continued. Since then my wife and I have had a beautiful Rainbow Baby, he's almost 3 months old now. So a combination of the therapy, the new child, and really starting to feel the weight of my drinking on my health has lead me to this.
Go to therapy, cry, get angry, cry some more, but definitely get it all out. You won't be able to move on with all that crap lurking in your mind. Before going to therapy I was making myself sick... I had pains in my gut, in my legs, in my groin. The DR never found anything wrong... but after going to the therapist 5-6 times over 3-4 month period these pain started disappearing. I came to realize my mind was creating these pains. Therapy helped me in ways I can't even describe, it fixed things I didn't even know was wrong. I highly recommend going 3-4 times at least.
What has brought me to this point is a combination of things. I did seek out some therapy which helped me deal with the death of my child, but the drinking continued. Since then my wife and I have had a beautiful Rainbow Baby, he's almost 3 months old now. So a combination of the therapy, the new child, and really starting to feel the weight of my drinking on my health has lead me to this.
Go to therapy, cry, get angry, cry some more, but definitely get it all out. You won't be able to move on with all that crap lurking in your mind. Before going to therapy I was making myself sick... I had pains in my gut, in my legs, in my groin. The DR never found anything wrong... but after going to the therapist 5-6 times over 3-4 month period these pain started disappearing. I came to realize my mind was creating these pains. Therapy helped me in ways I can't even describe, it fixed things I didn't even know was wrong. I highly recommend going 3-4 times at least.
Chutzpah
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: NC
Posts: 115
Thank you guys. I am not looking for pity but I feel like I can share here because we are all struggling. We all have issues. We all are fighters. I found the essay I had to write for my English final back in 2010 describing a life changing event.
Burning Down the House
Why wasn’t he at work? When I pulled into the driveway at 6:15pm after being at school for twelve hours and saw his truck, the joy I had felt driving home after finishing my Garde-Manger(French word for appetizer chef) final banquet vanished. I knew this wasn’t going to be a good ending to a long day. I couldn’t even stand to look at him anymore. Most days I didn’t have to because he worked two jobs and I made sure Chloe and I were asleep when he arrived home from his job at Coty at night.
“Daddy’s truck! Daddy’s home!” I unstrapped our 18 month old from her car seat and she was thrilled at the thought of seeing her father. She ran inside and searched the house for him. I followed her to the bedroom and found him passed out on our bed, wearing headphones with music blaring and a 40oz malt beverage on the nightstand.
“Daddy?” Chloe asked as she approached the bed wearily and patted his arm. His drunken, heavy eyelids struggled to open. He lifted his wrist to his bleary eyes, trying to focus on his watch. “It’s 6:20! Where the hell have you been? Out screwing around?” he raged. His breath smelled like a bars trashcan. “No, Jerry. I told you I had my grand buffet today. I brought home some of the appetizers we’ve worked on for the past two weeks. Are you hungry?” I prayed if he ate some food he’d sober up.
He stumbled into the kitchen unwrapping my cured salmon that I sliced paper thin then rolled into rosettes and placed on mini bagels with chive cream cheese garnished with three capers on the left and diced red onion on the right. It took me over three hours to create thirty of these edible works of art and they were the showstopper of the grand buffet. “What is this crap? You didn’t make any potato chips or ranch dip? You think you’re some hot chef but your food sucks!” slinging my creation into the garbage. I felt like screaming, “Chips and dip? I’m in culinary school, you fool! Not throwing a redneck Tupperware party.”
I sat on the couch with Chloe listening to him degrade me. Inside I was raging but too tired to fight. Why did I put up with this treatment? Whenever I was in his presence, I was always in trouble or not good enough.
His random ranting continued, “You’re not going back to work or school. You’re a **** and I won’t have you in public getting phone numbers from men.” I stared blankly at the TV, ignoring him. I learned long ago that talking back or even trying to defend myself just added fuel the fire. He unplugged the TV, “You hear me ya dumbass bitch?” At that point, I knew I was finished; I had made it clear that I never wanted Chloe to hear or witness any of this abuse. “I’m leaving”, I boldly stated, rising from the couch with Chloe in my arms. He ran and grabbed my car keys off the kitchen counter. “You try to leave this house and I’ll kill you”, he threatened.
