Thursday, November 19, 2020

Rest In Peace

 I wanted to revive this blog. I wanted to come back to it and post about life after having spend 30+ years in the insanityt of alcohol.

That's not going to happen.

For those of you who are just discovering this blog and are finding it worthwhile, I encourage to purchase my books and watch for new ones on the market. I also encourage you to find other blogs who address the needs of the collaterally damaged. They are out there. There are a lot of them.

I encourage you to get professional counseling, go to AL-Anon or find support anywhere that you can.

As for me... keeping this blog up and running simply keeps me tied to a past that I want to leave in the past. It's time for me to grow and move on. And I mean move on completely out of the alcoholism workd.

I'll post a resource page sometime over the weekend. As of December 1st, 2020 this blog will be completely taken down from the internet.

Rest in Peace

The Immortal Alcoholic Blog

2,243,711 total hits

Oct. 19, 2010 - Dec. 1st 2020

Saturday, November 7, 2020

There is life after death

It has come to my attention that recently someone has been trying to use my identity to turn this blog in a direction that would never be my intent. This person believes that alcoholism can be cured by using some kind of voodoo-ish doctor to solve your problems. Let me tell you, if you have an alcoholic in your life there is no magic fix by any magic doctor anywhere on planet earth. I, however, cannot speak out the outlying planets in our solar system.

ALL COMMENTS ON THIS BLOG ARE MONITORED BY ME AND APPROVED BY ME BEFORE BECOMING PUBLIC. I do not allow comments recommending any kind of magic hocus pocus. I also do not allow unsolicited plugs for rehab centers or organizations. If you see a comment with any such information – it is because I researched it and approved it.

Now that I realize that people are still coming here and reading what has been written, it’s time for me to make this blog lively again. While filled with unpleasant information, there is humor here and there. Sometimes it’s hard to see. When you are up to your ass in alcoholism madness, it’s hard to see anything that may remotely resemble something laughable. Let me assure you that you will have difficultly retaining your sanity if you don’t stop and see the comedy that surrounds you.

If you have been coming here, you probably know my history so I won’t go into all that. If you don’t know, then I suggest you get my book “Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife” and the sequel “The Life of Riley” which are both available on Amazon.

On November 17, 2017, my life took a turn. That’s the day Riley died and opened the door to the possibility of having a life of my own.

The day after Riley’s death, I woke up at the usual time as any other day. I went to his room to see if he were still breathing, as usual. But there was an empty bed. I went to the kitchen to make coffee but skipped making breakfast. Then I sat on my beautiful front porch, wrapped in a blanket, and tried to figure out what I was supposed to do next.

It was the start of Fall and it was not so cold as to turn my nose red. The leaves in the big oak tree in the middle of my front yard were gently falling to the ground. The dog was chasing squirrels and the cat was lying by my side carefully flicking his tail to the rhythm of the rocking chair rails. He was being careful not to have his tail under the rail as it came down where his tail had been.

I was anxious. I knew there was something I was supposed to do. I just didn’t know what it was. Nothing came to my mind. It was Saturday, so anything relating to business would have to wait for Monday. There was laundry to do; Riley’s things to pack up; family to contact; but I continued with rocking away my morning and being unsure of what my role in life was to be now.

It took me a while to decide what to do with my life. I floundered from one thing to another. I talked to friends and family. I had an idea of what I wanted, but was just not sure of how to go about it.

I wanted a life. I mean a real life that belonged only to me. I wanted to make decisions based on my wants and desires. I wanted friends that I could meet for dinner and wouldn’t raise an eyebrow when I ordered a glass of wine. I wanted a social life. And I wanted to discover who I was outside the confines of an alcoholic world.

It took me two years to decide where I wanted to be and how I was going to accomplish getting what I want. It took two years to decide to find out WHO this person named Linda really is.

What you will find in this blog is my journey from the darkness of alcoholism to deciding to be happy. Anyone mentioned in this blog will have an alias to protect the guilty – and OK – the innocent. I didn’t get to where I am today without the help of some very important people. Some contributed favorably and others – well – not so much.

I hope you enjoy reading about my newest adventures and misadventures. I hope you laugh and cry. But most of all I hope you understand that there IS life after.

