Today and yesterday have been rough. Hell, all last week, my recent resignation started taking it's toll on my faith, hope and sanity. Although all fear-based thoughts which I know to avoid, I still succumbed to it. Languished in it. Yes I had been drinking. Struggling with the guilt of using again as well.

Driving to the local market after an AA meeting. Buying vodka. Sneaking around the store in case another AA member spots me. I can ditch the booze discreetly, chat a bit, watch them leave the store. Then go back and retrieve that bottle.

But I've been running from myself for so long. Not wanting to be *me* and wanting something different, but feeling unsure what that looks like.

I have chosen not to drink today. And going to AA later tonight. Feels good to say that.

When I was with Roscoe, I started self-medicating heavily because I was becoming what I hated when around him. Like a repeated game of chew up, spit out, then allow the offender to repeat the sick game for 13 years.

And life really sucked for me. Because of what I allowed in my world.

Then he would judge me and compare ***his drinking habit*** with my newly acquired one. I wanted to be numb daily. Slip into my own little drunk world and imagine how life *could* be one day. Without doing anything about the raging mess I created for my heart.

Roscoe would walk into the kitchen where I'd set up shop in my favorite chair, leaning back, feet kicked up on the sink (my makeshift recliner), laptop on hand and a big glass of lemon, water and copious amounts of Burnett's Vodka. I might've been singing along to a song quietly or surfing ebay minding my own business:

"You're DRUNK! Already??? It's fucking 9am in the morning. You've got a serious problem!"

Pot. Kettle. Black.

And this started some of our more infamous and violent fights.

And as a side note on this oh-so virtuous alcoholic, here's his wrap sheet:

*4 DWIs
*1 Hit and run (not related to the DWIs)
*17K in back child support for a kid he's never wanted to meet or support
*Has worked maybe 7 months in 6 years; can't hold a job
*Suspended license (still)
*Never paid one bill in 13 years with me
*No checking or savings account
*Drives the car his mom *gave* to him
*He's 43 and now dating a 28 yr old(who's 4 years older than his daughter, for which he owes back support)
*Lives in his parents basement, until the 28 year old gets an apartment for them both. He has NO CREDIT and BAD CREDIT.
*And he's still not working probably

He would never let up or just let-me-be. He'd smell my water to detect vodka, and then look at the clock, then back at me:

"Seriously? What's happening to you?" And never in a kind, caring or empathetic manner. He was cruel. He'd begin talking about my fat ass. Called me an old drunken hag, many times over. Horrible names.

He'd bash me to his friends, my friends and my brother. About my drinking habits. Again, not in a I-really-care-about Ruby kind of way. No. Always the judge and jury. He damned me for finding a way (drinking) to deal with all his bullshit. Problem was he didn't think anything was wrong with him.

I'd ask him for simple things: "No" was always the answer. And yet I stayed.

I had left him a thousand times in my mind. And abused myself with bulimia and alcohol as punishment for the person I had become-- I didn't want to be around me anymore. And so the drinking continued and escalated. Because for some twisted reason, I couldn't leave him.

Even as I write this, I'm craving an escape from the emotions erupting inside me.

Gonna stop writing for now.

I really need to write more. Keeping emotions locked up in the chaotic chamber of my mind always leads to trouble.

Guessing I didn't get the job. The interview was a week and a half ago.

"Do you think you're overqualified for this position?" she asked.

Like I'm gonna fucking admit to that. Of course I'm overqualified. Tried to explain that I'm getting back into the nonprofit sector and would love the opportunity to work with such a fantastic agency that helps the homeless, even if it's more entry-level.

Getting that job would have made all the difference to me now. Having gone through the whole Roscoe fiasco and the anxiety from leaving my personal training career after 7 years....

I resigned July 3....

Yeah, I've been freaking out. No job. Heartache. The loneliness. Trying to keep busy, but I don't feel the desire to do much more than sit on the couch, fuck with FB and other on-line follies, and look out the window. A lot.

I know that if I keep applying myself and searching daily, God will bless me with a new opportunity. Can't just give up.

-------

Removing the Roscoe tattoo is delayed. I decided to have it lasered so the cover up with look spectacular.
Made the appointment. The day before I was scheduled, the company's laser broke. Fucking really? So they're gonna call me back. Yeah, that was like a week ago.

-------

Been drinking some. Used the excuse of it's the holiday week, let's get drunk! But going to AA tonight.

Tonight's AA meeting was essential for me.

Had been battling bad anxiety over tomorrow - covering up Roscoe's name on my neck. Helped to be around folks at the meeting who understand.

Also I think I found my biological father today. (I know, right??!!) Weeks ago I submitted a saliva test to find my history. Maybe locate my biological parents.

The irony, my bro purchased the test for me on my last birthday. I scoffed at it, threw the box on the dining room table and ignored submitting the test for 8 months. Until recently.

Just received the results last night. I have over 900+ relatives that matched my DNA. And my heritage is actually British and Irish.

Also, pretty sure my new family contact, Joyce (a distant cousin) ***knows*** who my dad is:

Based on our DNA and links to other family, Joyce described a man who was a 1) jazz musician, 2) lived in the round about areas when I could have been born...AND 3) my adoptive mom had confirmed the jazz musician part to me long ago, before she passed. My new contact also told me dad was a hardcore addict.

He committed suicide while high on drugs. Shot himself on the front lawn. The wife was leaving him. His name was Dean.

So now I know how I became an addict.

This has **got** to be the guy.

And he's fucking dead.

Out of all the relatives, there's only a handful out of 900 who live/lived in the area where I was born.

I wonder if Joyce will respond to me again with more updates. She seems hesitant a bit. Just what I'm sensing.

Absolutely fascinating to find remnants of  family.

I'm so grateful that my bro bought me the test. We've been rather close lately now that we have Roscoe as the common enemy -- finally. I'm thrilled and grateful that bro and I are still together.

------
I've decided to have the Roscoe tattoo lasered first. It's way too dark of a piece to cover (was redone twice) to look spectacular after a cover up. It happens to be on the sexiest part of my neck too. Don't want mediocre. Meeting my artist anyway tomorrow to do some touch ups. As a result of this decision, I found an amazing amount of peace. It just felt right. And the anxiety about the tattoo vanished almost instantly.

Bro likened the laser treatments as a gradual healing process, like healing from Roscoe. As the tattoo fades, so will the past, leaving space for the new. Sometimes bro kicks ass.  :)

------

Got a job interview this Thursday at 2pm with an awesome charity that helps the homeless. So excited!!! If this pans out my prayer will be answered. Dear God, I need a fresh start somewhere, where I can make a family and fulfill God's purpose for me -- helping others. That's all I want. All I want.

Well there goes a week of my life I can't get back! Last week.

A complete fucking wash, filled with drama (self imposed I believe), revelations, angry texts, booze (of course), tears....more drama.

