Day 31

When God leads you to the edge of the cliff, trust Him fully and let go. He’ll either catch you when you fall or he’ll teach you how to fly. I love this! I got this in an email from a dear friend and I have finally got my wings. I cannot wait to give them a test run. I’m still in training.

Odd things have been happening at my house. For instance, since I quit drinking, I have gotten my daughter to bed 2 hours early than her old bedtime. She gets a bath, puts jammies on, brushes her teeth, and then I read her books. I got my first library card in my adult years. Another first! I get four to five new books from the library each day and I read them to her. Then she crawls up the ladder to the top bunk of her new bunk bed and I read her ‘Five Little Sleepyheads’ and ‘The Going to Sleep Book’. She always makes me read ‘Five Little Sleepyheads’ twice. I inserted a picture of her on the last page so when it says “...and goes to sleep so that leaves YOU!”, I move my hand and there she is. She giggles every time. It makes have to read the same book twice so worth it.

I know I’ve gotten quite the response in the past when I bring up the painful truth of my past, but it is a very important part of treatment. I don’t do it to dwell on the past. This will be the third alcohol treatment I’ve been through. The only difference is that I’ve created it. I finally know what works with my personality type. The other treatment programs didn’t add wonderful moments to my life and quickly build new fresh sober memories. This is my way of making even the slightest urge to drink a deadly move. There was a lot at stake before, but now I would lose so much more.

The reason my daughter is willing to go to bed two hours earlier than when I drank is she enjoys her new mom. She didn’t know any different before. Now that she sees what I’m capable of, I want it to stay that way. Normal for her used to be going to bed without a bath, without someone to read to her, and without being tucked in. When it was dark outside it meant mom was probably going to pass out soon. She would then find my limp body, whether it be in a chair, on the couch, or in bed, and snuggle herself to sleep next to my non responsive body. She’d fall asleep in the same clothes she wore that day without brushing her teeth. No one read to her. No one came when she called.

This wasn’t every night. I did try to get her tucked in before I ‘hit the bottle’ most of the time, but if I’d start early this was what I imagine she did. I don’t honestly know because I don’t remember. This is so difficult to talk about. I never want to go back there. I never want to be that monster again. I will make it my goal to outweigh every bad memory with dozens of good ones.

Step 5 - Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs

Here is one the twelve steps of sobriety. They are steps used by some of the greatest recovery centers in history. The hardest part is admitting our wrongs to another human being. But it is important to be accountable.

God, please forgive me.

Day 30

I’ve been sober for 30 days. I’ve been sober for 30 days. This is the longest conscious effort I’ve ever made! (other than being pregnant with my daughter, but that was simple) Today I would have received a 30 day medallion if I physically attended an AA meeting.

I’m awarding myself a virtual 30 day medallion because 30 days IS a big deal. Yeah me! Congratulations!

My doctor’s mother received her 30 years medallion this year. Wow! I don’t even want to think that they make those. My anxiety about ‘forever’ kicks in…go to your happy place, one day at a time, one day at a time:)

When I reached this milestone I’ve gotten unenthused about the whole thing. It just seems so yesterday to me. It feels like 6 months, but it’s only been 30 frickin’ days! Then at the same time I think, OMG it’s been 30 days! It’s such an off realization.

I’ve always had a poor concept of time. For instance, I see these people on The Biggest Loser lose 285 pounds in one year and I think holy shit! I could sacrifice a year and go through boot camp to lose an entire me! But then the next day I’ll see some weight loss supplement infomercial where some lady lost 40 pound in 3 months and I think I could NEVER do that. I guess if I took it one day at a time, I’d be 1/ 3 of the way there by now.

I’m still waiting for that exercise addiction to kick in. The only addiction that I’ve developed was one to Reese’s Puffs cereal, diet coke, and sugar. I need sugar! My body just craves sugar. I never craved it before because I got it from the bottle every night.

I did have a craving today but I popped open a can of diet coke and that knocked it right out of me. I’m going to continue blogging because I haven’t even put a dent in the twelve step program yet. I want to continue to follow several different treatment methods because it cannot hurt me. The ‘experts’ created these programs and tools so I will put my trust in them. After all, the third times a charm, right?

Day 29

Today I’d like to ask for your help. I’m going to do this the old-fashioned prayer petition style. Please pray with me:

God, please be with my sister and her family right now as they paddle through the whitecaps of another culture. Please offer guidance in a country where many do not call for your help. Please help them communicated and get through this difficult journey.

God, please bless my friend and her unborn Triploidy baby with Spina Bifida. She needs you so much in this difficult decision making time in her life. Please help her and be with her in this time of need.

God, please bless my daughter and keep her safe tonight in her new bunk bed in her own room. Now I lay her down to sleep I pray the Lord her soul to keep, and angels watch her through the night, and keep her in their blessed sight. Amen

Lord, please guide my dad in the right direction and steer him toward the missing piece that is holding him back from something. Because I am so much like him I know when something is off and I sense he is unfulfilled with himself. Also, please help keep his blood pressure low and heart strong so he can carry on this journey.

Although her lungs and heart may not be the strongest, she has done laps around everyone in the selfless department of constant caring. Please let my mother be around for years to come as I would be blessed to have my daughter even become a fraction like her and her father.

God, please continue to keep my eldest sisters family in good hands and keep them safe and happy.

Please be with my friend and her dad during his battle with lung cancer.

God, please help comfort Farmer’s wife and family and be with his spouse during these grieving times. Please guide her in the direction of peace and understanding.

Please give me strength to stay sober and help me continue in your direction.

AMEN

Day 28

I’ve been leery about writing Day 28 because 28 days represents the total length for many treatment programs. It’s not just a Sandra Bullock movie. After 28 days of constant awareness of your problem, and after 28 days of gathering all the tools you need for survival, they release you into the wild in hopes you won’t strike again.

I’ve delayed typing Day 28 because this is when I should wrap this up and go on my own. I’m ready, but I will miss this. For the first time in the history of this blog, I’ve run out of things to say.

I’m not sure if I’ll be back

Day 27

This morning is April 24, 2010 and I'm really starting Day 29 but I'm behind on my blogging. This is only a good sign if I've been busy doing good things and not been busy relapsing. I'm happy to say that I have been having a blast trying new things! I played tennis with my sister-in-law which should have been on You Tube. I was a little rusty but it came back to me quickly like riding a bike. I didn't say I was any good but it was fun. It was a lot better than I anticipated. I was picturing me being like Pheobe on the episode of Friends where Pheobe and Rachel go jogging together. I cannot wait until match 2.

The next day I threw our bikes in the van and we headed up to the park. My daughter and I rode around the bike trails and then went back and forth and played on the two different playgrounds. It was a riot. She met new little friends and it was the first time we had done something like that on a work night. She informed me she'd like to go everyday. I didn't tell her this, but so do I.

My body feels like I got hit by a bus because I'm out of shape. Oh, speaking of out of shape, I forgot about my embarrassing getting old mom moment #2. It's up there with the meat market incident. At the park we go to, there are tennis courts, a basketball court, sand volleyball courts, horseshoes, 2 playgrounds, and 2 ball fields. We live in the middle of the country and this park is only 1 mile away so we are blessed to have it out here. Softball leagues are starting up soon and so there were some college aged guys practicing at one of the fields. My daughter and I pulled up on our bikes, parked them, and proceeded to the playground. One of the guys yelled, "Hey, can you get that ball?" Excited because I used to pitch softball and used to have an arm, I ran for the ball behind me and attempted to throw it to him.

I had 2 things working against me, my age and the fact that my shoulders and arms were spent by our so called tennis match. There was another big obstacle in the way, the fence. If you've ever been to a ball field note the fence behind home plate. It is taller than the fence surrounding the rest of the field. Lets just say the fence does just as good of a job keeping balls in the field as it does OUT.

As my new found love for athleticism took over, I attempted to launch the softball over the fence. OMG! My muscles tensed up and I felt like I dislocated my elbow as I watched the ball slowly bounce of the fence and come right back at me. It was so embarrassing! Not as embarrassing as the meltdown my toddler had when she grabbed the ball and said , "I can do it mommy" and took off running with the ball. So now we're providing live cat and mouse entertainment for the guys. They decided to continue to 'play ball' and I continued to chase her around as she's screaming "I want to throw it!". She finally finds an opening in the fence and bolts onto the field and throws a noodle armed cute little girl throw, just like her mommy to the batter. Not the pitcher, the batter.

Life is going to be full firsts from now on, and America's funniest home videos. Before I quit drinking, I'd get off work, rush home to make supper and get everyone to bed, just so I could selfishly sit and drink. It was unheard of to go to a park on a work night. There was barely enough time to get supper made, do a load of laundry, and drink. When you quit drinking you not only add years to your life, but you add hours to each day. Now I get off work, come home, clean a little, go do something fun with my daughter, come home, make supper, do more with my daughter, tuck her in, relax and watch TV with my husband until he goes to bed, then do laundry, dishes, and finally, relax and blog.

We've all experienced benefits from my quitting. I love my new life! I love being a 'good sore'. I love my daughter so much. I cannot wait to provide her with a memorable childhood just like my own.

Day 26

I’m starting out today by answering the questions from my comments from Day 24. The ’11 good years left comment’ was just me doing the math on my lifeline if my ‘life’s purpose=death’ theory were true. I’m not the greatest at math so maybe just ignore that part of my post. The ‘end of my journey’ comment was also a part of that whole theory. Don’t worry Big Sis, there are no crazy hidden messages or meanings by that.



I should probably elaborate on my theory a little bit. I have buried many loved ones for my age. I remember every detail of every wake and funeral I’ve attended. My first wake was when I was a very little girl. My great grandmother died of old age. I can replay the entire thing in my head like it were yesterday.


My second funeral wasn’t until my senior year in high school. There was a big party out in the country. On their way home from the party, my classmate and his brother hit a deer. They pulled over and my classmate, who was a hunter, went to drag the deer out of the middle of the road so no one else would hit it. At that very moment, another car didn’t see him or the deer and hit him. He was killed right in front of his own brother. The funeral is etched in my memory. Many people wore blaze orange. He didn’t even look like the boy I knew in the casket. Although they tried hard to stitch up an mend his face; you still couldn’t recognize him. It was very sad.

