Putting one foot in front of the other and keep moving foward

After my experience yesterday and taking some time to just sleep on things, it has helped to clear my head a little bit. Lord knows I can use some free space up there. However; it wasn’t until a friend of mine shared this link with me (http://www.oafnation.com/musings-of-a-grey-man/2014/4/21/hammers-and-nails) and I read it. Actually, I read it a couple of times because the second time around I read every word carefully. It was a reminder that I needed.

Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Simple. Right? Well, no…not exactly. I know not the author, but I know the lessons he speaks of, and some of them I know very personally. It made me stop for a moment and take stock in a few things. The things I have survived, the things I have lost, and the many blessings I have now. Let’s list a few (because I like making lists).

Things I have survived:

Birth – there’s a story that’s almost unbelievable, however; it did happen. My mother had extremely high blood pressure, so labor was induced – which is normal, but let’s remember this was 1976 (a lifetime ago for some). I don’t know what happened exactly but I have been told that I was “drowning in the womb”…think about that…you’re not even out of your mother yet and you’re drowning. One emergency caesarean section later and viola, I was alive. They told my mother I had red hair and she said, “God anything but red.” Maybe not the best way to come into and be welcomed into the world, but this is my life and that’s how it happened. I firmly believe that this entrance into this great big, wide world is the largest contributor to the fact that I would choose to die in any fashion as long as it doesn’t involve me not being able to breathe, whether its suffocation, drowning, etc., makes no difference. I want to breathe freely until my last breath.

Sexual abuse – It’s my first memory and a hell of a lot of memories I don’t want, but alas, they are there and for now, they are compartmentalized into a bazillion different places within my head, safely locked away for the most part because I am emotionally not ready to “deal” with it. I could almost easily say it was for a complete decade of my very young life, but let’s give or take a year or so, just to be closer to accurate. Three different abusers, that I can recall, and I’m hoping that there aren’t more that my brain dredges up one day and makes me more ill.

Suicide – I attempted suicide seven different times…7…and only mostly succeeded one of those times. There are STILL moments today when my head gets the most of me and screams, “Sheesh…what a LOSER! You couldn’t even kill yourself correctly!” I’ll be even more blunt and say that even as an adult, I have had to make a call to a friend and have them talk me off the ledge, because I was so very, very close to just ending it all. Hell, as an adult, I have a bevy of things available to me now that would do the job efficiently. However; after a good, long cry and some really wonderful best friends, I managed to be able to see past what was dragging me down and, at least for that moment, I could deal just enough to push through and keep going.

Drugs – Snort a little cocaine here and there as a teenager, just make you forget whatever the heck it was you wanted forgotten. Drop some acid with some friends and NOT have a good trip on the first try will make you never do it again. I know this. I watched my nose jump off my face, run into traffic, and down the road. All the while, I’m screaming with my hands covering my face, my friends keeping me from running into traffic after it…it was not a good thing. Never did it again. A little weed here and there just to take the edge off and make you mellow. I blame that one for my divorce later on, but we’ll get to that. As an adult, prescription pain pill abuse. Oh my, how I love a really good narcotic. It was the greatest high of all. No pain, just mellow out, sleep a little…or a lot, and wake up when it was time for another…but take 2 or maybe 3 to make sure you weren’t in ANY pain.

Alcohol – Oh there is my poison of choice, right next to the narcotic pain killers. I’d take the pills WITH the alcohol, just to make the buzz higher and greater. Forget the warning label on the bottle of pills…what did they know? I did them together and was just fine. I’d drink from the time I got up until the time I went to bed. I just made sure to never wake up before Noon, because if you drank before noon then you were an alcoholic, and I was not alcoholic because I didn’t have a problem with it. I was not a mean drunk. I am that “WOO! LET’S DO SOMETHING FUN” drunk OR when drinking at home alone, I was the mellow “I don’t give one rat’s ass what you do” drunk. I preferred drinking at home, alone, at night, after everyone went to bed. I hid the bottles so nobody knew how much was in the house and I would EASILY clear a bottle of Crown and half a bottle of Rum before I passed out in bed. I always made that last run for alcohol on Saturday before I was completely wasted because on Sunday you can’t get the good stuff. God only knows the number of times I drove drunk, the number of blackouts I had but still did things with people. I’ve been told the things I have done and I didn’t believe them because I have NO memory of it. So I don’t even know what all I’ve done.

Domestic Abuse – Oh, my former husband, he was an expert at that. It starts out with small things like belittling me for something I liked. Then it was a smack on the leg or on the hand. Then a smack to the face. All open handed. Then it was closed fisted hits. I’ve been hit so hard in the head that I have seen stars flash. I’ve been hit with chairs, a hammer, a car, and any other object he could get his hands on. I’ve been choked until I passed out. I’ve been in the courtroom begging for restraining orders and then having them revoked because of whatever. Spit on, thrown through a wall, head smashed into whatever was available. I became an EXPERT on SURVIVING. I could take a beating better than any man…and I might crawl away, but damnit, I lived one more day. I said earlier that I blamed the weed for the subsequent divorce from this monster. Here’s why. The day he showed up on my parent’s doorstep to ask me out, I was in my bedroom lighting up, and I just thought it was the coolest thing to have a football player be interested in me. As I look back, I kind of wish I hadn’t smoked that day, but I wouldn’t have my girls if I didn’t. At least something good came out of it and that’s all I can say.

Death – I buried a fiancé at the ripe age of 26. I relate to those that have lost a significant other. I know their pain on a very personal level. I, at least, was given the opportunity to be with mine when he said his last word before he slipped into a coma, when he took his last breath before they brought in the machine, and I was BLESSED enough to hold his hand as his heart beat for the last time, I FELT his soul leave. You want to talk about being leveled and having your teeth kicked in, there it was for me. I watched, almost as if it was an out of body experience, as they attempted to resuscitate him and I was there when they called the time of death. My mother was at the hospital that night, she was with my daughters as they slept in the waiting room on cots they brought for them. She was in front of the doors to the waiting room as I turned and walked out of the ICU. It was her who caught me as my knees gave and I fell to the floor. I don’t know what all she did, but it was her that held me as I cried like no other time before. I can put it into words now how that emotion felt, but at the time it was just a void. Now, I say this: Imagine the largest, strongest person on the planet has walked up to you and punched you as hard as they can straight in your gut, and as you’re bent over gasping for air, they reach inside and RIP EVERYTHING OUT, leaving nothing but a gaping wound that you don’t know how to close. Then they just turn and walk away leaving you a shell of your former self. You operate on auto pilot and you crave routine and you stay in that routine for however long you need until you can start to learn how to live again.  

