Déjà vu…

I was watching Dr. Phil on Thursday, January 13, 2011 and I saw the interview with Ted Williams. This once homeless man was an overnight hit via a You Tube broadcast. He has a wonderfully smooth, although gravelly voice and had once studied as a radio announcer. Since the You Tube performance he has been offered many jobs and is well on his way to fame and fortune. Well… Ted is well on his way, but there is this one little thing…

By his own admission, Ted Williams has issues with alcohol and drugs. A reunion with his family brought to light that although Ted claims to have been clean and sober for two years, he has now returned to one of his old friends – Vodka. Now that he has some money his favorite friend, Grey as in Grey Goose, visits often.

Dr. Phil had a confrontation with Ted on this particular program.  Ted stated that he would only go into a treatment facility if a “professional doctor or counselor” told him he should.  Dr. Phil reviewed his qualifications to Ted and then made him an incredible offer.

He offered Ted the opportunity to attend a treatment facility that only the very well funded and insured could possibly afford to attend. Ted’s response was a litany of activities that Ted felt he needed to do before he entered rehab. Dr. Phil met each of Ted’s required tasks with a resolution that would allow him to go directly to rehab without passing go or collecting $200. In the end, Ted was accompanied to his hometown by an official of the rehab center with the plan being to eventually escort him to the center at South Padre Island, Texas.

OK. So I get it. I truly do. What I get is that all alcoholics are the same. They have the same vocabulary and the same script. They all have the same set of excuses and sense of paranoia.

If I have heard Riley say once, I’ve heard it a thousand times – I want a “professional” to tell me that I’m dying… need to go to rehab… can’t drive… can’t live alone. And no matter how many times a “professional” does tell him, there is some reason why he can’t consider that person as qualified to make that determination.

All alcoholics have a million reasons why they can’t go into treatment now. They range from… I can’t take time off work… I can’t afford it… It’s too hot… It’s too cold… It’s Sunday… the sun came up this morning. I know and understand that a new way of life might be frightening – after all a known evil may seem better than an unknown good.

I listened intently to the program and at the same time felt I could have been Ted’s wife because the only thing different from Riley was the physical body. Ted’s actions, reasons, excuses and comments have actually been voiced by Riley. It was as though Riley had written the script for Ted. It was Déjà Vu all over again.

As non-alcoholics, it’s hard for us to understand why someone, such as Ted, with such an incredible chance at a life most of us can only dream about, would throw up road blocks in the path of that life. We’ve all seen it… experienced it… hated it with our own alcoholics.

It appears that after all… Ted is just another alcoholic. He’s no different than so many others that have lost outstanding opportunities because they chose their friends named Grey… Smirnoff… Seagrams… Popov… instead of taking a risk at a chance of a lifetime.

Update to Road and comments on Al-Anon and AA

The trip to the city went well. The dental work wasn’t as horrible as I had imagined and a plan was worked out for the rest of the necessary procedures. I don’t like going to the dentist – but I’m feeling better about the entire ordeal. By next month, this will be just a blip on my radar screen.

Riley got his hair cut at a nearby salon – actually all the hair on his head was trimmed down – not just one. He looked all nice and neat when he picked me up. And he was stone cold sober. He went to the salon and then back to the dentist office without detours. I’m proud of him for that.

We stopped at a very nice, upscale restaurant in the downtown area before heading back to the country. It was enjoyable to sit down to dinner and try the scrumptious menu offerings. No mention was made of a wine to compliment the meal – no cocktails – no alcohol of any sort. The meal was wonderfully peaceful and the food was delish.

Riley drove us home and we arrived in the country to be greeted by Jade and Maggie who wagged their entire bodies with excitement for our return.

AL-ANON and AA…

Al-Anon –

This is a wonderful organization that has much to offer those living in the insanity of alcoholism. I am not opposed to Al-Anon. In fact in the pages “What the Non-Alcoholic Can Do” and “Finding Help” there are references to both AA and Al-Anon. I spent many years going to meetings and appreciated the support and understanding that I received. It truly helped me. For many reasons, I currently don’t attend meetings. Even though, I don’t adhere to all the steps and traditions – I respect and understand the teachings.

It is my belief that we each must create our own steps to maintain sanity and they may not look like the 12 steps in Al-Anon. However, Al-Anon is a wonderful place to start and a perfect basic-training on the reality road.

Just to be clear, I’m not trying to save my marriage – my marriage was over 15 years ago.  (See “How I Got Here”) I’m just trying to take care of my daughter by not allowing the alcoholism to take over her life via Riley. I provide a buffer zone between the insanity of alcoholism and Alea’s daily life.

If I were to follow Al-Anon teachings to the letter, I would let Alea do whatever she wants to do about her father. I would only focus on myself and not Riley or Alea. They are both adults and can make their own decisions. But, the law of motherhood is supreme. Maybe, having lost my son, I feel it more acutely – but it will not be denied. Ask any mother what is most important – 99.99% will tell you it’s her children.

