Buddy T -- Thank you

I thought it was Syd who gave me the tip on Wax Myrtle Trees. But it was Buddy T of http://www.about.alcoholism.com/ who gave the suggestion. Thanks. I'm taking you up on that. Today Buddy T has a great article on black outs and brain damage. Be sure to check it out.

Finding sobriety...

There is amusement within the absurdity of alcoholism. For some reason, I’m not sue what, I was reminded this weekend of a statement that Riley had made quite some time ago. It was before he had the stroke that lead to his last detox. It was when he was drinking almost a gallon of vodka a day.

“New Beginnings” is a substance abuse help center serving the local area. My grandson, Ryan, and his mother, Alea, were discussing it as an option for one of Ryan’s friends. Riley got in on the tail end of the conversation and thought they were talking about him. He was adamant that I should take him right away to talk to the counselors at the center.

We tried to explain that it was not a rehab center – it was a resource center. We offered to find him a detox, rehab center if that was what he wanted. He did not want to detox. He wanted to talk to the counselors because he knew they would have the answer to his question. And what question would that be??

“I want them to tell me how I can maintain sobriety and still drink my vodka.”

Stunned… we all looked at each other and someone said… “Isn’t that called an oxymoron?” Riley was looking at us… waiting for a confirmation that he had finally found a way to make everyone happy. He was too fuzzy to recognize the comment about the oxymoron. Someone replied that one of us would be a happy to take him to the center and find out what if they could answer his question.

Riley left the room and we all just kinda gazed at each other as we sat around the table. It was Ryan who made the first sound… “Uhhh… well… awrighty then…” We all broke out in laughter. There really wasn’t much to say, we just enjoyed the moment of comic relief.

I made the appointment for Riley to talk to a counselor. Bless her heart, she tried – and she tried some more – to make sense of what he was asking. By my barometer, she was young – no more than 35 which is young to someone who is 60. But, she was also experienced and educated. You could tell she had dealt with some hard and fast addicts in her job. She knew her stuff.

The counselor suggested that he get sober and then find his own answer to his question. He insisted that he didn’t want to stop drinking, he just wanted to know how to stay sober. He didn’t want to detox because detoxing was not fun. He didn’t want to go to rehab and he didn’t want anything to do with AA. He just wanted to be sober and keep drinking.

As the appointment came to a close, I realized that she never told him he could not be sober and still drink. She never told him he could either. What she said was that maybe, if he wanted to gradually cut back on his consumption, he could be more sober than he was currently without going to detox or rehab. But, she stressed that he would have to want it more than anything he had ever wanted in his entire life. She wished him luck and said he was welcome to return whenever he wanted to talk. As we were walking to the door, she said to me, in a low voice, “You have your hands full with this one. Come in if you need some support.” I nodded in the affirmative.

It was almost three weeks to the day that Riley had the stroke that sent him to his last detox. A few days after that… I started writing this blog.

Someone asked me if it is possible for an alcoholic to gain sobriety without going to an in-house rehab center. My answer is… for someone who is not end-stage that is possible if they have the determination and a strong support system. If they do not need medical detox, they can achieve sobriety. But the odds are not in their favor. Long-term sobriety is most often attained by committing to a treatment center that offers care even after the alcoholic has graduated back into society. The longer the in-house stay, the more likely the alcoholic will stay sober.  And the rehab center must provide a solid program for the family of the alcoholic. Everyone needs to heal. So the answer is yes, but not likely.

I think we non-alcoholics sometimes forget how strong the pull is between the bottle and the alcoholic. Something we take for granted is so very fleeting and elusive for them. For us, it’s a no-brainer. For them, it’s like climbing the north face of Mt. Everest. And to make matters worse – there is nothing we can do about it.

Have you ever seen one of those giant magnets that are attached to the boom of a crane and used to pick up cars? Image a safety pin as the alcoholic and the magnet as the booze. There is no contest the magnet will win every time. That safety pin will absolutely have to have help to free itself of the magnet. The help is detox and rehab centers, a strong family support system and AA (or AA-type support program).

Riley doesn’t even remember asking his question about sobriety. When I told him about it recently, he joined me in laughter. Although, he clearly states he would prefer death over sobriety – he sees the absurdity in the question. Somehow, I like to think, that’s progress.