The next funeral was also extremely sad. A second cousin of mine became sick with spinal meningitis that turned fatal. She died very suddenly. It happened so quickly and even the Mayo Clinic couldn’t save her. It was unexplainable and heart breaking


My husband and I were both friends with another classmate who died suddenly while driving with his fiancé. One minute he had his finger in his mouth pushing on the hole that once housed his freshly extracted wisdom tooth, and the next minute he was dead. The invitations had been sent for the wedding and the wedding shower had already took place. This was one of the most depressing wakes we had gone to. The line was longer than I’d ever seen. This happens when the good die young. I will never forget how his mother and fiancé had to be drugged because they were both hysterical. His fiancé was almost giddy and high from the tranquilizers that helped her make it through the wake.


Then a little after high school another friend who loved life, fast cars, and even piloted his own planes, died in a tragic crash. He died doing what he loved, but unfortunately didn’t see the deadly corner ahead. He was loved by so many. I still think of him often.


The hardest death I will never understand was that of a friend of both me and my husband again. My husband worked with him for awhile and we were all friends and partied often too. He was the life of the party and a great guy with a young son and a brand new baby. In fact, the night he was murdered he was celebrating the new birth of his son at a downtown bar with a few friends. He somehow managed to upset a bouncer who was pumped full of steroids and he tackled him and choked him and took his last breath. This steroid freak was so angry he sucked the life right out of our dear friend. The ambulance came but it was too late. The weight of the bouncer and the amount of time he was unconscious had killed every brain cell until he was a vegetable. He was brain dead and in a coma and God finally took him and his family out of their misery and took him home. I am still so angry at piece of sh-t bouncer that won in court and didn’t have to sit one frickin’ day in jail for killing our friend. He will rot in hell one day. He will pay. My husband and I live near his grave and go by it often. Why did he have to go? How can any monster get away with this? Last I heard he is still working as a bouncer. Who would hire that murderer?


These are just a few of the young friends we’ve lost. This doesn’t even put a dent in our death toll. My husband has lost two grandmas, a grandpa, three uncles, two of them were also dear friends who we think of every day. I also lost close family as I lost two grandfathers.


My friend recently lost her dad who lost his battle to esophageal cancer. He was so young and left behind so many wonderful family members. Again, these are only a few deaths I have at the top of my head. These are funerals and wakes of people we actually knew and loved and miss. There are many other incidences were we were involved as support to the family of the deceased.


Every time I walked into that funeral home, every time I approached another casket, every time I hugged family members in a sympathy receiving line, I asked myself why. Why me, why us, why them, why him, why her, why so young, why so tragic, why now! I finally decided that there has got to be a reason these amazing people were taken from us. I’ve always believed everything happens for a reason, so I needed to find that reason.


So this is how my theory came about. This is when I decided that God needed them more than we did on Earth. This is when I came up with the idea that these people had clearly found their purpose here on Earth and were no longer needed. They could go serve their purpose in heaven now. I created this belief to cope with horrible losses that were otherwise unexplainable.


To all we have loved and lost, please rest peacefully with the Lord.

Day 25

“The only thing to fear is fear itself.” FDR was right. I have this theory and fear that once we find our purpose in life and ‘God’s will be done’, we die. I believe God’s will is our purpose, and everyday I get closer to life’s purpose I am that much closer to death. Maybe that is could be the reason I tend to hold onto the past and have difficulty healing. I could be making mistakes subconsciously to buy time. Fear is scary and it slows you down.



We begins as an infant, and as we near death, we regress back into our infant state. In my experience, this holds true to the people that die of old age. I worked in the nursing home for years, and the elderly become incontinent like an infant. We change them and bathe them. Then when they get even older, they cannot eat food without choking so we puree their food so they eat. Most start to talk gibberish and they are hard to understand. When you don’t know what they are saying they lash out and express them selves physically. When they are really close to death they even begin to see their parents. They even talk to their parents. It is quite the phenomenon. It’s also very sad because generally once they talk about “mommy and daddy” they are days from death. This isn’t one of my theories, this is how we age and it holds true for 90% of the residents I worked with on comfort care. Comfort care is when the dying process begins. All machines and medicines are withdrawn. The only thing generally given is morphine so they rest comfortably without pain.


Experiencing us age backwards was scary and an eye opener. The healthier I get the closer I feel to the end. My sister-in-law was recently looking for a tennis partner because there’s a court a block from her home. I instantly told her “I’m game!” I was so excited to do something I used to love to do. Then my fear interrupted. I used to play tennis with my best friend when I first moved to Omaha. We were inseparable! We used to play tennis in 5th, 6th, and 7th, grade. We’d just do in for fun at the local court. It wasn’t competitive at all. I miss those innocent days.


I’m scared to begin this non-competitive, alcohol free sport with my sister-in-law. Not only is it a step in the right direction, but its one step closer to the end. Playing tennis when I was 11 and 12 represents one of the last sober memories I had before my addiction swooped in. My friend’s dad was in the military so it was inevitably she moved away eventually. The move hit me hard though. I was so devastated and lost without her. She was a genuine person with a huge heart and a good head on her shoulders.


The new friends who took me under their wing, later drug me down, literally. This is when life began to end. I met one bad influence after the other. I was 400 miles away from my Catholic school and church and most importantly…God. The devil had a blast with my youth. I was easy prey.


I look back at the innocence that was ripped off of me and wish my friend had never left. I wonder what life would’ve been like had she stayed. Ironically, she is in the other side of the country studying what I’ve always wanted to be. She will move onto become what I dreamed of. I am very proud of her and happy for her and hopefully one day I will reconnect with her and live vicariously through her. I didn’t kept in touch due to shame. She wouldn’t have recognized me. She was in a whole other league and wouldn’t understand my world anymore. I wouldn’t be the girl she remembers.


I don’t like to dwell on the past or do the “what if” thing. I will admit I am still nervous to get back on the tennis court. Although I will enjoy it deep down I will have to find peace with being one step closer to the end of my journey. If my timeline follows my theory, I will have 11 good years left.


I wonder if living with this fear that my time is limited as I near my purpose is like finding out you have cancer and you only have so much time to live. Whether my theory is right, or if history repeats itself and I am totally wrong, I am going to treat each day as if it were my last.


If we would all just practice a little more integrity, compassion, and the power of positive thinking, and top it off with a lot of God; this world would be so much healthier for our children and grandchildren.

Day 24

CRAVOMETER: 0

TODAY’S MOOD: Worried

HOMEWORK: Skip the household chores for a day and do what you actually want to do


I’m still shocked I’ve made it to day 24. I’m worried. I feel like my cravometer should be higher. Why does this seem so easy right now? It’s like I’m waiting for the catch, or failure, or something. It just seems too good to be true.


I know it’s this ‘one day at a time’ concept. Besides my biological family, the longest relationships I ever had in my life are with my husband and alcohol. I got hooked on both my senior year in high school. Forever is a long time. I think the reason I was successful with my relationship with my husband is I take him one day at a time. He cannot make a plan. It absolutely used to drive me to drink, literally. I like a plan of action, goals, organization. He is completely random beyond belief.


When I drank I was unorganized and broke plans. Everything revolved around drinking and so it could change depending on how much I drank. For instance, we could have plans to go to dinner with someone in town and if we had been drinking too much, we would have had to cancel because we couldn’t even drive to town. One time we missed our good friend’s wedding because my husband, despite all of my warnings, got way too drunk and I had to take care of him. I’m still upset about that. My point is it’s easier to stick with  something whether it be a relationship, battling addiction, or even a  procrastination list, if you just take it one day at a time.


Once you ‘get over the hump’ and you start to experience life without your drug of choice, you have this whole new life to enjoy. Living again is so weird. Everything changes. All parts of your body are rewarded. First of all your brain thinks much clearer. It also never hurts from hangovers anymore. Your eyes become whiter and brighter. They become less bloodshot, dehydrated, and jaundice from consumption. You can actually smell a whole lot better. This isn’t necessarily a good thing. It’s actually kind of eye opening and disturbing. Your nose becomes sensitive like your first trimester of pregnancy. And finally there’s your taste. Unfortunately, everything tastes better. I think alcohol fries your taste buds or something. I’ve enjoyed things I never even used to like. One really gross thing I’ve discovered is that I’m a Diet Coke connoisseur. Yes, I still have that addiction to battle. Pop in general tastes so different from place to place. The gross part is I can practically tell you when the last time each place had their pop lines cleaned by the flavor of the drink. I’ve actually became quite the beverage germaphobe. Trust me, if there is a canned pop option, do take it.


You begin to experience many firsts. I had my first fire on our patio fireplace without alcohol. It was my husband, daughter, myself and a diet Dr. Pepper. It was very relaxing and we even had some of my favorite drinking buddies stop in and we visited for hours. I actually enjoyed it very much. Had I been drinking I wouldn’t have been able to relax and I would’ve been getting up every 5 seconds to get someone a drink, a blanket, more beer, a drink, popcorn anyone?, a snack. I never used to relax. This is so amazing. I went on my first motorcycle ride and when we stopped at a bar on the lake to enjoy the sunshine and the view, I ordered a diet coke. That felt soooo weird. I feel awkward saying diet without the Bacardi, it’s like a foreign language to me. The scenery was beautiful.


Another odd thing about quitting drinking is many of your ‘theories’ from the past become false. Anything that went wrong in the past was easy to blame on alcohol. Alcoholics are huge blamers anyway, it is NEVER their fault. I thought my morning aches and pains and headaches were from hangovers. It turns out our mattress is just old. I blames my weight on my daughter but then she turned 3 and I couldn’t do that anymore. So I started blaming my weight on alcohol. Now that I’ve quit and I’m 24 days in and not a pound lighter, I’m tempted to blame it on my thyroid:) It’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.