I’ve lost a lot of things over the years. Friends mostly, but I’ll own my part of the blame on that front. I’ve lost children and I’ve lost pets. I’ve lost family members dear to my heart. I’ve lost trust, respect, honor, integrity…I’ve lost everything. I’ve had NOTHING. But I lived.

The BLESSINGS in my life:

My daughters, biological and non-biological. Some have strayed, as a couple are now, but we got one back alive and well and we are loving it. She’s living her life as well as she can and that’s all we can ask.

My family – as dysfunctional as we are – I still love them. Even when we don’t speak.

My husband – He is my anchor. I think we saved each other, slowly over time, when we met. His story is his own to tell. I will just say that it was 15 months after I buried James, he had just returned from a deployment in Iraq, and he was going through a divorce. Not that we forget what we went through, but I truly think we saved each other. We learned how to smile and how to laugh again. We learned how to live again.

There really are too many blessings in my life to even begin to count. I just have a tendency to dwell in the negativity surrounding events coming up and allow it to suck me in and keep me there. I’ve allowed other people to live rent free in my head because of grudges kept and it’s time to just let it go. I’ll never forget what was done, but for my own sanity, I have to move forward.

Because it’s what I have always done…sometimes against my will…I always, ALWAYS just keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other and just keep pushing through. There is an end to the crushing pain of whatever, you just have to push through it. I’ve learned to take things one day at a time, or if that was too much, take it one hour at a time, or a minute at a time and EVEN just one second at a time, one breath at a time…whatever you have to do to just keep moving in a forward motion. I don’t quit on things easily, it’s just not in me to do so, but sometimes we have to quit to save ourselves. And that’s okay. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Because sometimes the quitting IS your step forward.

My name is Dee. I’m alcoholic and an addict. And I am 23 months and 7 days SOBER.

That’s my story for today.

Thank you Bryan for sharing that link with me. It helped more than you know. 

I really need some help - Advice GREATLY WELCOMED

I absolutely have to figure out a way to forgive and I sincerely do not know how to go about doing so. Almost a year ago, I saw the person who had wronged not only me, but my child as well, it was in a public place and I approached the person and asked if they cared to just step over and away from people (we were outside) so that I could ask them something. They agreed and I just asked why they had said what they did to so many people, because I had trusted them, it was an extremely delicate situation and I had only shared it with those I trusted the most. I wanted to know…why? I was met with the answer that they had not said anything and I told them that was not true, that they were lying to me, that I had been approached (ironically enough) in the exact same store we were currently at by a person within a group that I was in, again…with other people I trusted, and repeated exactly what was said to me. When they asked me who said that and I told her who they were (there was more than one person and on separate occasions it happened), the person just stood there. Them knowing they were caught in a lie and I knowing they were lying. I’m sure it was an awkward moment for them, but I just wanted to know. Why?

I never got an answer.

Fast forward to tonight. I make an appearance at the group where I started my journey to sobriety and walk in, where I was met with the appearance of this person. I have made it a point that if I see this person in public that I turn so that I don’t see them and just ignore them. I know they’ll never answer my question, the trust I had in them is completely gone, and the friendship ended a long time ago. I have nothing to say to them anymore, so why bother acknowledging them? Anyway, back to what I was saying. This person approached me in the room, in front of everyone, and very loudly said to me, “I owe you an amends. What I did was a cry for help and I realized that. Okay.”

I didn’t say a single word. Not one. In my head though, I was thinking that what just happened was not an amends. It was a show. A farce. It was nothing more than this person using the opportunity at hand to try to make peace with me. Maybe it’s just me, but I have always thought that amends were to be made directly to the person in a more private setting. Not said loudly in front of a group of people. Maybe I’m the one thinking wrong, but anytime that I have had to apologize or make an amends, I have done so in a more discreet way. Even if it was where more people were around, I have approached the person and asked if we could speak privately, before saying anything else.

Am I wrong in my thinking? Was that ACTUALLY an amends? Because it didn’t feel that way to me. Maybe someone, who has worked the program longer than myself, can tell me. Was that proper?

I don’t expect the moon, but an apology would have been great to hear. It would at least put me in a more proper frame of mind to start the process of forgiving. Instead, all it has done is cause me more grief. If I know anything at all, it is that IF the process of making the amends would cause harm to either person, harm in any way, it is not to be done.

At this point, I would rather they have just stayed where they were and never approached me at all.

OCD, finances and reaching a goal.

Lately, I have had nothing but finances on the brain. Every day, I check our account balances to see what bills finally came through and, if there is something new, then I check to see what the remaining balance is on what payment processed. Essentially, it’s another way that my OCD is playing out right now, but this is a good thing. After we were side-swiped on our home loan application in January I have made it my mission to repair what damage was done. It essentially forced me to sit down, do some reading on personal finances, and put a plan in place. Having done that and utilizing a couple new tools online with our bank we’ve already seen a significant drop in balances owed and I was able to raise Pat’s credit score by 35 points in one month.

I’m getting us there. I know it’s not an overnight thing to make happen, but the progress I have made so far is pretty good. Our bank has a debt management program that I used the first month and then it dawned on me that it was making me crazy by taking so long to pay off the FIRST thing. Then I understood that it was prioritizing debt payment based on interest rate from highest to lowest. Yeah, that didn’t work for me. So I decided to use the debt snowball system talked about by Dave Ramsey and Clark Howard. Once I made the switch, which threw our banks program for a complete loop, I have paid off one credit card, another one will be paid off at the next payday and a third one will be paid in full in April. Using the debt snowball system, I figured up today that by the 1^st of September, we’ll be responsible for the car payments, student loans and our largest credit card. Take that bank program! I will have 7 things paid off while your program didn’t have a SINGLE thing paid off until June. KAPOW!