Only went to one AA meeting, then left the meeting half way through and drove away to acquire some vodka. Whispered the excuse of "I need to take this call" and slithered out the side door of the AA house, glad for myself. And knowing that shortly, my mind would be basted in a drunkish buzz. And I won't have to feel the abject pain in my heart.

It's what addicts do.

Haven't been back to AA but plan on going to the 5:30p tonight. See who's there. Haven't drank today.

----

I located Andy and his address through real estate records. Planned on driving to his house at 3am and leave a note of concern:

"Roscoe is fucking Alex. In your house, while you're gone. You should probably check into it."

And everyone exclaimed that it was a damn bad idea. And they talked me out of it. Even printed out the note, which I promptly shredded after one friend confided in a disappointing tone, "Oh Ruby, you are so much of a better woman than that."

True.

But Andy is very hard to find. Not on any social media sites. Except one, LinkedIn. And guess who decided to reach out and touch someone? (insert evil laugh).

And wouldn't you know, he did not set up any contact info. No phone or email. Sigh.

So after a couple drinks, decided to muster up the courage to contact one of his LinkedIn friends. Emailed him, asking that if he knows andy,  to have him contact me at once.

In 10 minutes, my phone rang: "Ruby, it's Andy, what's going on?"

And I spilled all the beans, how Roscoe was fucking alex behind his back, and how he also has a GF in New York, oh and by the way Alex now has HPV (enjoy that one, slut).

Ugh, I know I'm being mean. But anyway....

Andy and I joined forced and contacted both Alex and the girl in NY via text and email. Andy began blowing up Roscoe's phone with "how can you do this to me, man" kind of messages. To which roscoe never replied. Coward.

I shared all the conversations and gory details of what a rat Roscoe is to both ladies. Neither responded (they've got great willpower, I tell ya). But they know now, even about the HPV. I know for a fact that the NY girl has it.  Saw an email from her, to which Roscoe never replied. Three days later she ended the relationship on FB.

Currently, both Roscoe and alex are "in a relationship" on FB. Bam. That was fast.

And apparently they're getting an apt together. Good luck with that honey, Roscoe doesn't work. He's barely kept a job in 13 years, I paid for everything, he has no checking or savings, has never had a utility in his name, zero credit since he defaulted on all his CCs...oh and he owes 15+K in back child support for a daughter he abandoned deliberately decades ago.

Lives with his parents now at the ripe old age of 43.

Did I mention he lies too? Especially about his age, making himself 7 years younger in his profile. And his license is suspended for non payment of support. And he's an alcoholic.

Shall I go on?

-----

So now that I know everything, I must begin to move away from this kind of shit and go forward with life best I can. It hurts to think about this anymore.

Seek and ye shall find, they say.

And if you look, and look, you will definitely find.

---

I've been troubled about who that girl is in NY, the one Roscoe is seeing. Since I found out he's planning on staying with her for awhile, my mind's been going wild.

Today, all that ended.

Woke up at 3 am, coffee and play time with the babies, then off to the gym.

Hit the Casino by 8 am. Lost my ass and returned home.

 More coffee. Contemplation. Idea.

"I wonder if his old password on Facebook still works?" Hmm.

Gasp.

Wow. Just wow. What I found in Roscoe's email floored me. Now, he's done some pretty backward shit in his life. But this ranks up there: A TRIPLE betrayal. One best friend. Two semi-suspecting women. One older. One younger. (The older) one is in a relationship with Roscoe. The other wants to be. He's slept with both. Writes lil love messages to each. Vomit.

The younger one also happens to be the **girlfriend** of one of his BEST friends, Andy. Roscoe's been fucking her since May, and I think even when Andy was out running errands. She knows about the older woman. Andy knows nothing. The slut and Andy have been having problems lately...hmmmn...wonder why??
They've split. She is now planning on getting a lil love nest for Roscoe and her cheating heart.

Roscoe's plan: He's going to NY to...drum roll.....break it off with the older woman. Also, he plans to return home, pick up the slut and drive to Detroit to hang out with his alcoholic crony, Dan.

Ummm. Ugh. What a piece of trash.

Resisting the urge for retribution. I think Andy needs to know. But how would one go about it?

Coffee. More contemplation. Cleaning. Then off to AA.

So, regarding my "Come Back" Week, how did it go?

* Didn't attend a single AA meeting.
* Drank 4/7 days.
* No exercise, unless you include lots of housework.
* No daily blogging.
* Lots of Job Searching though. I want to work with a charity of some kind.

Biggest Accomplishment this week:
I allowed Roscoe to come over and pick up some of his items. Packed them up in a few tubs. Not everything, but it's a start.

Seeing Roscoe after 8+ months, for the first time ---- it was a little unnerving and of course bitter sweet. More bitter than sweet. After the dogs attacked him with some initial hesitation, I offered him a cup of coffee and to sit a while.

No coffee.

He sat and we exchanged a few updates. I mentioned nothing about DZP. Roscoe critisized my cleaning or lack there of. Read: Some dog hair on the hardwood floors. It's shedding season. Sue me.

He began asking about family photos his mom wanted back. And did I throw them out? Probably. When I was very drunk. Several years ago. After he left me for the 21 year old slut. I know it's wrong. But I admitted nothing.

"Well if you find any photos let me know. I'll be in town until the 19th."

"Where are you going?"

"New York."

Ah yes. Months ago via text, he mentioned that he had met someone...."But she lives in New York" he said. And I felt some energy from him at that moment: He was quite smitten over her. Of course. Of fucking course. If it were  only that easy to get over a 13 year relationship that usually ruled in favor of the alcoholic I was harboring. It hurts to even write this.

He even had the audacity to criticize that I didn't have everything all packed up. Nice and tidy.

"You only packed up the crap! he complained. "I thought you said you boxed things up," he repeated over and over. Attempting to launch a guilt trip of sorts. He walked around the rooms anxiously asking, "Where this? Where's that? Did you give my stuff to DZP?" Ugh. No No. Maybe. Probably.

Actually I gave DZP's sons some big stacks of magazines he'd collected, which I knew he'd never read. He didn't bother to ask for them either.

I allowed him to mull around and pack up a few more items. Sitting downstairs while he rooted around in the upstairs library, all I could think about was this girl in New York.

After he left, I  called my bro, hoping to extract some info about her. He had lived with Roscoe and referenced the fact that he knows a lot about Roscoe's partner searches.

At first bro played clueless.

"Really? New York? Wow."

What else do you know.

"Nothing. Really! I mean, I think she has 2 kids."

Two kids? What else do you know and why hide this from me.

A small fight broke out.

"I don't appreciate being brow beaten over this."

Interesting choice of words.

"Well sorry about that." And I explained how it's still hard for me, blah, blah, blah.
-----

My goal for this week's "Come Back" Challenge.

*Attend AA Daily
*Exercise at gym daily, even if just a bit
*Write here daily
*No drinking
*More reading (all the books I've been meaning to read)
*Be kind to myself
*Pray

I believe the Universe blesses us with puzzles, based on our tangled moods and thoughts. Today, I'd like to share one such example.

