Cleanliness is...

Impossible. It’s impossible to keep my house clean when I have so many unclean creatures living here.

When we first moved out here to the beautiful, peaceful, quiet countryside, I expected a few issues with things like insects, mice, snakes and other creatures in the natural order of life. I’m not one of those people who will just randomly kill anything that doesn’t look human – after all – I understand the usefulness of the snakes that eat the mice and the spiders that eat the bugs. I appreciate their place in my life.

But… I draw the line at roaches. I find there is NO useful aspect of them in ANY area of my life or home. I have no qualms about sending them to roach heaven. I just can’t squish them – I must spray them with insecticide until they OD and roll over on their little backs – fighting for that last breathe of clean air.

The bottom line is -- we have lots and lots of roaches. We are under contract with a local exterminator and I call him far more often than the regular visits. But it isn’t enough and I find that if I’m not anal about keeping things bug UNfriendly – they will get so comfortable that I expect to find them kicked back in the recliner watching the big screen TV in the middle of the night.

Last weekend, I realized that I had been negligent in my bug control duties. We have a giant pantry that’s combined with the laundry room. When I took out the uncovered plastic shoebox containing the unwrapped spaghetti, I found a several generations of little dark brown creatures teeming in the bottom of the plastic box and inside the spaghetti box. There were so many that I took the entire box outside and dumped the whole thing into the garbage can. I then spayed the inside of the can with my can of spray.

I kicked into gear – much like in the movie Hooch… where Tom Hanks spills something inside the fridge and ends up cleaning the entire kitchen. Or maybe when you wipe a spot off the wall and end up painting the entire room. I was disgusted and I was on a mission.

My stomach was churning as I removed everything from the shelves. Anything that was not tightly sealed got sent to the garbage. Anything I could put into sealed glass or plastic canisters – found a new home. I removed every bit of cardboard packaging – since that was where I found the most of the roaches. I took the sealed plastic bags of rice, etc and put them into a plastic shoebox that had a tight fitting lid. There is no longer anything in my pantry from which a roach could benefit.

So here I am… head over heals cleaning the pantry when Riley comes in and yells at me that I’m cleaning TOO much. He says that I know none of this is necessary. I looked up. I was shocked that he would think it was OK to live in a roach infested house. But, instead of trying to use reason and logic – I went back to my chore.

Mindless cleaning leaves room in the brain for thought. And I thought about Riley and his cleanliness standards. I thought about the odor that wafts from his bedroom and bathroom. I thought about the time I saw him flick a roach off some food that was left out and then proceed to eat it afterward. I thought about the brown streaks down the back of his legs from the diarrhea that never got wiped off. I thought about the layers of gunk on his scalp that have been there since his last haircut – two months ago. I thought about the trash can in his room that he uses as a vomit bowl and then never washes out. I thought about the New Year’s Eve I spent in the emergency room because I had managed to get Salmonella from cleaning his bathroom.

So now my stomach is really upset not just from the roaches but from the reality of living with an end-stage alcoholic.  This is the way it is.  My readers tell me all the time about the unsanitary conditions that never seems to be a bother to the end-stage. I’m not alone in this septic tank.

I don’t understand how things get so far from how they used to be. Oh… I know… I DO understand – it’s the alcohol saturation in the brain thing. But, I mean, REALLY…

When I met Riley he was obsessively clean. Every Saturday was cleaning day and everything – from windows to refrigerator – were cleaned. When you walked in you could smell the Pine-Sol. Even after we had children – Saturday was cleaning day – and everyone pitched in. I liked that. I thought how lucky I was to have a man who didn’t mind cleaning the toilet.

I know that the Riley of the past is gone. I know he doesn’t mind the roaches or the fleas or the smell of his room or body. For the most part, I accept that he is neither agreeable nor capable of helping me in the housekeeping. I’m on my own.

So… here I am… armed with my can of Hot Shot, pail of soapy bleach water, a roll of paper towels and a determination to end the roach procreation cycle inside my house.  I may not be able to win a battle with the booze brained Riley – but I sure as bloody hell will NOT let those roaches be victorious!

Positively negative...

My family tells me that I’m one of the most positive people they know. But then, they ARE my family – so I believe they must be a bit prejudiced. They love me. They may not always understand me and sometimes they just down-right don’t approve of some of the things I do. I always give them something (or someone) to talk about during family backyard barbecues. I really don’t mind being the fodder of their jolly. It creates conversation and makes them express their opinions. It makes them appreciate their own lives and helps them to see that they all may have different options.