So… Alea will not live a life of cleaning up human feces or urine from the floor. She will not be monitoring the depth of jaundice in her father’s skin and eyes. She will not be the brunt of his unrealistic demands. And she will not find him dead in a pool of his own vomited blood. All of those things will fall on my shoulders because – I’m the MOM and legally the wife of her father. It’s a small price to pay to keep my daughter happy and safe so she can enjoy her own marriage, son and grandchildren.

After all these years, what I’ve come to learn is that I DO live a life based on Al-Alnon concepts and principles. I just do it differently and more subconsciously than most people. I do it without thinking about it. And I’m realistic. I know what’s ahead and I have planned accordingly.

Most people actively participating in meetings are there to help them stay with the alcoholic in their life. They are looking for a way to make sense of the insanity. It is soooo difficult, almost impossible, to detach from someone who is your entire heart. It goes against the grain of all things we learn about love and marriage throughout our entire lives. I pray for those people everyday.

I’m detached from Riley because I don’t see him as a loving husband. He came to me as a terminally ill man in need of care and attention. Do I love him? Yes – just as I love all my other brothers – but not with passion and desire as a wife should for her husband. He no longer holds my heart. That’s what makes this bearable.

Riley and AA –

For many years Riley was so entrenched in AA that there was nothing else in his life. He volunteered at the local AA Service Center and was DCM (District Committee Member) for his AA District. He switched his addiction from alcohol to AA – which was not a bad switch. But, all his many years ensconced in AA (from 1982 to 2008) was never a deterrent to drinking. He attended meetings drunk or sober.

I believe that AA only works if the alcoholic can be truly honest with himself and everyone around him. For Riley, I believe that drinking while being active in AA was a challenge. He loves being able to “get away with things” and not being called out on his drunkenness at meetings gave him a sense of accomplishment.

End-Stage and Attitude –

Riley is truly “end-stage”. That means all efforts to save him have been exhausted. Doctors no longer suggest he go into detox because the risk of death is too high. Rehab centers refuse him admission. No one tries to convince him there is a better way. Riley makes it very clear that he does NOT want to be sober. He hates living in the here and now and prefers to have his life hazed over by alcohol. The man I met in 1966 is gone forever and will never return. I have long since grieved over the loss of my beloved husband.

Why I started this blog –

I have spent a lot of time scouring the internet looking for information on end-stage alcoholism. I found very little. I knew there must be people who have been through what I’m going through. By starting this blog, I was hoping I would connect with others who have had similar experiences. I also hoped to provide information as well as support.

When I look at other people’s blogs, I see that they have been blogging for quite some time. I believe these blogs can be a wealth of information for my readers. By those standards, my blog is just a baby in blog world.  I have much to learn, so forgive me if I sometimes stumble.

My family is pushing for me to write a book based on my experience. No decision has been made on that as of yet. When I had my poll more than 80% of the people who responded wanted to see my blog in book form – so I’m leaning in that direction.

A request –

If you find someone who may need to read what I have written, if you have blog readers of your own who may benefit from my experience, please refer them to my blog or provide a link in your own blog. I will do the same for other bloggers and will try to answer all my e-mails that are not posted as comments.

Thank you and let’s make 2011 a triumphant success in all aspects of our lives by maintaining sanity within reality!

The road to...

I recently had major dental work done and have not been feeling is great. I have been lax about getting to the store to do the shopping. It has finally reached the point that we MUST do some shopping or Jax (the cat) and Jade (the dog)  will be bbq-ing us on a spit in the fireplace for their next meal.

Yesterday was the day. I reluctantly handed the car keys to Riley so he could go to the store – alone – unsupervised. It was the first time in almost two years that he had ventured outside the house without my watchful eye.

I was nervous. Images of him entering the package store and downing a bottle in the parking lot were at the forefront of my brain. I found myself  waiting for the phone to ring with a police officer on the other end telling me Riley was either in jail or dead from wrapping the car around a telephone pole. The fear created by those images made me physically ill.

But, before I knew it… there he was. He pulled into the driveway, greeted Jade and Maggie (Jade’s BFF) and then brought the grocery bags into the kitchen. It seemed he had not been gone long enough to have done all the necessary shopping. There must be something up.

I was wrong. Everything I had asked him to get was there. There were no signs of alcohol consumption at all. He was not the nervous little boy that had something to hide. He explained why he had to get a block of Swiss cheese rather than shredded. But I wasn’t listening – not really – I was just basking in the glory that the chore had been completed without incident.

Normally Alea takes me to my dentist appointments because I get very nervous and sometimes I must take something to help calm me down. But she could not take me this time. So… the plan for today is for Riley and me to make the 2 hour drive to the dentist office.  While I’m in the dentist’s chair, Riley will be getting a haircut. Afterwards, we are going to dinner (if I’m feeling up to it) and then drive back home. Riley will be my chauffeur.