It will be nice to be able to put a good amount into the savings account each month AND make a sizable dent in the last credit card. I’m not worried about the student loans because they really are small amounts left and the interest rate is so low, that I’m okay with taking a couple more years to pay them off. I may be able to have mine forgiven once I get the disability paperwork filled out by my doctor and turned back in. If that happens then that’s two more payments we won’t have to worry about. It’ll just be nice to have some breathing room financially since we’re a one income household. I really wish I had sat down and done this before now, but everything happens in its own time. It just needs a catalyst to get it started and that home loan application was my wake up. Not knocking my husband in any way, but he doesn’t pay the household bills, so he has no clue. With one of the other tools we found, he can now see what bills are coming out and for what amount, in a section of our bank information.

No more keeping anyone in the dark about anything. It’s all plugged in there. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s just really nice to see bills disappear and know that it is gone. As we said recently, we’d like to do just two more moves and be done. The next one is our PCS, with the goal of renting for a max time of 2 more years, and then buy a place and just settle down. We’re getting older and we’re both tired, he more so than I. I have a goal in sight and I am going for it full gusto! Somehow, someway…we will make this happen. 

Everybody loses, we all got bruises

I went to bed last night in tears over a situation that I have no control over. As the saying goes, “I have no dog in the race.” And that fact alone drove me to absolute insanity, anger and ultimately tears. The tears weren’t from the anger, the tears were because I genuinely care for this person and worry about their well-being. Now, I’m not the only one upset over the situation, but it felt as if I was the only one stating my feelings.

I understand the mindset the other person has. When you have two Type A personalities who like control, organization and just overall justice and it seems like the world or the system is against you at every turn, you get angry. The difference is that no matter what the odds, even if they are stacked against me, I will fight to my last breath for what is right, what is good and what should be. Even if I lose, I will know that I gave it my all. And when the time is right I will fight again until an acceptable outcome has been reached. EVEN if the losses far outweigh the wins.

The song I just listened to had these lyrics in it, Everybody loses – We all got bruises. And I think it’s appropriate right now. The good Lord knows I have plenty of bruises, but it’s about fighting for what you want. You have to put effort into something in order to PROVE that you have the best interest in your mind, heart and soul. Nothing in our lives that is worth fighting for comes easily.

And while nothing worth having comes easy, prayer sure does. As I was lying in bed last night drifting off to sleep and the tears were falling onto my pillow, I prayed the most sincere and heartbroken prayer I have in a while. The last thing I remember praying about was to keep them safe and away from harm, to wrap them in a protective cocoon and to guide me in the way I should go in this. To give me the courage to do what needs to be done, even if it means for me to personally step aside. I don’t remember a single thing after that except this weird dream where it was just shapes morphing into other shapes, so on and so forth. Then I woke up.

I think there is a lot more to the dream than I am willing to analyze at this point. Truth be told though, I won’t analyze it. I’ll accept it for what it was and just sit back and see what all goes down the next few months.

Nonsensical blabbering

I have yet to determine how cleaning out the house equates with joy in my head. It does though. Somehow, I think that my brain makes the equation because I’m clearing out what some may consider “junk”, but none of it is. I’m getting rid of furniture, clothing, small appliances and the like, and it makes me happy? Is it because I have so much emotional junk stored in my head that when I clean out the house, clean up the house and make everything all nice, neat, pretty, and organized that I think I’m also cleaning out my head? Probably.

Actually, I think I just hit the nail on the head. Oh, how I wish that was true! I’d love to get rid of the crap I’ve carried for a very, very long time. I just can’t make myself actually TALK about it. Not truly. I’ll skim the surface and maybe make a few ripples in the water, but I don’t want to dive in and grab the crap at the bottom and bring it to the surface. It scares me…a lot. I don’t even know what all I have stuffed down and conveniently forgotten because remembering it hurts and the emotional toil it puts me through is horrific.

That is the joy of PTSD. I want it all better, but I don’t want to remember. And then something will happen…a sight, a sound, a smell or even just a feeling and then all of a sudden you are in the trenches fighting to regain control and come back to reality. The fear that you’ll hurt yourself or someone else is a very real thing. And honestly, my biggest fear is that I’ll hurt someone else. So, I just shove it back down and pretend it never happened.

But things ARE happening. In rapid succession and I can feel the avalanche coming and I don’t know that I can stop it. Yes, I KNOW I need a therapist, but do you have any idea what it’s like to have therapists say to you, “Wow. I really can’t help you. I don’t have enough experience to truly help.” I have had 10…yes…10 different therapists say almost the exact sentence to me. After a while…you just…give up.

Now there are new stressors and I know the uncertainty of everything is what is causing all the other things to happen, but I can’t stop any of it. It’s going to happen. One way or another. I just don’t want to end up in a “safe” room at a locked facility. I’ve been there. 25 years ago…and the memories are absolutely atrocious and I do not want to go as an adult.

Maybe that’s why, as much as I want a certain pistol, I have not purchased it yet. Maybe my subconscious psyche knows that maybe it’s not the best time to put that kind of item in my reach. And then the conscious psyche pops off with something like I need to look at the fact that we already own a shotgun and I do perfectly fine with that around. No issues. Cause I’m too much of a coward (or too smart) to actually DO something.

Sheesh. I’m really all over the board today. But this is me…every day. Everywhere and nowhere at the exact same time.

Everywhere and nowhere.

God help me!

A battle weary warrior rests

I sit and ponder as I wander,

Wondering in my wandering

Is this it?

Is this what is to be,

Me.

A mother, a wife, a friend

An enemy…

An arch enemy even.

Who is my worst enemy?

Me.

I drag myself through the solitary abyss,

By the day, the hour..

The minute.

The second.

I’m not alone

But the disease makes me

Solitary.