When I was having a lot of dental work done, one of my nieces said to me with that little laugh… “Oh… Aunt Linda, you make having a root canal sound like something to look forward to!” Why not?? The end result would be straight teeth and the ability to chew food on both sides of my mouth. I was definitely looking forward to that. The procedure was just a stopping place in the journey to a healthy mouth. That’s a positive.

Riley’s journey through alcoholism can be looked at as both a positive and a negative. For me alcoholism is a negative. Riley doesn’t see it that way – he believes it’s the best possible way to live his life. For him being drunk is a positive. He wishes he could stay drunk without being alcoholic, but he knows that’s not reality and for him that is a negative. On the other hand, he is positively happy that I no longer try to force sobriety down his throat. There is a peace in this house because of that and that is a positive for both of us.

I am very positive that I’m fortunate that Riley is not a violent drunk. He is abusive – without a doubt – but it’s all mental abuse and I can handle that. I’ve detached from the drunken Riley and no longer take any abuse personally. I do get caught off guard and that’s when I’m vulnerable to his words. When that happens, I’m negative about being able to follow through on my commitment to stay with him until he expires.

The future for Riley does not have a positive outcome. He will die as a result of excessive alcohol abuse. I do not believe there is any hope of him miraculously deciding to become sober. Been there! Done that! In fact, I doubt I could find a rehab center that would admit him. He has a tendency to not participate in his own recovery. Anyone dealing with an end-stage alcoholic knows the frustration of having great hope as the alcoholic heads toward sobriety just to be slapped down when the drinking resumes. There is nothing positive about that – so – YES – I’m negative about Riley’s chances for sobriety.

Reality sometimes sucks. But ignoring reality is worse. I don’t live in a world where I can create my own reality which does not match the way things really are. I don’t live in Alice’s Wonderland, but instead I live above the rabbit hole. The reality of alcoholism is that there are only two ways out – sobriety or death. I’m realistic about Riley not choosing sobriety. I’m realistic that alcohol kills. I’m realistic that I must protect my own life while protecting my daughter from the destruction of alcohol.

I believe that trying to force an end-stage alcoholic into sobriety is not rational. In fact, trying and trying can make a person insane. I think Albert Einstein said it best when he said that the definition of insanity is “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”  A definition of rational is “Consistent with or based on reason; logical” as shown in www.thefreedictionary.com. With those two definitions, I believe I can surmise that the thought of Riley choosing sobriety would be both irrational and therefore – insane. I have choices too – I can choose that insane way of thinking or I can be a rational realist. I choose the later.

To sum it all up – I think the best description of me is – I’m a positive person, a rational realist, who thinks negatively about Riley’s recovery while realistically accepting life as it is in the present and the probable future. That about sums it up.

Co-dependent enabler...

Before I understood alcoholism, back many, many years ago, I enabled Riley to continue drinking. I made excuses for his behavior and cleaned up messes left in his drunken wake. I didn’t realize I was being an enabler, I thought I was just being a good wife. There is a fine line.

In a “normal” marriage the husband and wife are co-dependent in their effort to make the marriage work. There may be a division of chores or responsibilities. In my parent’s marriage, my father went off to work and my mother took care of the household and children. So my father depended on my mother for a hot cooked meal and clean sheets. My mother depended on my father to bring home the bacon. It worked. Most marriages today have similar aspects. One cooks and the other cleans up. One does laundry and one mows the lawn. This is where co-dependency works.

But there is a dark side to co-dependency. It’s the version where one party enables the addiction by feeding into the dependency on the substance. It’s a way of staying in control. I don’t think anyone does it purposefully. It just seems to grow into happening as the addiction progresses. Sometimes it happens so slowly that it is hard to recognize.

Have you ever bailed someone out of jail when they were thrown in the drunk tank? Do you avoid confronting the alcoholic about the drinking? Have you lied to anyone about why you couldn’t do something because to tell the truth would be too embarrassing?  These are all actions of a co-dependent trying to stay in control of the situation. But the only thing that is really happening is that the non-alcoholic is enabling the alcoholic to drink by removing the consequences of the drinking. The alcoholic is dependent on the non-alcoholic to do these things – it is a co-dependent relationship.

For caretakers of end-stage alcoholics, things get a little more complicated. They absolutely must control the alcoholic’s actions in order to protect the people outside the alcoholic’s circle. An end-stage alcoholic is beyond reason and very much like a child in need of supervision. If left alone, an alcoholic will expand his circle and include innocent people with whom he would otherwise never come into contact.