A couple weeks ago before I broke sobriety, we were hanging out on the couch. I stood up, lost my balance and fell on the screen of my laptop. 

Seriously ... I was not drunk or high (we had DZP's son for the weekend anyway).

My ass busted the fuck outta it. However, the dagger-shaped cracks - or "modern design" as my I.T. friend called it -  fascinated the hell out of him. He actually took pix - and VIDEO of the mangled screen to show his anticipated audience. Ugh, anyway - took a couple days for me to decide whether to take it to Geek Squad or just buy a new one.

Hang in there...it's about to get better ...

In my contemplation, I realized that I am a "slack owner" of a high-end I-Pad. Read: It never gets used. So at least I had a back up, right?

Quietly, I kept asking the Universe "Why? Why did this have to happen? Alcohol/drugs were not involved. I've been good" etc and so forth.

After some dusting off (hadn't been used in months), I set forth to organize my I-Pad apps, ensuring all was up to date. I stumbled upon the Find I-Phone app. Clicked it. And I saw my phone on the map, represented by a small green dot on a giant map of streets.

I also saw another small green dot on the map -- in the neighborhood where Roscoe lives. The fucking app is tracking both our phones. I can also see satellite views of buildings he's in.

HA. New obsession. ;) How could one resist? Also delivered on a silver platter to me from the Universe, so hey... 

---------

However, plenty planned this week for my "Come Back." Not much time for stalking.

Oh and anyway, the whole point of this post --- what was the Universe trying to tell me with the laptop freak accident? Had I never cracked the screen, I wouldn't have a need for a new laptop, and I never would have retrieved the I-Pad and started checking apps.

Think about that shit. Everything is connected.

My interpretation: Roscoe is a roving drunk. Often he'd come over and scare the hell out of me in the middle of the night. One time he broke into my house through the dog door and came upstairs to my bedroom. Picture this: It's 2 am, your heart is pounding because you hear FOOTSTEPS up the stairwell. And you live alone (this was before my pitbull family).

Yeah. Maybe I was meant to find the app as a safety precaution, in case there's any trouble in the future. Or to just help me feel safer in general.

And in a strange way I do feel safer.

Still oddly tied to Roscoe, when I had no desire. 

Or did I? 

Those tangled emotions we send out. Very interesting.

Z is for ZAPPED - A - Z Challenge

"I took the Medicine 

And I went Missing..."

~The National

Addicts go missing from time to time. 

It's not like we give up and walkaway because of disinterest or lack of discipline. The disease of alcoholism has a voice - one that condemns and shames the addict. Once you hear it - usually after 30 days of sobriety for me - you start listening. Maybe it's right. 

If you're not equipped with a kick ass sponsor and other ammunition, ie the AA Bible, Daily AA prayers, AA Journal, the 12 Traditions, your personal AA call list of numbers to other recovering addicts, who promise to be there for you before The Big Slip. From what I hear, a chief complaint of the AA buddy system is:  try to call and you go straight to voicemail. Leave a message. If one out of seven answers, you're lucky.

Anyway -- I slipped big time last week. And MTW of this week. No one knew. Except Helen, my alcoholic next-door neighbor and dear, dear friend, my best partying buddy ever. And we enable eachother on a regular basis.

Haven't been going to meetings. Feeling lost and alone; ready to lose it because my inner gremlin attacked- and started winning the fight. Couldn't shake the horrible insults hurled at me, like boulders one after one - thrown from a cliff  "somewhere in Appalacia" -- sorry, referencing Nabokov's Lolita there... 

Anyway...

Then the free floating anxiety began. A dark heavy energy in my chest. Hard to breathe. Fear of going to sleep because my mind won't stop - fear of staying up all night and feeling like shit in the a.m.

Fear of becoming that old me - before my 30+days sober.

So this past Thursday, I began the pursuit of petitioning my Heavenly Constituents, The Saints, The Trinity and a slew of guardian angels As if to confess: I fucked up! I cannot stand my life. I need your help and can't do this alone. For Saint Anthony, I petitioned - I'm lost, help me find myself. I thought he wouldn't mind that request. Still relevant to His mission. ;)

After fervent prayer, and several hours later - that dark energy in my chest began to lift. Then much later, I began encountering articles and helpful messages on-line that relate to my current mental duress. 

And today, as I sat in my living room,  DZP startled me, calling me to come outside. He pointed to a beautiful rainbow that had landed on *my* lawn, pointing directly at  my house! So close to where I stood in awe.

One of my biggest prayers was for signs - that things will be okay, what am I supposed to do to know God's path for me, etc. Having experienced this subtle reminder from Heaven, it really ZAPPED my alignment with the Universe. In a Spiritual Way.

The other thing - all these signs and messages came to vision gradually from Thursday to today. Testing my faith of course. Would I give up before the miracle happens?

I thanked my Heavenly Constituents, feeling so much relief and gratitude for the moment, and for giving me the ability to maintain faith to *see* the messages. Also for DZP -- for showing me the "sign." What a blessing he is.

I still can't believe that a fucking rainbow landed in my lawn.  

Going back to AA tomorrow.

Will continue looking for more "signs."

Why. Why. Why.

I'm still recovering from rejection. That job should have been mine. Everything about the role screamed Ruby, especially the virtual part.

In AA, we talk about not just the problem, but also the solution. My solution to these negative feelings: I keep telling myself that God and The Universe have something better for me. As I grit my teeth and kick dirt up, "Thank you God for for showing me that the virtual opportunity was not meant for me and thank you for planning something better." Womp Womp.

Although I know it's true, it still stung when I called the office furniture place to cancel my desk. Could have kept it, but when the shipping company told me the entire order was 555 pounds and I'd have to lift it off myself in 7 boxes, and even though DZP was able and willing to help --- I told them to cancel it. Didn't have the desire to carry in all that shit, assemble it....with no job? Plus --- 555 pounds?? Holy crap. Maybe I need to downsize.

The horseshoe, I'm keeping ;)

----------
Roscoe successfully made the long trip from LA back to the midwest. Frankly I do not know how his car made it --- must have a guardian angel riding shotgun.

He's called and texted a few times, wanting to see me and the babies. When he calls he's always drunk.
Last night he wanted to come by early this a.m. Okay I said, knowing he would never do it once sober. I was right --  this morning --  no call or text from him.

Should be interesting with Roscoe back in town.
----------

Diet? What diet?

Okay, I derailed a bit this weekend with DZP and son (Thai food). And last night. But still on plan. Haven't bothered to weigh myself though. Going by the way my clothes fit. Then I'll weigh.

----------
Billy relapsed. On crack. Last weekend. He confessed everything and has been attending meetings regularly. I really admire his honesty and gumption regarding AA. He just never gives up even when he fucks up. Most addicts keep their relapses a secret.

I'm 23 days sober from alcohol, BTW.

