Reality...
Guest
Thread Starter
Join Date: Oct 2003
Posts: 390
Reality...
This is not my post but one I found while surfin' the web.It hits close to home and sadly I relate.Here goes "I need to write and remember just how bad it was coming off of alcohol. As I have been clear for a couple weeks of it, I am starting to get a picture of just how addicted my body had become. It is funny how one always evaluates their thoughts, but ignores their body. I could tell myself I wouldn’t drink for a day or two but until I really stopped cold turkey, I had no idea how badly my body wanted that poison. The 3-4 days coming off were hell – panic attacks, sweating, splitting headaches – I remember going to sleep just wanting nothing more than to be unconscious for a few hours, dreading when I would arise and have to fight the sickness for a whole day more. But I came through it, like so many others.
I am still grappling with what others in my online support group call a “mourning period.” I miss alcohol – like a good friend who moves on. I keep wondering how I will ever have fun again. But they tell me this will pass, and already, life is starting to return to me. With each dinner, hunting trip, or trip to the store, I am slowly realizing that the misery I experienced through my 20’s may have been in large part due to a depression – a constant state of anxiety that was fueled by alcohol. I am finding joy in being able to live in a moment socially, and truly enjoy what people are saying to me, or what they might be doing. I am not always sitting in the buzz of a stupor, selfishly enjoying a high and missing what is really being said or done. I may have been numbing my stress at the time, but the shotgun effect of my inebriation also collected that which could have healed me of my anxiety – love, joy – feelings communicated and felt from friends and family. But these intentions and wishes were absorbed in the muffled perimeter of alcohol that extended beyond me as a substitute for my self – my mind and body.
I am most mindful of the positive effect abstinence will be for my children and my wife. I hope the tenacious fights will end and more productive ones will take their place.
It really was my daughter’s birthday that was the last straw for me. My wife had planned it for weeks and the morning of the party she was quite stressed, crying in the mirror above the bathroom vanity while she dried her hair. My mother and father had arrived the night before and certainly the stress of having them under our roof was enough to put us both on edge. Not that either of us dislike my parents – to the contrary. But something remains unresolved between me and each of my parents – perhaps my disdain for the evangelical church and my mothers love of it, and maybe I still fear my fathers anger and hate myself for it.
At any rate, the morning of my darling daughter’s fourth birthday was a clear, sunny September, and my father and I found ourselves running to a variety of different stores gathering food and party supplies. All the while I was fighting the dizzying grasp of anxiety that I have learned to live with as brightly colored ads and the stifling ruckus of WalMart smothered me.
When my father and I returned to the house I was met by a chilly reception from my wife, no doubt because earlier I had laid a major guilt trip on her for spending the money she had on the party supplies. Never mind that we were inviting 25 adults and children who all needed to be fed and entertained – I just wanted it all to be free I guess. And I certainly know (and admire about my wife) that she simply won’t put a bad party on, but I really had some kind of axe to grind that day.)
The anger was about to boil over, and after my wife had thrown the flowers I got her in the sink without a second look, I exited the kitchen and went to the garage, where I quickly set up a makeshift bar on a piece of old drywall I keep for laying on while changing my car’s oil, laid across two plastic sawhorses.
I cracked a Budweiser and checked the time – 11:30am. I figured a couple quick beers and the stress and anger would fade a bit – and it seemed to. At least until later.
The party went really well. Thank God my daughter had no clue her parents were angry at each other and she enjoyed a good time of flinging wrapping paper and secluding herself in her bedroom with all the other little giggling girls. I made the rounds of the party like a good host drinking large plastic glasses of red wine all the while – occasionally stealing to the basement to down slugs of bourbon from a bottle concealed behind my toolbox when I needed an extra kick.
By the time the last person had left I felt relieved. My parents sat on the couch while my wife and I sat on the floor and watched my daughter play with her toys. After a while the parents said good bye since they had a long trip home to make. I watched them leave and returned to the house with a sigh, enjoying the silence of the house after such a loud day. From there it is a little unclear what exactly happened.
One minute I was on the floor watching the Simpsons with the kids, and the next I realized I was in the bedroom with my wife, stoking the argument over the cost of the party and igniting my anger again. My wife, pregnant and exhausted finally broke down and cried uncontrollably while burying her face in her pillow. I stood there hatefully, remorseless – feeling as justified as I could be. Then – another time lapse and my wife had somehow insulted my ego – maybe I really was so drunk that I was out of my mind, because I do remember my wife screaming that she didn’t say this or that, but the memory is foggy.