From the outside it looks like we are all just a bunch of co-dependent, enabling lunatics. Don’t like outside appearances fool you.  We’ve paid our dues by trying to allow the alcoholic reap the unpleasant side-effects of drunkenness. We’ve spent years refusing to by booze, taking away the car keys, telling people exactly how things are and not lying the boss. But now… well…  things are different.

The first thing I must go against is providing alcohol for the alcoholic. Al-Anon says we should never provide alcohol because it’s enabling the continuation of the addiction. In end-stage, there is no hope that the alcoholic will stop. The only thing we can do is make sure the fewest amount of people possible are affected by the destruction.

In order to keep the alcoholic from driving drunk, I get the alcohol. I do it because I want to prevent Riley from causing an accident that may injure an innocent bystander. He refuses to go to the hospital for detox – he’s been there many times. In fact, I would be hard pressed to find a hospital or detox center that would admit him to treatment. I have no choice but to continue to supply the alcohol. Detoxing after many attempts and many years of continual drinking is extremely dangerous and should never be attempted without medical assistance. Riley’s at end-stage. I understand that any attempts to obtain sobriety are futile.

End-stage caretakers provide the basic needs to the alcoholic. At this stage, he is not mentally or physically able to care for his own basic needs. For me, it’s the humane thing to do. Providing shelter and food, and preventing him from driving, keeps him out of harms way – except for the harm he is doing to himself. I feel that I’m not so much caretaking Riley as I am protecting the rest of the world from his insanity.

In my case, I knew Riley would be completely dependent on me when I agreed to take him in. But, for many caretakers, it happens while they are not looking. Everything will be going along in the same normally chaotic manner and then something will happen and they will discover that the alcoholic is end-stage. Sometimes end-stage sneaks up on the non-alcoholic and they find themselves having to make a decision about what to do.

I made my decision. For me it was clear-cut. I feel no satisfaction in having power over Riley’s actions. In reality, I only have power over how I let his alcoholism affect ME. I don’t believe I’m co-dependent because I gain nothing by him staying drunk. It would be wonderful if he would manage to get sober and stay sober, thereby moving out of my house.

I am his caretaker. I provide a soft place for him to die because that is his choice. Alcohol is a terminal illness with only one prescription for survival – sobriety. Riley doesn’t want the fill that prescription.

Am I an enabler? Absolutely. I enable him to maintain his choice of not filling his prescription for survival. If he ever changes his mind – I’ll enable him by supporting his quest to find a way out of this craziness.

Life is short...

A month ago I was diagnosed as being diabetic. I was concerned, but I don’t need medication, just diet and exercise would keep it under control. However, it was clear that my feeling tired and ill now had an explanation.

At about the same time I discovered a lump in my neck. I ignored it thinking it was just the result of having been sleeping with the fan on full force all through the night. I have a tendency to get a sore throat and cold-like issues when I leave the fan on. I thought the lump was just the sign of an infection that would go away in a few days.

During one of my phone calls to Carrot, I mentioned the almond growing under my jawbone. I made light of it, but Carrot was angry. She made me promise to go to the doctor’s immediately. I thought she was over-reacting, but I know better than to try to argue with her. She seldom gets angry with me – but this time was different.

Last week I went to see my primary care physician – actually I see his physician’s assistant, Erica. I had never been examined by the doctor, but have always felt that Erica did an excellent job of taking care of my medical needs. Things were different with this appointment. Erica shuffled me off to the lab to give them some blood. Then I was asked to wait in the little waiting area until the results were in. Then Erica asked me to join her and the doctor in the examining room.

The doctor re-examined my almond. He put his hands in my mouth and asked me to stick my tongue out and then in and then out. He asked me a few questions and then told Erica to schedule an aspiration. The doctor then left the room.

Erica told me that it looked as though I may have a growth on my lymph node. I knew she was talking about lymphoma. I asked her if she thought it could be anything else. She said there are very few illnesses that present in that manner. Also, looking at my recent complaints of feeling tired and general malaise, all fit in with that condition. Besides, the fact that the almond was hard and not really painful was a real cause for concern. She told me she wanted to be prepared for the worse and expect the best.

I left the office in a bit of a daze. I could be dying. I could be dead before Riley. That would be the ultimate slap in the face. I didn’t know if I should tell Alea or wait for the final verdict. I just kind of wandered around. I called Carrot and gave her the news. She told me originally her mother had been diagnosed with Lymphoma before she got the lung cancer that killed her. She broke down. She said I MUST tell Alea.