I fell back onto the couch in a crumpled heap with Chloe and started sobbing. I was so tired, deserved so much better yet felt defeated and unworthy. From the corner of my eye, I saw movement like a little birds wings flapping. I look down at my beautiful baby girl, her ocean blue eyes brimming with salty tears and notice her chubby little hands trembling with fright. “Mommy’s crying! My mommy’s crying and sad,” she wailed like a siren.
I swooped her up trying to comfort her while thinking of a plan on how to fly away from this insanity. I looked out the window and saw my landlords working in the garden. I walked out on the back deck and drunken Satan followed. “Where do you think you’re going?” he barked. Chloe answered for me, “Mommy, swing set, slide! Be happy!” My little angel provided my escape route. I held her hand while we walked toward the swing set. When I got to the end of the house, I scooped her up and frantically dashed toward the landlords’ garden. I don’t remember my feet touching the ground. It was almost as if we flew to a safe zone.
I waved the wife over, with tears rolling down my face, I asked for help; “I need you to make Jerry leave, I’m afraid for the safety of Chloe and I.” She asked me, “Are you really finished this time, Michelle?” I don’t blame her for questioning me. I had kicked him out and taken him back a handful of times. I’d never asked for help or got anyone else involved in my problems before because I was ashamed.
I often think of the decision I made that day, asking for help because I was finally finished. This one decision has changed my life forever. I tried telling myself I’d stay with Jerry for Chloe, so she’d have a mommy and daddy. That evening, I realized staying in such an abusive situation would harm her more than having a nuclear family. Hearing her daddy call me names and watching me sob would teach her to seek out men that treated her the same. I made this life shattering decision for my daughter because bizarrely enough, I still loved Jerry and thought I could fix him. Like a lioness, I would sacrifice everything to protect my cub.
The landlord walked to the house to make Jerry leave while Chloe and I hid in the garage. I heard his truck tires kick up gravel about five minutes later. The landlord returned and said Jerry left peacefully. She followed me back into the house to make sure I was okay because I was shaking. The house phone was ringing and I walked into the bedroom to answer it. I found my laptop on the bed snapped into half and the TV and its stand were in shards in the floor. I was furious; no laptop meant I had no way to complete my online quizzes for school. I ran into the kitchen for my cell phone to call the police. I couldn’t locate my purse and the house phone was still ringing.
“Hello,” I barked into the phone. It was Jerry asking, “Why did you go get the landlords involved in our business? Now, I really will kill you. I have your purse, your car keys and cell phone. Where can you go now, bitch?” I hung up on him and called 911, I didn’t have to listen to his craziness anymore.
I called Granny to come rescue Chloe; I couldn’t get control of my emotions and didn’t want her to see her mommy falling apart. Granny arrived as the police pulled up and the flood gates opened when I gave the officer the report after Chloe was taken to safety. Jerry called over twenty times in that thirty minutes spewing words full of hate and threats to take my life. The officer answered a few of the calls and heard the violence I had dealt with for over three years. The officer refused to let me stay in my home that night; he was concerned for my safety. He forced me in his patrol car and drove me to Granny’s. I protested the entire ride. Jerry had my purse, my phone and most importantly, my car keys. I knew what he was capable of and by leaving my home; I knew I would probably lose my car, my only way to get to work and school. The officer promised me he’d keep watch on the house, they would be searching for Jerry if he returned and tried to steal my car. I had a knot in my stomach because I knew he’s wasn’t done with torturing me.
The officer dropped me off at Granny’s and Chloe had already fallen asleep. I relived the evenings events for Granny and she shared that Chloe was frantically repeating, “My Mommy is crying and sad” while trying to fall asleep. After sharing my secret nightmare with Granny for an hour, I realized I had no diapers. She wouldn’t let me return to the house alone so we had to wake Chloe and drive back to the house for some toiletries and diapers.
When we pulled into the driveway, the first thing I noticed was my car was gone. My landlord runs toward Granny’s car in his boxer shorts with a shotgun. “If I find him, I’ll shoot him!” he screamed. I look at the house, I thought the lights were on in the kitchen and dining room but the light was jumping. Then, I see the smoke billowing out of the bathroom window while a blast occurs and the living room window explodes. I hear the wailing of fire engines in the distance. It finally registers in my brain; he set the house on fire. “Home now?” Chloe sleepily asks from the car seat. Full of horror, I tell Granny to turn the car around before the fire trucks arrive; I didn’t want her to see her home turn to ashes.