No more itching...

I am now flea-free!!! Well – the animals are and so is the house! I followed every step of the vet’s advice and it has worked.

Thanks to Syd of I'm Just F.I.N.E. -- who told me about Wax Myrtle Trees being a natural deterrent to fleas. I called the nursery and they are holding four of them for me to pick up next Saturday. Thank you very much, Syd!!

Flea-like expectations...

I’m so frustrated this morning I could just scream. In fact, I think I did. My unrealistic expectations of Riley bites me on the butt. And it seems that I do that quite often. It’s like a flea that I can’t get rid of. If I don’t stop those expectations, the frustrations will just keep multiplying like the fleas that live on my pets.

Two years ago, Riley became insistent that I get him a dog. His dog of choice was a Mastiff. Of course, I said no, but what about a smaller dog – like a Cocker Spaniel or Beagle? He said those were too small.

It just so happened that our grandson had gotten a dog for his daughter. She was a mix of Springer Spaniel and Chesapeake Retriever. Jade was just an active little puppy. She ate every shoe in my grandson’s house and seemed to refuse to be house-trained. He was talking about giving her to his friend in the country where she would have room to burn off all that energy. Uhhh… did I mention she was ACTIVE.

I was convinced that this sweet little puppy just was in need of consistent training in a household where everyone didn’t leave her alone all day long. So… I said… sure, I’ll take her for Riley. She would never be as big as a Mastiff, but she was definitely larger than a Beagle. After some discussion with Riley, the decision was made – Riley would be Jade’s new master.

When we moved to the country, Jade really blossomed into a sweet dog. I can now open the door and let her run. No electronic fence needed, just acres and acres of land for her to bounce around in and chase the little critters. Along with the acres of land and freedom to run was a big, black flea and tick infestation. I tried everything I knew to do, but between the dog and the cat I wasn’t making a dent in the flea life cycle. It was getting to the point where fleas were even invading the rooms where the animals do not go. Just sitting in the den would leave you with little red marks where flease have feasted on yummy warm human blood. I think the Frontline was just over-tasked and could not keep up.

Jade was constantly scratching and biting at herself. Riley would look at her and say, “I don’t know why she is doing that?” REALLY!?! Riley insisted he had not seen a flea on her, so he knew it wasn’t because of fleas because she didn’t have any. I am still amazed by that statement. Jade is a black dog and it’s hard to see the fleas, but just because I don’t seem them scurrying around doesn’t mean they aren’t there. If I believed Riley, then we must have the only dog in rural North Carolina that doesn’t have fleas.

I did what any responsible pet owner does… I found out how to reduce the flea population in our house and on our property. I figured that I can’t control the farming fields around us, but I can at least work on my yard and house. I consulted with our veterinarian and got the low down on what to do.

First, cut the grass extremely short and treat the yard with a spray. I told Riley… I’m going out to spray the grass. Can you come out and help? He gave me a deep sigh that could only be recognized as one of irritation and said he would. So I prodded out and got everything ready, thinking he would be out in just a minute. So I started without him. The hose is heavy and dragging it back and forth around the bushes, having to backtrack to get around the cars – well – for my 62 year old overweight body… It was exhausting.

I finished the backyard and before starting the front yard… I called to Riley at his open bedroom window. I could see him sitting at his computer, but he did not respond. I continued my quest to finish our one-acre yard. Finally, as I’m finishing up the last small corner, he appeared. I guess you could say he helped because he coiled the hose at the front porch so it would be ready for me to repeat the task in two weeks.

I gave both animals a Capstar pill and proceeded to treat the house. I sprayed the carpeted rooms with the spray recommended by the vet. Riley was to treat his own room. Every bit of fabric that the animals ever used as a sleeping pad was washed. Today, I bathed Jade with special aloe and oatmeal soap to help with her itchy skin. I also gave her a Sentinel tablet and applied Advantix. Jax Cat will also get Advantix today.

Riley has still not finished his room. Jade sleeps in his room on Riley’s bed. He claims he’s not in a hurry because the animals really do not have fleas. He doesn’t understand why I’m going to to so much trouble when there really isn’t a problem. He wishes I would just stop telling me to take care of Jade and leave him to care for HIS dog his way.