I do remember the moment of fury though. The surge of heat, a rush of pure hate – all of my frustrations – the short money, the long commute, my failed aspirations - everything seemed ******. It was a flash. The first thing I kicked was one of our dining room chairs. The leg shattered as my bare foot went through it, and the rest of it flew into the wall. I turned behind me and grabbed the next one with one hand, and smashed my hand through the delicate round slats that made of the back, and tossed it aside. Then like a wounded animal, I spun around and kicked another chair, and then the wall. It was then that I was aware that through the crashing and cracking of the splintering wood, my wife was screaming at me to stop, and worse, my daughter stood indignantly in the doorway of the living room yelling,
“Bad Papa! Bad, bad Papa!”
I cry as I write this because no one should show that kind ugliness to their child – or any child. The hate I was unleashing in my drunken haze is the kind marines try to conjure up to boost their courage before smashing another man’s face in. It is the same beast that resides in all killers and other lost souls. I really still can’t believe I lost it like that.
So there I was. Self proclaimed nice guy. Sensitive, athletic, hiking and camping, oftent-take-the-kids-for-a-walk guy, standing in the wreckage of what had to be my lowest moment as a human in this time God has given me.
As I heard my daughter’s voice my anger immediately subsided as quickly as it came. Nevertheless I snapped backed into reality and made a quick grab at the phone from my wife as she was trying to call 911. I missed so I dove for the floor and yanked the cord from the wall jack. My wife was understandably terrified, as drunk as I was I could tell that. I realized I needed to get away so as not to scare her anymore and I told her I would leave. Hurriedly I laced my boots, threw on a fleece and walked out the front door.
Anger began to build again as I realized the police were probably on their way to my house. I hurriedly crossed the highway and descended into the woods where a small, dark stream runs through an area of stunted cedars and tangled bushes. There I sat until well after dark – maybe an hour, just watching the water, breathing, assessing, and wondering. All the while crying and wondering how it was I came to this point.
In the end, my gracious wife took me back, she did not call the police, and I gave up the drink. Since then I have slipped for one night but have otherwise been sober. Even when I slipped I did not enjoy my drink for one moment.
I feel I have a new lease on life – and what’s best, I am seeing the world through “younger” eyes. That’s the only way to describe it. I was so far off the human path while following the bottle, that I had forgotten why life was so magical when I was younger. Maybe it is because I fully lived that younger life, those minutes – good and bad. It was a sober mind, days in the woods, hours talking to friends, and enjoyment my gifts and shortcomings – simply being human that I was experiencing. But I ruined all of that with alcohol for the promise that every night held for me - “forget about it.” That’s alcohol for you – forget your stress, and forget your blessings. Forget your boss and forget your family. Get numb, open up and then shut down farther the next day.
Being a father and husband is my first priority, but also as a photographer, I am looking forward to rediscovering the joy of seeing, and wrestling with the creative process sans alcohol.
Whatever happens though, my one prayer tonight is that God will never let me forget my daughter’s simple, innocent and true admonishment; that I was bad, that my life and the life of my family was going bad, and that drinking had a major role in that. The very least I can do is try to fight my addiction, with my goal being to try and soak up so much goodness and vitality out of life, that drowning it in alcohol seems as stupid to me as it really, actually is."
I am still grappling with what others in my online support group call a “mourning period.” I miss alcohol – like a good friend who moves on. I keep wondering how I will ever have fun again. But they tell me this will pass, and already, life is starting to return to me. With each dinner, hunting trip, or trip to the store, I am slowly realizing that the misery I experienced through my 20’s may have been in large part due to a depression – a constant state of anxiety that was fueled by alcohol. I am finding joy in being able to live in a moment socially, and truly enjoy what people are saying to me, or what they might be doing. I am not always sitting in the buzz of a stupor, selfishly enjoying a high and missing what is really being said or done. I may have been numbing my stress at the time, but the shotgun effect of my inebriation also collected that which could have healed me of my anxiety – love, joy – feelings communicated and felt from friends and family. But these intentions and wishes were absorbed in the muffled perimeter of alcohol that extended beyond me as a substitute for my self – my mind and body.