Dorothy has yet to return to AA since causing the accident. I know she's deep in the throes of her addiction now -- self-medicating. I pray daily for her to return .

Recently, Billy had a surgery in his left eye -- how he afforded it, I'll never know. Being blind in the left eye, this was the only operation that could fix it. And the chances were slim he'd ever see again from that eye.

He can now see.

Okay need a miracle like that in my own life.

Hi Ruby:

I'm very sorry for the short notice, but unfortunately we need to cancel the interview that you had scheduled for today.

Rather than wasting your time, I wanted to be very upfront about this. We conducted a first interview with another
candidate who impressed us so much that we decided to offer them the position.

We really enjoyed your interview, which is why we invited you back for a second interview, but the other candidate
we spoke with had even more relevant experience and so we decided to offer them a trial.

This doesn't reflect on your application at all. We thought you were fantastic, and we very much enjoyed connecting
with you, and had we not been so impressed with the successful candidate we would have had no reservations about
offering you a positon with our company.

If a second position arises in the future then we will certainly reach out to you.

Thank you again for your application and we'd like to wish you all the best for the future.

Kind regards,

Alice PageCustomer Support Manager

Skipped tonight's AA meeting. A more important task lured me upstairs -- prepare the home office.

You see, that London-based company *called me back* for a second and final interview. The first one, last Monday with the CEO, went very well...lots of camaraderie, agreement and overall good vibes. I knew in my heart they'd call back. And they did.

So I'm taking it a step further. Employing the Law of Attraction, I visualized already having the job and created the emotions surrounding being hired -- elation, relief, confidence, etc. So if they already hired me, I guess it's time to clean out the current home office and buy alot of new shit!

My Danish Modern creation table with rolling credenza. Very late 50s.

24 inches in length. And I love the carnival-like look. Plus it's a horse shoe -- good luck!

A new office chair. But that's not very exciting.

This kick-ass stainless steel fan. Of course I loathe the short blades, but both sides of my office walls slope at an angle. Anything longer that 24" blades...the blades would hit the slopes on the wall.

That's what I've been working on. Because I know the Universe sent this opportunity to me. Only meant for me. I wanted a gig where I stay home to care for my babies, and I wanted to use my certification in Life Coaching. This job offers both! Monday is the second interview. At 9am. Please pray for Ruby!

--------

To date, I am 7 lbs down. In 4 days. Feeling better!

-------- 

Roscoe starts driving back home this Saturday. I don't know why I care. The X.

W is for Waiting ... A - Z Challenge

Just sitting here, WAITING for Roscoe to call.

I know. I know.

We texted back and forth last night. And then today. Nothing heavy. Just each of us admitting our mistakes. Roscoe kept congratulating me on my sobriety. Strange, as he barely commented about me at all near the end of our relationship.

Last night, he said he'd call. Hours later, he texted saying that he doesn't want to jeopardize my sobriety or ruin anything good in my life. Okay.

Today he starts texting me. Wants to hear my voice. So I told him to call. Hours later, still no call.

The cool thing is, although I wouldn't mind chit chatting with him, I don't care that he hasn't called. Just supports the fact that he cannot be relied upon. Unlike DZP

---------

Thanks to my binge drinking (even though I only drank straight vodka with water and lime), I've managed to gain 20 pounds. Yes. There ya go....all those calories and the alcohol. The body treats alcohol like a poison. Your metabolic (fat burning) system shuts down  to focus on eliminating the poison. Alcohol + Sugar, which spikes insulin and slows the fat burning process even more, equals a 20 lb gain. Add food to the mix with a non-functioning metabolism and high insulin......welcome to fattie town.

Over the weekend I started a leaning out plan, which many trainers use today, albeit it's illegal now. Pshaw! Ruby loves illegal things. Anyway, I've done this plan before with miraculous results, but it's not for the weak willed. Day 2, I'm down 2 pounds. I'll be "on plan" until May 28.

In the meantime, I'm WAITING! Anxious to transform my body. My face looks so fat. And nothing fits. Every morning, knowing I'll wake up with a 1-2 pound loss -- the night before, it's hard to sleep. Like how kids anticipate xmas morning! Seeing the scale go down is like the best present at all.

--------
Have not seen Billy or Dorothy at AA. Hmmm.

V is for Vibe ... A - Z Challege

Past couple days, I've been feeling this VIBE that Roscoe was about to contact me. Maybe because Cinco de Mayo is our anniversary of first meeting.

My vibe was correct. I anticipated it would be two days (Sat.) when he'd text me. Bingo. He texted me last night. And then called me. Very drunk. 2am. Of course, I was wide awake watching prison documentaries, my favorite Saturday night activity. DZP was asleep, so I took Roscoe's call.

I couldn't understand much of what he tried to say. Incoherent. Almost black out drunk...I can read his voice and know what level of drunkenness he's at. But I really wanted to hear some of his LA stories. Why? No idea. I shouldn't care. I was more curious than anything. In my warped mind, I pictured him living the high life, a party every night, girl on each arm. A new, sparkly life for him.

Maybe I wanted to see if i was right about those delusions.

Not right. I texted him this morning and told him I'd be calling shortly, and that I wanted to talk to him, knowing he'd be sober. He complied. And debunked all my delusions about his new life in LA.

First, he's very lonely. None of his friends back home traveled to visit him in the six months he's been in LA. He seemed surprised and very hurt by this.

I asked about the women. I pictured him with a harem of sluts.

There were no women, although I'm sure he tried to mingle and land a new girlfriend. But alas...no one. Last night when we spoke while he was wasted, he kept repeating, "I need a girlfriend. I need someone."

That's his modus operandi...find a lonely, successful woman, shack up with them, and then the woman takes care of everything, including him. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't found a GF yet. Roscoe, being very attractive and good in bed with a big dick ... I always thought replacing me with another would be easy for him.

He shared all the concerts he attended, the bars, the sites...celebrities he met. Claimed he kissed Chloe Sevigny (actress) on the hand while escorting her through a crowd at a concert.

Wondering if that's true. Maybe it is...because he always idolized her. Seems far fetched though. Perhaps he merely saw her and had that fantasy in his head. He's been known to exaggerate.

Told me he missed his family. And me. Of course. I'd miss *me* -- all the shit I did for him. Was a wonderful girlfriend.

Actually, I felt great empathy for Roscoe. Especially when he told me about his drinking, which is spiraling out of control. Example - after drinking all night, he sleeps in his car 'til morning. Since he's driving on a suspended license, he doesn't want to take the risk. Sleeping in your car??? He wakes up around 5am and drives himself back to the flat he's squatting in. He claims to perpetuate this ritual on a nightly basis.

Fuck me.

He said AA can't help him. I spoke about my sobriety. He said it was nice to talk to me when I am coherent. He added that speaking to me while I'm sober was like the old days, when I was *more* myself.