Oh…. So what WAY would that be?? Never a bath?? Never a flea treatment?? Never a vaccination?? Never getting her spayed?? Never taking her outside and throwing her a ball? Always feeding her unhealthy people food? Just exactly what does dog ownership mean to Riley? I truly don’t understand.

It all goes back to me having unrealistic expectations when it comes to Riley. I seem to always fall into the trap of believing that he can and will do what he says. But, in reality, he cannot and I should not expect that he will.

Dr. Phil says the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. I whole-heartedly believe this is true. So I need to stop believing he will do anything, drunk or sober, any differently than the way he has done things in the past. And my past behavior of having unrealistic expectations has to stop. It need to put a Capstar on that expectation flea.

Red flags and yellow lights...

I first met Riley when I was only 17 going on 18. I was a naïve country girl and he was a sophisticated older man. I didn’t like him so much at first. But he did check off many of my husband requirements and he was so charming and polite. It wasn’t long before I was in so deep that I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Visions of marriage, babies and white picket fences danced in my head.

When I think about the beginning of my life with Riley, I see that there was a plethora of emotions – happy, sad, joyful, angry, hopeful, disappointed, giddy and hurt. The early relationship was all those things. And mixed in there during that first couple of years were all the red flags that should have told me to run – run fast and hard away from this man.

I don’t know why I ignored them. Warning signs flashing in my face like those blinking yellow lights atop a sawhorse in the middle of the roadway. Maybe it was because I was so young and inexperienced and had not been exposed to any real marital problems since my parents had never openly displayed any in their marriage. The only big issue between my parents was that my father was a work-a-holic and there was never enough money. So, I guess, I really had no idea what I was getting into and when the signs were in my face, I just didn’t recognize them.

I remember one evening when we were in Riley’s apartment. He had been to a doctor that day – I don’t remember why. When we were sitting down to dinner, he told me that the doctor had told him he needed to stop drinking. At that point, I had never seen him drunk so I didn’t really understand why the doctor would say this. In reality… maybe I had never seen him sober. I just acknowledged his statement and we went on with our evening.

Over the next couple of years, we separated and reconciled several times and when we were together he had affairs. One affairee, a married woman, turned into a relationship, but he continued to keep one foot in our relationship. I decided to move on. That entire two year journey was a red flag that should have been burned into my memory.

Several years later, I was walking down the street in a major city and we literally ran into each other. The roller coaster was back in motion and I was in the first car. I moved across the country and became a Navy wife. This is when I started to see a drinking pattern but not so much in Riley but in everyone around us.

Every Friday at least 20 shipmates and their spouses gathered in the common area outside our apartment. Everyone brought food to grill and booze to drink – and drink – and drink. People fell down drunk in the yard and on my floor. The party lasted until Sunday evening. This was our typical weekend for almost three years. I didn’t like it, but I was told by several of the wives that I just needed to go with it and loosen up. I should be happy that Riley didn’t get drunk. Another red flag screaming out – this is not the life you want – get out now!

Many years later, I started to recognize that Riley was drunk when I thought he was not. I think I realized it because I started to see him actually consuming the alcohol. It was a bottle of wine every night with dinner after 3 or 4 scotch drinks the minute he got home from work. He seemed to get drunk every weekend. But, I figured he was just unhappy about something – maybe he was unhappy with me. And my feelings were confirmed when I found out he was spreading his seed in other women’s flower garden.

Devastated – I went to a therapist to find out how I could fix me and make my husband become faithful again. If I could do that – the drinking would stop and he would emotionally return to me. Now – I can’t believe that I really thought this was how to make things right. I can’t believe I was so stupid. My therapy helped me, but it didn’t make Riley stop drinking or womanizing.

The Navy ordered him into his first rehab center and for several years things got much better. He was sober. He was monogamous. He was attentive. But, it only lasted a few years and things returned to the nightmare of previous years.  There would be at least four more returns to rehab, but the cycle continued. And I stayed. Each time he entered rehab a red flag was added to the others and by now they were all waving with the strength of hurricane winds.

After the last Navy rehab, there seemed to be a strong determination in Riley to stay sober. My son was moving into his first apartment and my daughter was completing high school. Riley was very close to retirement and we had a plan. After retirement Riley would take a civilian job and we would dedicate most of his civilian salary to getting the house, car and all our bills paid off. I thought – this is a good plan.