Friday, February 7, 2020

A New Path

by Wren R Waters 

            I don't really remember how I met Linda.
            No, I remember how.
            I don't remember why.
            Like so many of us, lost in the haze of an alcoholic marriage, I found my way to Linda's blog.
            It was refreshing.
            It was real.
            It was eye opening.
            And it was frightening.
            Her daily trials and tribulations with an end-stage alcoholic left me wondering,
            “Could this really be my husband one day?  Is this my fate too?”
            I must have made a comment on her blog or something.
            But I don't remember why it was we somehow made the move from Internet friends to real, live, talking on the phone, getting together in person friends.  That's a hard leap to make frankly.  But for some reason now lost to the files of time, there was a private “call me” message and then a phone call and then...
            At first look, it would seem we had nothing in common.
            She's a few years older than me.  (Like she's 45 and I'm 35.  Wink, wink.)
            Her children are grown and she has grandchildren.
            I was (am) still raising children.
            She got away from her alcoholic.
            Initially anyway but when he threatened to have their daughter be his caretaker, she acquiesced as any (most?) mothers would and, reluctantly allowed him back into her life.
            To date, I haven't been quite so lucky as to have my alcoholic husband cheat on me and leave.  (But one can always dream, can't she?) 
            My husband is what the industry euphemistically calls a “functioning alcoholic,” since he goes to work every day, doesn't spend the weekends in a holding cell, etc., etc.  I will say I am a little bitter, and completely skeptical of the definition of “functioning.”  Have we really set the addition-bar so low that if an addict – be it alcohol, drugs or anything else – simply goes to work every week and not jail every other weekend, he gets to be declared “functioning?”  Believe me, no matter what the outside world may see, there is nothing “functioning” about these men at home.
            But I digress.
            Back to me and Linda.
            I was married to a “functioning” alcoholic.
            She was married to an end-stage alcoholic.
            I was navigating the emotions of being married to an able-bodied husband who chose to sit in the basement, watching television and drinking beer rather than engaging with his family and participating in life.
            She was navigating the emotions of the being the caregiver to a physically broken man who was breaking her spirit on a daily basis.
            It would seem even with the common ground of alcoholic husbands, we didn't have a lot in common.
            But that first phone call?
            The one that dared to edge up against the unspoken boundaries of Internet friendships?
            The sweet truth is the friendship showed its strength from the very first phone call.  Over the years, we have been there for each other beyond what initially bonded us.  We've cheered for things that weren't alcoholic related; listened to tears that weren't alcoholic husband driven; given pep talks that weren't about surviving the crazy swirling around us. 
            But now the friendship has come full circle and we find ourselves once again with seemingly little in common as we stand on common ground.
            Linda is widowed.
            She spent over ten years of her life as caregiver to a man she no longer loved as a husband but  but for whom she couldn't turn her back on as a suffering human being.  Her grief and healing process is tied up in the complicated and convoluted feelings of caregiver and widow.
            I am not widowed.
            I am not even divorced – yet anyway.  It is my sole mission this year and so my grief, my healing process is centered on the dissolution of what I thought would be forever.  When was the last time you heard of a divorce/widow support group?  Never, right?  Because the emotions and feelings lack commonality. 
            And yet, what we do share is that we are both tired.
            So very, very tired.
            So tired that we can't write.
            And when we can't write we wonder if we've each said, respectively, all we each have to say on the alcoholic husband front.
            And when we wonder if we've said all we have to say, we question whether or not we should still be in the alcoholic-husband game.
            And when we question whether or not we should still be in the alcoholic-husband game...
            We realize we can't just walk away.
            Not from blogging and writing and connecting with other women who are trying to create sanity in the insanity of marriage to an alcoholic.  But maybe it's time to connect in a different way.  Maybe it's time to shift our focus from surviving being married to an alcoholic to thriving in our own lives despite being married to an alcoholic.  
            Linda and I have talked about this a lot and while she agrees “in theory,” she is also hesitant. She knows her readers have come to trust her for information and support regarding the whole alcoholic-husband thing.  And it is the audience we both feel a connection to and a desire to support.  We have been there!
            Boy, have we been there.
            And so when someone “new” to this fucked-up club reaches out to one of us, we want to be that solace in the middle of the night, that voice that says, 
            “No, you're not crazy.”
            “Yes, there is someone here.”
            “But how do we do both,” Linda asked me. “How do we move away from the alcoholic-husband thing while still being a source of support and information for women married to alcoholics?”
            “I don't know,” I said.
            “But I'll go first.”
            (And I'll write the post warning/warming up your readers to the idea.)
            I started with creating a new website,
            Linda started by allowing me to write this post.
            That's as far as we both have gotten but as we ease our way down this new path, we hope you'll find the same support, information and sense of camaraderie you've come to expect, even if we're not talking about drunken husbands.