In the solitary walk

I am no burden

No weakness

But it weakens me

Little by little

Stealing

Time…life…thoughts,

Friends…Family

Me.

I am stronger than this.

I have battled this war

For so very long

And I am tired.

Exhausted.

I want to feel whole,

To feel joy,

To be happy.

And the disease says,

No…not you,

You are…

Undeserving.

Today, the demon wins.

I cannot battle today.

I am weary.

Tomorrow;

Give me tomorrow. 

If life is like a box of chocolates...I got all the crap ones.

As a family member said, ‘Down the rabbit hole I go’. She’s right. I’m there and I’m not happy about it. Then I feel guilty about being where I am because I have friends facing much worse obstacles than what I have going on right now. Now, I know that what I am dealing with is still something because it’s tossed me into oblivion. I don’t like being out here. I don’t like feeling alone. I despise being apart from family because it feels like I’m not whole, as if there is this gaping hole in my chest, and it hurts. It physically hurts.

I already deal with anxiety and I have been talking myself through the worst attack I’ve ever had for a couple days now. Days, not hours, but DAYS. It took me thinking that I was having a heart attack before I realized that it was just anxiety. How did I get there? An email. That’s all, just an email, but it was an email that almost caused my knees to buckle and I immediately burst into tears. I’m really glad I was standing near the desk and there was a chair for me to sit in, because my knees gave and I had to steady myself to keep from just hitting the floor. Yep…that started the issue.

Now, I have NO clue as to what is going on. Are we moving? If so, when will that happen? Will I get to see my husband at all this year? Will it be next year now? Am I going to have to let the house in Virginia go? Dear Lord…do I have to start this all over? Am I going to have to transfer kiddo to a new school in the middle of a school year? How much more are you going to fuck us over dear Army?! What more do we have to give to you as a family?

And the biggest question of all running through my mind…

Will my marriage survive this?

And that is probably the biggest anxiety/fear of all.

That and the fact that even if they extend him, he will STILL fall just shy of a 24 month assignment, and that means they still won’t send him home for some time.

I seriously just want to wail at the world. The tears flow quite easily right now. The anger is just barely contained behind those tears.

At least I’m not yelling at kiddo. I have asked her to just leave me alone for a bit. That’s improvement.

Let’s toss in some other facts. My best friend, who is battling breast cancer, who survived her first deployment, who took care of her fiancé’s children while he was gone, has been told less than a month after he returned that he met someone after returning from deployment, that he doesn’t want her anymore, the stress of HER battling cancer was too much for him and he is kicking her out. Let’s say that one more time…the stress of HER BATTLING CANCER is TOO MUCH FOR HIM…she is facing a possible radical double mastectomy…and it’s just too much for him. All I hear anymore when it comes to him is DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHEBAG, SO MUCH A DOUCHEBAG THAT A THROAT PUNCH, WON’T EVEN BEGIN TO SATISFY THAT ANGER.

I know this kind of stuff happens to people. I simply want to know why it happens to people I know. She deserves so much better and eventually she will see that. Right now she keeps repeating that to herself and that’s okay because it will sink in. She can focus on herself, her health, HER needs and let him deal with his three children. This means that she is no longer responsible for anyone but herself. And I think that is a good thing.

I still think there is a special place for people like the douchebag, but that’s my thought to have.

I’ve been told to do something special for myself today. I don’t know if that means I should get my nails done or if I should go to the gun range. At this point, I’m leaning towards both.

I don’t need retail therapy.

No shopping.

Not even for that Ruger SR40 that I want so bad I can taste because it’s a perfect fit for my hand and I’m a pretty good shot with it.

Not even for that.

Damnit.

When will the blame game end? In just over 2 years, that's when.

Warning: Full on rant ahead.

I have a former husband. He was a douche. I don’t have any contact with him now, so I don’t know what he’s like now. However; in my head, he is and, always will be, a douche. Seriously though, I have no contact with him. He has absolutely nothing to do with either of our children and we are all more than okay with that.

My husband has a former wife. As much as I try to be a good Christian and be forgiving towards her, I fail miserably every time. I cannot judge her on her drug or alcohol use because I’m a recovered addict myself. So I don’t judge her on that. I really don’t. I try really hard to not get upset when she blames my husband for something that is out of his control when it comes to the child in question. I fail at that, too.

However; this latest and greatest technique is creeping so far under my skin that I want to burn like a Phoenix and rise from the ashes and drop a few hot embers down a throat. Rewind to approximately 4 years ago +/- when the discussion of braces came up. We got a copy of the Orthodontic report and suggested treatment and said, great plan move forward, but you’re to use the child support to pay the monthly payment amount. Apparently, that plan was not acceptable so the parent who has sole legal and physical custody of the child did not move forward with the recommended treatment.

Here we are now, 4 years later, rehashing this same topic. Only this time, my daughter’s name came out of this person’s mouth. Accusations that we treated one child differently than another. Ummm…I’m a little confused here. We don’t have custody of the other child so we did not treat one differently than another in this particular arena. That failure falls solely upon the shoulders of the parent with custody, not with the parent that you don’t even allow to talk to her regardless of how hard he tries. Had this child been in OUR custody, we wouldn’t be having this discussion because her needs would be more than met.

As for one of the recommended treatments that requires a surgical procedure, let’s get this clear, even if the braces had been done when we said to go ahead, she would still be facing this. The type of issue is not one where braces could have fixed or prevented the issue. This is a birth defect that has only gotten worse the older she has got and in no way is my husband the sole person responsible for this. It takes two to tango, as the old saying goes, so half of that birth defect came from the birth mothers genes. See how this works?

Me being the person that I am, when we received the original evaluation, I made a copy and kept it for our records. In comparison of the two it does not take a genius to see that certain medical needs are not being met. I see this as a solid case of neglect. Actually, I know for a fact that it is, because I was once threatened with it because of an issue with my oldest child. We had a 30 day lapse in insurance coverage and well…needless to say, neglect includes anything that poses a threat to the child, whether it’s physical, mental or medical.