All I could think -- "Was I really that bad?" Then again, it's one alcoholic telling another alcoholic how bad she was...without taking a look at himself or what role he played in it. Alcoholics are primed to always blame others without taking responsibility for themselves.

Bro's building project, which Roscoe has been working on and earning pay, is almost over. No more gig and no more money. He leaves LA in a week. His buddy, with whom he has been living, is packing up for Malibu. I guess Roscoe wasn't invited.

You'd think since Roscoe loves LA (the lifestyle), he'd find a way to make it work. But no, he'll keep running. He doesn't trust himself enough to make it on his own. He's never *had* to.

He plans to drive to Detroit and live with his friend Dan (also an alcoholic, but more functioning). While there, I have no doubt his drinking will escalate even more. But Dan has a job, pays his bills, has a schedule to follow. Roscoe -- nothing.

Eventually, he's coming back to town. That's what he said. And for some reason I felt relieved.

U is for UNAMUSED ... A-Z Challenge

Last night's meeting -- no Dorothy or Billy. Oh well. I lived.

But that didn't stop Dorothy from interrupting the meeting. The head chair, Parker (the guy whose car she hit) was called out of the meeting half-way through. Dorthy had called the payphone in the AA house and "desperately" needed to speak with Parker. Of course! Selfish alcoholic can't wait until the meeting ends to talk with him. She must interrupt the meeting! Ugh!

I am UNAMUSED.

Parker asked Ruby to chair the meeting. Yes. Happy to do it, yet pissed at Dorothy, who was probably sitting at home, nursing her bottle of vodka, feeling needy. She knows when meetings start and end, yet she had to call right then and there. She knew Parker chaired Thursday meetings. She knew he'd have to leave the meeting to speak with her. It's all about Dorothy. Now. Now. Now. Pay attention to me. Alcoholics can be that way...most of the time.

Spoke about my biggest challenge during sobriety -- staying present, in the moment -- instead of languishing in the past or worrying about the future. Both result in either resentments (past) or anxiety (future) -- both, the impetus of my drinking.

Funny how many times I catch myself thinking about Roscoe (good and bad), worrying about what will transpire in days to come and missing/ignoring life as it's happening in the present. When my mind wanders, I instantly say  to myself  "stay on page -- stay on the page in front of you" -- then I realign myself to whatever's going on around me. I do this hundreds of times a day. Staying present gives me great peace. Recognizing when you turn back into other chapters of your life or start reading ahead by predicting the future --- yeah, that's when the cravings start.

Funny, Parker was still stuck on the phone with her after the meeting. Walking past, I overheard him saying, "What do you mean your insurance company won't pay?!" His face red, he paced back and forth. Fuckin-A. Seriously? I kept walking. Alcoholics and addicts can be some of the most unreliable and deceitful people around.

Makes me despise this disease even more.

------------

In other news, I snagged a job interview with a coaching company in London for a virtual marketing manager position...one that I was hoping for: Work from home! Since I'm a certified life coach and follow this company on their coaching calls and product launches, I was beyond thrilled when I opened my email this morning, and they wanted to talk with me...Monday 8:30a!

Working from home would also allow me to be with my 4 babies (3 pit bulls and a long-haired cat). They love having me around -- this could be a dream gig!

Please pray for me!

T is for Taboo ... A - Z Challenge

Drama at last night's AA meeting.

Showed at the 5:30 meet up a lil later than usual...5:15p instead of 5:05p. I'm a great follower of schedules, showing up early or on time. Another car sat in my self-prescribed parking space. Damn. It's right across the street from the AA house and a straight shot to my car from the front entrance.

Met up with the smokers outside. Me, with my Vaporizer. Hugged Bob, who most resembles a lanky skeleton of a carny, complete with the pony tail, wrinkled dark skin, prison tattoos and of course...scuffed work boots. Although a veteran of the scene, he recently relapsed on bourbon after years of sobriety.

I asked him if he'd seen Billy lately.

"Yeah, he's inside."

I hopped up, hurrying toward the front door when we heard a loud crash...

An AA member had crashed into another member's car. The very spot where I like to park!! From the smoker's circle, a guy named Parker rushed to his car and began yelling and fussing. Then I heard:

"Oh God, it was Dorothy. She hit Parker's car. Figures! And she just bought that car with her tax refund."

Figures?

I know Dorothy. She had 6 days sober to my one --- I met her my first day back in AA - 9 days ago.

--------

I hustled in the house and into the second room, breezing past Billy, who called out to me in his heavy Bronx accent:

"Ruby! Where you goin?"

Did the moon walk back into the second room (Nah, but it would have been funny), and there sat Billy. All smiles.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I said, matching his smile with that of the Cheshire Cat. "I looked for you at the Tuesday meeting." We hugged. He asked:

"Where were you at the Monday meeting?" No, I did not go that day and decided to stay in and feel somber.

Turns out Billy has been working late. And missed a few meetings. That's all.

----------------------

Dorthy finally entered the meeting room, looking visibly distraught. Crying. Shuffling. She brought her little dog, an aging french bulldog named Lucy. Excited is an understatement about how I felt having a pup to play with in the meeting!

I immediately sat beside Dorthy to comfort her. Told her we all make mistakes, a year from now none of this will matter, Jesus still loves you...all that mess. Pulling her close to me...that's when I smelled it: a heavy scent of alcohol. Very strong. Vodka perhaps. I looked into her eyes, which were drooping and half closed. She was sobbing.

Yep. She was wasted. Hence the accident.

Quite TABOO to show up at AA drunk, but this happens frequently.

And talk about awkward. The victim of the crash (Parker) and Dorthy had to sit in the same room for an hour.

-----------------

I texted Billy a message about the alcohol on Dorthy's breathe. Actually, since he always sits next to me, I just typed up the text and handed him my phone. He read it and nodded, whispering, "I caught a whiff of it when she walked by."

Half way through the meeting, a very stoned Dorothy stood up and attempted to leave the meeting. Heading home or to the liquor store, I'm sure (POOR LUCY!!! With a drunk mommy).

"Someone should take her keys away," Billy said under his breath. 

And before Dorothy could get out the door, Billy stood up and followed her. Along with Bob, the carny, who chased after Billy.

A few minutes later, Billy reappeared. He talked Bob into driving Dorothy (and Lucy) home.

My hero. He's seriously *such* a good-hearted man. Misunderstood by society based on his appearance. 

Going to the meeting tonight ... 5:30p. Hoping to see Dorothy and Billy.

Grateful it wasn't *my* car. As I'm certain my night would have ended up in the bottom of a vodka bottle. Seriously.

S is for Secluded ... A - Z Challenge

Seclusion. All I've been doing since detoxing from alcohol. Not that I don't have friends upon which to call. I just haven't wanted to talk or be around people. My choice. There's good days. And somber ones. Which describes this week thus far.

Detoxing threw me into my menstrual cycle early - PMS, food cravings, crying for no reason....