My only concern is the time when Riley is supposed to be getting a haircut. There are numerous bars in the area of the dentist office. I’m hoping he doesn’t decide that would be a better use of his time.

I’m encouraged by the shopping event yesterday and feel confident that he can handle this trip.

Of course, I have a back up plan, I just hope I don’t have to use it. After all, feeling confident of his continued sobriety is one of the stepping stones that will pave the way to his drinking again. The more I feel I can trust his sobriety, the more opportunities he will have to drink. And once he starts drinking again… well… I cannot prevent the consequences that may follow. I could be wrong because he is the Immortal Alcoholic and the consequences that should occur just don’t seem to happen.

Anyway… I will take one day at a time and trust him – just for today – that he will not drink.

Rehab Review and Resolutions

I know some of you will make some resolutions over the next few days. Quite often one of them is to stop drinking or stop being co-dependent or maybe one of a hundred others that involve the alcoholic in your life. If this is the case, please take a look at the new page “Rehab Review.”

Sometimes it’s hard to pick up the phone and ask questions to someone in an official capacity. The whole process can seem intimidating. It can seem mysterious and complicated. Maybe you don’t know what questions to ask.

In Rehab Review, I’ve asked the center about the platform it uses – 12 Step, Christian, other. And I’ve ask what they specifically have to offer as a program for the non-alcoholic.

Another aspect that keeps some people from seeking help from these centers is money. So, I ask the question. What can the center do for both alcoholics and non-alcoholics who cannot afford to attend or who do not have insurance.

If you have questions about what centers have to offer, please do not hesitate to contact me and I’ll try to include the question when I do the next review.

My New Year’s resolution is

to not make a New Year’s resolution at all.

May you all have a fun and safe New Year’s Eve and a peaceful 2011.

Really... no I mean... REALLY???

This morning an argument took place concerning money matters. Riley wants to get a copy of his credit report so he can find out “what’s really going on” with the money.

What’s really going on???  What the heck does that mean??? Is he implying/inferring/accusing me of mis-managing the money? Does he think I’m lying or keeping something from him? Just exactly what does he think is really going on??

I hate people who talk in riddles. If you have something to say – just say it. Pull up your big boy pants and say what’s on your mind. Ask me a question. Make a statement that allows for conversation and doesn’t imply a hidden meaning. Initiate a discussion that doesn’t point a finger of blame. But, be prepared – if you hit me hard enough – I will come out fighting. I will protect myself.

What is really going on is that we are in a better financial situation than either of us has been in years. There is money left over at the end of the month. We can afford to rent a car or buy little extras at the grocery store. We can afford to give the kids money when they run out.  It is true, we are not in the perfect place. There are bills that need to be addressed. But those bills ARE being worked on and eventually they will be taken care of.  Now that more than $500 each month is not being spent on vodka – maybe I can get us to a better place. It’s a long term goal – it won’t happen between now and next week.

But, to me… this is not about our budget. This is about Riley not remembering what condition his money was in before he came to my house. It’s about him not being grateful that I volunteered to try to get his credit cards paid up and put him back into a solvent situation. This is about Riley not trusting me to do what is in our best interest financially.

In my previous post I mentioned about fading memories. This is a prime example. He doesn’t understand that I was on my own with every single decision that needed to be made. He has forgotten that he did not / could not participate in anything that even resembled a major decision.

I tried. I tried to include him in all decisions. I have tried to keep him informed – then and now. I tell him everyday of the status of the bank account. When I sit down to pay the bills – he’s right there – across the desk from me. He knows what I’m paying and how often. He knows what’s in the bank. I discuss all aspects of money with him.

I want him to participate. I wish he could/would make suggestions that were real alternatives. But instead I get silence. I get passive-aggressive actions and then “What’s really going on.”

So… where’s the gratitude? Where’s the “thank you” for handling everything single-handedly? Where is the trust? Is he thinking he could do a better job?

 I know… I know… there is brain damage. I know that it’s unrealistic to expect him to be a true partner. I know he doesn’t remember how things were and cannot be grateful from what he doesn’t remember. I know all this…

But the slap in the face doesn’t hurt any less. And the anger I’m feeling is justified. Would it really hurt him to say, “Thank you for taking such good care of me and everything else in our lives.”? Would it really hurt him to trust that I have BOTH of our best interests at heart? Would it hurt him to not be so accusative and be more of a participant?

Evidently it would hurt him because that would mean that his true love – vodka – had hurt both of us. I would mean that he might have to take some responsibility for his actions. He can’t do that – his loyalties are firmly implanted. In his mind his beloved vodka would never have complicated his life.

I want to buy him a bottle today. I want him to drink it down and I want him to disappear into the haze.

It’s a good thing we are snowed in.