I truly want nothing more than for the child in question to be healthy, happy and whole. However; just one report from a medical professional with a picture of the child tells me that all of those wants I have for her are not being met. You know that saying about a picture is worth a thousand words? This picture is screaming words, but none of them are nice, and that makes me angry on behalf of her and her father.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to forgive this person for their wrong doings. Maybe I’ll never get to that point. Maybe one day I won’t invest the emotional energy into being angry over things like this, but I doubt it.

First and foremost, I am a mommy. My husband and I have 4 daughters between the both of us and regardless of how cold I have to be at times, I love them all and I would die without a second thought if it meant they could live. I am angry over the injustice, the blatant attempt to extort money from my husband by means of the child, the conditions that the child lives in and that the child does not come first. I make mistakes with my kids, but I learn from them and try to make better choices. I try to show them how to live in this world and how to be of service to others, that it isn’t all about just them and I teach them that life isn’t fair but you make the best of it. I make sure they are fed and they have healthy food choices and they have clothes that fit, that are their own. I don’t know when the last decision made didn’t involve me thinking about how it was going to affect my kids. In this upcoming move, it was a delicate balance between finding something with an acceptable commute for him AND was in a good school district AND was in a safe area AND has enough room for us and the other child AND allowed us to keep our dogs. That’s a lot of things to think about and right now it looks like I made a pretty good decision.

Now though, it’s time for other decisions. But, this isn’t my fight. I am simply here to support whatever decision is made and pray for the best outcome. 

The semicolon project...as viewed through my eyes.

I know I have discussed this particular topic several times, but let’s have a rehash today since it’s #semicolonproject218 day. For those who are unaware of this day, this is a day where you draw a semicolon on your wrist, for either yourself, someone you know or in support of those who suffer from mental illness, self-harm, trauma or suicidal thoughts. In my case, I drew one for myself and my daughters because we have all self-harmed, attempted suicide and suffer from mental illness. It’s the “blessing” we have received in our blood line. Not quite royalty, but we know how to fight for our lives and, so far, we have survived.

There are a bevy of mental illness diagnoses to choose from today. I suffer from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, anxiety and dissociative disorder. My oldest daughter is Bi-Polar Type I, schizophrenic, suffers from depression and multiple personality disorder, which is part of the schizophrenia. My youngest daughter suffers from depression, suicidal thoughts and self-harm. The three of us alone could keep the big pharma going for the rest of our natural born lives.  

These are the facts. This is what my husband and the rest of our family has to deal with. There are days when we lose our minds, but most days we do okay. My oldest daughter has not resided with us for the last 4 years due to the severity of the violence during her manic episodes. When child protective services intervenes on the behalf of the adults in the household, you know you have crossed into largely unchartered territory. When the judicial system orders that the child can no longer reside with you due to the imminent threat of danger to the others in the house, you are in even larger unchartered territory.

There are no specialists, therapists or counselors equipped to deal with or help the adults in those situations. We have no one to call at 3 o’clock in the morning when we are fighting for our lives against a teenager. No one to call except for 911. We were judged by the system for years claiming that we were somehow abusing the child, threatened with jail and removal of the other child, until the time we thought she had broken my jaw. The next time, it was a knife to my throat because I shoved my youngest child out of the way to protect her and it made my oldest daughter “upset” that she couldn’t hurt her sister. The time after that she attacked my husband because she had punched me in the face and kicked me in the ribs and he came to my defense. It was only when the police took pictures and gathered hospital reports and arrested her that the truth finally came to light. We were the ones living in fear of my daughter, not my daughter living in fear of us.

And then the judgment from family members because of how things played out in the judicial system. Even family members accused us of lying to somehow protect our image or lifestyle or our career! The unfortunate part is that it took my daughter attempting to kill her grandmother (my mother) until the family had their eyes opened to what we dealt with as a couple for 4 years and what I had dealt with alone for 4 years prior to that time. I thought I had somehow failed my child. I didn’t love her enough, didn’t get her enough help, didn’t fight for the right things for her, etc. I was wrong.

It was because of her disease and her choices. I did the best I could with all the resources at my disposal. So, now I can look back and know that, but in the midst of the chaos, I had no clue.

My youngest daughter had to grow up quickly. She’s 14, going on 50. She knows how to fight, how to disarm and how to deescalate a situation before it gets out of control. She doesn’t trust counselors, doctors or therapists, as far as she can toss a Mac truck. She refuses to take medication for her depression and for a while she turned to cutting. The cutting led to suicidal thoughts and a bit of time in a mental facility for teens. She turned to music. Music saved my daughter and I’m grateful. It’s been a battle to keep her from self-harming, but I’m more conscious of it now and try to keep a closer eye on her. We talk more because for a long time, we were so overwhelmed with everything, we just stopped talking. I take the blame for that.

I have battled for so long that my doctor has said that my mind stays in a “state of hyperawareness”. I simply say that I am constantly in “protect mode”. I don’t know how to turn it off and I’m not sure that I would know how to live if we did figure out a way to do so. When I was a teenager, I attempted suicide 7 times…7. I was a cutter and I would burn myself. I would do anything just to make the pain of living with the sexual abuse just go away. Drugs – check. Alcohol – check. Self-harm – check. You get the picture. Then I married young and became another statistic for battered women. I cannot even begin to tell you how many beatings I took or how much I begged to die and then I would take the beatings silently so that my children wouldn’t be awakened and they could sleep, somewhat peacefully. I’ve been hit so hard that I’ve seen many pretty colors and beaten with so many objects that I can’t keep track of, but I do remember the claw hammer…because I objected to him taking time off from a new job to go to a funeral of a family member that he didn’t even know.

Finally, we divorced. I was then a single mom, aged 22, in college full time and with two children under the age of 5. I was on welfare and worked two part time jobs, as well. I did that for 3 years and was so tired and worn out that I couldn’t make myself finish my degree. I looked much older than my 25 years.