I’d like to develop and exercise addiction. I want to feel good and experience that natural high and energy. I think this would be a huge missing piece to my happiness puzzle. I really need to take this concept one day at a time because if I say I’m going to exercise 3 days a week for an hour each day it’ll never happen. If I say I’ll work out for 10 minutes every other morning it’ll never happen. If people encourage me or try to get me to exercise it’ll never happen. When people give me annoying ‘subtle’ hints that I need to lose weight or exercise, I go four steps back.


This is something I need to take one day at a time and if I take of walk one day and feel the benefits and then another day take my daughter on a bike ride, I may be able to start a healthy fun habit that also will benefit my body. I think the annoying thing is that other people are more bothered by my body than I am. It’s actually quite comical. I’d rather be a very genuinely caring and nice person who is a little overweight than skinny and unhappy.


Going through life unhappy and judging people and talking about people and worrying about what everyone else is doing or not doing has to be such an annoying way to live. The negative outweighing the positive every day would be exhausting. I like to work hard for things so I appreciate them. I don’t like to do things the easy way either. I’m a glutton for punishment and I learn from my mistakes. If I’ve created my body size and I’m unhappy with it I will be the one to fix it on my own terms. I will never do it the easy way and have surgery like so many do. Now, if I had $10,000 just burning a hole in my pocket then I may feel differently.


A lot of people ask me if I’m pregnant or when I’m due. A lot of people tell me I could lose a couple pounds. A lot of people drop unsubtle hints. My problem is that I’m not vain. I tend to look at my priorities. You would think I’d try to lose weight as soon as I spent my first dollar in Lane Bryant. What nobody knew and what was really holding me back was my alcoholism. Why go on a diet and exercise when you are going to go home and polish of a 1500 calorie bottle of sugar?


I believe in taking care of the problem inside before you even attempt the outside. I was suffering day in and day out. I prayed every morning for the last five years in the shower that God would help me quit. I went to bed ashamed and woke ashamed. Everything and everybody reminded me of how fat I had become and I was just crying and screaming for help on the inside to quit drinking. Finally, 24 days ago, God answered my prayer. I just woke up decided to quit, made the doctors appointment, got really drunk the night before for one last hoorah, and that was it. I was done. I can still fell many of the wounds healing and there are many battle scars, but it was worth the run.


When you become healthy inside, this magical thing happens. You start to notice things change on the outside. You may physically be identical to your old self, but your inside starts to creep out and the new you starts to come out to say hello. When you feel better inside you can make better decision that affect your outside. You begin to shine from the inside out.


God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Day 23

CRAVOMETER: 0

TODAYS MOOD: Aware

HOMEWORK:  Do not speak negatively about others

Continued from Day 22…

Three matches are not going to cook a hotdog. So we gathered leaves and kindling to get a fire going. Once our wood teepee was complete is was time to light it. Now remember, I was in charge of the compass, the Boy Scout was in charge of the map, and the girl in the group held the hotdogs and the three little keys to our lunch. Now we were in grade school and young and were told “never to play with matches” The expression when it burnt out immediately was priceless.


The Boy Scout offered his cupped hands as a shield from the breeze and her second attempt was successful. Out of excitement she quickly brought the flame to the teepee but her sudden movement put the match out. By then the Boy Scout’s veins were apparent in his neck and on his forehead and he offered his hands again and scolded her. The third attempt was very slow moving. I could almost feel the match burn her fingers as the flames inched closer. She had barely enough time and just before she experienced her first sulfur before she dropped in on the leaves. They jumped for joy as the leaves ignited and the flames danced. Fire! It burned bright and fast. Now what they didn’t realize is it was October and the leaves had not only just fallen but they weren’t completely dry yet. It still rained a lot and the ground was cold and moist. The flame grew smaller and the Boy Scout fell to his knees and began to wave his hands in a panic to fan the flame and keep it going. His efforts only helped for seconds and the flame turned into smoldering leaves. They were devastated! Not only wouldn’t we get lunch, but we would lose because we had to complete all tasks successfully to win.


It was about this time, in a small town miles away, that my mother was just sitting down on the deck over looking the lake. I was at camp and my sisters were probably at friends’ houses. She probably had a sweetened ice tea at her side and her bare feet propped up enjoying the peace and quiet. It was at this moment that she probably reached for her leather pouch that housed her Vantage 100’s and her lighter. She’d take a cancer stick out, put it in her mouth and realize something was missing.


As my teammates cried I decided to bring out the secret weapon. I hovered down over the smoldering pile of disappointment and lit several areas of the leaves and kindling with my mother’s lighter and poof! We had a fire. As I scooped their jaws off the ground I grabbed the pack of hotdogs and said, “Hungry?” We all laughed and they hugged me and did a victory dance. I was so proud. Thank you God for older sisters and thank you God for my mother’s lighter. We quickly broke branches and speared lunch and cooked the wieners crispy. We ate, put out our fire and continued on the mission.


I was on fire with the compass. I guided us through those woods like Christopher Columbus. My teammates were ecstatic! The woods weren’t foreign to me. Back home I ran 1 mile through the woods each day to meet my best friend John. I wasn’t scared. As we got closer to the lodge we could smell supper in the air. Pretty soon you could see the smoke in the distance coming from the chimney. We were almost there, almost safe and warm, and minutes ahead of schedule.


The compass was attached to a string and was meant to carry around your neck. I took mine off as we got closer and we begin to skip in delight and swing the compass ‘round and ‘round until it gained so much momentum is took off and it was airborne! As it flew further away in slow motion, I remember yelling “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” And then SPLAT! It was gone in the blink of an eye. In normal geographical conditions this would’ve have been okay. We could’ve just went and picked it up and been on our way. But this wasn’t an option. No, it had to land in the forbidden bog.


A bog is an arctic swamp. They are highly acidic and release stinky sulfur smells and carbon dioxide and are actually very flammable. They have rotting vegetation and lichens and mosses and also have black holes. They are very dangerous if you walk in them as there are black holes that can swallow you without return. Walking in a bog would be like walking in quicksand with cement block for shoes. It is the point of no return. In my case, it was where victory met defeat. As we sat there devastated, the other teams began to run past one by one.


We learn a very strict lesson on cheating that day. We also swore never to speak of the magical lighter. I decided the legendary lighter deserved a proper burial so I chucked it into the bog to be with the compass, its predecessor.


This story went down in my book of virtues. Addiction is like this too. You have really high highs and really low lows. There is victory and then defeat. Even if you have a compass you can still lead down the wrong path.

Day 22

CRAVOMETER:  0
TODAYS MOOD:   Content

HOMEWORK:  Compliment the one you love

My thank you notes and daily compliments ideas from yesterday’s post required too much space so I’m keeping three of the 5 additions. Sorry dad, I broke two of your rules with that last blog. I should’ve KISSED and never ASSUMED. For those of you who don’t know, KISS is short for Keep It Simple Stupid, and you’re never supposed to assume because it can make an ASS out of U and ME. I was making this blogging way to complicated and I assumed people were just sympathy reading and commenting.

Another thing I wanted to change about my posts but decided against is putting a ‘title with description’ on each post to sum them up. That way if it’s a topic you are not interested in, you could skip it and save yourself the time reading it. The only problem with that is writing comes from the heart. My blogging is random and spontaneous and honest. I just sit down and let my fingers go on autopilot. You are going to hate me but I cannot help it…….”Writings like a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna geeeaat.”


When I first quit drinking the hardest part was the cravings. I should’ve had the cravometer then. It would’ve been back and forth and moving like crazy. I’m picturing an old compass. When you first turn to new direction, the arrow swings from East to West and wobbles back and forth and just when you think it’s not working correctly, it settles in at North and you’re on your way in the right direction again. What’s that fingers, you have a story to tell and you cannot hold back? Okay here it goes….sorry Dad.


Sobriety is like a compass, your mind is steered one way and then the other and just when you think you want to give up and relapse, you straighten out and take the next brave step in the right direction. This takes me back to childhood where I should have learned a very important lesson but instead I just have a funny memory I would like to share.


In grade school we went on a fieldtrip overnight to an educational camp called Lake Beauty. It was a beautiful lake nestled in the woods surrounded by bogs, tamarack forests, and deep woods. It was truly God’s country. The whole class went. There was a lodge and a few bunking quarters. The girls stayed in one cabin and the boys in another. They were actual log cabins filled with bunk beds and cots. Each day, we were assigned a task or mission. They were meant to make you learn how to survive in the wilderness and as a team.


The first lesson was ridiculous, or so I thought at the time. They paired us up with classmates, handed us each a paddle, and pushed our canoes out onto the lake. Our goal was to do a lap around the lake and get further instruction when we got back. There were always ‘incentives’. As a kid incentive meant, on your mark, get set, GO! I could hear the gunshot go off in my head. “Come on Pam! We can do this!” “Paddle!” As we canoed in circles I could feel my blood begin to boil. The boys were half way across the lake already thanks to the frickin’ boy scouts and we’re going in circles! All the girls were either going in circles or tipped over frantically swimming to shore then bawling because the water was frigid. It was October in Minnesota ya know.


I grew up on a lake. I knew how to paddle and steer a canoe, I knew how to slow one down or speed one up. I couldn’t take it. At that weak moment in my life, I learned how to delegate. “Quick! Put your paddle in the canoe and hold on!” Did you know water becomes a solid when you have a destination. The first couple of paddles feel like you’re pulling the canoe with an elephant across the land. With determination, each attempt gets easier and easier and you are suddenly cutting glass across the lake. When you get up to an incredible speed you pull your paddle in and only rotate occasional swipes when you feel the canoe slowing down. We were gaining on the boys! You should’ve seen the fear in Pam’s eyes. Canoes are a little scary at first. Getting in the vessel is a challenge to begin with. Once you finally get in, it’s just you and the lake. The canoe sinks down and you are literally sitting below the water and your upper body is above the water. You become part of the lake. I guess now I can see why she may have been a little intimidated. After all, I was the captain and she was my mate which means her back was facing our destination and the camp counselors were getting smaller and smaller the faster I went.