Half past Christmas...

I would love to have Christmas at my house. It would be great if everyone came here Christmas Eve, decorate the tree, wake up early Christmas morning and open all the gifts. Follow that with Christmas dinner and then everyone napping to store up energy for the long drive home.

But, Christmas at Alea’s is very pleasant. Ryan and his lady are in an awkward position of having to spread their time thinly across several families. So, Alea’s house is last because that’s where they want to eat their final of several dinners on Christmas evening. Because there are so many families to consider and I live two hours away – Christmas at my house is just not something that is likely to happen.

It’s OK. I treasure the Christmas time that I spend with the family.

Riley did very well at our friend’s annual Christmas Eve celebration. He stood next to the bar and close to the food while he watched what was going on around him. I don’t know if he had anything from the bar, but if he did – it wasn’t noticeable. He engaged in conversations and appeared to be enjoying himself. I’m not really sure if he did. It’s hard to tell sometimes if he is just “putting up” with a situation or truly being a part of the action.

I watched him Christmas day. I watched as he leaned up against the kitchen sink, coffee cup in hand, and I listened to his silence. He looked into the cup and then up to the ceiling. I wondered what he was thinking about with such intent concentration. I knew if I asked he would simply say, “Nothing.” I knew he would keep the mystery to himself.

I wondered if he was thinking about his own childhood Christmas’s. I wondered if he had his own Red Ryder Rifle story that he would like to share. I wondered what Christmas was like at his house. I wondered if he was feeling something.

But, then I wondered if he was bored and was just didn’t want to be there with us – the people who cared enough about him to keep him alive. I wondered. And then I became irritated. I know he feels no gratitude for the people who have handed his life back to him.

Watching him, I recalled a conversation we had just prior to leaving our house to go to Alea’s. He reiterated to me that he didn’t want to hear again how he had been “pulled from the brink” and that if he kept hearing it he was going to do something about it. He informed me that he didn’t know if that was what really had happened. He didn’t really believe he was going to die and doesn’t like anyone saying that he was. He said he didn’t know and my saying it was just my saying it and I’m not the authority.

Remember the saying that those who don’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it? Nothing is more true to the alcoholic brain. There is also a saying about time heals all wounds. That also is true for the alcoholic. One of the huge facts of detox is that the alcoholic will probably not remember the pain and suffering and as time goes by his vision of the devastation to everyone around him will grow dim. It will seem less and less a problem and will eventually get to the point where he won’t think it is a problem at all.

All of us non-alcoholics would like to think that the realization that the alcoholic’s life was near it’s end, the days in the hospital, the tears shed by their loved ones, the horror of the past behavior, would be acutely engraved in the fore-front of the alcoholic’s brain. We want to believe these things can be the skid-stop strips down the slippery slope of the booze covered hill. But, alas, it is not. The alcoholic will forget or the memory will dim. And the feeling conveyed will eventually be… “that wasn’t so bad, now was it.”

Riley’s memories are fading and being replaced with the memories of the good-old days of beer, wine and vodka. He will be searching for that group of people who accept him as the alcoholic he is. Those are the people he wants to hold conversations with. Those are the people who will steal his love (and his money) from the people who truly care about him. Those are the people who will turn their backs when he gets sick.

There is a sad fact for alcoholics. We non-alcoholics don’t understand them. It’s like living in the same house, but in two different worlds. For me, I must remember my prime objective and keep my focus. There is nothing I can do about it. It’s just the way it is. If I don’t keep focused my anger is going to over-rule my common sense and then, well… I don’t know what I’ll do, but I know it won’t be pretty.

We are home now and having driven through a snow storm and risking the drive on slippery, snowy roads – I’m grateful to be here. I’m grateful for my wonderful son-in-law who does his best to keep us safe. I’m grateful to have a warm loving house to stay in over the holidays. I’m grateful to be able to spend time with the people who are most important in my life. I’m grateful to be able to feel gratitude.

Surviving the holidays...

Enjoy the little things,

For one day you may

Look back and discover

They were the big things. --- Author Unknown

If I could give my readers anything for the holiday, I would give a reprieve from alcoholic behavior even if just for a short time. Since I’m not Santa and don’t have that power – all I can do is try to give you some hints and encouragement. To do that, I must think back to different points in my life and think about how I handled the holidays at those particular points. Memories flood back that are seldom those of joyous times. So I move on to “What did I learn from that?”

When my children were younger – pre-teens or so – I pretended that I was a single parent. In reality, for as much as Riley was around, I really was a single parent. But, even if he was physically present, it didn’t matter. I didn’t count on him to go to the school programs, do the shopping or participant in the usual events. If he came along, well, OK. But, I didn’t encourage him to go.