The rest of that night was a blur; I felt nothing watching the firefighters trying put out the fire out. I know now, I was in a state of shock. I remained numb for almost two weeks, living like a zombie. When I was allowed to enter the house after the arson investigators finished their report, I couldn’t stop gagging. I gagged from the smell of burnt plastic. I gagged at the sight of Chloe’s Dora Big Wheel melted into a distorted clump in the living room. Her baby Einstein DVD’s melted like candle wax down the front of the TV. The only thing that wasn’t covered in black soot was the outlines of her alphabet letters (Q, R, V, and T) that fell off the refrigerator.
The arson investigator called me a week after the fire to discuss his findings. Jerry used gasoline to start the fire, they have video footage of him purchasing a brand new red gas can at a Kangaroo station in Sanford. He poured the gasoline in front of my bedroom door. I honestly believe his intent was to kill me. He said numerous times, “If I can’t have you nobody will.” The investigator told me I wouldn’t have made it out of the house alive. I would have woken up, saw the fire outside my bedroom and would have tried to open the window to get out and save Chloe. If I would’ve opened the window, the house would’ve exploded. (he called it back draft) I could feel the hate Jerry had toward me but to try to kill his own flesh and blood? I can’t wrap my brain around his desire to harm sweet, innocent Chloe. A wild animal wouldn’t behave this cruelly and destroy its’ offspring.
I think about the fire constantly, once every five minutes at the least. The first few weeks I went into autopilot, trying to find a place to live, collecting hand me downs so I could cloth my daughter and I. Now that reality has set in, there are mornings I don’t want to get out of bed. Sleeping is my favorite activity because for a few hours my brain stops replaying this awful tale and I don’t have to think. I continue to wake every morning to spite Jerry. He didn’t destroy us, he failed. I will complete my education so I can create a stable future for Chloe. Amazingly, I made straight A’s on my final exams a week after the fire. Although I wish this never occurred, I have come to the realization I’m strong and a fighter. I will win. When I graduate from culinary school, he will be eating his meals from plastic prison trays.
We lost our home and all its contents that night. On my bad days, I remind myself I was able to save the most important thing, my precious cub Chloe. That night, I made a decision that will affect and haunt me forever. I lost all my possessions but I gained something more important; peace and safety for Chloe and I. Like a caged bird, I feel like I’ve finally been released and I’m trying to learn how to fly.
Burning Down the House
Why wasn’t he at work? When I pulled into the driveway at 6:15pm after being at school for twelve hours and saw his truck, the joy I had felt driving home after finishing my Garde-Manger(French word for appetizer chef) final banquet vanished. I knew this wasn’t going to be a good ending to a long day. I couldn’t even stand to look at him anymore. Most days I didn’t have to because he worked two jobs and I made sure Chloe and I were asleep when he arrived home from his job at Coty at night.
“Daddy’s truck! Daddy’s home!” I unstrapped our 18 month old from her car seat and she was thrilled at the thought of seeing her father. She ran inside and searched the house for him. I followed her to the bedroom and found him passed out on our bed, wearing headphones with music blaring and a 40oz malt beverage on the nightstand.
“Daddy?” Chloe asked as she approached the bed wearily and patted his arm. His drunken, heavy eyelids struggled to open. He lifted his wrist to his bleary eyes, trying to focus on his watch. “It’s 6:20! Where the hell have you been? Out screwing around?” he raged. His breath smelled like a bars trashcan. “No, Jerry. I told you I had my grand buffet today. I brought home some of the appetizers we’ve worked on for the past two weeks. Are you hungry?” I prayed if he ate some food he’d sober up.
He stumbled into the kitchen unwrapping my cured salmon that I sliced paper thin then rolled into rosettes and placed on mini bagels with chive cream cheese garnished with three capers on the left and diced red onion on the right. It took me over three hours to create thirty of these edible works of art and they were the showstopper of the grand buffet. “What is this crap? You didn’t make any potato chips or ranch dip? You think you’re some hot chef but your food sucks!” slinging my creation into the garbage. I felt like screaming, “Chips and dip? I’m in culinary school, you fool! Not throwing a redneck Tupperware party.”
I sat on the couch with Chloe listening to him degrade me. Inside I was raging but too tired to fight. Why did I put up with this treatment? Whenever I was in his presence, I was always in trouble or not good enough.