She must have been praying for a miracle, because all of a sudden the sky opened up and the biggest snowflakes I’ve ever seen in my life started falling slowly from the sky. It was the first snow fall of the year! My favorite! It was one of the most beautiful things I will never forget. The lake had a wall of Norway pines as a border. The reflection of these 40 foot wonders almost met in the middle of the lake, and because it was snowing the sky was white and overcast. The giant fluffy snowflakes were falling onto the lake and the reflection looked like the night sky full of stars twinkling. The flakes were so gigantic that went they landed they took a couple seconds to melt. This gave you enough time to appreciate the symmetrical mapping of each flake. God was amazing.


Pams prayer was answered as every canoe was still and there wasn’t a ripple on the lake. We all were paralyzed by this wonder. It suddenly stopped and the race became a peaceful ride back to the shore. Something was happening at Lake Beauty, something big. It was at that moment in time Mike decided he was going to become an explorer and canoe for a living. Pam decided when she got home she’d take swimming lessons and go on and become an EMT. The girls on shore shivering like drowned rats told themselves they would never go camping, and would only stay in hotels for the rest of their lives. I myself was only thinking of the next mission. I had a huge surprise no one in the history of this camp had ever seen.


You see, I had older sisters that had been to Lake Beauty before. They had told me horror stories to try to scare me but little did they know they were just preparing me. They gave us a pack of hotdogs, three matches, and compass. A camp counselor took us way out into the woods, and our goal was to get back to the camp safety. We had a map with the compass as our guide. With the forest towering us there was no way to see camp, and the forest was too thick to let the sun be our guide. It was very scary. There were three of us in every group. One would be in charge of lunch and carried the matches and the hotdogs, one held the map, and I was in charge of guiding with the use of a compass. This is where I learned how the compass works. It almost psychs you out every time. It was a skill. You had to have a steady hand.


When we got about half way through the map, we stopped for lunch. This is where I became a legend.


To be continued...

Day 21.5

Today I'd like to talk about the comments I've received. I appreciate and love the support. I think it's great that my family for the first time in years has a daily family meeting. What a great gift to have even your parents supporting you at this age. Thank you.


Now here comes the but... I've always had a very hard time accepting compliments and I've never liked to draw attention to myself. This blog does both. Its wonderful therapy for my addiction, but it also helps me accept compliments and brings attention to myself. I need to learn how to accept both gracefully, but until then...


I don't want any of my loved ones to think they need to comment. I'm only bringing this up because I know all of you very well. I know you're thinking "I wouldn't comment if I didn't want to, I'm doing it because I like to and love you." I know, but I also know that part of you probably thinks that if you don't comment I'll think you've quit reading, or I'll start drinking again, or you don't care. This will not happen. I just want you to know that I know you are there for me no matter what. I appreciate and love the comments, but I also feel bad about them. I feel like I've obligated you to something else in your busy lives and that you think I need you to read daily and that's not the message I want to send.

Basically, I feel selfish, and you know how much I loath selfishness! So I decided to change a few things so the blog is more user friendly. This gives you a chance to screen it and decide if you want to continue reading. I'm adding a few things:


1. CRAVOMETER: This new addition to the blog lets you know how I'm doing without having waste time while in a hurry. This will be on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being 'ready to relapse'. This way if you don't have much time, but still want to be there for me you can gage how many comments and support you think I need. For instance, if the 'cravometer' reads 4, I'm okay. If the next day, it's 5, then 6, then 7, then 8, feel free to jump in any time.


2. TODAY'S MOOD: Because this is the closest thing I have to a Facebook, 'today's mood' will be like my 'Status'. This feature will help let you know before reading the blog what kind of mood I'm in. That way, if you prefer the serious posts but are annoyed with the sarcastic ones you can screen it to save yourself the disappointment.


3. DAILY THANK YOU NOTE: A way for me to give thanks daily. This is also very therapeutic.


4. DAILY COMPLIMENT: This gives me the opportunity to give back to my friends and family. The comments you've provided are so heart felt and help so much. They are daily compliments in my eyes and I thank you for this. This will give me the chance to recognize you 'givers' out there.


5. DAILY HOMEWORK: This is just a fun addition for you self-help junkies out there who love a challenge.

For those of you who think I'm crazy, just read comment number one on Day 21 blog.  The Old Feller makes me laugh.  Just for his sake, I've decided in addition to all of my new additions, I will also start naming my blog posts.  The name will be like a Chapter title in a book.  I will make sure it appropriately sums up the post for even more 'easy reading', or not reading.  Example:  Day 21 would've been titled TIPS FOR WEIGHT LOSS SUCCESS.  Had I labeled it, The Old Feller could've saved himself a minute or two.  Hee hee.

Day 21

Today I turned 31 and hit 21 days of sobriety. 21 days feels really good. It’s calm, relaxed, laid back and wonderful. I’ve developed this patience I never had before. I actually let my almost 3 1/2 year old daughter paint my toenails and finger nails last night. She told me while she was doing it that “I was the coolest mom in our community and she wasn’t even joking”. She dripped polish on the rug, made my fingers and toes look like they were all bleeding and it didn’t even faze me. Prior to my quitting, I wouldn’t even considered this. I love patience!


My heart feels great also. My anxiety is low which stops my palpitations, my arrhythmia hasn’t hit me for a month, and my blood pressure is lower from absence of alcohol. I’m 31 going on 25. One of the things I’d like to work on now is my weight. The first two weeks of sobriety I kept thinking why can’t I just get addicted to exercise or sex or something that would make me look good? My husband would love either counter addiction and my body would be rockin’. But then I caught another annoying news clip of Tiger Woods and I decided that the sex addiction wouldn’t be the healthiest. If I try to create the exercise addiction, I will definitely blog daily about it and you can all join a hysterical journey with me. It will be hilarious, I promise.


I know I’ll be able to stick to it if I journal daily because it works. I’ve got 21 days of sobriety to prove it. For any of my friends addicted to food, let me offer a word of advice. I’ve tried every diet they’ve ever made and the only thing that actually worked for me was food journaling. I was held accountable for everything I ate and when you have to document not only what you ate, but how much and the nutritional value, you think twice the next time you want to eat those comfort foods. Trust me, when you start realizing you take in more than your daily 2000 its eye opening. Also, there are kick ass websites for food journaling that do all the calculations for you. You just search for the food or drink and it automatically tallies up everything you need. It has daily activities as simple as walking to your vehicle in the parking lot to walking a mile. (Do you like my wide range of exercise? Most people would think… walking to your vehicle to running a marathon. Not this whipper snapper.) You can click literally click on ‘took a shower’ and it’ll calculate how many calories you burned. At the end of the day you can see how many more calories you need to burn or even intake (because part of losing weight is actually taking in enough calories also) so you can talk a quick walk or eat if needed.


These websites are amazing tools. I suggest starting out by Googling ‘free daily diet journals’ or ‘free daily diet logs’ and looking at a few. Once you’ve found two you think look good, join both. For the first week, log on both sites not only to see which one is user friendlier, but if they accurate. If one seems a little off, double check it’s stats. Even do some research on consumer reports? I’ve learned not to trust everything I Google or read on the internet. Some people prefer Bing or Yahoo, but I’m a true Googler. I tend to get distracted with Bing beautiful background and Yahoo is advertisement city.


I think I almost just talked myself into dieting again. I shouldn’t say diet. The definition of diet in my book is ‘temporarily losing weight and then gaining back twice as much when you quit’. So technically the definition of diet is ‘Gaining the amount of weight you intend to lose’. OMG! I’ve been at this all wrong. I would like to start eating better so I either maintain my current weight or lose a few inches. I hate to do this because my mother has more than quoted Tim McGraw on her comments; (and my husband despises Tim McGraw) but I keep getting his song stuck in my head ‘My next 30 years’. There’s a verse that says “In my next 30 years, I’m gonna watch my weight, eat a few more salads and not stay up so late; drink a few more lemonades and not so many beers, Lord have mercy on my next 30 years.” True that.


When I’ve gotten the reigns a little tighter on this addiction thing and I’m looking for my next challenge, I will tackle weight loss. I will let you know because a few of my friends who follow this blog have admitted to food addiction. We can do it together! It’ll be fun…ny! We can be extremely honest, share hilarious exercise stories, and I’ll even journal everything I consume in a day including a caloric total on the blog. We would have great support. I’ve even got a cheer leading squad I’d share with you! They are my commentary family…hey guys! It’s just an idea that would be challenging, fun, and I know we could do it together.


My problem while I drank wasn’t food addiction, but more a ‘eat like crap the next day’ problem. If you watch your salt intake, you lose weight, and you crave less salty foods. The same goes for sugar. It’s amazing. When you eat fast food, you crave fast food and you get into this unstoppable cycle. If you eat salads and Subway you crave good foods and veggies. The body is amazing…ly annoying. When I drank alcohol, I craved alcohol. Alcohol is sugar. Now that I don’t drink alcohol, my body still thinks it needs sugar. I’m showing you my new food problem. Sugar. I crave sugar. I crave anything sweet and this is not good. I need to watch it so I don’t counter addict sweets. Why can’t man live on Salted Nut Rolls alone?


I’m feeling great today! I got up at 6:30 this morning; something I haven’t done on ‘the day after my birthday morning’ in years. Day 22 here we come!

Day 20

Thank you for the comments. Once again you guide me in the right direction and help me. As I've said before, this blog is such great therapy, but I've recently found 2 more therapeutic aids it provides. I analyze everything! You wouldn't think so with my history of decision making, but I do. Lately I've been down on myself about my past and I've been thinking, "Maybe I don't have a disease and I've just taken this long to grow up. Maybe I'm just extremely slow or even mentally challenged. Normal people get their college degree before their 24 years of age and pursue their clean wholesome lives by 28 and people like me just admire them when they turn 30." So these are the kind of thoughts that cross my mind. Then as I sat here this morning thinking of what topic to cover for Day 20, I checked my comments. My mom gives great commentary as usual and makes me feel better with Tim McGraw quotes. Then my father jumps in and totally justifies everything by stating that Jesus didn't start his public career until age 30!