Saturday, November 2, 2019

Welcome to Tabitha and Wren

Since I announced my departure from the alcoholism world, everyone has been fantastic. I’ve received lots of e-mails congratulating me and encouraging me to move on with my life. There have been a few that have related a sense of loss that I may not be posting as much as I had in the past. I’m very sorry that I will, indeed, be posting less. But… those of you who are long term followers will understand that… I have a plan! I always have a plan.

I’d like to announce a new member of Team Linda! Please welcome… Tabitha!

I received an e-mail from Tabitha expressing an interest in doing a guest post. After a lengthy telephone call, we came up with an idea that I believe ALL my readers will appreciate. Tabitha will be writing for the blog on a regular basis. She has been writing for years but has not had an outlet for her journalist work. She has done research on alcoholism and compiled a LOT of information. She, like me, sees the value in finding humor in stressful situations.

And another new contributor is Wren Waters of Quiet Raging Waters blog. Wren has published several books. Her point of view is that of a spouse who is trying to find a way to leave her alcoholic husband.

I have known Wren for many years and we have shared experiences, strength and ideas. We have very different writing styles which should add some variety to Immortal Alcoholic blog postings.

Help me welcome Tabitha and Wren to the world of the Immortal Alcoholic. Please post your comments, thoughts, reactions, suggestions and let’s all show both ladies how much we appreciate them for taking on this responsibility.

UPDATE on Linda…

I’ve had a lot of interest in my resume and had a number of job interviews. I feel very positive about getting a job offer in the next week or so. I will be back to doing title examining from my home office. I did a couple of practice exams and realize that it’s knowledge that still have stored away in that gray matter in my head – called a brain!

My Florida move is scheduled for the end of January – if I am firmly ensconced in new employment. Even being employed full time, I’ll still have time to put my toes in the sand and soak up some happy sunshine.

In short, everything is progressing nicely. I’m happy and determined to go forward without abandoning all my loyal readers.

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Just another addiction

It is possible to be addicted to anything. I’m addicted to The Walking Dead, baked potatoes, my morning coffee, and talking on the phone. That’s just where the list starts. There’s so much more.

When I was taking care of Riley, I felt trapped. I longed to have my old life back. You know – that life where I earned money, met with my friends, dated men and could just up and go on a vaca whenever I felt the desire? That WAS my life. I thought that when Riley was gone everything would automatically go back to normal – back to the life I had before.

When Riley was alive and sick, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do. My days were mapped out for me by necessity. I began doing the alcoholism support work as a means of staying sane within all the insanity. I felt I was accomplishing something worthwhile. I was connected to people who were walking in my path and it felt good to have company.

It’s been two years since Riley’s death. The big question is – if I am free to do whatever I want, why can’t I figure out what it is that I actually want. It was pointed out to me, in the gentlest of manners, that I don’t seem to be able to decide what it is I want to do when I grow up. My response was that I didn’t think I had to grow up. But he was right.

I keep trying to continue to help everyone I can. But, it is not serving me well. It was a shocker to discover that I was in worse shape financially, socially, and physically than I was when Riley was alive. I believe I have become addicted to alcoholism. Not the booze, but the associated chaos that surrounds it. I’m addicted to trying to take care of everyone who asks me for help. I’m still not in the process of living my life. Instead I’m living for the caregiving addiction.

When one of my followers/clients says to me “I don’t need you anymore” I am elated because it means I’ve done my job. This person can now move on and put all that alcohol stuff behind them. But how do I get to that point?

I don’t need you anymore. I’m very sorry if you feel I’m abandoning you. But I need to move on and have a life that doesn’t include so much alcoholism. And just like an addict, I will start out by trying to “cut back” and not go cold turkey. I’ll still do some coaching. Maybe I’ll write a blog piece every once in a while. And I have a few more alcoholism books to finish but I can do them at my own pace. As an editor once told me – there will always be some project that you will not finish.

This is a decision that I am making with a clear mind and for the first time in a very long time --- I’m comfortable with my decision. I don’t feel all wishy-washy about it. Riley is my past and that’s where I want him to stay.