His random ranting continued, “You’re not going back to work or school. You’re a **** and I won’t have you in public getting phone numbers from men.” I stared blankly at the TV, ignoring him. I learned long ago that talking back or even trying to defend myself just added fuel the fire. He unplugged the TV, “You hear me ya dumbass bitch?” At that point, I knew I was finished; I had made it clear that I never wanted Chloe to hear or witness any of this abuse. “I’m leaving”, I boldly stated, rising from the couch with Chloe in my arms. He ran and grabbed my car keys off the kitchen counter. “You try to leave this house and I’ll kill you”, he threatened.
I fell back onto the couch in a crumpled heap with Chloe and started sobbing. I was so tired, deserved so much better yet felt defeated and unworthy. From the corner of my eye, I saw movement like a little birds wings flapping. I look down at my beautiful baby girl, her ocean blue eyes brimming with salty tears and notice her chubby little hands trembling with fright. “Mommy’s crying! My mommy’s crying and sad,” she wailed like a siren.
I swooped her up trying to comfort her while thinking of a plan on how to fly away from this insanity. I looked out the window and saw my landlords working in the garden. I walked out on the back deck and drunken Satan followed. “Where do you think you’re going?” he barked. Chloe answered for me, “Mommy, swing set, slide! Be happy!” My little angel provided my escape route. I held her hand while we walked toward the swing set. When I got to the end of the house, I scooped her up and frantically dashed toward the landlords’ garden. I don’t remember my feet touching the ground. It was almost as if we flew to a safe zone.
I waved the wife over, with tears rolling down my face, I asked for help; “I need you to make Jerry leave, I’m afraid for the safety of Chloe and I.” She asked me, “Are you really finished this time, Michelle?” I don’t blame her for questioning me. I had kicked him out and taken him back a handful of times. I’d never asked for help or got anyone else involved in my problems before because I was ashamed.
I often think of the decision I made that day, asking for help because I was finally finished. This one decision has changed my life forever. I tried telling myself I’d stay with Jerry for Chloe, so she’d have a mommy and daddy. That evening, I realized staying in such an abusive situation would harm her more than having a nuclear family. Hearing her daddy call me names and watching me sob would teach her to seek out men that treated her the same. I made this life shattering decision for my daughter because bizarrely enough, I still loved Jerry and thought I could fix him. Like a lioness, I would sacrifice everything to protect my cub.
The landlord walked to the house to make Jerry leave while Chloe and I hid in the garage. I heard his truck tires kick up gravel about five minutes later. The landlord returned and said Jerry left peacefully. She followed me back into the house to make sure I was okay because I was shaking. The house phone was ringing and I walked into the bedroom to answer it. I found my laptop on the bed snapped into half and the TV and its stand were in shards in the floor. I was furious; no laptop meant I had no way to complete my online quizzes for school. I ran into the kitchen for my cell phone to call the police. I couldn’t locate my purse and the house phone was still ringing.
“Hello,” I barked into the phone. It was Jerry asking, “Why did you go get the landlords involved in our business? Now, I really will kill you. I have your purse, your car keys and cell phone. Where can you go now, bitch?” I hung up on him and called 911, I didn’t have to listen to his craziness anymore.
I called Granny to come rescue Chloe; I couldn’t get control of my emotions and didn’t want her to see her mommy falling apart. Granny arrived as the police pulled up and the flood gates opened when I gave the officer the report after Chloe was taken to safety. Jerry called over twenty times in that thirty minutes spewing words full of hate and threats to take my life. The officer answered a few of the calls and heard the violence I had dealt with for over three years. The officer refused to let me stay in my home that night; he was concerned for my safety. He forced me in his patrol car and drove me to Granny’s. I protested the entire ride. Jerry had my purse, my phone and most importantly, my car keys. I knew what he was capable of and by leaving my home; I knew I would probably lose my car, my only way to get to work and school. The officer promised me he’d keep watch on the house, they would be searching for Jerry if he returned and tried to steal my car. I had a knot in my stomach because I knew he’s wasn’t done with torturing me.
The officer dropped me off at Granny’s and Chloe had already fallen asleep. I relived the evenings events for Granny and she shared that Chloe was frantically repeating, “My Mommy is crying and sad” while trying to fall asleep. After sharing my secret nightmare with Granny for an hour, I realized I had no diapers. She wouldn’t let me return to the house alone so we had to wake Chloe and drive back to the house for some toiletries and diapers.