I'm definitely not comparing myself to Jesus by any means, but that sure made me fell MUCH better. Its wonderful reminders like this that put life in perspective. I guess now that I think about it, it makes sense. For instance, I don't have a regular doctor. I go to huge clinic where doctors come and go. Every doctor I've ever liked and became comfortable with has left the clinic. I have this way about me. My alcohol treatment counselor, about a dozen doctors, interesting... Anyways, when I call the clinic to schedule my annual physical they ask me who I see. I usually reply, "Whoever you give me." Then when they say what date I would like I reply, "I don't care about the date, I just prefer a middle aged woman who is a little overweight." When they laugh I always reassure them that I'm serious and Walla, I get my appointment.


The reason I have these preferences is I once had and anal probe down years ago by a beautiful 5'3" size 2 fresh out of her residency and I about had a heart attack. It may have had I little bit to do with the pre colonoscopy appointment probing which included something that looked like a speculum with a flash light attached. I swore at that moment I'd die of colon cancer before I ever go there again. I also pledged it was the LAST time I let some child experiment on me.


Point of story with TMI, (for you old codgers out there that's texting short hand for Too Much Information :))
with age comes wisdom. I can go to bed tonight without thinking I'm just an imateur late bloomer. Thank you mom and dad.

Day 19

April is Alcohol awareness month. How appropriate and ironic that I will be no longer be 30 this month, and I’ll be celebrating my 30th day of sobriety. I have a few goals I like to lay out on the table since this accountability thing is really working for me.

I’d like to continue to pay off debt with the money I save from not buying alcohol and be debt free by 2011. I’d like to get more in touch with my spirituality. I’d like to lose weight. I’d like to read to my daughter more. I’d like to take my daughter to church. I’d like to continue doing research about raising local awareness in teenagers about the consequences of using alcohol. I’d like to set some goals and guidelines with my husband before my blog posse does it for me: ;) And last but definitely not least, I’d like to do all of this while maintaining my sobriety.

I’ve become extremely passionate about the lack of education in our school systems regarding alcohol abuse. I’ve said it before, but I’m walking proof that the D.A.R.E. program just isn’t enough. I got these statistics from the American Academy of Child & Adoleschent Psychiatry’s article ‘Facts for Families’.

“An estimated 20 million adults in the United States abuse alcohol. More than half of these alcoholics started drinking heavily when they were teenagers.  There’s no question that drinking is a problem in most high schools. Alcohol is our most pervasive drug. Teens have access to it at parties, can obtain it from older friends who are of legal age to buy it, or may simply raid their parents’ liquor cabinets. Moreover, unlike drug use, the moderate use of alcohol is considered perfectly acceptable in most adult social circles. Teens see their parents enjoying a cocktail after work or having a glass of wine at dinner. Drinking comes to represent a very sophisticated and adult thing to do mom and Dad do it...why shouldn’t I? the teen may reason. Parental acceptance of moderate to heavy use, however, may send the message that alcohol use has little inherent danger.

All alcohol use by teens should be regarded as dangerous, not only because of the risk of alcoholism but because teen drinkers put themselves in harm’s way. Each year more that 10,000 young people in the United States are killed and 40,000 injured in alcohol-related automobile accidents…”

The statistics are shocking and go on and on. I will have served one of my purposes in life if I somehow impact teenagers by sending the message and leaving horrible real life images in their head of what can eventually happen if they experiment with alcohol.

I need to continue to work on myself for a long time before that goal is accomplished. What kind of research guinea pig would’ve I been if I didn’t suffer several different kinds of pain over the years? Everything happens for a reason, right?

Okay, I’ll end with something a little lighter than all of this. I had an extremely difficult time last year with turning 30 because it just hit me that I was really getting old. I recently found peace in getting older because as we all know, you become wiser. I also accepted being in my 30’s by convincing myself that I would utilize my 30’s as maintenance years; you know, to try and mend what I had abused and damaged in my teenage years and 20’s. Well, it hit me even harder yesterday.

I turn 31 this week. Everything was fine and life was good until I didn’t recognize the goon on the front cover of the people magazine. The headline read, “World’s hottest 16 year old” or something along those lines, and I had no idea who the little twerp was. Not only did I not have a clue who he was, but I thought he was hideous! This is who the girls think is the greatest these days? Then when I joked about who the heck this kid was all the girls in their 20’s knew his name.

Am I getting that old? Ouch! Then I proceeded to tell them that People was way off and that the world’s hottest 16 year old in the world worked at Von Hansen’s, the meat market across the street. They all looked at me like I was their mother talking to them about sex. Ouch again!

Good thing I didn’t tell them that this hot little meat slicer actually made me blush. He asked me if I knew who won the Twin’s game, and when I replied Twins 5-1, he winked at my and smiled like I was ‘the shit’! Oh, and BTW little puma pups, when he asked me what I was doing that evening, I actually hid my left hand and replied, “Oh, you know.” Oh you know! OMG! What the hell kind of lame answer was that? I mean, yes I’m married and yes I’m old and yes I’m overweight and a little rusty on the flirting, but what the hell kind of answer was that?

Don’t worry young girls, this cougar totally redeemed herself when she paid for her meat and hopped in her mini van. The one frickin’ day I park right in front! Argh!

Can you tell I’m getting old and having a pre-mid-life crisis? I considered simple sport’s small talk flirting. I should have my husband read this. I’m clearly deprived of male attention. I’ll catch up with y’all on the big Day 20!

Day 18

I cannot believe it! 18 days is incredible. I'm sorry about the last 2 depressing days. The doctor was right! I'm so thankful for the antabuse after Saturday and Sunday. It's crazy how fast your feelings can change. One minute I'm asking the doctor if I need antabuse anymore because I thought I was in the clear with the cravings, and the next minute I'm contemplating taking it because I wanted to relapse so bad I could taste it. It gets more difficult after the two week hump with alcohol, unlike quitting smoking. Weird. I've also fallen into a bit of a depression. I've been uncontrollably tired. I’ve gotten a great night sleep and I’m still yawning all day and I even took a 3 hour nap yesterday so I didn’t have to cope with how crabby I was along with the cravings.

This is going to be a bumpy road, I can already feel it. I’m attempting nearly the impossible with this sobriety plan. My husband drinks and they say it never works out when there is a recovering addict in a relationship with one that uses. I know people who in these relationships. They may not always be the happiest, but I love my husband and I want my daughter to have her mommy and daddy at all times.

My husband went motorcycling yesterday with a huge group of people that I used to run with. It was a beautiful day and I had to work. None of this would’ve normally mattered to me, but yesterday I was depressed and crabby. When I got off work and got home, instead of sitting on the patio in the sun with a big fat cocktail while watching my daughter drive her power wheels around the yard, I found myself hiding indoors to fight the craving. I would normally consider this time as ‘me time’ and then it’d be okay that my husband was gone…again. Thank God she was napping because I was negative and feeling sorry for myself because everywhere I looked was work.

I looked outside and saw all the work that I needed to do in my gardens. Inside the sink was full of dishes, there is laundry to be done, and shit laying everywhere. I work all day and come home to this! Now I’m playing single mom trying to battle my demons and struggle everyday and my husband is out spending money we cannot afford and joy riding on the frickin’ motorcycle!?!?

This is how my yesterday went. I needed a good harsh reminder of why I don’t drink because everything bothered me. That is why I reminded myself of how horrible jail is. I thought I had it rough yesterday, but it can always be worse. I really wanted to just say forget it. I thought I’ll show him; I don’t need to take this antabuse. I’m gonna have a few because if he can go out and do whatever, I’m going to also. These are the stupid thoughts that go through crazy recovering alcoholics’ heads. The sad thing is, the only person I would have truly hurt was myself.

So I put my crabby tired butt to bed and slept for 3 hours. When my husband got home, I just sucked it up, pretended it didn’t bother me as usual and did the household chores. This is what a real desperate housewife does.  I’m no Martha Stewart or Terry Hatcher. I have plenty of skeletons in my closet. I’m not cured and I never will be. I’m ashamed of myself but I love my life. I’ll never be perfect but I’ll always try hard to be a better person.

Mondays were my favorite day of the week when I drank because my liver was cashed by then and I was anxious to get back to the real world and some structure. Although I don’t drink, Mondays are still my favorite day of the week because they are like being on home plate and SAFE! I made it through another weekend of temptation.

Do you want to know what the scary part is? I worked Saturday and Sunday and I still had a tough time because it was 60 degrees. I have my work cut out for me this weekend. I have both days off and it’s supposed to be even nicer. I will need to have 10 back up plans for major cravings. I’ll just take it one day at a time and before I know it, we’ll be safe on a Monday.

Day 17

I'm going to continue talking about what it is like to be in jail. If you drink and drive you can skip this next section because you'll be able to experience jail yourself eventually. Trust me; no one gets away with it. Everyone eventually gets a DWI or a DUI.

Jail is very structured. You get breakfast at 7, lunch at 12, and supper at 5. There are lock down periods in between. There is also time in between when you can read, play a puzzle, or watch television. Every day starts to feel like the next and pretty soon you lose track of which day of the week it is. Days aren't that bad, it's after 10 o'clock at night, after 'lights out', when jail becomes a whole other world. The first couple of days you catch up on your sleep and it feels great. After you are all caught up with sleep your body begins to ache from the hard slab. You cannot lie on your back because your lower back is so sore. You cannot lie on your side because both hips are bruised. Your stomach is so empty that lying on it makes it feel worse. You toss and turn in discomfort, you try to get comfortable but you cannot. You lie and think of how stupid you are for getting into this nightmare. You cannot stop thinking about getting out. You'll finally drift off and suddenly wake refreshed and realize you only slept for 1 hour and it's still 2 in the morning.

You can hear a pin drop at night in jail. The air is stale and it is very cold. You don't get pajamas in jail. You sleep in the same thing you wore all day and your feet are always cold. You can never get comfortable or warm up. The wool piece of fabric is not long enough to cover your feet so the only way to cover up completely is to curl into a ball. If your roommate snores, too bad. If your roommate cries herself to sleep at night, too bad. A couple times through out the night, the guard will shine a spot light in at you to make sure you are there and behaving.  They usually shine it right at your face.  This is always nice when you're about to drift off.  Many of the inmates will wear nothing or sleep in their underwear and bra.  I'm convinced the male guards shine the light in for a peep show.  Who knows, probably some of the female guards too.