I am most mindful of the positive effect abstinence will be for my children and my wife. I hope the tenacious fights will end and more productive ones will take their place.
It really was my daughter’s birthday that was the last straw for me. My wife had planned it for weeks and the morning of the party she was quite stressed, crying in the mirror above the bathroom vanity while she dried her hair. My mother and father had arrived the night before and certainly the stress of having them under our roof was enough to put us both on edge. Not that either of us dislike my parents – to the contrary. But something remains unresolved between me and each of my parents – perhaps my disdain for the evangelical church and my mothers love of it, and maybe I still fear my fathers anger and hate myself for it.
At any rate, the morning of my darling daughter’s fourth birthday was a clear, sunny September, and my father and I found ourselves running to a variety of different stores gathering food and party supplies. All the while I was fighting the dizzying grasp of anxiety that I have learned to live with as brightly colored ads and the stifling ruckus of WalMart smothered me.
When my father and I returned to the house I was met by a chilly reception from my wife, no doubt because earlier I had laid a major guilt trip on her for spending the money she had on the party supplies. Never mind that we were inviting 25 adults and children who all needed to be fed and entertained – I just wanted it all to be free I guess. And I certainly know (and admire about my wife) that she simply won’t put a bad party on, but I really had some kind of axe to grind that day.)
The anger was about to boil over, and after my wife had thrown the flowers I got her in the sink without a second look, I exited the kitchen and went to the garage, where I quickly set up a makeshift bar on a piece of old drywall I keep for laying on while changing my car’s oil, laid across two plastic sawhorses.
I cracked a Budweiser and checked the time – 11:30am. I figured a couple quick beers and the stress and anger would fade a bit – and it seemed to. At least until later.
The party went really well. Thank God my daughter had no clue her parents were angry at each other and she enjoyed a good time of flinging wrapping paper and secluding herself in her bedroom with all the other little giggling girls. I made the rounds of the party like a good host drinking large plastic glasses of red wine all the while – occasionally stealing to the basement to down slugs of bourbon from a bottle concealed behind my toolbox when I needed an extra kick.
By the time the last person had left I felt relieved. My parents sat on the couch while my wife and I sat on the floor and watched my daughter play with her toys. After a while the parents said good bye since they had a long trip home to make. I watched them leave and returned to the house with a sigh, enjoying the silence of the house after such a loud day. From there it is a little unclear what exactly happened.
One minute I was on the floor watching the Simpsons with the kids, and the next I realized I was in the bedroom with my wife, stoking the argument over the cost of the party and igniting my anger again. My wife, pregnant and exhausted finally broke down and cried uncontrollably while burying her face in her pillow. I stood there hatefully, remorseless – feeling as justified as I could be. Then – another time lapse and my wife had somehow insulted my ego – maybe I really was so drunk that I was out of my mind, because I do remember my wife screaming that she didn’t say this or that, but the memory is foggy.
I do remember the moment of fury though. The surge of heat, a rush of pure hate – all of my frustrations – the short money, the long commute, my failed aspirations - everything seemed ******. It was a flash. The first thing I kicked was one of our dining room chairs. The leg shattered as my bare foot went through it, and the rest of it flew into the wall. I turned behind me and grabbed the next one with one hand, and smashed my hand through the delicate round slats that made of the back, and tossed it aside. Then like a wounded animal, I spun around and kicked another chair, and then the wall. It was then that I was aware that through the crashing and cracking of the splintering wood, my wife was screaming at me to stop, and worse, my daughter stood indignantly in the doorway of the living room yelling,
“Bad Papa! Bad, bad Papa!”
I cry as I write this because no one should show that kind ugliness to their child – or any child. The hate I was unleashing in my drunken haze is the kind marines try to conjure up to boost their courage before smashing another man’s face in. It is the same beast that resides in all killers and other lost souls. I really still can’t believe I lost it like that.
So there I was. Self proclaimed nice guy. Sensitive, athletic, hiking and camping, oftent-take-the-kids-for-a-walk guy, standing in the wreckage of what had to be my lowest moment as a human in this time God has given me.
As I heard my daughter’s voice my anger immediately subsided as quickly as it came. Nevertheless I snapped backed into reality and made a quick grab at the phone from my wife as she was trying to call 911. I missed so I dove for the floor and yanked the cord from the wall jack. My wife was understandably terrified, as drunk as I was I could tell that. I realized I needed to get away so as not to scare her anymore and I told her I would leave. Hurriedly I laced my boots, threw on a fleece and walked out the front door.