But Riley was forced into retirement early because he returned to drinking again and the Navy had already sent him to his quota of rehab centers without satisfactory results. He retired. He refused to work in the civilian world because it interfered with his drinking. We lost the house. We lost our two cars. We lost everything. I left him.

I don’t blame Riley. I blame myself. The signs were there from early on. All those red flags waving about – and I ignored each and every one. By my own choice, I spent the best years of my life waiting for this man to respect our marriage. I could have left him early on but I didn’t. I choose to stay with the emotionally abusive alcoholic always hopeful that he would be “normal.” I can blame no one else for that decision.

I think I see clearly now – 20/20 hindsight is incredibly enlightening. It was what it was. I won’t live in the past by pining away for what could have been. I look at the present and feel so very grateful for what I have. I look to the future and know it will be what I choose to make it be. I make every effort to make my choices carefully with a clear and open mind. And I’m constantly checking for red flags or flashing yellow lights.

Woman on a mission...

I learned something interesting this weekend about how others view me. At least how one person sees me anyway… my son-in-law thinks I’m on a crusade to stop alcoholism. He sees me as a one-woman temperance union calling out the evils of alcohol. I don’t know if he sees it as a bad thing or not, but it was interesting to hear how he feels.

I was not offended, but I was surprised. My son-in-law’s statement got me curious. I looked up Woman’s Christian Temperance Union in my electronic version of a Funk & Wagnalls (for those of you too young to remember, it’s an encyclopedia).  I was surprised by what I discovered.

Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) was created when a group of women from New York banded together to form a non-sectarian organization which was a primary influence in the crusade for prohibition. Well… we all knew that and how it all turned out.

What I didn’t know was that the organization is still in existence today. They continue to fight for a healthy life-style by focusing on abstinence from alcohol, drugs, tobacco, abortion and gay marriage. They even publish a quarterly journal entitled The Union Signal. They have age-appropriate groups that attempt to instill in young people the virtues of living a substance-abuse free life. The have a website http://www.wctu.org/, just in case you’re interested in getting more info.

OK. I really believe this is a good organization with valid points and a worthwhile cause. But, I would not qualify for membership. I don’t want to ban all alcohol use. A ban on alcoholism would be great – but that’s not realistic. I’m not in favor of punishing the masses for the actions of the few. I know… that’s an over-statement because there are more than just a FEW alcoholics in this world… The problem is not in the liquor – it’s in the abuse of the liquor.

That being said, I really love the idea of educating our young people on the dangers of alcohol and substance abuse. That’s something I can get behind 300%. I’ve always said education is the key to survival. This takes it one step further by educating before the need for “survival” and helps our children make informed choices. I doubt that every child or teen who is provided this education will turn down that beer offered while viewing a sporting event. But the chance that even one will decline is worthwhile. I’ll take one over none any day of the week.

There is an organization that doesn’t mix abortion or gay marriage into the substance abuse issue. During the early inception of the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SMAHSA) of our government, one of the goals was to remove the negative stigma of alcoholism. The organization’s focus is on recovery and that recovery is possible. They aren’t concerned with the abortion issue or other people’s sexual preference. They also work to educate the public in general on the dangers of substance abuse. I like this organization even though I don’t share the idea that everyone who is an alcoholic can recover to lead a healthy, productive, alcohol-free life. I’m a realist. I know they CAN, but unfortunately, most do not. If I change the word “alcoholic” to “family member of an alcoholic” then I can absolutely give them a very high “thumb’s up.” You can find them at http://www.samhsa.gov/.

You will notice that I have not mentioned AA or Al-Anon until now. I don’t mean to discount them. They are wonderful organizations that provide support to anyone fighting the hold of alcohol over their lives. But they don’t publicly educate nor do anything that would be counter to maintaining anonymity. They are unlike SAMHSA, who believes that removing the negative stigma would also remove the need for anonymity. With the need for anonymity gone, many high profile people could help with the fight for recovery. It sounds good in theory, but I doubt that the alcoholism stigma will ever be completely changed over.