The time goes so slow in jail. It is like being at a job you hate and checking the clock and it has only moved 10 minutes when it feels like hours. There are a few activities you can sign up for if you've been sentenced for longer than a week. You can sign up to go to the library once a week, and you can go to the gym every other day. The library is a 8' by 10' room with tattered books that are very outdated and puzzles with missing pieces. It is a privilege to go there and it feels like a tropical vacation after being confined in the woman's cell block. The gym isn't the typical gym you probably picture. The gym is exactly like a racquetball court with basketball hoop on each end. It's not full regulation court size by any means, but you can run in circles if you need exercise. There is one basketball for 12 woman to share. It'd probably be more fun banging your head against the wall.

The next privilege you get in jail is a shower every couple of days. You must sign up for them and if you want a razor to shave, it comes with a special guard to watch you so you don't use the razor for anything other than hair. If you think a hot shower is just what you need to warm those frozen tootsies, think again. The shower is in the main community room. It's just concrete block on three sides and the open side faces everyone sitting in the main room. There's a flimsy shower curtain that doesn't shut all the way on either side. The shower head isn't adjustable and there is no temperature control. It's a stainless steel button you push and if you hold it in you get a powerful blast of icy cold water for about 10 seconds. The pressure if insane! You know the famous expression 'don't drop the soap', well it's hard to hold the button with one hand and scrub up with a sliver of hotel soap in the other. You suddenly wish you had soap on a rope. The paper thin shower curtain that already sticks to your skin if you move an inch isn't very heavy so each time the water blasts the pins and needles at you, the curtain gets a gust of wind, just enough to give the mail guard and all your cell mates a show. This is the shower of shame. It is very degrading.

The little hotel soap doesn't last long. Once it's gone it's gone unless you've been sentenced for 2 weeks or longer. This is when you are eligible for commissary. This is a program that allows you to order personal and novelty supplies. You must have an outside source or family member put money into your account so you can purchase these things. You can order shampoo, conditioner, maxi pads, a large comb, paper, colored pencils, 20 ounces of a few soda flavors, mini bags of chips, candy bars, popcorn, or ramen noodles. These are all delicacies in jail. This is why there is a microwave.

Speaking of microwave, id I mention jails are also very sexist? The female populationn including guards is about a tenth of the male population. Not only do the men dominate, but let me tell you what happens when the men’s microwave breaks, or the men’s television doesn't work. They come and take the one out of the woman's cell block. I'm not kidding. It happened on two separate occasions. We went without a television for 26 days because the men are clearly more important.  Blasphamy!

Imagine this...Let's say you get a DWI on a Thursday night and they throw you in jail. Friday's court hearings are overbooked so you get to stay the weekend because you cannot walk out of jail until someone’s either bailed you out or you go in front of a judge. Monday rolls around and you go to court and the judge you get has lost a daughter because of drunk driving,  he reschedules for Friday just to make an impression. Now you've been in jail Thursday night, Friday, Saturday, let's say you get your period Sunday, and it's Monday. Now you've got a major headache, PMS, horrible cramps, and you cannot see a judge until FRIDAY! Here's the fun part. You don't get drugs in jail so you cannot take anything for your cramps or head. You haven't been in for 2 weeks or even sentenced yet so you cannot order maxi pads on commissary. It doesn't matter if you take anxiety medication or heart medication or thyroid medication.

Once you get sentenced and you know you're in for good, then they allow the paperwork to make such arrangements. The jail staff does not have you in their best interest so they'll get to the paperwork when they get to it; and you know how long any request takes at the doctor. You could be hunched over with a migraine headache, the worst cramps you've ever had, your thyroid could be off so you could be freezing to death on top of it, not to mention your heart is borderline stroking out and you are furious and crying with anxiety. All the while you are literally sitting in a pool of blood because you cannot get maxi pads until next week. It doesn't matter! The law is the law. If you break it, you pay the price. There are no exceptions. It doesn’t matter if you are married to the president of the United States. It doesn't matter who your parents are, how much money you have, or if your child is home alone. It doesn't matter if you work full time, if you have an infant, or if you're diabetic. If an emergency arises, too bad! If someone you love goes to the hospital or dies, there are no exceptions! If you do the crime, you do the time.

You don't learn any of this in school. These are street smarts you learn by experience. I think they need to educate children about the severity of the consequences for breaking the law. There are so many things we never knew and I can promise you I wouldn't have done many of the things I've done in my life had I known the consequences. Unfortunately, this is one thing I still wouldn't have been able to control. You know how I know this? This disease and addiction are so powerful, that I'm describing my second DWI experience here!  My second! It's disgusting. I'm disgusting. I am so upset with myself just thinking about it!

It gets worse. Let me tell you about my entire punishment for my second DWI. I sat 46 days in jail, 25 days of house arrest with the alcohol monitor, and spent over $7,000. I went to outpatient alcohol treatment for 6 weeks Monday through Friday from 6:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. I had 12 weeks aftercare that was every Wednesday night from 6:30 to 9:30. I continued with 2 years of AA and probation. I actually paid a lawyer $2,000 for this package!

None of that matters anymore. It used to make my blood pressure go up just thinking about it. What really makes me angry is that I would continue to drink after all of this. I just don't understand it.  Why?  I wish I could understand.

Day 16.5

Going to jail is one of the most humbling experiences. Sitting in the back of police car with cold heavy handcuffs around your wrists and your hands behind your back is one of the most vulnerable and angry positions to be in. They put the cuffs on extremely tight so you cannot escape. The back seat of a police car is actually a hard plastic. They are like this so drunks and crack heads who have urine and puke on them don't stain the seats. They probably get every bodily fluid imaginable in those cars and just hose it down at the precinct when they're finished. Going down th bumpy road without a seat belt and cold metal handcuffs digging into the skin of you wrists with your knuckles scraping the hard plastic seats behind you is what I call the 'drive of shame'. When you go through town everyone looks and stares and wonders what that scum of a criminal did this time.

When you arrive at the jail they put you in a room with a female officer with purple surgical gloves. They make you undress in front of them then put your arms up in the air. They do a head to toe search which includes under your breasts and they must feel around you private parts to make sure you aren't confiscating any weapons or drugs. You then follow them naked to the clothes room and they pick out what you are going to wear for the next day, or month, or year. You receive large cotton stained brief underwear. They have fraying elastic bands and some small holes surfacing. You get a sports bra that has no support because it's been worn my thousands of inmates and is worn out so bad it doesn't even shrink when you dry it anymore. The woman at a county jail all wear one color scrubs and the men wear another. You get one pair of socks and a slip on pair of shoes. The rubber on my left shoe was worn right through at the pad of the foot.

They take any clips or rubber bands out of your hair and after they've dressed you down and degraded you, they send you to take your mug shot. You stand at the X and they give you no warning and snap, they take one from the front. An officer turns you to the left and steps back and snap, a quick one from the left. The officer jumps in spins you around again, and SNAP, your beautiful photos are complete.  Once your photos are taken they take your finger and hand prints. Then they escort you to the suite. I actually like this cell. It's a holding cell they use until they have a room ready for you. There is a small sink and a stainless steel toilet bolted to the wall. There is no bed. There is a huge Plexiglas picture window so the cell can be monitored at all times by the reception desk. This is the most privacy you'll receive during your stay, so enjoy it while it lasts. This observatory period is probably when inmates are the most disruptive and angry. They yell and scream at the officers. They probably threaten to hurt themselves. It's a great concept if you think about it. Not only does it wear the inmate out, but this behavior would never fly in the actual cell block with other inmates.  Once they decide you are not a threat to your new community, they give you a bottom sheet, a top sheet, a scratchy wool remnant of fabric they consider a blanket, and a 1' by 2' plastic covered pillow. You also get a little 2" toothbrush, a black comb, a mini tube of toothpaste and a mini hotel bar of soap.

When you enter the cell block, you pray it's 'lock down' time to avoid the daggers from everyone's eyes. Lock up time is when everyone is in their cells. If it is not lock down, the inmates gather in the community room area. This area has tables and chairs that are bolted to the concrete floor. There is generally a television and microwave. You can tell who is severely mentally ill, depressed, or a rookie in jail. These inmates stay in their cell for days and cry. They cry and wait, cry and wait. It's depressing because they are usually rocking back and forth in a fetal position but no one will answer their cry. The sergeants don't get a shit if you’re crying or hanging yourself, as long as you aren't disrupting any other inmates. A brawl in the cell block would mean the sergeant would actually have to lift a finger or work.

You then pray you don't have to share a cell. If you share a cell, you pray you get the top bunk. This is like the 'window seat' on a plane. It's the only connection you have to the rest of the world. It doesn't make the trip any better, but it allows you to have a sense of what's going on outside. It makes the ride a little less Closter phobic; until you have to use the bathroom. Flights and jail are very similar. I'm sure someone who flies a lot would agree with me.

The cell is usually 8' by 8' and there is a stainless steel toilet, sink and mirror. The mirror isn't a real mirror, but a polished stainless steel. Glass can be used as a weapon you know. You don't get a clear reflection of yourself on the polished metal but that's probably a good thing. The bed is a slab of metal protruding from the wall and there is a 3" thick hard plastic mat covered in plastic-like a ring worm infested gym wrestling mat covering it.  After you make your bed you get to meet your roommate if you have one.

I had the pleasure of bunking with a 46 year old woman who had killed a man on a motorcycle while on a 14 day methamphetamine tweak. Have you ever heard the term 'you are who you hang around'? This is and exceptionally painful truth when you are in this position. It's a good thing however. You think of how it could’ve been you that killed a man while drunk driving.  It's a hard realization when you become an equal in jail.  In county jail you are all the same, you are criminals. 