Actually, the crying is due to the fact that now, I'm forced to feel everything, instead of drinking the pain away. Debilitating --- that many things I hear or see cause a heaviness in my chest and a wild desire to weep and run. But there's no more alcohol. No place to hide.

Often, I sit in the corner of my somberly gray, L-shaped couch, positioned close to the windows, and stare out, watching neighbors walk their dogs and cars drive by. I contemplate my purpose in life, and what I want to do next besides training.

I pray for a sign. Some insight. A message from the Universe. A Word from God.

Last night I dreamed traveling to the east coast with a friend. We spent time by the coast, near the water. All the rushing waves and white sand and happy people rolling around in the thick of beach fun. Then, it came time to leave for the airport. Running late. Fear of missing the plane. Lots of long lines. Had 10 minutes to board the flight. My friend had magically attained her boarding pass. Me, not so lucky. Ran around looking for ticket counter. My friend boarded the flight. I, however, did not. Then I woke up. Feeling...anxious and "behind."

-------------

Last week I failed to mention something about Billy and I...

On Thursday, I brought Billy a gift:

The size of a silver dollar and SOLID silver. Heavy. Acquired this piece from a yard sale back in my 20s.
The picture above is a mere example what it looked like. Didn't take pix of the medal before I gifted it.

Placing the holy coin in his dirty hands, his giant blue eyes questioning me, I told him that he needed a good woman to watch over him -- Mother Mary.

He was touched. Passed it around the room to show off what Ruby gave him. I mentioned it was solid silver. Then, thought better of that statement -- I shouldn't have said that.

Never trust a junkie, I thought (and have been told this many times). I sat there, watching people massage and pass around the medal. Billy, watching the others, beamed. He seemed so proud.

Billy's had about a month sober. Formerly a heroin addict. He also loves cocaine.

On that Friday, after gifting the medal -- no Billy at meeting.

Saturday, when few showed up at meeting -- Billy still MIA.

Yesterday, Tuesday -- still no Billy.

Where are you, dear friend? Is Mary still with you or sitting in a pawn shop somewhere?

I'll be at tonight's meeting. Waiting.

R is for Real... A - Z Challenge

I've been avoiding this post because it's hard for me to be REAL with myself about certain things that are transpiring, since I've been going to AA. Things maybe I don't want to admit to myself. And I'm working through them, sort of...

Sober 6 days today.

No Alcohol and (few cravings so far)...I think I'm more frightened about the consequences, if I start again and the hell of detoxing. The first few days of DTs, insomnia, paranoia, emotions running wild...

No Xanex other than that one night. No desire either.

However, I am smoking hash. Especially at night. Not something I do all day. Usually, just at night. But I feel like I'll be smoking some after this post.

And the bulemia is back. In full force.

DZP (my boyfriend) has been out of town, and when left to my own devices, I behave like a teenager whose parents left on a long vacation. This weekend was no exception. Had to be one of the lonliest I've felt in awhile, although I know it's important for me to be okay with being alone. And I usually *am* alone, having no family, but alcohol made it okay.

The hash helps.

However, yesterday, I purged 4 times, binge eating on salmon, nuts, string cheese, egg whites, tuna, cheerios. Yeah, all healthy foods, however the rush I felt from purging was indescribable....an intense high, one of relief and satisfaction. I felt powerful.

And with my alcohol addiction, I am powerless.

Seriously, I think pot/hash should be legalized. But I won't step on that soapbox right now.

I didn't want to admit any of this today, but feel it's important to acknowledge to myself what's going on.
-----

Billy wasn't at the AA meeting last night. In fact, hardly anyone showed up at our usual time. I left before the meeting started, feeling rather dejected that my buddies were elsewhere. Where though?

I thought we had a date.
-----

Serious storms headed our way today. Tons of warnings.

I'm skipping AA tonight.

Q is for Question ... A-Z Challenge

Lost for the past 24 hours. 

Sober 4 days total. 

For the last 3 days, existed on 4 hours sleep. Insomnia is part of the detox process. Didn't help that I drank copious amounts of a black tea blend called "Awake" -- with spoonfuls of sugar -- which replaces sugar from alcohol the body craves during detox.

Last night's AA meeting sent me into an emotional spiral. Lots of pain.

Returning home, all I could do was sit on the couch and weep uncontrollably. Because of a guy named "Billy." More on him later.

So what to do with my sadness. In the past, pouring some vodka solved the ache. Not an option and frankly, didn't want any. Time to call someone....

No sponsor yet. 

With no desire to call the few girls I know from AA (more fucked up than me), I reached out to my bro. A risk, I know, as he is rarely emotionally available. He answered, in his usual sullen and angry tone. Sounded upset and in a rage.....his broker didn't transfer an investment fast enough, so he lost a few hundred bucks. By the way he sounded, you'd think he lost millions. He ranted on and on. Decided not to share with him the details of the meeting and about Billy.

Called DZP (my boyfriend)....he's out of town in a horrible hotel....in an angry and vengeful mood about the company he works for. Decided to just let him vent, told him I loved him, and then called it a night.

There were others I could have called, but didn't. So I sat, debating how to "heal" myself.

I prayed. Watched a few Cat Comedy videos on YouTube. Played with my Emma...

Nothing helped. Tried to close my eyes -- too wired on so little sleep. And reeling from that AA meeting.

I needed sleep. I needed to eat (no appetite).

Seven Xanex later and a few hits of some resin (which is left over black stuff from pot and over time, turns into a form of hash)...I finally fell into a peaceful trance, where I no longer felt the tremendous burden in my heart.

My stash of resin.

Appetite returned and the tears stopped. And then I slept. Twelve hours.

The Xanex is prescribed. I hoard it and never take any unless I'm flying or giving a presentation. Not a great taker of pills.

I don't consider this a "fail"....as my main addiction is alcohol. My desire to smoke resin --- no desire really --- just so desperate last night for sleep and food. The Xanex...ugh....not a fan, but it aids with severe anxiety.

-----

At last night's meeting, when we go around and talk about our struggles, the AA QUESTION of the day was "How do you love yourself" or in other words "self love."

I planned on confessing my anger toward my girlfriend, who asked me to make that 60 mile trip to the airport ... after she knew I was detoxing ...and on only 1.5 hrs of sleep at the time.
I wanted to confess how selfish I was for feeling that anger....and that part of "recovery" is being of service to others. A change of heart and yes, I felt shame for being so selfish. Hard to love myself lately.

My potential topic soon changed because of "Billy," who spoke before me.

Billy--------a late 50ish, gray-haired, bronzed-skin, towering man (6'5") from the Bronx with a long, lean body like a swimmer, large hands with dirt under his nails, black-stained clothing and scuffed work boots. A working man -- perhaps a mechanic. His huge, kind, blue eyes melt your inhibitions. Believe it or not, still handsome, or at least I think so. A bad boy, too. Formally a heroin addict and some alcoholism with a bastard for a father and a long life of abandonment and abuse.