I consulted Dr. Google and found that the type of Lymphoma that I most likely had would usually mean a 70% chance of living more than 5 years. That’s not bad – I thought. I can do a lot in 5 years. I’m 62 and that would mean I have an expiration date at 67 years old.

The following Saturday, Alea came out and we went over the money. I told her where it would come from and how I wanted it dispersed. We talked about her taking care of Riley and how to handle that situation.  I told her I had a 5-year plan for what I wanted to accomplish and I needed to start right away.

On Wednesday I had a CT scan and got the results the same day. I am “cancer-free”. The lump is a severe infection of the submandibular gland – in short I have an infected spit gland. It is treated with antibiotics, rest and drinking lots of water. I was ecstatically happy. I was alone in the car while I made the 2 hour drive towards home. I had a lot of time to think.

How ironic it would be to have Riley outlive me. One more thing Riley could hold up to the world – “see I told you I would live longer than you – and you didn’t drink!” My goal of keeping Riley from living with Alea would have been for nothing because the decision would no longer be under my control. It became very clear to me what I must do.

I must get the diabetes under control and get myself as healthy as I can be. And making the five-year plan was really not a bad idea. I could still keep it in action. Reviewing the money and other issues was a good thing for Alea and I to do. She now knows exactly where I stand on who gets what.

Most importantly, I will not take for granted anything that life has to offer. I will see all of my family as often as I can. I will appreciate every second. I think I have gotten off track since my very first post when I enjoyed every sunrise. I’ve been missing them lately.

When our lives are consumed with caretaking the alcoholic, we lose sight of what is important to us as individuals. We must be vigilant in remembering that there is life outside that insane alcoholic circle and living every bit of that life is not just that would be nice, but something that is essential.

If we don’t live our life to the fullest we allow alcohol to win. Knowing alcohol is a loser -- I plan to win!

It's a trap...

As I was reading the comments to my last post, I realized that I had fallen into a trap much like the kind you see that has a big hole in the ground covered with brush. The prey is lured toward the covered hole and eventually falls right in.

Since Riley has only been drinking beer, his outward appearance has been less “drunken like” than it was when his drink of choice was vodka. This beer thing is new to me since he has never drank very much beer in the entire 40+ years that I’ve known him.

The trap is that he appears to be able to have a conversation. His head isn’t weaving about while he’s trying to focus and the physical appearance is that of someone who has only consumed just a couple of beers. So the brush over the trap is set by means of the first bit of conversation.

The unsuspecting non-drinker is lured into an attempt to have a deeper discussion. It may start off with just a couple of innocuous questions, like: “What are your plans for today?” and at first Riley gives understandable answers. That only deepens the hole under the trap. Before you realize it you’re right in the middle of the brush and you grasp at the walls of the hole as you fall into the dark.

Such has been my conversations with Riley lately. Thanks to my readers comments, I see that clearly now. He may only be drinking beer, but the result is the same. It just isn’t as obvious now. If he had an alcohol meter on his forehead, it would register as overfilled. What a wonderful thing that would be!! -- A little meter that the non-alcoholic could use to determine if today was a good conversation day. Of course it would NEVER be a good conversation day when a person drinks in excess every single day of his life. So why bother at all?

I think the reason we try is because we sometimes still see that person that used to live in that body. I try to connect with the reasonable, loving, responsible person that was. In the case of the end-stage alcoholic – that attempt is futile.

Riley is brain-damaged and is unable to make rational, logical decisions. He has lost touch with his feelings so he feels that he has never had any. Maybe he felt too much. Maybe he has known all along that his actions were depraved. Maybe he drinks as a means to medicate himself against feeling anything.

For me, believing that he is anesthetized is far more acceptable than the things he has been saying lately. It makes sense to me and I need logic in my life. The problem isn’t in having an overpowering love for Riley that keeps me from seeing reality. I lost that loving feeling for him a very long time ago. The problem is in my attempts to include the father of my children and housemate to be something more than a person who needs my caretaking. It appears that he doesn’t really need caretaking at the moment – but that is a faulty perception based on outward appearance only.

Reality – I must remember to live in reality. It takes four years of absolute sobriety for the brain to be alcohol free. It has been less than a year since Riley’s last detox and he has drunk beer every day since. So thinking that he is capable of reason and logic is unreasonable and illogical on my part.