She had this homemade calendar she made with a count down on it. She'd wake up so excited to cross a day off. She was only in for a year. A year and a day sentence would've put her in prison. How depressing. One little day and she would've been in prison. Prison is much better than jail. I don't know from experience but I've heard from real criminals who have been there. At first I was upset that she only got a year for taking a man's life, but after being in there a couple weeks, I felt so bad that she had months to go.

When you are in jail, you are on the county's watch. At 7 a.m. you hear the sound of metal unlatching and clanking. This means your cell is unlocked and it is breakfast time. Once again, you can tell how long they've been in by their eagerness to eat breakfast. If they run out half dressed and begin inhaling their breakfast, their pretty seasoned. If they take they're time and come out with their hair combed and dressed, they're on day 3 or 4. If they stay in their cell and cry, they're either mentally ill, young, or on day 1 or 2. At first the cries echoing off all the steel and concrete are heart wrenching and haunting. It's like hearing your baby cry and not being able to get to it. There's the hungry cry, the no one will comfort me cry, then the scary I want to die cry. The are all very disturbing. They cry and rock back and forth and refuse to eat and think the jail will just eventually feel sorry for them and let them out. No one cares. You'll never get out. No one will ever respond to your cries. You grow up fast in jail. You eventually get used to the sound of the cell block.


Breakfast usually consisted of a hard boiled egg, a little elementary school sized carton of milk, an 8 ounce plastic mug of kool-aid, a box of generic corn flakes cereal, and a piece of toasted bread. They don't have condiments in jail you see. There is no butter or jelly, there is no sugar or brown sugar, and there isn't hot coffee or latte. The meal comes on plastic stackable Rubbermaid trays. Some days you get oatmeal instead of cereal. These days are dreadful. Hot oatmeal creates steam which is moisture. Stackable plastic tays create a seal. When the moisture from your oatmeal is trapped with your toast, it not only rehydrates and untoasts the toast, it makes it soggy. If you don't get to breakfast quick enough, you can physically ring your toast out to add a little moisture to the glue like slop they call oatmeal.

After eating breakfast you have about 2 hours until the next lock down. You can watch television or stare at the wall. If you've been there long enough, you've probably been on a fieldtrip to the library. This is nice because then you may have a book to read or a puzzle to put together with a minimum of 5 missing pieces. You try to stay as busy as possible to distract your growling stomach because breakfast wasn't enough to last until lunch a 12.

Day 16

I've talked about what kept me drinking during the ages of 17-20 and 21-25. I'd like to talk about 25-28. These are painful years for me. I don't remember much at all. I repressed most of the bad memories. I developed insomnia during this time. I've always been a person who didn't nap and went to bed late and woke up early. I always thought sleeping was a waste of life. I was afraid to miss a beat. When you cannot shut your mind down, you cannot sleep.

I drank so I could fall asleep. Alcohol is a depressant and it works wonders for relaxation. If only I could have drank 2 cocktails and stopped it would've put me to sleep every night, however, an alcoholic cannot just have 1 or 2. An alcoholic continues until her body is at the point of alcohol poisoning. Some nights I'd quit at 4 or 5. Some nights I'd black out at 7 or 8. On really bad nights, I'd drink myself passed out and wake up feeling fantastic. This is because my body would finally shut down when it had beyond to much. By this time it would be at least 2 or 3 in the morning. I'd get up around 6 for work and start the day again. Did you do the math? They say it takes 1 hour for your body to metabolize and wear off 1 ounce of alcohol. 1 ounce is a 12 ounce beer, a 4 oz. glass of wine, or one mixed drink. They are talking about a standard mixed drink. My cocktails average 2 to 3 ounces per drink. I woke up feeling great because I was still intoxicated.

I am so embarrassed by this reckless cycle. I am disgusted I would even drive to work. I am fortunate I am still alive. Although I have quit I will probably develop liver or bladder cancer for housing poison to this extent for years. I just wanted a good night sleep!?

I'm also very critical of myself. These were pointless and awkward years in my eyes. I was too old to party and still to young to quit. I didn't know where I fit in. I'd party just to feel young again when really I should've been...well I didn't know. Demographically, the expectations in the Midwest are so typical. Most people marry between ages 19 and 24, after they have graduated college and found decent careers. After they are married in the church and have the wedding of their dreams and honeymoon, they buy your first home. Then they proceed to have 2 to 3 children between 25 and 30 and live happily ever after.

I have a problem with doing things backwards. I actually read magazines from the back to front. My timeline is a little off. I did the college thing for a few years after high school, traveled for a few years, then came back home. I proceeded to change 'careers' over 20 times and couldn't find my 'nitch'. I moved in with my boyfriend and we lived in 3 different places until we finally purchased a home. We had our daughter at age 28. We eloped in Colorado at 29. I regretted eloping and wanted the church wedding experience so on our actual 10 year anniversary, we had a small church wedding and reception.

I had a few tragedies during this time that didn't help me slow down on the drinking. At age 26 I went in for my 12 week ultrasound to hear our baby's heartbeat. After 15 minutes of searching, the nurse went and got the doctor. The doctor came in, took one look and said, "There is no heartbeat. The baby is measuring 6 weeks, so it probably died 6 weeks ago." I got in my car and it felt like I swallowed a sock. The pressure on my chest was so intense I couldn't even cry. I began to bawl like a baby and between sobs I'd take a drag of a Marlboro cigarette. I instantly thought of my coping mechanisms, drugs and alcohol. I had quit for 12 weeks and should've kept it that way. I had used the miscarriage as an excuse to begin again. I smoked about 3 cigarettes on my devastating drive home. They mad me so dizzy and lightheaded and tasted horrible. That should've been a sign to stop. I believe I drowned my sorrows in alcohol that night but I don't remember.

I should sum up Day 15 for now though. Yes, I drank to sleep and to numb more pain in my life. Yes, I eventually turned into a narcoleptic drunk. Yes, my body was trained so well, I'd literally get tired at the sound of ice hitting the bottom of a glass in the evening. Yes, alcohol is the root of all evil next to money. No, you do not need alcohol to sleep. No, it doesn't calm the mind and spirit so you can relax. I've been clean for 15 days, and every night I sleep like a rock star. I cannot believe I let myself believe I couldn’t sleep without it for that many years. Alcoholics lie to themselves as well as others. We make up excused and blame. Alcohol takes away your ability to feel.



During these rough years I also got second DWI. The first DWI was when I was 23. I don't remember much about it. I'm not sure if I've repressed these memories or if the years of drinking fried so many brain cells I cannot remember certain times in my life. I'll never forget the second DWI. My husband and I went up to the local tavern and had 2 drinks a piece. I drove the 1 mile home so we could catch the 10 o'clock news. It was a Tuesday evening. When we got home, I pulled in our driveway and put the car in park. As we were unbuckling our seatbelts, a cop came flying in our driveway with his lights on. We approached him as he got out of the car and he read me my MIRANDA rights. I couldn't believe it! He said I swerved, he was correct. I swerved around a dead raccoon a block away from our house. He gave me all the sobriety tests in front of my husband. I passed all of them. He gave me a breathalyzer and I blew a .10. They had recently changed the legal limit to .80 so I was arrested right there and taken to jail.

I'm physically exhausted just talking about this. I've held resentment and anger because of this for years. It is very unhealthy to do that but I wasn't a healthy person. I'm finally taking my negative energy over that night and using it as ammunition in my war to stop teenage girls and moms from making the same mistakes I made. No matter what happened that night, no matter how it went down, the fact is, I drank and I drove and I broke the law. It doesn't matter that I wasn't sloppy drunk at 2 a.m. out driving and almost killing people like some drunks. It doesn't matter if I left a church bazaar and had two 3-2 keg beers and drove to the homeless shelter to volunteer. The point is, you drink and drive and you will get caught and you will be prosecuted.

Later I will paint you a picture of what it feels like to go to jail. You'll never understand why I'd go back to drinking after my horrible experiences.

Day 15

I'm catching up!  I'd like to reiterate the reasons why I drank alcohol.  Reason number one was an counter-addiction and a cushion of confidence.  That started at age 17 and lasted until I was 20.  Between ages 21-25 it was for pure entertainment.  I went to the bars, had girl's night, and did the whole 21 drinking thing.  I wish more of my friends would've have just told me the truth.  Now, when I look back I just shake my head.  Why didn't my friends say, "We don't want you to come out with us tonight because we don't want to babysit.  You get all weird and blacked out and we cannot tell if your buzzed and having a good time, or ready to go pass out on the street!"  That's what they probably thought at times, but were too nice and continue to include me.

Here is a shout out to the people I have embarrassed, scared, yelled at for helping me while blacked out, wouldn't want to leave, or just got flat out sloppy;  I'm am truly sorry for everything I have done. I am so sorry you had to take care of me.  I am sorry if I ever hurt you.  You all know exactly who you are.  Thank you for keeping me safe and saving my life over and over.  Thank you for being my friend.  If you ever want to meet the new and improved sober me, I would love the opportunity to start over and try again.

While I'm on this note, I'd also like to mention something that will feel natural to anyone who hangs out with me in the future.  Please do not change who you are.  Please do not say you won't drink while you are around me.  Please do not act differently when you are with me.  At first it may feel awkward to you, but I can assure you, drinking doesn't bother me.  It will not make me wish I had one or crave one.  Your drink or beer or wine will not become the main character of my next blog.  I am doing this to change who I am so I can continue to enjoy all of you for the rest of my life.  I actually admire you when you can only have a couple.  It makes me proud of you.  It fascinates me to watch people drink and get drunk. I think it may even help me see with my new eyes and new heart.  Nothing will hurt my feelings or bother me more than you saying you will not drink around me.  I do admire your determination to support me.  Thank you for that.  If you want one great, if you don't want one fine,  just please be honest and don't act differently on my behalf.