Anger began to build again as I realized the police were probably on their way to my house. I hurriedly crossed the highway and descended into the woods where a small, dark stream runs through an area of stunted cedars and tangled bushes. There I sat until well after dark – maybe an hour, just watching the water, breathing, assessing, and wondering. All the while crying and wondering how it was I came to this point.
In the end, my gracious wife took me back, she did not call the police, and I gave up the drink. Since then I have slipped for one night but have otherwise been sober. Even when I slipped I did not enjoy my drink for one moment.
I feel I have a new lease on life – and what’s best, I am seeing the world through “younger” eyes. That’s the only way to describe it. I was so far off the human path while following the bottle, that I had forgotten why life was so magical when I was younger. Maybe it is because I fully lived that younger life, those minutes – good and bad. It was a sober mind, days in the woods, hours talking to friends, and enjoyment my gifts and shortcomings – simply being human that I was experiencing. But I ruined all of that with alcohol for the promise that every night held for me - “forget about it.” That’s alcohol for you – forget your stress, and forget your blessings. Forget your boss and forget your family. Get numb, open up and then shut down farther the next day.
Being a father and husband is my first priority, but also as a photographer, I am looking forward to rediscovering the joy of seeing, and wrestling with the creative process sans alcohol.
Whatever happens though, my one prayer tonight is that God will never let me forget my daughter’s simple, innocent and true admonishment; that I was bad, that my life and the life of my family was going bad, and that drinking had a major role in that. The very least I can do is try to fight my addiction, with my goal being to try and soak up so much goodness and vitality out of life, that drowning it in alcohol seems as stupid to me as it really, actually is."
Guest
Thread Starter
Join Date: Oct 2003
Posts: 390
BTW,I printed this out for my reading time when I feel like $hit.If I was a good enough writer,this could have been one of my posts.Dont know if it lasted but the knowledge of his post will last in my mind.
Member
Join Date: Jun 2003
Location: Arizona
Posts: 872
Thanks Homer. great story, rings all too true.
I never kicked and broke crap, but I was a mean MF, called my wife all sorts of names, and was just angry and bitter. And it's true, we drink to be numb -- numb from the good and the bad...
You doing OK? I'm still sober, not going to as many meetings as I probably need, and need to pay more attention to my program (steps) and move forward. Not worrying about it, as all I have is today, and today I'm sober.
Hope you're doing well, my friend -- and thanks again for the story!
Ken
I never kicked and broke crap, but I was a mean MF, called my wife all sorts of names, and was just angry and bitter. And it's true, we drink to be numb -- numb from the good and the bad...
You doing OK? I'm still sober, not going to as many meetings as I probably need, and need to pay more attention to my program (steps) and move forward. Not worrying about it, as all I have is today, and today I'm sober.
Hope you're doing well, my friend -- and thanks again for the story!
Ken
Member
Join Date: Jul 2004
Location: Beaver, WA
Posts: 1,346
WOW
(((((((((HomerSimpson))))))))) & the whole Family in the story.
Dis"Ease" seems to propogate itself into the lives of our children & their children as well when our own Dis"ease" goes unchecked & untreated.
3Legs
(((((((((HomerSimpson))))))))) & the whole Family in the story.
Dis"Ease" seems to propogate itself into the lives of our children & their children as well when our own Dis"ease" goes unchecked & untreated.
3Legs
Member
Join Date: Nov 2004
Location: Midwest
Posts: 18
Three years ago I was drunk, cheating on my husband, and acting like an idiot. One afternoon many people close to me called me on my terrible behavior. I couldn't accept it so I decided I should die instead. In my drunken state of mind I tried to cut my wrist right in front of my daughter, who was three at the time. I dialed 911 and my daughter screamed and cried into the phone begging me to stop. The ambulance arrived and I spent 72 in the hospital. It's taken me another 3 years to stop drinking I'm ashamed to say. This is the first time I've been able to tell anyone this story. Since that hospital stay my drinking has gone on unchecked for the most part; fortunately I'm married to a nondrinker and he's spent the last three years cleaning up after me. I know a lot about shame and self hate. During the past three years I've gone from fake suicide attempts to self mutilation. I've burned myself several times pretty severely but have since given that up, too. My most recent self destructive pattern in the face of overwhelming shame was to take approximately 35-40 tylenol pm. To this day I don't know how I survived the 20+ hours of vomiting. Tylenol overdose can kill you in a few days.