If I were to design an organization to fit MY ideals, it would look something like this:

1)      Provide support to families who are in the midst of alcoholic insanity with a special focus on end-stage alcoholism;

2)      Provide education as to the physiological and psychological effects of alcohol abuse;

3)      Provide education as to the options when caretaking an end-stage alcoholic;

4)      Provide education to our youngsters as to the dangers of all substance abuse;

5)      Promote the removal of the negative stigma on end-stage caretakers as being enablers;

6)      Promote legislation that dictates every rehab center be legally bound to provide a family program to all patients in their facility. The program must include education, support and therapy.

7)      Promote a healthy lifestyle in all aspects of life.

The only requirement for being a member of this organization would be a desire to help any family who may be struggling with a loved one’s alcoholism. Unfortunately, that organization does not exist. Or, I least, I don’t know of one that exists. If you of any, please pass on the info.

So after careful examination of my intentions, I duly declare I am not a zealot out to destroy the lives of anyone who wants to enjoy a scotch on the rocks after a hard day at the office. Nor do I believe that anyone who goes wine-tasting is an alcoholic. But I am a woman on a mission.  I’m a woman who has been presented with a difficult task and my mission is to help others faced with the same circumstances.

Just a dream...

Thank you to all my followers who have sent me e-mails wondering why I have not posted in the past ten days. I want to tell you that I’m fine. I’m just a little tired and needed to take a short break. I’m back. I have not abandoned you and I apologize for causing any of you to worry.

I had a dream the other night – or maybe a better description would be that I had a nightmare the other night. I don’t put a lot of stock into dream interpretations, but this dream left me with a feeling of imminent doom, so I looked it up.

The dream is about going to lunch with some friends from work. Riley tagged along and somehow we all got separated. The setting was San Francisco, well, sort of. I know this city, but I haven’t been there in years and would have trouble finding my way around anymore. In the dream I’m wandering the streets of San Francisco, searching for my way back to my office, but not being able to get a grasp on where it is. I know you have to go into a shopping mall and then go through another door. I find the mall and ask a janitor how to get into my company’s office. He told me to go through a particular door and when I did I found an empty warehouse. Everyone and everything was gone. I woke up.

According to the dream interpretations web sites, this dream would indicate a feeling of urgency and panic concerning taking a different direction surrounding a situation in my life. It also indicates confusion and conflict in a real life situation. Of course, there’s the blatantly obvious explanation that I’m worried about losing my job. Well… duh…

I’m always worried about losing my job. I have no real indication that my boss would like to dispel of my services. In fact, the last time I told her I wanted to retire, she wanted me to reconsider and stay around. As it turned out retirement was not in the cards for me at that time – but I want to officially be retired from my 9-5 job as of next summer. So why would I fear something that would force me to take action to do what I really want to do? The human mind is so complicated.

Confusion and conflict in a real life situation is really accurate. Although, I’m not at all confused about my plan of action as Riley gets closer to his end. I suppose the conflict would be that not rushing him to the ER goes against my moral standards. I thought I was at peace with that, but maybe not. Maybe it’s a situation of knowing what I have to do and not feeling like it is the “right” thing to do.

Urgency and panic about a different direction could have to do with knowing how I want my future to proceed and worrying that I may not achieve my goal to live my life in a certain manner. I have many irons in the fire to keep me on the path to my destination.

I’m writing the book and that alone is a huge pressure. What if I don’t/can’t finish it? What if it doesn’t get picked up by a publisher or I can’t find a literary agent? What if NOone buys/likes it? What if? What if? As I get closer to my anticipated retirement date, the “what if’s” weigh heavier on my mind. The desired outcome would be that my book gets published at about the same time as I stop working the 9-5.

Then there’s the little girl’s clothing line. I haven’t been able to concentrate much on that at all. I simply keep designing and making outfits for my great-granddaughter. This is such a great way for me to mentally escape my situation. It never really has to get off the ground as a business – it just has to keep providing me the outlet as it is now. So, I’m not really feeling a lot of pressure there.

So besides the book, the only other real pressure has to do with the daily living in this household. Riley once was the “clean freak” of us as a couple. Although I like things clean, I don’t need to align the towels on the rack or wash eating utensils the minute they appear on the countertop. But, now Riley’s cleanliness drive is scattered and inconsistently performed. The closer his end-stage situation gets to the end – the less he is caring about his surroundings. I can’t depend on him to sweep up Jades daily allotment of shedded hair from the floors or load the dishwasher before bedtime. In fact, he is starting to create a mess rather than cleaning it up. We’ve been here before. I recognize this for what it is and I know it will get much, much worse.