What am I going to do, you ask? I’m going to go back to work at a real job. If you know anyone who needs a very experienced Real Estate Title Examiner who works from home – please let me know. I have some books I want to write and none of them have to do with addiction. I’m taking care of myself physically and now I need to take care of myself mentally.

Over the past ten years, I have met some truly wonderful people who while be in my life for the rest of my life. I’m so fortunate to have met you. I’ve had my share of haters as well, but they are everywhere. I was strong and never let the haters deter me from my objective. That objective was to give you a sense of hope and a dose of reality. I think I was successful.

When you miss me you can always come to this blog. All my books are available on Amazon. You can “friend” me on FaceBook on my personal page so you can see what mischief I’m up to now. Thank you for your support, comments, and return visits.

Most of all, thank you for always being there when I needed someone to need me. I wish you the calmness I feel at this moment.

Later -- Linda

Thursday, September 12, 2019

Caregiving on alcoholic father

GUEST POST by Alan Oakman

Alan is an online STEM tutor, teaching K-12 students. His love for learning new things as he traverses the world of caregiving has prompted him to start blogging. Apart from being a science geek, Alan loves jazz music and occasionally plays the guitar.   You can follow his blog and he is on twitter too. He is also the caregiver to his alcoholic father.

Being a Caregiver:
Reflecting on Supporting an Alcoholic Father in Old Age

A loving nuclear family in the beginning. Father drinks socially but loves his family and provides for them. Father drinks a little more and stays out late but still loves his family. Father stays out a lot and comes home drunk and, in that unreliable state, professes his love for the family, but never shows up in real needs. 

Many stories of alcoholic parentage have this template with customized variations. The tragedy is doubled when a child grows up in an alcoholic home where both parents are more dedicated to the bottle than him/her. What this childhood journey doesn’t mention is the father in old age needing support and emotional caregiving. 

Majority of the available literature on alcoholism focuses on the period when a child is dependent on the parent and the negative repercussions of psychologically, emotionally, and financially depending on an absentee father. More work is needed to understand the scenario when a once-dependent child becomes the caretaker of the now dependent parent.

The Highs: Feeling of Home

When my father was absent in my childhood, it was an unconscious thought pattern formation that there were other things that were definitely more important to him than me. I did not necessarily dwell on feelings of abandonment as much as navigating through life without his support and care. Therefore, when the possibility of taking care of him appeared in my adulthood, I was frankly thrilled. 

The notion of creating a home together was founded on the concept of making up for lost time and connection. Emotionally, the responsibilities did not take up too much time and had a breezy manner to it. I was also over enthused to fill the gaps in my memory with stories of when he was away. He told engaging stories about his job and his trips that kept him away. While his health was not what it used to be, he was functional and did not require focused palliative care. The experience was one of re-connection.

The Lows: Feeling the Need to Cut Off and Live My Life

The shadow side of this re-connection arose as we spent every Tuesday taking a leisurely walk across the park. In all this, two episodes of disconnectedness were starkly noticeable. Firstly, it was like befriending a new person and I am not too social. Further, it was like making friends with someone you have not confronted for their bad behavior. I attempted to bury these feelings as it was very evident that, emotionally, he was in a horrid place. He felt lonely and hopeless along with encountering the truth that time brings along- everyone ages and the body does not remain invincible. 

The second reason for episodes of disconnectedness was the fact that he did not believe he had done anything particularly wrong. He did think that he used to enjoy a drink but doesn’t see it as a cause for his absenteeism as a parent. It was difficult for me to even listen to the complete monologue, much less accept it without questioning. I had to cut short the walk on that day and process this new information. I felt cheated as I discovered that I had unconsciously assumed that my father had reconnected due to guilt. I had assumed that he was not apologizing overtly only because of the certain unyielding predisposition of his generation. To learn that this apology was not even covertly intended or formed was definitely a shock.   