I'm here today, five days sober and scared and it's taken a lot for me to write this and to trust you all with it.
We have to remember and we have to share it.
I'm here today, five days sober and scared and it's taken a lot for me to write this and to trust you all with it.
We have to remember and we have to share it.
Guest
Thread Starter
Join Date: Oct 2003
Posts: 390
Hi everyone,especially you spiritpath.Spirit,Im no good at advice so Ill spare you of that,but,please stay here and talk to some of the people here.This place can really be there for you when you just need advice or a place to just "let it all out"(like you already have done).I am not completely sober yet myself,but I have been coming here for about a year and it really does help hearing others are JUST like you.Good luck Spirit. And BTW,Ken,you are doing it right? Im so f-ing happy for you.You and me have almost an identical situation with about the same amount of sober days.I feel OK lately myself,things could always be better.Til next time.
Member
Join Date: Jun 2003
Location: Arizona
Posts: 872
Still here, bro. Spirit, this is a one day at a time deal. We can't do anything about the past, just take today and run with it. Glad you're here and sober.
Homer -- yeah, still doing the deal, just dealing with a lot of crap at work and trying to stay sane. Haven't been working my program like I should be, and that concerns me. Again, though -- one day at a time. Just taking a break from doing the home finances and seeing how much money I don't have
. Then again, I'm a lot better off not than when I was spending all that money on beer -- I have a lot of receipts I'm going through from a couple of months ago that rang up $9.69. Then it hit me -- that's the price of a 12 pack -- glad I don't see those on my statements any more.
hope you're hanging in, buddy -- whether you're 110% sober or not, it takes what it takes -- just don't pull a stunt man and tumble down the stairs this time, OK? Let me know if I can help in any way or answer any AA questions for you...
One day at a time...
Ken
Homer -- yeah, still doing the deal, just dealing with a lot of crap at work and trying to stay sane. Haven't been working my program like I should be, and that concerns me. Again, though -- one day at a time. Just taking a break from doing the home finances and seeing how much money I don't have
. Then again, I'm a lot better off not than when I was spending all that money on beer -- I have a lot of receipts I'm going through from a couple of months ago that rang up $9.69. Then it hit me -- that's the price of a 12 pack -- glad I don't see those on my statements any more.hope you're hanging in, buddy -- whether you're 110% sober or not, it takes what it takes -- just don't pull a stunt man and tumble down the stairs this time, OK? Let me know if I can help in any way or answer any AA questions for you...
One day at a time...
Ken
1 bite&all resistance crumbles
Join Date: Oct 2004
Location: IRELAND
Posts: 2,208
Ken
Thinking of you and will keep you in my prayers tonight...whenever I pray for all my SR friends I name the people and visualise Chy with the peace sign, Dangerous Dan with the strange looking man (which is now John Lennon), you with the chilli, Joe 90 with the blonde cartoon guy, etc etc! So I'll be visualising you with the Ken and the chilli and praying for you that the work stresses/stressors minimise soon, ok!
You're doing SO AMAZINGLY well - you've embraced the programme and you are an inspiration to me and many others. Thank you ken and God bless
Cathy
x
Thinking of you and will keep you in my prayers tonight...whenever I pray for all my SR friends I name the people and visualise Chy with the peace sign, Dangerous Dan with the strange looking man (which is now John Lennon), you with the chilli, Joe 90 with the blonde cartoon guy, etc etc! So I'll be visualising you with the Ken and the chilli and praying for you that the work stresses/stressors minimise soon, ok!
You're doing SO AMAZINGLY well - you've embraced the programme and you are an inspiration to me and many others. Thank you ken and God bless
Cathy
x
Member
Join Date: Dec 2003
Location: London, England
Posts: 70
Powerful stuff Homer ... I can indentify with many of those feeling's .Thanks Cathy for remembering us in your prayers, (the blond puppet character is called "JOE90" he's from a weekly TV show I watched when I was a boy in Ireland).
Thank's again Homer.
Peace and Serenity
Joe
Thank's again Homer.
Peace and Serenity
Joe
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