About the only task Riley seemed to enjoy and made an effort at attending was picking out the Christmas tree. He took a lot of pride in picking out the right tree and getting it home. We would get the tree into the stand and make it perfectly straight and tall. And that’s where it would sit – unadorned -- until Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve at our house was special. It didn’t matter how drunk Riley was because everyone we invited would usually end up tipping a few too many. Every Christmas Eve we held an “open house” for all our neighbors and anyone else who wanted to show up. A buffet of fabulous food was set out, the house was decorated, we got all dressed up, and then we’d flip on the lights around the front door to indicate we were ready for company. Anyone attending was required to hang an ornament on the tree. We stood around, laughing, talking, eating and drinking. Sometime around 11 p.m. the lights would go off and the event was over.

The next morning we would do our Christmas gift exchange with the kids eagerly awaiting each perfectly wrapped gift. Then breakfast. The kids and I would play with our new treasures and watch TV and eat candy and just have a lovely time. Riley was usually there for dinner but he might not be. I didn’t expect him to and if he did – that was nice. Then Riley would disappear into the night and I would become a single parent again.

I guess my point here is, only expect what your experience tells you that you can receive. Looking back, I knew the little thing of picking out the tree and our Christmas Eve Open House was something I could expect Riley to share. It was a little thing that turned into a big thing. I’m thankful for those little things.

How I handle holidays now is different from year to year. It depends on if Riley is in drinking mode or sober mode. Last year he was drinking and we limited his contact with the grandchildren. We had dinner at our house because it was easier than trying to get Riley out of the house.

This year, we are going to Alea’s house. It’s a rare year because Riley is sober. Of course, venturing to the city means taking a risk that he will manage to get his hands on some alcohol. But, I won’t let that stop me from enjoying my daughter and grandchildren. If Rily drinks, he drinks. That’s that. I will have help with Riley supervision and that is in itself – a gift. I expect him to drink and if he doesn’t – it’s a gift. If he behaves himself – it’s a gift. I won’t let the knowledge that he might drink and/or make an ass of himself overpower the enjoyment of being with my family because -- my family is a gift.

I have a follower whose husband lost the fight over alcohol. This rest of this post is dedicated to her.

Alcoholism is a terminal disease. If you don’t believe it’s a disease, then it’s a terminal situation. No matter how you look at it – other than sobriety – the only way out is by leaving this world. For most of us non-alcoholics, we realize that fact and fight it every single day. Even when we say we won’t – we do.

As with any terminal disease the grieving process doesn’t start the day of the final passage. It starts with the realization that we are helpless to really make a difference. That’s when we start mourning the loss of our alcoholic. It’s about a way of life that vanished before the passing. It’s about the person that stopped mentally living with us while in our physical presence. So, if we appear to others to not be mourning “properly”, it’s because we started the process long ago. The tears don’t fall so freely. But, don’t doubt they have been shed.

So once the alcoholic has passed and we are left with the remnants of what was long ago such a promising lifetime of happiness, we must take stock in the final gift the alcoholic gives us. It is the most kind and loving gift that could ever be given. The gift is a holiday that has the absence of insanity. The alcoholic has removed his insanity from your life and given you permission to see the world with a fresh new pair of glasses.

I suggest you take a few minutes of your Christmas morning and sit in silence. Think about the good holidays you shared. Smile. Cry. And then say a quiet “thank you” for the gift he gives you today.

There is a book “How to Survive the Loss of Love.” I love this book. It was given to me after my father died and I’ve worn out several copies. It’s not a typical self-help book. It’s a simple-read filled with poems and other writings while easing the pain. The authors are Peter McWilliams, Harold Bloomfield, and Melba Cosgrove. Consider ordering a copy. It is well worth the small cost.

To all my readers –

Have a very wonderful and happy holiday!!!

Holiday gift idea...

I saw an advertisement the other day for a nifty little device that I thought would be a great gift. This electronic thingy can help you back track your steps to whatever location you’ve stored in its memory. It helps locate where you parked your car or where you’re seated in the concert and other places that you need to get back to. And, I know just when Riley should have had this tracker.

Riley was going to the grocery store for bread or milk or something that we needed. That was on a Thursday evening. I didn’t hear from him again until the following Sunday morning. The conversation went along these lines:

Riley:      I’m lost. Come get me please.

Linda:     Where are you? What city are you in?

Riley:      I think I’m in Atlantic Beach. Oh yeah… I’m in Atlantic Beach.

Linda:     Where’s your car?

Riley:      I must have left it at that woman’s house.

Linda:      What woman?

Riley:       I’m not sure. I was at her house.

Linda:      What’s the last place you remember?

Riley:       The party.

Linda:      What party? Where was it?

Riley:       At that restaurant. You know the one.

Linda:       No I don’t know the one. Where was the woman’s house?

Riley:       I’m not sure. There was a hotel close by.

Linda:       Where are you calling from?

Riley:       A drug store.

Linda:      So what do you want me to do?

Riley:      I want you come get me and help me find my car.

Linda:      Why should I do that?