At the ripe old age of 26, I buried my fiancé after a motorcycle accident. The hits just kept coming. By that time, I knew how to tuck and roll pretty well. I was also dealing with my oldest daughter and her illness at the same time. I met my current husband when I was 27…and I was leery to say the least. Turns out, our children were a year apart in age…all 4 of them and they liked each other, plus it gave him and I a distraction from the sheer mess that our lives were. He had just returned from combat and was going through a divorce and I was just learning how to breathe again after having your heart ripped out of your chest cavity and everything else on the inside pulled out and just left with a gaping open wound. Neither of us trusted anyone or anything outside of work. We work very hard at keeping our relationship safe and secure. Now, we trust no one outside of each other, with the exception of a few family members (that includes a couple friends that ARE family).

However; having that “safe” relationship has not saved me from the depths of hell that live in my brain. I can honestly say that I have seriously considered suicide at least 4 different times within the last 18 months. In the last 2 years I battled alcoholism and, so far, I am winning…but that damn little monster stays just under the surface waiting to appear. I have battled prescription drug addiction (we won’t talk about the drugs in my teen years…I’m not counting those) and I have won. So far. My mind is getting worse though. I know that I only have a few more years before I don’t even know who my children are and I have had to make myself learn to accept that. My prayer is that it waits until I am of the age that it’s expected because I don’t want to be a burden.

And that fear is what drives most of my anxieties. The fear of being a burden. So I self-harm just to take away the fear. Because my thinking is that if I can withstand pain, then I should be able to face my other fears. Yes, it’s illogical, but that is how I think.

Every day that I wake up breathing is another day that I get to try all over again. I get to battle the demons in my head…again.

Because they never go away.

Ever.

Not for me.

Not for my children.

We fight.

We battle.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Now…go hug someone and tell them you love them. 

Judge not, lest ye be judged...and there are sure some judgments in this one!

Today I am quite exhausted from all the happenings from yesterday. Not only the physical things we did around the house, but from allowing myself to become angry over what I believe was an idiotic statement from someone attempting to talk about something they know nothing about personally. I understand the point they were attempting to make, but the moment a generalized statement was made about a particular issue, in my head, I wanted to throat punch them. There are a few other things that bother me as well. And since this is my blog, then I can vent about whatever I want, in whatever fashion I so choose. So, here we go.

If you know nothing about addiction issues then keep your mouth shut. If you don’t want to agree with how a person chooses to live their lives, that’s perfectly fine, because you have that right. If you do not want to see others opinions about their life works, then don’t read them. If you want to believe that because this person suffered from chronic addiction it somehow negates everything they did in the years when they were sober, you have that right to do so. I have the right to think that you are judgmental bastard. I have the right to defend the addict and their life works and you don’t have to agree with me, but just because you lost a person in your life to addiction issues, absolutely does not make it okay to think that every other person suffering from addiction is a selfish prick. I assure you that we are not.

I speak from knowledge. I am an addict, I will always be an addict and I will not apologize for being that way. And I will ALWAYS defend an addict that lost their battle, regardless of what they were doing that caused their death. I have partaken in illegal, mind altering substances and I have moments where I crave them to this day and it’s been close to 20 years since my last fix. I am also an alcoholic who battles the tiny demon in the back of my head that lies in wait patiently for that most opportune moment to jump up and say, “Let’s have a drink!” I have abused prescription narcotics and became addicted to them as well. I, also sat down and had a very candid discussion with my doctor about the issues with alcohol and drug dependency.

I am one of the so-called ‘lucky’ ones. I acknowledged my demons and I battle them daily. I am a functioning adult who cares for my family and manages our household and our finances. However; that’s today. A couple years ago, I was still doing those things, I just made little tweaks to our budget to support my habit. I lied about certain bills being taken care of just to make sure I had what I needed. The bill did get paid, just not when I said it did and not for the amount that I said. There were times when I just flat out lied to my spouse just so I could get what I needed.

And here in lies the hypocrisy of the statement made that I then allowed myself to become angry. The lies, the deceit, the judgmental attitude toward others regarding addiction when this person is an addict themselves. They may not partake in drugs or alcohol, but when you obsess over something to the point that you take away from your family to feed the selfishness, you so righteously pointed out yesterday, you are an addict. When you lie to your spouse about waiting to get a certain thing and then go ahead and purchase it anyway, knowing full well that you have bills to be paid and that money is earmarked for them, you are an addict. When you have food at home that can be fixed, yet you insist on eating out and spending money set aside, again, for bills or family matters, you are an addict. When you have a disease that is caused by food choices and you consistently choose to eat enough food that would feed an entire family and even eating so much that your spouse does not get any, you are a glutton and an addict and you are killing yourself too…yet you were so pious in judging another person in their death caused by their addiction.

Funny…I see no difference. An addict, is an addict, is an addict. Period. It can be drugs, alcohol, food, sex, games, toys, etc. Whatever the addiction is, when it hurts your family and takes away from basic necessities just to feed the addiction, then you are an addict…JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE ADDICTS.

Now, I don’t give one rat’s ass whether or not you destroy yourself, in the manner of YOUR choosing. What I care about are the people that I love that are being swept up and discarded so that you can feed your addiction. Because, oh how it is one! To have a hobby is one thing, to become fully obsessed with the hobby that it does all the above, that is another story entirely. When people stop coming around because they are tired of hearing the constant barrage of the hobby, aka “addiction”, then there is a problem. When I become angry on behalf of a person that I love because of the selfishness expressed daily, then there is a problem. And this time, it isn’t MY problem.

I would highly suggest that if you think because you do not have a problem because you are not using drugs that you seek some outside help. At this point, I know there are several who would love nothing more than to assist you in removing your head from your ass and helping you realize that you are no longer single and that you have a family to care for.

As for anyone else who is either suffering from an addiction of some form, please seek help. For those who live or love someone that is suffering from an addiction, there are programs for you as well.

Now, I’m going to step down off my soapbox and get ready to go to the gym and work off some of my frustration.

An addiction compilation...from an Addict...with Mental Health Issues...who makes no judgments about another persons life.

A major compilation of past blogs in an attempt to open some eyes. It’s going to be a long one!