It’s all part of living with an end-stage. I know that. I know I need to hire a housekeeper to come in at least once a week. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to keep up. My excuse has been that we have only been in this house for less than a year and I haven’t gotten everything organized yet. It’s difficult to tell a housekeeper where everything goes when I don’t know where ANYthing goes. But I’m thinking that this is just an excuse because to be disorganized or have a dirty house, is an indication of my failure to manage on my own.

I think my dream is telling me to stop worrying about what happens after I finish the book. Just finish it. And also, stop worrying that the house is too dirty for a housekeeper – just find one and let her/him help get things together here. I think it’s time for me to start asking for help and stop trying to do everything totally on my own. It’s time to stop thinking (hoping) Riley will provide any assistance. He can’t because he’s not really here.

If I want my future to be peaceful and independent – All I need to do is let go of my fear of failure and just do the things I need to do. Simple… right?

Moral dilemma...

Anyone who is a caretaker to an end-stage alcoholic is in a moral dilemma. The dilemma is to let the alcoholic drink himself into destruction causing their own demise or continually rush the alcoholic to the emergency room for a chance to detox and possibly rehab.

If the alcoholic were not end-stage the choice would be clear – any opportunity for a chance of sobriety is a good choice. But it’s different for end-stage. Most likely the end-stage alcoholic will have already been to detox and rehab many times before without attaining long-term sobriety. Usually they make their wishes clear that they do not want to go to the hospital, detox or enter rehab.

In my opinion, at this point, the caretaker must decide if he/she will follow the path requested by the end-stage and just “leave them alone.” Or, will he/she take the path of insisting and manipulating the alcoholic in order to get them into the hospital. It’s a hard choice.

When I moved Riley to the country, I made a decision that I would no longer take any heroic measure to keep him alive. I let go of the idea of being able to control where this illness would lead by insisting on going to the hospital when he really did not want to go. I was done manipulating him into taking care of his health.

Believe me, this was not an easy decision. I wrestled with thoughts that I was taking someone else’s life into my own hands and playing God. I felt like a character in a cartoon with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Both angel and devil were whispering in my ear – telling me what I should do. But, I was confused because they would change roles – the angel would repeat what the devil said and then the next minute the devil would repeat what the angel said. It was difficult to tell them apart. So I stopped listening.

I had a conversation with my minister. I had a conversation with my lawyer. I had a conversation with my doctor. I had a conversation with Riley. And I had a conversation with myself.

I think the turning point was when Riley told me he would rather be dead than sober. It was about the same time that he started vomiting and I offered to take him to the hospital. He refused to go and I did not push him. I told him to tell me if he wanted to go and I would take him, but that going was his decision.

Fortunately, right at this minute, Riley’s health is not as bad as it has been at the edge of the end in past instances. I am thankful for that. But, it doesn’t mean I don’t have to worry about it. Well… worry may not be the right word… I still have to plan and prepare myself mentally to do what feels unnatural to me. That is I have to let someone die without doing everything humanly possible to throw them a lifesaver ring.

I’ve always said that detaching from someone we love goes against the grain of everything we learn about being a loving, caring human. Letting someone go to their death in any manner also goes against that same grain.

That last paragraph threw me back to being at my son’s bedside after signing the papers to terminate his feeding tubes and let him shuffle off this earth into the waiting arms of family who have passed before him. It was unnatural. I felt like I was murdering my own child. What kind of mother does that?? My brain knew it was the right thing to do – but my heart wasn’t listening.

My brain is talking to me again. It is telling me that Riley has used up his quota of heroic measures. It is his choice to die and I must let him do that. He has signed his own papers to terminate his feeding tubes by not wanting to live a sober life. This time my heart is listening and it knows what I must do.

I must do nothing. I must wait until he has become unconscious before I call the paramedics to take him to the hospital. He will most likely never regain consciousness. If he does that’s great, but if he doesn’t – it was his choice and I did not stand in his way.