Riley:      Because you have a car and I can’t find mine.

Linda:      I know where my car is and I know where I was last night. You’re almost 50 miles from home. I suggest you find a policeman and tell him you’ve lost your car. Maybe they can help you. I cannot come to Atlantic Beach to get you.

As I was hanging up, I was laughing. This was before MapQuest and Google. We didn’t have a computer at home – back then it was a luxury reserved for the very wealthy. If he didn’t know where he was, then I certainly wouldn’t know where to find him. I just kept thinking to myself – Car 54, Where are you?

I found the whole thing incredibly humorous. The fact that he called me for help – let alone call me at all – well – where was his head? I don’t know a wife who would respond with “Oh my poor hubby! Let me run out in the middle of a cold winter day to help you! And don’t worry about being missing for three days. It’s OK. I’m truly fine with you being at another woman’s house!” 

I was still laughing when my brother called for our usual Sunday call.  He started laughing and he yelled to his wife – “Honey, is it OK if I go out Thursday and not come home til Sunday?” Her response was “Only if you want to sleep somewhere else for the rest of your life.”

Riley found his little green sports car and made it home just before having to get ready for work on Monday morning. I was snickering as he walked out the door. Don’t tell me there is no humor in alcoholism.

If Riley had one of those BackTrack devices he could have used it to find his car – and maybe even his way home! Maybe they should sell them at the liquor store.

Ghosts of seasons past...

1972…

We were a young family of four --my petty officer sailor husband, my 5 year old son and my 2 year old daughter. We lived in a small community in a townhome that once served as officer’s family quarters during WWII. It was a quiet narrow street that only allowed one car to traverse down its pavement at a time. A car in one direction was always pulling over for another car coming in the opposite direction. For the most part, our neighbors were carbon copies of us—young families who were just trying to make ends meet and have a good life.

We didn’t have a car. We were within walking distance to the business circle where there was a grocery and drug store. There was also a soda shop, hardware store and post office. Riley commuted with a shipmate to the nearby naval base where his ship was home ported.  Everything we needed was right there. It was our very own

Wisteria Lane

.

Although Riley may have been vertically challenged, he was strong and brilliant. He was set in his ways and routine. Getting him to be spontaneous was impossible. If he switched coffee brands – well that was spontaneous enough for him. He was a planner.

When arriving home after work he removed his jacket, took off his shoes, put on his slippers and then he would wait. He would stand in the hallway and wait. I would come out of the kitchen and give him a kiss, ask about his day. He responded, but he didn’t leave the entryway. He was waiting.

Brian would get up and come over to his father and give him a hug while being a little irritated because it meant he would have to stop whatever was holding his attention at the time. But, Alea… well... she would bounce through the room and almost literally climb her father’s frame to get into his arms. Once there, her little arms would wrap around his neck. Then, as though it were choreographed, she would trill his handlebar moustache between her tiny fingers. The wait was over. Riley could now head upstairs to get out of his sailor suit and into his real clothes.

There wasn’t a lot of bad weather, but when it hit us – it hit us hard. This particular holiday season we were dodging snowflakes on an almost daily basis. Walking to the grocery store was nearly impossible. And, it was almost Christmas and Santa had not done much shopping. We were spending quite a bit on taxi cabs to run our necessary errands. So, Santa’s budget was dwindling.

We were down to our last $50 when we finally made it to the drug store on Christmas Eve. They didn’t have a lot, but we spent the entire $50 on cheap plastic toys that parents now-a-days would ban from their homes -- A plastic dump truck, a few little cars, some pop-beads, a little doll, some coloring books and crayons, socks and two hats. We still had some left for candy, a couple of oranges and apples for the stockings.  We’re talking about nearly 40 years ago – so a little $$ went much farther then.

On our way home, we passed the Christmas tree lot. The lot was closing down and to keep from having to burn the left over trees, they were giving them away. We dragged one home along with our other goodies. It was still early and Brian and Alea were delighted with the short bushy tree. It was given a place of honor in the corner next to the big boxy black and white TV.

We drank hot chocolate, ate caramel apples, cookies and carrot sticks. We strung popcorn and made paper chains and hung them on the tree. Then we decided to put out a snack for Santa. Riley insisted that Santa was trying to trim a few pounds so we set out carrot and celery sticks instead of cookies.

Once the kids were tucked into bed, I started to work on wrapping the gifts. I wanted to have a large “Santa” toy unwrapped under the tree, but we didn’t have one. Thank goodness I saved the previous year’s wrapping paper. So I meticulously wrapped each gift and placed it under the tree in a way that made it look like there was a lot more than there was.

I had a glass of wine (a gift from the neighbors) and Riley had the rest of the bottle. We stared at the tree in awe over how festive it looked. We ate Santa’s snack as a reward for having done a good job. We were exhausted and no doubt the kids would be up early in the morning – at least Brian would be – Alea not so much. Even at two years old, she liked her beauty sleep. The true test of our success would be determined in the morning.