May 22, 2012: This is hard

I've been writing in an actual journal, so I have neglected this site. Maybe I can do this in both places. I am now 7 days sober. 7 days. One week. It doesn't sound like a long time, but let me tell you, this has been some of the longest 7 days in.my.life. Now the withdrawal has started and at first it was just a headache and I thought that if that was all I got, then I was truly lucky. *Buzzer sound* WRONG! That headache was just the beginning!

Now, I still have the headache, but I also have tremors, shakes, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, racing thoughts, jitters, nervous, racing speech, hallucinations and severe mood swings. Happy is not one of those moods though. No. Fear, anxiety and sadness seem to rule my days. And the urge to drink? Holy cow! Come 10 o'clock at night, I could literally claw my skin off because my body is screaming for a drink! 

I stood in the dining room last night wringing my hands, tapping my foot and crying. Saying to Pat that I don't remember doing this when I was a teen and in a treatment facility. I literally paced and cried, paced and cried...with an all consuming thought that all I needed to do was just have ONE drink. Just one. That's all I needed. 

I did NOT have that drink. Instead, I called some friends and talked to them. One of them until about 4 o'clock this morning. I feel like such a jerk right now. I have always been the one that my friends turned to for advice or for a shoulder to cry on. Now the tables are turned and I am having to lean on them, because I am so weak right now. 

All I want, all I can think about, the only consuming thoughts...
I want a drink. 

The other thought? Something that someone said at AA.
"It wasn't the 13th drink that got me drunk. It wasn't the 8th or 9th drink that got me drunk. It was that FIRST drink." Or this one, "I know I have another drink in me. I don't know that I have another recovery in me."

I don't have the luxury of just having ONE drink. One to me leads to an entire bottle. Then remorse. Guilt. Shame. And to think...I meant it every.single.time I said that I wouldn't drink again. This time, I haven't said I won't drink again. 

I said..."Something has to change."

Same day:

So, my doctor called me back. Not one of the nurses, but my actual doctor, Dr. Victorica. I'm glad he called when he did because I was almost manic and he could hear it in my voice. This was not something that I was just saying was happening, but he could physically hear the difference in my speech and tone. He assured me that what I am experiencing is withdrawal and that we can treat this by detoxing my body. He will follow up with me tomorrow, I am to be in his office the following day and every day, if needed, to make sure I survive the detox period. 

He stressed the absolute necessity to not even take a sip of alcohol with the medication that he is prescribing for the detox because it would truly be fatal. I'm not looking to die. If I was, I would have simply continued on the path I was on with the drinking. Because trust me, I was well on my way to an early grave. The only thought that I have been able to come up with on why I was drinking so very much, is that subconsciously I did want to die. When in reality, I do not. I love my husband and my children, so very much. I just lost the ability to deal with the amount of pain that I was physically in and then try to deal with the amount of stress from our everyday lives. It isn't an excuse, but it was my justification. 

I can justify just about anything if I truly want it or think I need it. It isn't hard to find those reasons. Rationalization. Justification. "Stinkin' Thinkin'". Nice term, huh. Stinkin' thinkin'...but it's true. An alcoholic needs no other reason to drink other than whatever we come up with in our minds. We are our own worst enemy, in every sense of the word. 

You know something? I have spent the majority of today in a truly manic state. Fidgety, itchy, jumpy, stuttering, unable to form a complete sentence that made sense unless I stopped to think about and then form each individual word in my head and then speak it slowly and with clear intentions to get across what I was trying to say. Tapping. My fingers, my hands, my feet....tap, tap, tap. I feel like my brain is starting to slow down a little, so maybe the medicine is slowly taking effect. 

I am going to very clear and state that I don't expect miracles. I know God is in the business of miracles, but I don't expect one for myself. I know full well that this is going to be a long, slow process of a lot of ups and downs. Hopefully the ups will eventually outweigh the downs, but for now...this is my life. 

Scattered. Shattered. Broken. In a healing process.

Life = Temporarily Interrupted.

May 23, 2012: 

Ah ha! You now have that song running through your head now too! He he...at least I am not the only one with songs/words/phrases running on a fast track through my brain. I'm a sharer. And yes, that is a word...otherwise it would have put a little red squiggly line under it for me to see and say it wasn't right. So, I'm good this morning on spelling!

I took my medicines this morning and must say that I feel extremely, extremely calm. Although my brain seems to be running circles around some track inside, my body is not responding to the thought processes. There is a disconnection in there somewhere and I am perfectly fine with that. I can deal with this feeling a lot easier than I can when I feel like I want to jump out of a moving vehicle or claw my skin off because I can't stop tapping or jumping or heck, even just forming a coherent sentence! 

Maybe that's why I picked up my blog again. If I type this out, then it forces me to focus on each individual word within the sentence. Okay, I can type almost faster than I can talk, but today the coordination required is making me slow down and pay attention. Plus, you can't hear me stuttering if I am typing something. Because right now, I stutter...a lot. 

Of course, right now I have a fly buzzing around my head and it is driving me insane! That little buzz of its wings flapping. Grr! If I can catch this thing sitting down for longer than 1.3 seconds, I am going to kill it. For now, as long as it doesn't land in my coffee, we're okay....for now. I'm watching you little fly and I will get you. 

What I would like to do right now is go outside and have a cigarette. Transfer addiction. That's what I have to battle right now as well. I not only have to fight the urge to stop drinking, but I also have to fight the urge to start smoking. Sheesh! No wonder the majority of alcoholics fall off the wagon as many times as we do before we finally get our crap together and truly make it work. I think that is my biggest fear. Hitting a milestone marker and "celebrating" by having a drink. Because the thinking in our minds is that we have been sober for X number of days/months/years, so what will one drink hurt is. One won't have any effect. I am extremely realistic in this journey. I know that at some point, that I will do that exact thinking and I'll trip up. 

This is not something that most just casually toss to the side. I wish I could really have you all step inside my head for even just an hour so you could truly understand what goes on inside the brain of an alcoholic. It's not pretty. It doesn't even remotely begin to make any sort of nonsensical sense. It's all a jumble. 