The trick is to be able to act on that decision. That’s the hard part. The fact that I’m detached from Riley helps. It also helps that although we are married, I don’t really see him as my husband – that person died long ago. My role of caretaker didn’t come about as a means to save him but rather to save my daughter from him. All of that makes it easier for me.

On the other hand… there is the Law of Robotics that constantly plays in my head. (See The Plan is Flawed from October 22, 2010)  However, I’m not a robot and my priority is to save the savable. I no longer consider Riley to be savable after so many attempts to save him have failed and it is clearly not what he wants.

Denial of family...

It’s funny how you can know something but not really KNOW it. Maybe it’s that we don’t really acknowledge it rather than know it. Maybe it’s a form of denial.

I grew up in a large family that was greeted each other with hugs and kisses. In the summer, the kids were exchanged back and forth between aunts and uncles so the children could bond with their cousins. We were family.

I remember how my father doted on all the new babies that came into our house. I remember him literally bouncing them on his knee and kissing them a million times before handing them back to my mother. Since that was my “norm” I believed all fathers were like that.

When my son, my first child, was born, I remember how distant Riley seemed to be. Oh, we had a baby, isn’t that neat – I think that was his first reaction. But, he didn’t seem to care if he held him or not – never asked if he could – never just did it because he wanted to. He was not projecting any sense of a need to protect, no kissing, no touching… just OK we have another mouth to feed. I remember feeling very disappointed, but thinking he would change as Brian became more and more a part of our life.

He didn’t change. He had two other boys before Brian that he ignored and I should have seen that as a red flag. In my heart I believed he ignored them so they could have no complications with their new step-father. That was what he had told me. I thought it was admirable – a true sacrifice for his boys. I was young – just barely 18 – what the heck did I know?

As I said, I was only turning 18 years old when I met Riley and outwardly he fit into the format of the man I thought I wanted in my life. I was too young to realize that what I really wanted had nothing to do with outward appearances or occupation or knowing where to get the best scallops. When he described his childhood as Donna Reed Showesque, I thought of a loving family that expressed emotion. I guess I was watching a different “Donna Reed Show” than he was. I believe my denial started right then and there. Isn’t hindsight great?

This morning, during our usual “over coffee” talk, the subject of family was brought up. Riley told me that “I love you” was not something that he ever heard as a child. That there were few, if any, hugs and kisses. There was support and accolades given for excellent school work and tasks, and there were handshakes – but not much emotion.

This morning he was more detailed about the events inside his childhood home. He’s relatively sober today, I think what he says is believable. It felt as though, in his house there was just a safe place to physically grow and get out. I could be wrong – but that was my take anyway.

I asked him if that was why he was so distant to our children, grandchild and great-grandchildren. I asked if he felt a real sense of love towards them. His response was that he loved them, but was not emotionally connected with them. He said that he never felt a real connection with any of his kids. That’s why it would be so easy to just leave North Carolina and go back to California where he could be closer to his brother – the only real emotional connection in his life.

So now… more than forty years later… I realize that he never really cared whether he was a father or not. In fact, he could have done without fatherhood all together. He had no sense of “family” and that didn’t bother him in the least.

I had always known that Riley did not have a family life as a child that anywhere resembled mine. This morning I finally realized how much his childhood was opposite from mine. I had always known this but maybe I had denied how it would have a negative impact on his own children.

My denial is over. It took me 40 years to realize that my husband doesn’t really care about any of us – the people who have protected and cared for him in spite of every awful thing he has done to us or around us. It explains a lot.

I never really was in denial over Riley’s alcoholism. But I have been in denial as to how his emotional disconnect has contributed to his desire to not stop drinking. In a world where you don’t care if you are “loved” or not, I would imagine that there is no real reason to quit. That fuzzy world of insanity might provide a blanket between him and the rest of the world. I can understand that.

My first instinct is to say “screw him” and send him packing. But, I can’t do that because whether he loves her or not, my daughter loves her father. She will not abandon him – like an abused child protecting the abuser – she will protect him at all costs. In turn, I love my daughter fiercely and won’t allow her to pick up where I leave off.

Riley skirts the edge and believes he is the winner. I skirt the edge and know that Alea is the only one who wins. I’m not in denial about that and it makes me happy.

Witch hunt...