We were up early on Christmas morning. We were preparing our coffee when we realized we were out of milk. We absolutely could not be out of milk. Alea would surely have a terrible temper tantrum if she did not have her milk with breakfast. We thought maybe would could say it was a holiday so everyone would drink apple juice, but we knew that really wasn’t going to fly.

So… in the middle of a snow storm… on what had to be the coldest day in the history of the world… Riley bundled up his body and walked the three blocks to the store. I watched him disappear into the swirls of little white clouds.

Just as he was returning both the kids were making their way down the stairs. He looked awful – cold and frozen. Bits of the hair that had been exposed looked frosty. Riley stood in the entryway, removed his jacket and he waited. Brian passed Riley by with a “Hi Dad” and as he turned the corner, he yelled “Whoaaaa!” when he saw the gifts under the tree. Alea, climbed up to her father’s face and started to twirl his moustache. Instead of a giggle, I heard her cry.

She had this little whimpering cry as she looked down and saw she had broken the frozen handlebar off Daddy’s face!! She looked at Riley with tears in her eyes and she looked at me as though I should try to glue it back on. Riley told her, “It’s OK. Daddy can grow another one. You can help me cut the other side off. Let’s go see what Santa has brought.” My love for Riley swelled at that moment. I could love no man more than I loved him. He was my life, my love and the father of my children.

The gifts were opened and there were smiles all around. It didn’t seem to matter that they didn’t cost very much. Brian drove his truck from one end of the house to the other. He loaded the cars into the back of the truck and unloaded them at some imagined dumping ground. Alea immediately undressed her doll and re-dressed her. They both colored and played. Riley sat in his overstuffed chair and worked in his crossword puzzle book, looking up occasionally to check on the kids. I cooked Christmas dinner and enjoyed my sense of secure happiness.

Riley left his moustache just the way it was for the entire day. Then, just before bed, he and Alea went to the bathroom armed with a small pair of scissors and they ceremoniously trimmed the other side of his hairy lip.

1992…

Both Brian and Alea have become adults and have moved into their own homes to start their own lives. That year, Brian was off in Hong Kong working for a company that sent him around the world. His current assignment would last five years. He wasn’t crazy about the country, but he met a young lady that he was hoping would return to the United States with him.

Alea was now a single mom. She worked hard and barely made ends meet. She shared an apartment with a childhood friend and it seemed to be working as well as most roommate relationships went. She received no child support from Ryan’s father. She was stubborn, independent and determined to do it all on her own. That is – unless her independence meant Ryan would not have something important.

Christmas was important. Alea had money for the necessities, but that didn’t include big Santa gifts or even a Christmas tree.  Much like her parents in 1972, she was a young family on a very strict budget.

Riley had moved out of our home and was sharing a house with another couple who drank as actively and alcoholicly as he did. It was a bad environment and Alea would not allow Ryan to be a part of that particular home scene. That didn’t seem to matter much to Riley. He didn’t have time for his family. He had a girlfriend – who was married to someone else – and he had his roommates. They shared common interests – alcohol and sex. It was no place for a 3 year old.

Alea invited Riley to her home often. She still wanted that Daddy with the handlebar moustache, but he was long gone. Whenever Riley knew there would be young female friends visiting Alea, he always showed up. He would focus his attention on the young women. They teased him and tolerated him. When his passes were turned down often enough, he would be off again to someplace else that held more sexual possibilities.

I didn’t have a lot of money. I was barely making ends meet and that was even working two jobs. Riley was retired and had his retirement pay – and he made it clear it was his. We had lost our home to foreclosure and our two new cars had been repo’d. I had a small apartment and was trying to keep my head above water.

I had managed to get a new car and gave the older one to Alea. It was to be part of her Christmas present. I bought the Christmas tree, stocking stuffers and the food for Christmas dinner – which was to be held at Alea’s. I also managed to buy Ryan some clothes to be used as gifts. And I had a heart to heart talk with Riley. I asked him what he planned to give Ryan. He said he would get whatever I thought was best. I told him toys. We needed to get him a Santa gift and some other toys. I told him to plan to spend about $100. I told him not to worry about Alea, all she wanted for Christmas was for Ryan to have a great day.

Two days before Christmas, I called Riley and asked if he wanted me to wrap any of Ryan’s gifts. He said he would bring them over. When asked what he got for him, he rattled off different toys. I thought, oh, that’s nice. He really listened to me. But, the next day – Christmas Eve – when I called again about the gifts, he told me he didn’t have any. He said someone had taken them out of the truck. And he didn’t have any money to buy any gifts.

His past behavior was always to present the image that he was thoughtful, caring, responsible and the rest of the world was all ridiculous. In my heart, I know there had never been any gifts bought. I knew he had other plans for his money. I knew he needed to buy gifts for his girlfriend and roommates and their families. His real family didn’t stand a chance.