The In-Betweens: Learnings and Re-Learnings; Doings and Un-doings

Giving emotional care and support to a former-alcoholic parent is a mixed bag and more difficult than I was prepared for. However, these coexisting feelings of home-making & belonging and disconnectedness & dread made me reflect on my choices. 
  1. Emotional Well-Being : It is common knowledge that children of alcoholic parents have a troubled relationship with authority and assertiveness. These are only a few of the behavioral concerns that have been studied as a result of growing up around alcohol abuse. With this knowledge, I found it important to accept that drawing boundaries is very important, especially with the person who had caused much of this. I demanded an apology from my father and explained to him how shirking his responsibility regarding the past was unforgivable. It has led to a much healthier relationship between us currently.
  2. Consciousness: Alcohol, infamously, is one of the most available and abused substances in all age groups. The easy availability and legally permissible status makes it the most popular, therefore harmful, substance in college too (see the chapter on ‘Consciousness’ in Psych 5: An Introductory Psychology Book). It can become difficult to mindfully engage with alcohol in a measured manner due to its sheer availability. It is an important part of learning for me to understand sobriety and practise mindful Buddhism. These are practices that I adopt in the knowledge that I might be genetically predisposed to alcoholism.
  3. Parenting: One doesn’t have to be an alcoholic to be an absentee parent. I have notions of the manner in which I should behave to be a parent who is present in my children’s lives. It is also important to see that I am not necessarily dependent on them in my old age. It would be an aim to bring up my kids in a way that makes them come, meet their old man out of their own will. 
In conclusion, my unfortunate experience has helped me understand the mixed nature of being a caregiver to an absentee, alcoholic father. In addition to compassion, I have learnt to accept the conflicting emotions of anger and overwhelming love that associates itself to my new caregiving role. It also has been an educative journey that molds my future and my relationship with my loved ones.

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

The wind began to switch...

Every year I post my rendition of how living in a house with an alcoholic is similar to Dorothy's house in the Wizard of Oz. Last week was the anniversary of the premiere of that movie, so I believe it is time to repost. It's hurricane, tornadoes and cyclones... oh my... we're not in Kansas anymore!

This is a re-post so please keep that in mind as you read about Riley and I waiting out a tornado.

Tornado warning… (5/3/2011)

When the Emergency Broadcast came over the television announcing that we were under a Tornado Warning, I gathered my stuff – blankets, pillows, laptop, water, etc – and put it in a secure place in my bathroom. I was ready.

Riley was in his rocking chair watching his usual NCIS. I told him we needed to get his bathroom ready in case the worst came about. He just said – “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” And being the good little caretaker that I am – I stocked his bathroom. Both the bathrooms are small and there is really only room for one person in each.

As the night wore on, I settled in and listened. Wind, rain, hail, more rain, quiet, wind and more wind – but there was no rumble. I was waiting for the rumble sound of an oncoming train. It never happened – and I was thankful.

As I was waiting, I could feel the house swaying with the wind. We have a brick rancher – solid as possibly could be – but the wind was so strong it was moving the house. I thought of the three little pigs who built their last house of bricks. What a smart thing to do.

In spite of the three little pigs’ wise decision to use brick in the construction – some lyrics kept running through my head -- but they weren’t verses about the pigs’ quest for a secure dwelling. Instead, I was hearing in my head the lyrics to a song from The Wizard of Oz.

The wind began to switch – the house to pitch and suddenly the hinges started to unhitch.

Life with an alcoholic is much the same as a house in the middle of a tornado. This first verse could well define what it is like to watch the beginning of an alcoholic downfall. Things are unsettled, the family never feels secure and things start to fall apart.

Just then the Witch – to satisfy an itch went flying on her broomstick, thumbing for a hitch.

The alcoholic (the Witch) needs to satisfy the craving for alcohol and so he/she seeks it out. Sometimes they ask others to help them obtain the alcohol – as in hitching a ride to the liquor store.

And oh, what happened then was rich.

I think if we substitute the word “sad” for the word “rich,” this would be exactly correct. Because what happens after the alcoholic gets the booze is rich with sadness.

The house began to pitch. The kitchen took a slitch.

Things become increasingly upsetting in the alcoholic household as the drinking continues.

It landed on the Wicked Witch in the middle of a ditch, which was not a healthy situation for the Wicked Witch.

The consequences of the alcoholic’s actions cause him/her to land in unpleasant situations. Eventually the health of the alcoholic deteriorates and puts the alcoholic’s life in danger.

Who began to twitch and was reduced to just a stitch of what was once the Wicked Witch.

The person who was once a vital, productive, happy member of the community is reduced to becoming a mere servant of alcohol. At that point, the entire family is not in Kansas anymore, but rather in some uninhabitable place – like Antarctica. No matter how many times you click your heels, those ruby red slippers are not going to help you now.

