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."

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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.
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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.

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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.