When we pulled into the driveway, the first thing I noticed was my car was gone. My landlord runs toward Granny’s car in his boxer shorts with a shotgun. “If I find him, I’ll shoot him!” he screamed. I look at the house, I thought the lights were on in the kitchen and dining room but the light was jumping. Then, I see the smoke billowing out of the bathroom window while a blast occurs and the living room window explodes. I hear the wailing of fire engines in the distance. It finally registers in my brain; he set the house on fire. “Home now?” Chloe sleepily asks from the car seat. Full of horror, I tell Granny to turn the car around before the fire trucks arrive; I didn’t want her to see her home turn to ashes.
The rest of that night was a blur; I felt nothing watching the firefighters trying put out the fire out. I know now, I was in a state of shock. I remained numb for almost two weeks, living like a zombie. When I was allowed to enter the house after the arson investigators finished their report, I couldn’t stop gagging. I gagged from the smell of burnt plastic. I gagged at the sight of Chloe’s Dora Big Wheel melted into a distorted clump in the living room. Her baby Einstein DVD’s melted like candle wax down the front of the TV. The only thing that wasn’t covered in black soot was the outlines of her alphabet letters (Q, R, V, and T) that fell off the refrigerator.
The arson investigator called me a week after the fire to discuss his findings. Jerry used gasoline to start the fire, they have video footage of him purchasing a brand new red gas can at a Kangaroo station in Sanford. He poured the gasoline in front of my bedroom door. I honestly believe his intent was to kill me. He said numerous times, “If I can’t have you nobody will.” The investigator told me I wouldn’t have made it out of the house alive. I would have woken up, saw the fire outside my bedroom and would have tried to open the window to get out and save Chloe. If I would’ve opened the window, the house would’ve exploded. (he called it back draft) I could feel the hate Jerry had toward me but to try to kill his own flesh and blood? I can’t wrap my brain around his desire to harm sweet, innocent Chloe. A wild animal wouldn’t behave this cruelly and destroy its’ offspring.
I think about the fire constantly, once every five minutes at the least. The first few weeks I went into autopilot, trying to find a place to live, collecting hand me downs so I could cloth my daughter and I. Now that reality has set in, there are mornings I don’t want to get out of bed. Sleeping is my favorite activity because for a few hours my brain stops replaying this awful tale and I don’t have to think. I continue to wake every morning to spite Jerry. He didn’t destroy us, he failed. I will complete my education so I can create a stable future for Chloe. Amazingly, I made straight A’s on my final exams a week after the fire. Although I wish this never occurred, I have come to the realization I’m strong and a fighter. I will win. When I graduate from culinary school, he will be eating his meals from plastic prison trays.
We lost our home and all its contents that night. On my bad days, I remind myself I was able to save the most important thing, my precious cub Chloe. That night, I made a decision that will affect and haunt me forever. I lost all my possessions but I gained something more important; peace and safety for Chloe and I. Like a caged bird, I feel like I’ve finally been released and I’m trying to learn how to fly.
Member
Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: Bethlehem, PA.
Posts: 1,781
Wow Vichloe, I'm a guy that never cries but that brought tears to my eyes. I hope your future knows nothing but happiness and joy, you deserve a supersized helping of all the best that life has to offer.
Chutzpah
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: NC
Posts: 115
Thanks for sharing your story, Krass.. I am glad you got your "rainbow" baby! And I am proud of you for quitting so you can be a good daddy/hubby. Yay on us for 5 days sober..
Still thinking about the therapy appointment. Gotta be there at 2:30. I know it will make me upset and cry, when I cry I get an awful headache. I'm still not feeling 100% after being sober for 5 days either. I may just go to prove this therapist wrong. He wanted to hospitalize me last week to detox. Said I wouldn't be able to do it by myself at home. I proved him him wrong. In some sick sense, I wanna walk in and be like, "Booyah, in your face Doc! See, no more puffer fish bloated face." :rotfxko
Still thinking about the therapy appointment. Gotta be there at 2:30. I know it will make me upset and cry, when I cry I get an awful headache. I'm still not feeling 100% after being sober for 5 days either. I may just go to prove this therapist wrong. He wanted to hospitalize me last week to detox. Said I wouldn't be able to do it by myself at home. I proved him him wrong. In some sick sense, I wanna walk in and be like, "Booyah, in your face Doc! See, no more puffer fish bloated face." :rotfxko
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