But, Ryan had a wonderful Christmas morning because Alea’s friends pulled together and they bought him several great gifts. Several of my friends also chipped in. The little guy was happy. He played and played and Alea and I watched him with tears in our eyes. We had the best gift ever. We had Ryan.

Riley showed up for dinner and Alea was cordial. He brought with him a box of candy for me and a box for Alea. He had nothing for Ryan. He left very early – right after dinner – because he said he had other gifts to deliver.

I don’t know what happened to the man I spent Christmas with in 1972. The alcohol pod people must have taken him while he was passed out after a stupor. As much as I had loved him in 1972, I hated him in 1992.

To buy or not to buy...

To answer Alea’s question required a lot of soul searching. The problem is it’s difficult to give her an answer as to why would I buy him booze. There are lots of answers and most of them don’t follow in the same direction. Some are irrational. Some imply that I have no compassion for Riley. Some, in a convoluted way, make perfect sense.

But first, I feel I must insert a disclaimer. I believe in, and as much as possible, will adhere to the Law of Robotics – see my post “A Flawed Plan” from the month of October for more information on that topic. I cannot and will not intentionally cause the demise of any other person. I like to think I could… but the reality is… I’m a spineless wimp and no matter what I say, I know I’ll do everything I can to keep Riley alive. I am not capable of taking another human life.

Here are the most obvious answers that I came up with:

First – I’m getting tired of the fight. I’m tired of the daily conversations that consist of trying to make him see the logical, sensible reasons as to why Riley should not drink. Day after day, he remains insistent that he wants alcohol. Day after day, I’m insistent about not buying it. Right now it’s just a discussion, but in the future it will become an argument that lasts my entire waking hours.

I know intrinsically that Riley will become more passive aggressive and will manipulate any little thing into a way for him to have access to alcohol. It will be subtle. It may take months. While it’s happening I will be second guessing everything he says and does. Looking over my shoulder and checking the bank account for discrepancies. My role as policeman and warden will become more difficult to maintain.

But, in the end, he will find a way. He will wear me down and I’ll forget to check on the bank account or I’ll let him run an errand. So why fight it? If I’m going to lose, why not let it be sooner than later? He will drink, he will get physically sicker, and he will die. And, clearly, that’s his choice. So why fight a losing battle?

Second – If I don’t buy vodka he will drink other things like mouthwash, vanilla extract, cough syrup, anything with alcohol as the ingredient. He will drink these things and he will die. That means I’ll have to switch to using products that I don’t find to work as well. I’ll substitute flavoring for extracts and alcohol-free mouthwash instead of my beloved stuff in the brown bottle.

Why should I make such a change in my life to accommodate his addiction? Isn’t it up to him to know that those things are harmful and not for consumption in large quantities? I suppose it could be said that – it’s what I signed up for when I took him in. But, I’m not sure if that really is what I signed up for.

When Riley came back to my home, I took him in because he was near death. My plan was to ease him into the afterlife without the turmoil becoming a part of Alea’s life. From that point of view, I failed. I pulled him back from his direct flight to the undertakers. And I not only did it once, I did it a total of three times since he’s been here.

I had no intention of really changing my life and making a permanent place for him in my home. I thought this would be a minor blip on the radar screen of my life. I thought, maybe, I could go on from this and continue on my way. I can live my life and love my life, but as long as he is here -- there is that blip.

Although I lived alone, I had men in my life before Riley returned. If he were gone, possibly a new relationship would bloom -- with a man who truly believed in me, truly loved me and would make me his choice and top priority. That can never happen as long as Riley is in my home.

The truth is I don’t know if I’d ever want another man in my life. After living with five brothers as a child and being married to a selfish alkie, having the bathroom sink to myself is very luxurious. My life is good without a male counterpart. So for me to think that maybe… well… that’s no reason to push Riley over the edge.

Third – Once he becomes inebriated, to suddenly remove alcohol from his grasp would throw him into a deadly withdrawal. I’ve had at least three medical doctors tell me to continue providing him alcohol because it was too dangerous to take it away. In this case, to NOT provide alcohol would mean that he dies.

Alea’s point is that if my life is better with a sober brain damaged Riley, why would I make it worse by allowing him to have alcohol and go back to the days described in “Memories of Days”?

My answer would be my life could be even better if he were not in it all. Providing Riley vodka or turning a blind eye to his drinking means he will be leaving my life permanently.

If my past behavior is an indicator of my future behavior, then I predict the following:

I will fight to keep him sober for as long as I possibly can. I will refuse to get the alcohol. But, eventually I will stop being the policeman of his actions. He will begin to drink whatever he finds. And that “find” will be the end of him. He will create his own demise and I will not have to do anything. That will relieve me of my moral responsibility and we can all get on with our lives.