And this is where I am right this moment. Because I can't anticipate what will be happening in the next. So, I deal. Sorta.

May 26, 2012:

Intolerance, anger, family and the urge to "understand" or "fix" me

I spent this evening at my meeting with my fellow crazies, otherwise known as my fellow alcoholics, and we each own that. We each took different paths to get there, but the important thing is that we got there. Some of them say that "The state of Texas 'suggested' I come to AA" and we all chuckle, and I am sure some of you will read that and wonder what is so funny about it. Well, that's why we all say we're crazy. There is a fine line between sane and insane...we know we walk that fine line each day that we wake up and make the decision to NOT drink that day. 

Now, I want to share something. I come from a long line of crazy. I come from a long line of strong willed people. I come from a long line of "fixers". I had a conversation with someone today that told me they were praying for me, but there were a couple we know that were not praying for me. I feel like a pariah because I broke the sacred family rule...I acknowledged that I have a problem so that means that there is now no way to unacknowledge the giant pink elephant in the room. Denial is NOT a river in Egypt my friends, but it's something that some people I know live by. If you don't want to pray for me, that's fine. I'm not angry. Please don't be angry at me for having the courage to openly state that I have a disease. I cannot be "fixed" and unless YOU are an alcoholic, then the honest truth is that you will NEVER understand where I am, what I have gone through, what I am going through or what I will continue to battle. That's okay! You don't have to fix me. I'm not broken. I am just sick and fighting a disease that still baffles most. 

Intolerance...let's talk about this. I am 11 days sober today. I do not look down my nose on anyone for whatever their circumstances. However; people have intolerance for me right now. They cannot tolerate the fact that I am just being honest. Not brutally so, just truly looking inside me and the demons I have to conquer. If at any point, you "help" someone by tearing them down and making them feel completely inadequate, so that you can feel better about yourself...you are exhibiting intolerance and just downright horrid behavior. If you are an alcoholic and you want to come talk to me, then talk to me like you would anyone else, don't try to tear me down in order to build yourself up and place yourself on a pedestal. When you fall, I will not be there to laugh or point, but I will be on solid footing waiting to hold my hand out to you and help you back up. Because that is what alcoholics do, those of us that are getting help, we reach out to others and talk to them and offer them help that we receive. 

I was not one of those who received a visit from some members of AA. I was not a "social" drinker, meaning that I did not go to a bar to drink with others. Oh sure, if I was out with others, I would have some drinks. Most usually I lost count of what all I drank and a couple of times, I drank enough and was "functional" enough that a few of my drinks were on the house. How sad is that? A person can drink enough that would make a normal person pass out and I could pass a sobriety test. I'd blow off the charts though if they had me take a breathalyzer test though...no doubt in my mind...I would have been put in a holding cell to sleep it off. Thank goodness I have a husband who loves me and never once allowed me to go to the bars alone, not that he didn't trust me, but he would make sure I was not bothered while I got plastered. For the most part, I drank at home, alone. I didn't have a bartender to cut me off, because I was my own bartender. Had I gotten one of those visits from members of AA, at the time I would have listened, taken their information, thanked them for coming and then I would have thrown their literature in the garbage. I didn't have a problem. We had family issues that gave me a reason for drinking. I had personal demons that gave me a reason to hide in a bottle. I'd justify my drinking any way I could. Chicken parmesan for dinner? Well, you should have a nice glass of wine with that pasta dish, you know...to help bring out the flavors. Weather forecast predicted a 20% chance of rain...come to find out that Noah probably should have built an Ark for my front yard...I can't go out and do anything in the rain, so I'm gonna stay in and have a drink. 

I was of the thought that an alcoholic started drinking before noon. I wasn't an alcoholic. I didn't drink before noon. Heck no. I'd go in and get my glass down, set the whiskey bottle on the counter and when the clock said 12:01, I poured my first drink. I didn't drink BEFORE noon...so I didn't have a problem. Everyone else had a problem. It was 5 o'clock somewhere. Blah, blah, blah. Britney got a good grade. I celebrated with a drink. Britney got in trouble at school. I dealt with it  by having a drink. Pat was in a bad mood. I drank his bad mood away. Angry? Have a drink. Happy? Have a drink. Depressed? Drink it away. 

My family doesn't understand. One wants to know what is the "root" of the problem. Well, what I am learning is that there is no "root" of the problem that can be "fixed". This is truly a disease and one that can be treated. I will never have a day in my life where I won't be an alcoholic. However; I will eventually have more days that are good than I have days where I am withdrawing. Eventually, I will be able to fully live my life. My days will be replaced with actually living instead of craving a drink and white knuckling through the urge to fix a drink. 

However; I made it through another day. With God's grace, I made it through. I want to share this last thing and then I am calling this done. Each meeting is opened with The Serenity Prayer and we end each meeting with The Lord's Prayer. So if there is anyone reading this that thinks you may have a problem with alcohol. I will ask that you attend a local AA meeting. There are no judgements made and even if you don't have a belief in God, that is okay as well. Only when you start working the steps are you asked to recognize God as YOU understand it in your life...essentially, you just need to recognize that there is SOME KIND of higher power that will help you overcome your struggles. We do not recognize any one specific higher power, but my personal belief system is that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and He is my higher power. 

Thanks for listening to my babble. 
My name is Dee and I am alcoholic. 
And that's all I got right now. 

May 30, 2012:

14 Days!

Celebrate the small victories, don't worry about what tomorrow may be, and thank God for the fact that He gave you today to live. Right now, that is how I am having to live my life. Celebrating the small victories. 

I am 14 days sober today. 14 days. Two weeks. I am so close to my half way point to my 30 day sober chip and I want to jump up and down and clap! I haven't had an urge to take a drink in three days now. I'm still dealing with some residual withdrawal symptoms. Mainly shaking and stuttering, but mentally I am in a much better place. Oh, I forgot the sweats. Yeah, I sweat...for sure. Worse than any hot flash ever hit me. My body is finally filtering out the toxins I ingested. Yay!