His father never called him Billy....only "lil bastard", "stupid prick" or  "waste of time." In his wonderful deep, east coast accent and abjectly honest replies, he could narrate any story as well as Morgan Freeman. He's a brilliant story-teller, and I could listen to him all day like a wide-eyed child in complete amazement.

He sat across from me at my initial AA meeting and introduced himself to me first as a stranger. He couldn't take his eyes off my shaking hands and asked me many questions about my addiction. The last few meetings, he sat next to me and kept the conversation going with words of comfort and questions of concern for my well-being.

I loved him instantly. A soul friend. His heart. You can always feel in your gut when someone is a good soul. Billy is one of them.

Billy spoke about not wanting to be a mechanic anymore (I was RIGHT!) after 35 years. And having no-self love because of the lack of affection and attention, as well as emotion/physical abuse from his father. He currently lives in his car and works 5 days/wk at a car shop.

And here's where I lost it at the meeting. Billy's voice began to shake and his deep blue eyes filled with tears. I'm paraphrasing his story:

"What will I do with the rest of my life? I'm a piece of shit and no one will want to hire me. Working on cars is all I've known, since my father took me out of school at 13 and made me work in his shop 18 hours a day. No playing with kids or sleeping in. He's woke me at 5 am every morning, and I wouldn't get dinner until after 10pm. In the shop, every time I made a mistake, my father would hit me hard in the head. I didn't want to get hit anymore, so I got very good at working on cars."

He went on and started crying, this gentle giant of a man:

"I don't even know why I was born. To live hell on earth with this addiction. I'm lost and I don't know what to do with my life. I have no self-love. I hate myself most days. I'm worth nothing to no one. No family. You guys in AA are my only friends. And I don't feel worthy being around you because I have nothing to offer anyone. No purpose in this world..."

Yeah, I fucking lost it. The topic of my girlfriend and the 60 miles----fuck that. I had something to say to him. Big time.

My turn. Trying to hold back a storm of tears (fail), my hands shaking as I reached for tissues, I looked him in the eyes and said (paraphrasing):

"It breaks my heart to hear you say those words -- that you're worth nothing to no one --- you mean so much to me, and you don't even know it. You were the first to introduce yourself to me as a stranger and you comforted me when I was scared and feeling lost at my first meeting. You're an amazing storyteller with a tremendous and memorable voice (cue in others saying yes, yes). God has a purpose for you even if right now just being at the meeting comforting and helping others. Your path will be made known by God, just please have faith and please keep coming to these meetings..."

He looked at me and said "Okay then, it's a date."

We both laughed because he says that to me after every meeting:

"See you tomorrow same time?" he asks

"Yes."

"It's a date!" he calls out to me as I walk out to my car.

BIG SIGH. An emotional meeting!

Can't wait to see my Billy tonight.

There are no words for today. All is well, just exhausted. Have to make a 60-mile round trip tomorrow. My girlfriend just notified me of this a half hour ago. Storms tomorrow too. All on (so far) 1.5 hours of sleep. Hope I get more tonight. Gotta train the fatties at 4:45a.

P is for Prayer ... A-Z Challenge

First AA meeting in over a year. And I trembled in fear, as well as from the Delirium Tremens. Shakey head, arms, hands, all the way down to my knees. Hard to walk. My emotions --- if anyone said anything to me -- I feared I'd collapse in their arms and cry like only an addict can when she can't have her fix. Filled with shame, overflowing in fact.



Pulled up at the "little green house on the corner," (what everyone calls it) where meetings are held. Couldn't locate a picture of this little shack -- but despite it's appearance, so many of us addicts get sober there. With good people around to help.


Stepping out of the car, my entire body shaking...I looked over to the smoking area outside the place. Someone was already waving to me, recognizing me instantly. "There she is! "Bob said, waving both arms wildly, a fellow addict and friend. I almost ran to him, but my legs couldn't take it. So I shuffled quickly to his embrace.


"I've been lost in bottles of vodka and rum," confessing to him, tearing up, hoping it wouldn't matter to him. And it didn't. He whispered, "Been there, done that, girl. But you're back here in my arms and that's all that matters!" I needed to hear that. Others around us smoking, joined in the welcome.


Headed inside and walked into the room. Three elders, Chuck, Paul and Charles, the only ones in the room, all stood up. "There's our Ruby!" they exclaimed. They still remember me. "Take off those sunglasses, girl so we can see those pretty eyes." I did what they asked, and then immediately broke down --sobbing uncontrollably in their arms.


The shaking got worse. They stared at my hands, as I grabbed a shitload of Kleenex, knowing I would need it. "Coffee?" they asked. I said I'd get some. Chuck stopped me, "No, I will get it-- you'll probably spill it all over yourself anyway," he joked. He filled it with lots of cream and sugar (sugar helps in the detox).


Others started walking in. Saw my crying with the elders in the corner. All eyes on me suddenly, probably wondering if I was a newcomer.


Chuck handed me the coffee. I attempted to hold it. Fail. My hands shook so violently. Paul stepped in and held the cup for me, while I sipped through the straw. I felt so cared for, yet so embarrassed at the state of what alcoholism reduced me to.


More entered the room. More stares. Familiar faces coming up to me, taking my trembling paws, trying to console me. Within minutes, the small hot room was packed. We sat in a big square, shoulder to shoulder - about 50 of us with folks sitting outside the room because no more seats. Everyone can see you.


Despite the three rickety ceiling fans, I started sweating profusely. Trying to hold back more tortuous emotions that were welling up. Wiping away tears and sweat. Attempted to drink the coffee with no help, I still shook so violently. Looking up, almost all the room was watching me. Wondering.


Chuck started the meeting, made some announcements. We prayed. I prayed for the courage to speak up and tell my story -- without losing all control and shutting down. In the past, I always spoke either first or second. People remembered my stories -- I was always so transparent about my life, hoping someone could relate and understand. Tonight would be no different.


Seeing how all eyes were on me, I boldly announced first and loudly, "My name is Ruby and I am an alcoholic." Now the ears really perked up. They knew my storytelling. I started sobbing again, but made it through my story, which is detailed on this blog. I especially focused on the Delirium Tremons which was the harbinger of my "rock bottom."


After that, the entire meeting focused on speakers who related to my story: they've been where I'm at; it's hell they said; even warned me I should seek medical attention; gave advice and a shitload of empathy. Instantly, their words started calming me. I was home again, like I never even left. So many thanked me for coming back, adding, "We're glad you're here."


Nice. I was glad, too.


Although they did make me nervous about the side effects of detoxing off alcohol. I promised them if I start feeling ill, I'll drive to one of those Medifirst Care clinics for medication to help with the sickness. So far, I just feel shaky. No nausea, headaches or stomach/heart pain. The worst would be the seizures that can sometimes result in hardcore alcoholics.