I’m told by fellow country dwellers that this is unusual weather for this time of year. Funny, in Linda and Riley World – living in a tornado is a way of life.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Unlike any other workshop

Surviving the Chaos Workshop is an interactive workshop with the emphasis on the word “WORK”.  This is not one of those workshops where you go and listen without speaking and are supposed to learn something. NO! This workshop will make you actually think, learn and state your concerns. There will be opportunities to voice your opinion, ask for suggestions, and relate to other people who are walking in your footsteps. You will leave with a workbook created by Linda that you can fill with notes, observations and doodles.

TWO-days of information, speakers, and peers who will offer alternatives to the regular 12-step programs of recovery. While I embrace 12-Step programs, I have found there is so much more that can be utilized to help us loved ones regain a life of our own and learn that we can thrive.

I don’t have all the speakers confirmed so I cannot give you names as of yet. I can, however, tell you that there will be a speaker who will give insight into relaxation and the power of meditation. You can learn to laugh from a “laughter therapist” and possibly channel your life to new enlightenment. Hear what it’s like for a recovering alcoholic to recount the realization that he was destroying his family. Find out about interventions and when, or if, they are a means to recovery for the alcoholic in your life. Listen to a mother as she tells of dealing with her child – under the age of 16 – as an alcoholic.
There will be mini-group session break-out opportunities. Network with other attendees and go home armed with contact info of people who understand.

Several authors will be selling their books and available for questions or comments.

Did I mention the food? Southern soulful comfort all the way. Full breakfasts, breaks and lunches are provided each day. You can have dinner on your own or join us at a nearby restaurant where we can chat freely.

Where:                 Clarion Hotel, 3032 Richmond Road, Williamsburg, VA
                             For room information please contact Linda at
When:                  November 2-3, 2019 from 8 am (or earlier if you are a morning person) – 4 pm each day
Cost:                    Early birds - $210 before Oct. 5th, 2019
    Advance - $249 in three installments -- $79 due at registration; $85 after 30 days;         $85 after another 30 days
    At the door: $289
                            Volunteer opportunities available in exchange for free ticket – limited number available
SPECIAL:          Anyone registering prior to Sept 5th, 2019, will receive a free coaching session

To vendors or substance abuse recovery providers:
Vendor tables available for materials distribution, questions, etc. Contact Linda at for more information.

Make your reservations today! Go to my website:

Monday, August 12, 2019

Go ahead and scream

I’ve joined a couple of new FaceBook Groups… well… they are new to me. They are all people who are dealing with living with a practicing alcoholic. Practicing. Now there’s a word for you. Like they need any practice. Most of them have the role of alcoholic down pat and really need no practice. Moving on…

What the group members post is heartbreaking. When I read them, I want to cry for them. I’d like to reach through the internet and hug them so tight that their eyes bulge out. I know what they are going through. I’ve been where they are. What they write should not be shocking to me, but I have been blessed with a brief intermission from the memories of the days when Riley was “practicing.” Reading their posts brings back everything and leaves me with a feeling of gratitude.  I say it is a brief intermission because I can be drawn back to those days and re-live them as though Riley were still alive and putting our family through hell. I’ve been told that it’s a form of PTSD.

The things that I want to say to these post authors, who are pouring out their pain into cyberspace, is that old saying “this too shall pass.” It may seem that it will take forever to enter that tunnel of hell and emerge on the side with the brighter sunlight. But… it will happen… eventually. The sunlight won’t wash away all the residual hurt and anger that living with an alcoholic can infuse into a person’s brain, but the warmth of the new sun can take away the cold edge of despair.

Image result for free clip art, woman screaming in the woodsThere are things that can be done in the present while waiting for that sunshine. One woman said she wanted to scream because she was so frustrated with the situation. I see nothing wrong with screaming as loud and for as long as it takes to release all that negative energy. Of course, you don’t want to do it on the balcony of your high-rise apartment building or where your neighbors will feel obliged to call 911. So take yourself out to some secluded place with lots of trees and nature and then let loose. SCREAM. Yell out all the things you want to say to everyone who has stepped on your last nerve. Cry. Stomp your feet. Kick a rock. When you’re done sit in the quiet and resume your composure. Gather together your tolerant, loving self and head back to that tunnel of hell. The break will renew your ability to carry on.

Recently I enjoyed listening to a hypno-therapist talk about affirmations. I never really thought much about such methods of survival, but now I’m a firm believer in the power of positive thinking. Oh… I’ve always been able to see my glass as half-full even when it was near empty. But this is different. I was so impressed with her method, that I invited her to speak at my November workshop in Williamsburg, VA. She has not yet confirmed, but has told me that she would help me find someone suitable if she should not be able to make it. I’m very excited to offer this to my attendees. It’s a bit outside the box and I’m all for anything that helps me and my followers get through the bad times.