I wanted to write a post on drunk driving this morning. I had just settled in front of the computer armed with my morning coffee and my trusty old dictionary. But, just as I was getting my creative juices flowing I heard a loud screech of skidding tires on pavement. I looked out the window and saw a car had gone off the road and into the ditch. It had been raining earlier and the roads are slippery. There’s a small curve right at that point and if you’re going too fast, it can be problematic.

Riley heard it too. I wanted to hop in my car and go down to see if anyone was hurt. I had my keys in hand and was almost out the door, when Riley insisted he come with me. But… he had to get his shoes on first. I waited… I waited some more… I hope I’m never in an emergency situation and depending on him for timely action. Finally, with shoes on his feet, we went to the crash site.

The car had gone over the ditch and was in the field. It had turned all the way around before stopping. The air bags had been deployed, the engine was still running, and there was no one inside. There were people tracks from the car going toward the street. We went back to our house and called the state troopers. I had not wanted to call when we first heard the screaming tires just in case it was a simple little thing. I suppose we should have called right away.

Of course, I have a very creative and active imagination and there could be a very reasonable explanation as to why the driver would leave the car and disappear. I’m thinking another passing car stopped and picked up the driver to transport him to the auto shop which is just up the road a couple of miles. That’s the logical answer. But, why leave the car running? And that imagination of mine has another idea.

My theory of this morning’s accident goes something like this… the guy was a drunk driver and was either trying to get home – it was 5 a.m. – or he was trying to get to work. When he careened off the street into the field his first instinct may have been to flee so as not to get caught and cited for a DUI. The next passing car’s driver simply wanted to help a fellow out of a bad situation so he picks up the driver and takes him to wherever the accident victim needed to go. Because the driver was still in a soggy state of mind, he never thought to turn the car off.

I do have another theory that doesn’t involve alcohol and that is that the car was stolen and the thief didn’t want to wait around for the troopers to show up.

Of course, in all reality it was probably just someone on their way to work who got surprised by the small curve in the road and the slippery pavement. Everyone knows everyone out here, so the passing good Samaritan probably knew the accident victim and just wanted to help him get to safety. No malice, no foul play, just a simple accident.

Something happens to us non-alcoholics when we are involved in an alcoholic world. Our radar goes up and we see alcoholics everywhere. Alcohol is such an intricate part of our lives that the first thought of something amiss is almost always blamed on alcohol.

When I watch certain television programs where there is a lot of partying and heavy drinking, my first instinct is – just a bunch of alcoholics. I’m not interested and will quickly change the channel. I find no amusement in watching people destroy their minds and bodies. Never mind, that it could be a one-time or seldom-time thing and the participants are not really alcoholics – just people acting like fools. I won’t stick around to find out. It’s so offensive to me that I won’t give the program a chance.

Alcohol consumption at any occasion or celebration causes me to go on red-alert. I love a glass of champagne or wine – maybe even gin & tonic at a barbeque. But, my limit is two. I know my limit because before Riley came back to my house, I exceeded my limit at many social functions. Everyone loves it when I get tippsy – I become very happy and will laugh at almost anything. I dance and I will even sing if the opportunity presents itself. But, I don’t drive. Even then, before I have that third drink, I make sure that I won’t need to drive. Now that Riley is back, I have no desire to exceed my limit and I only drink at very special occasions. Over the past year, I haven’t found any occasion so special that it warranted me to raise a glass in a toast, dance or sing.

Riley says that I’m on a witch hunt. Not all car accidents are alcohol related. Not all partiers are budding alcoholics on their way down the drain. Not every glass raised in celebration is a slippery slope. Even with his unclear, alcohol-soaked brain, I know that he is right.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to go to a nightclub again and just enjoy the music and lively atmosphere. When someone tells me they don’t drink, will I ever believe it is because they don’t want to or will I assume that they are in a 12-step program? Have I come so far into the forest that I can only see the drunks of the trees?

Alcoholism has far reaching consequences for more people than just the alcoholic. Life with Riley has changed me and how I perceive the world. I’ve always considered myself to be an optimistic realist. I’m beginning to think the optimistic part is becoming less and less as I continue in the journey.  At least as far as the outside world is concerned. Inside the walls of my home and within my family, I’m still extremely optimistic – but outside that there is danger.

I’m not hunting for alcoholic witches… I’m just aware so I can avoid them.