After the meeting, I immediately called my bro. Explained to him everything that went down at the meeting. Confessed about the Delirium: "I want you to know about this in case anything happens to me. The next 7-10 days should be interesting." Bro really came through. Very supportive. He told me he wouldn't speak any of this to Roscoe (the ex) who still works for him, but is no longer living with him.


Good. And fuck Roscoe. I'm gonna find a new path to follow.

O is for On... like it's ON!....A-Z Challenge

Vegas -- fun time. Copious amounts of drinking vodka and rum. My last hurrah per se. The worst part about the trip --- I couldn't put on my make up without my hands shaking violently (and that's an understatement). DZP, my companion, says he believes (my lie) about the psychiatrist upping my meds, which can cause violent hand shaking. My prescription has doubled... and can cause some shaking. However, I sometimes wonder if he knows the truth and doesn't want to embarrass me.

The good news is that today on the way home (flying), I didn't order *any* alcohol as I normally do (at least 4 wines). Hate flying...always very nervous when I'm not in control. Popped way too many Xanex though...5 to be exact and fell asleep. Felt hung over when we arrived home.

My first thought while heading back to the house was "I know I have left over vodka in the fridge." I fantasized about making a valiant effort by pouring it all down the drain after walking through the door.

I didn't.

After DZP left (he drove), I immediately poured a stiff drink, then left for an around-the-corner deli for a bottle a wine and some chicken salad. One last party.

I obsessed over my Delirium Tremons -- the hand shaking. At the airport, I drank a large bottle of water. A man sitting close to me watched. He asked me, "nervous flyer?" My hands shook like crazy while squeezing the liquid into my mouth.

"No, I'm on some new meds," I croaked. Not looking him in the eye. He nodded. Suspiciously. Suddenly I felt everyone watching me. Paranoia, I suppose. I tried to text a few people -- pure torture, because I kept misspelling words. DZP asked if I needed help. "No," I said...."just the meds fucking with me." Lie. Lie. Lie.

Tomorrow -- AA. I'm nervous, but plan to spill my guts at the meeting and look for a sponsor. I hope I can find a good one.

How will I live without alcohol?

The vodka is gone. All's left is that bottle of wine. After that....it's on.

N is for Now ... A - Z Challenge

Today, a moment of decision. And several embarrassing moments.

It's becoming painfully obvious that I need to stop drinking. In getting ready for Vegas (I leave tomorrow), I needed to cross a few things off my to-do list. Since I would be driving, there was no time for drinking. I do not drink and drive, if I can help it. So I went cold turkey, running errands.

And so the embarrassment begins.

First, drop off my female pitbull, Emma, at a place called the Watering Bowl (WB) for boarding. I ensured she would stay in the high end kennel, instead of a wire cage. Her favorite toy, a Scooby pillow and her favorite blanket in tow. Plus all her food for the week.

In talking with the WB manager, my voice quivered, I felt weak. Then he had me sign a form -- my hands shook violently as I applied the pen to paper. My signature resembled that of a 90 year old woman....bare recognizable. He asked if I was okay. I told him, "It's some new medicine I'm taking."

They call it "Delirium Tremens" -- an uncontrollable shaking of the hands....when you don't get the alcohol your body now needs to function.

I felt less than a person. Ashamed. And desperate.

Next, a visit to the accountant to pick up my taxes. She too asked me to sign some forms. I closed my eyes and asked for stability of my hands. Sure enough, even more shaking. She put her hand on mine, and asked if I was okay. "New medicine I'm on," I replied, without looking her in the eye, as I would normally, when someone shows me an act of kindness.

Then...home. To write several checks to the tax collectors. Over $1,100 owed. Plus four checks which needed to be written. I cannot tell you how degraded I felt, when I couldn't even write my checks without stabilizing my hands. And still, my writing looked like a two year old wrote it. After mailing off the taxes, I immediately (and finally) poured a drink.

You can see the degeneration of my handwriting....from December 'til now.

I can't do this any more, but I'm not sure how I will live without alcohol. I'm tearing up as I write this.

In Vegas, that's all everyone does at the event I'm attending. Copious amounts of drinking.

I've resolved to go back to AA when I return home.

That should be an adventure. Getting clean.

M is for Monster... A - Z Challenge

In my 13 year relationship with Roscoe, also an alcoholic --- during our last days before the final break ---he became a monster to me.

I never thought I'd be with a guy who'd hit me.

Grant it, I hit him first on all occasions. After he called me a fat ass, stupid whore, fucking cunt, alcoholic bitch...berating me every chance he got. Worse names than I'd been called in my school years. It hurt even more being called those names by a guy I've stood by, even in his darkest moments (4 DWIs, and a hit and run........................I'm ashamed to even admit that I stayed with that piece of shit).

I felt like an abused dog that finally attacked its owner after 11 years of torture. I started hitting him after I couldn't take the pain anymore. Our last two years were a fucking nightmare. I didn't care anymore.
I **wanted** to abuse him. And that's when he started hitting back.

Oh so many black eyes I had. And I didn't give a fuck. Hitting him gave me a release I cannot describe. Almost a high.

However, it was the silence after I hit him....when he took pause to compose himself and gather strength to attack me harder......**that** was the worst part. WAITING to be hit. His hits always hurt more than what I unleashed upon him.

That motherfucker.

I think I'm more angry at myself that I stayed with Roscoe so long. As two alcoholics, we fed off eachother. Keep in mind, my alcoholism truly started after I couldn't change his binge drinking. One day I decided, fuck it -- can't beat 'em, join 'em. A grave error on my part. I couldn't keep up with his drinking, although I tried my best.

Let's call a spade a spade -------he had a big dick and was good in bed. Also very handsome. Women (sluts) flirted with him whenever we were out in public. He was a skateboarder and possessed many cronies (guy friends)....they all knew me. Finally, I was accepted into the popular crowd. After years of being an outcast in my school years. When we went out together, I was finally "known." Acknowledged. Even respected. Because I was with Roscoe. A mid-western legend of sorts. Everyone who is anyone -- knows him.

I clung to that.

Truth be told --- he was an asshole....a prick to me....always cutting me down and trying to control my every move. While he did whatever **he** wanted.

I never thought he'd cheat on me though. However, eight years into our relationship, he did. With a 21 year old slut....whom he left me for....for over a year. Devastated doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. Traded in for a younger woman.

We got back together a year later.

And I'm pretty sure that's when I desired to abuse him. Maybe why I welcomed him back in my life. I beat him with a golf club. He beat me with his fists. I hit him with brass knuckles (which belonged to my grandfather)....he dragged me down the stairs and tried to gouge out my eyes with his punches. I kicked him in the balls. And I fucking enjoyed it.

Fuck this, I thought. Next time....I will kill you.

God saved me from that nightmare. In all honesty, I couldn't kill anyone. But I do enjoy exacting revenge on those who deserve it. Roscoe deserved it -- that motherfucker. A monster, and that's a kind word for him.

Writing about this seals the deal. I would never take him back.

I never thought I would say that.