In my opinion, if you allow yourself to give in to your urges to let out your anger and follow it up with positive affirmations, that the combination can create a more peaceful existence even if there is chaos going on all around you.

Another way of dealing with the alcoholic’s ridiculous antics is to find the humor on what is going on. Let’s face it, most alcoholics have a lopsided view of life. Even though they may be in the midst of slinging insults and criticism, the reality is that they have no idea of what really is and isn’t. So whenever possible, and it isn’t ALWAYS possible, remember that all those things are a script from a comedy show. It’s not real. It’s not factual. Oh my goodness… wouldn’t it be great if they could get paid for that material for use in some kind of entertainment venture? You wouldn’t have to buy a ticket to the program because you’ve already heard the content. So on the positive side, you’re lucky because you have the choice to enjoy the show (or not) whether you buy a ticket or not. Maybe after an evening of venom tossing, you could write a review of the alcoholic’s performance as though you were an uninvolved third party. Now that might be interesting.
Image result for free clip art, lights, camera, action

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

When the fat lady sings

When I first took Riley back in after being told he was very sick, I took him to the medical doctor’s and was told he had about two weeks to live if he did not stop drinking. Of course, he did NOT stop and in about two weeks he had an esophageal varices while detoxing in the hospital. He survived. He survived the detox, the varices, the trauma of withdrawing from the booze. He survived it all. He went from the hospital to a six week stay in a nursing home. Then he came home.

Two weeks was what I had been told. Two weeks is all the time I planned on giving to this alcoholic who had monopolized so much of my life. Two weeks and my life would get back to focusing on me and what I wanted to accomplish. I could do two weeks of almost anything. Piece of cake.

Nine YEARS later, my alcoholic husband died. NINE years of taking care of his entire existence and putting myself into a box on a shelf in a dark closet.

Well… finally he was gone. Finally, I could get on with my life. Finally, I could focus on my own happiness and needs. I could leave the house whenever I wanted and desired. I could take a long weekend or maybe even a month. There was NOTHING to hold me back now.

But first I needed to tie up loose ends. Then I had to “get organized”. Then I had to get rid of my husband’s things. Then I had to… and this… and that…

I floundered around doing whatever I thought it was that I needed to do for that day. I jumped from task to task and never really finished anything I started.

When Riley was alive, it was easy to know what I had to do each day. I had a schedule to adhere to. Someone was depending on me to do certain things at certain times of the day. I always knew what was required of me.

All I could say for sure is that I wanted to move to Florida. But I had things that needed to be done first.

It took me more than a year to actually start taking care of myself. I came to the realization that my own health was failing and if I wanted to enjoy my life, I had to make sure I would have a life to live. I had left so many health issues unattended to that it took a few months just to decide where to start. Despite my excellently rationalized planning, it turned out that what I wanted to do first was what I would have to do last.

Everything on my list of things I wanted to accomplish now that I’m not anyone’s caregiver got pushed aside so that I could focus on things like my aching shoulder, knees and hips. (Funny I never noticed how much they hurt when I was taking care of Riley.) I stopped posting so much on this blog. I stopped concentrating on writing a brand-new book. I scheduled doctor appointments and surgeon appointments. I cleaned the pantry and bought the food on my doctor’s new food list.

Gradually, I began adding other things to my list of things I wanted/needed to do. I took the class that was required to earn my “certified” standing as a Peer Recovery Support Specialist. I attended events of groups that focused on recovery from addiction. I networked. My progress was intentionally slow. I wanted to allow myself the time to “let things sink in.”

Well… I guess I let things sink in enough because now I have a full plate of things that I want to accomplish. I have a major surgery coming up. I published a new book, “Postings.” And I have my very first ever real-live two-day interactive workshop set up for early November.

I’m excited about all the new things on my agenda. I’m especially excited about the workshop because it will be unlike any other workshop that most people have attended. It will be full of unexpected guests and unusual topics. It will be INTERACTIVE and the key to it all is the word “WORK” in workshop. Besides the food is incredibly delicious.

I still want to move to Florida, but that will not happen until I’m recovered from this first surgery. I finally feel that I’m no longer floundering around trying to “get my stuff” together.

The fat lady sang a final song and I’m enjoying the silence outside the chaos.