I tried to think of a good example of why it'd bother me but this is all I could come up with.  If I have cancer one day and lose all my hair, I don't want you to show up at my house with a shaved head.  I'd probably want to slap you.  Or what if I was on the Atkins diet and we met for dinner.  Would you order a bacon cheeseburger, hold the bun, with a side of fruit and a glass of raw eggs?  No!  How ridiculous is that?  Did you feel bad for reminding me that I had cancer and that I was bald?  Did you instantly gag at the thought of meat and crave fettuccine alfredo with a side of garlic bread sticks?  The point I'm trying to make is if my quitting becomes a big deal I'll think more about alcohol and quitting and the fact that you aren't drinking alcohol because of me and I'm back in alcohol treatment numero uno!  By this time the damage is done and the craving is intense and I'm ready to relapse for EVERYONE's sake.  Whoa!!!!! Did I mention a sign of withdrawal is severely analyzing  everything?  It's not really.  It's just one of my character flaws.  Hee hee.

Day 14

Day 14 is technically Day 15 and I keep trying to get caught up with blogging, but I was so tired last night I couldn't even blog.  I had the day off from work Wednesday and I had an appointment with my doctor.  He is the wonderful man that changed my life 15 days ago by listening to my requests, not laughing as I expected him to, and filling my prescription for Antabuse.

I may not have needed the Antabuse, but I had never been so sure of anything in my life when I decided to quit this time.  I didn't want to fail.  I needed a 'quit plan'.  The Antabuse was just insurance in case I want 'just one'.  It doesn't get rid of cravings or make you happy like some quit-smoking drugs will do.  It doesn't sing you to sleep at night.  It's not some magical drug that cures alcoholism.  It just makes you so ill if you do cheat so you won't do it again.  Some have told me it doesn't work. Some have told me stories of people who drank on it and almost died.

I personally believe it works.  I was recently deathly ill after a McDonald's vanilla milk shake a few days ago.  It was the best milk shake I had ever tasted in my life! After inhaling it I tossed and turned in bed for 12 hours.  My stomach was ill, my head pounded, I had chills, then hot flashes, and I couldn't sleep through the night.  I did a personal inventory of everything I had consumed that day.  Nothing was out of the norm, except the milk shake.  Did you know that on average, vanilla contains 36% alcohol?  Ouch!  Some people had claimed to drink while they were on Antabuse.  Bullshit! I believe they didn't take the pill so they could drink.  The bottle of Antabuse doesn't come with a little wizard that jumps out and forces you to take it.  You have to be strong and want to quit to even think about really swallowing it. 

At my follow up appointment my doctor asked me if I had tested the Antabuse.  I told him how I had unintentionally tested it with the McDonalds milkshake.  Apparently, most people actually do test it with a drink or two.  I'm an alcoholic which makes me a natural glutton for punishment, but those fools are just brave!  When I told my doctor I had started to feel as if I didn't need the Antabuse because I was doing so well and haven't had a lot of cravings, he said, "It's only been 2 weeks!"

That was interesting to hear.  In his eyes, it had only been 2 weeks and I was still very early in the stages of recovery.  To me hearing ONLY 2 weeks was almost an insult.  In reality it had been 2 weeks, but it felt like 6 months!  It still feels like I quit drinking ages ago.  I believe each day of sobriety deserves a 'dog year'.  So technically, since I've been sober 15 days I should multiply each day by 7.  This calculates how long it feels like I've been sober; which would be 105.  I will name my new theory 'The Dog Days of Sobriety'.  That is what they are.

When I wasn't serious about sobriety I was so annoyed with the phrase, 'take in one day at a time'.  It makes so much sense now.  I cannot let the 'Dog Days' let me make a foolish decision. In early sobriety you should be careful when situations arise that you haven't been in sober yet.  Going to your first wedding, going on a motorcycle ride and stopping at a bar/restaurant, going fishing, going to a family get-together, sitting on your patio, well basically everything.  I feel so confident and it feels like I've been sober and can handle any situation that comes my way.  When the doctor advised me that I should keep taking the Antabuse for a few months, I think what he was trying to say is; it's okay to be proud of ourselves for each and every day of sobriety but don't let this confidence fool us.  Just take it one day at a time no matter what and be prepared for bumps in the road in the future.

At the end of the day, if you have successfully went without whatever you are trying to restrain from, give yourself a huge pat on the back.  Also, thank the Lord or your higher power and your support system for helping you.

Day 13

As previously promised, I am finally making an honest woman out of myself.  I'm catching up with me real amount of days sober.  I have the day off of work today.  That is why I posted so late last night Big Sis ;)

For anyone who read Day 12 in the early morning of Wednesday April 7th, please reread.  I read it this morning and what a disaster!  I rewrote it.  I fell asleep at the computer several times and just hit 'publish' with out proof reading.

I have been extremely fortunate the first week and a half.  I've dodged all the typical withdrawal symptoms that can haunt a recovering alcoholic.  I was fine until Day 10.  I have developed a few symptoms.  I have had splitting headaches the majority of each day.  My concentration is very limited.  I have been extremely forgetful and airheaded.  I hope that's from the lack of alcohol ;)

Last night was my first 'dry drunk' experience since I quit drinking. I didn't realize it until I woke up this morning.  'Dry drunk' is an actual term that defines the bodies ability to actually mimic being drunk without consuming alcohol.  I never felt drunk, but when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had a rough night.  When I woke up my neck hurt, my head was pounding, and my daughter told me I was snoring.  I overslept and I didn't get a chance to pack my husbands work lunch.  My sinuses hurt and began to pop.  My jaw hurt like I had ground all night.  Was a great experience!   I've been waking so refreshed and have been on cloud 9 all day long.  Having a 'dry hangover' is much better than a dry drunk.  It reminds me of the discomfort I'm missing.  Weird.

Another new sober experience happened two nights ago.  I actually had a dream about being sober!  When I was drinking, I'd have horrible drinking nightmares quite often.  A couple of nights ago, I had my first sober dream ever.  I mean, I dreamed of being at a party with friends and sisters.  Everyone was drinking and I wanted to leave.  My middle sister wanted to stay with the group and continue to the bar.  I advised her that was a bad idea since they were all wasted, but she didn't listen.  I left the party and went to my church fish fry instead.  My mom and dad and grandma were there.  I was so peaceful and happy.  I even ran into my ex treatment counselor who moved away.  I proudly gave her a business card with my blog address on it.

How cheesy!  I do NOT carry business cards with my blog on it.  It was really neat to finally make a decent decision subconciously.  I believe this is huge progress in my recovery.  Today I visit my doctor as a follow up to my Day 1 appointment when I asked him to prescribe me Antabuse.  I am so excited to thank him!  Tonight I will blog Day14 and I will be caught up.  I will let you know what the doctor says!

Day 12

This next section is one of the most important pieces to my addiction puzzle. I'll start with the first of many reasons I started drinking alcohol. When I was 17 years old, I used drinking alcohol as my counter-addiction. 

It's not often when someone counter-addicts to a better drug. Most people start with cigarettes, then they smoke a little 'wacky tabacky', start drinking and before you know it they are modeling on the cover of the D.A.R.E. brochure with meth-mouth. 'Google image' meth mouth, I dare you. I seem to be the exception to every rule. I started with cigarettes, the gateway drug, and went right for the white stuff. When I returned 'home' and chose alcohol.

I had entered a new high school as a result of this decision. It was my senior year. I didn't join the basketball team, so I didn't have an after school activity. I didn't have any friends yet. I was surrounded by new people in an entirely different culture. Observing my former peers and their beliefs was like being in my own version of Mitch Album's 'The Five People You Meet In Heaven'. It really gave me the chance to see what might of been. Alcohol comforted me and gave me a false sense of confidence. It numbed my fear of rejection in a new place.

I eventually made the decision to go back to my roots. I chose to go back to a peaceful place in my memory. I ran away to the heaven I grew up in. What brought me to this point was that I had hit rock bottom, died, was revived from the dead, and starting my 5th life; well that's what it felt like at the time. I went from a small town of 527 people without diversity, to the big city of Omaha. Talk about a culture shock. I was a good kid for years, but a couple bad influences mixed with my addictive personality were the recipe for disaster

I was slowly killing myself with cocaine. I had tried to quit several times. I was so addicted. God finally guided my sister to find my 'stash' on a family vacation and the interventions began. I still couldn't stop. I was literally skin and bone. I had dodged overdosing one too many times. I remember getting so tweaked out that I would lose my hearing for several minutes, my vision would get blurry, and I would go into a shock-like state. I'd become paralyzed with fear. Even after being petrified, I still found myself using again and again. Every dime I made from all of my jobs went directly up my nose. What a waste! The only way out of a situation that bad was to run. I had to leave everyone who was linked to my addiction. I had to leave all that was associated with my miserable lifestyle. This bold move saved my life.

I can still taste phantom cocaine occasionally. I even crave it sometimes. Addiction is such a scary thing. I permanently clench and grind my teeth as a side effect to the cocaine. It ruined so many relationships and made me do so many horribly unforgivable things, yet I still miss it. Thank you for the good times and memories, thank you for the adventure, and most of all, thank you for making me stronger by not killing me. This may be disturbing for some of you to hear, but all of my past experiences make me who I am today. It also gives you an idea what true addiction feels like.

You never get over addiction 100%. You're in a constant battle and need to have you defenses up at all times. Conquering addiction is like being in a terrible accident, and being told you're never going to walk again. You have to go to therapy to learn how to walk and talk again. You have to learn everything over again and experience a million 'firsts'. Chemical dependency is a way of life. When you take away the chemical, you must learn how to do everything again without the chemical. Therapy definitely helps dependency.

This blog is wonderful therapy. It helps me resurrect the tools that I have from previous treatments and experiences. It helps remind me of ways to deal with situations that may arise. It gives me something to look forward to daily when I'd normally be drinking alcohol. The wonderful comments offer me the support system I need. The honesty I practice gives me dozens of accountability partners. Blogging is journaling. Have you ever tried a weight loss diet and failed? Have you ever tried to eat healthier and kept track of your caloric intake in a food journal? Which one lasted longer? I'm 99.9% sure that journaling helped you last longer, make better decisions when you did eat, and have less binging meltdowns. I've been there and done that and I believe journaling/blogging is my new drug of choice.

In my game of life, everything happens for a reason. Some things may be hard to digest. God sometimes deals us a losing hand or a tragedy may occur. I believe that what we retain from our life’s lessons ensures our purpose not be a complete disappointment.