I think being out here in the country with so little human interaction is getting to me. I think the loneliness is making me try to have meaningful conversations and gain a connection to whatever human is in my sight. Riley is the human that I see every single day. He has become my target for breaking the monotony. This is clearly a very huge mistake. I must not except or initiate conversations concerning feelings or anything else that is subjective to my life or my household. If I need a true listening partner I must turn to Carrot or Georgia or any other sane and sober person who truly loves and understands me.

This morning Riley and I discussed Days of Wine and Roses which lead to a discussion about how far the movie industry has come in terms of technology. We discussed actors who are capable of being both the hero and the villain. It was a good conversation. There was nothing personal about the discussion. It was just two people talking over coffee. I very much enjoyed it.

However, I will not let myself be lured into that brush covered trap of thinking that the movie conversation could lead to a deeper, more meaningful conversation. If I stick with the movies and not the feelings, I’ll avoid falling into that deep, dark hole.

All in the family...

Riley and I were talking – more like me reminding him that his health is failing. It diverted to him telling me that he can’t help it – it’s not his fault. He doesn’t like beer but he absolutely MUST drink it because he is an alcoholic. So why drink something you don’t even like? Why not drink vodka? He says because he has to drink the beer because he is an alcoholic. He doesn't want vodka because he will die sooner. I know and understand it’s a vicious circle. OK. Nothing new there.

The subject continues to get diverted to the people he will leave in his wake after his death. He doesn’t understand why anyone would care what he does. He feels nothing for the people who claim to be his family. He tells each of them, his daughter, grandson, and the great-grandbabies, that he loves them. But how can that be?? He tells me he has no feelings for them. I truly believe he is incapable of love. He knows he must go through the motions of loving in order to be acceptable in society – but the real feelings are just not there. I doubt he has ever truly loved anyone – ever – except MAYBE, possibly, his first wife.

I do understand that in Riley’s childhood things like the word “love” just never came up. His childhood was filled with useful, practical, essential things. Love wasn’t on the list. He learned at an early age that love wasn’t a necessity – and in fact – it was a bit of a bother.

Family – according to Riley -- his family is his brother and his oldest son (my stepson) because they share his bloodline. I guess his daughter (actually his step-daughter from before her first birthday) and grandson hold no importance to him. I understand why he doesn’t consider me as family – but the people who have looked after him, cared for him, cleaned up his vomit and poop, picked him up off the floor, provided a safe haven for him, and defended him when others put him down – those people are of little to NO importance. He has no feelings for us – except maybe contempt for trying to get him sober and, by default, keep him alive.

Riley says he has no choice but to die via alcohol, although he claims alcohol will not kill him. I tell him that’s not true. He will die of alcoholism and he does have a choice. He could try detox one more time. He could try rehab one more time. He could try sobriety one more time. He could out live all of us people that he has so much contempt for. He could possibly live long enough to repair his relationship with his oldest son. He could…. But he’s an alcoholic and can’t see past that.

He repeats that he chooses death over sobriety.

So one of the people he cares about is his brother. I like his brother very much. He is a fine man who sees clearly what Riley is doing to himself. He has grieved and suffered while watching Riley destroy his life. This man’s wife has held his hand and offered comfort and support. The big difference between Riley and his brother is that his brother truly loves his wife and children. His brother has the ability to feel emotion. I’m not sure if it was always that way for him, but his wife fits him perfectly and their marriage is strong and loving. It shows when they are together. And the love they share for their three boys is also very obvious. It makes me wonder if Riley’s brother grew up in the same house as Riley.

Riley’s oldest son stopped talking to him many, many years ago. He wants nothing to do with him and refuses any contact what so ever. This young man has been burned so many times by alcoholism – his mother – his brother – his step-brother -- all have died as a result of alcoholism. I can understand perfectly why he would not want to have anything to do with his father. Never mind the fact that his father abandoned him when he was just a young boy. He has a well-deserved axe to grind.

It is interesting that Riley denies abandoning any of his children. Well, he paid child support. Is that the same thing? Riley never played catch with any of the kids, never took them camping, never took them to the museum nor did he ever attend any functions that included the kids playing in the band or singing in the choir. Except --- Alea – she and Riley had a special bond because she was always pushing the envelope. They were each others alibi. They protected each other. He taught her to lie and sneak around. The result for me was the constant fear of what was happening to my daughter as she took those skills into her very rebellious teenage years. And now, he says he has no feelings for her. She is not really his blood therefore she is not his family.

I’m struggling.  Everyday it’s more and more of a struggle to keep in mind that my motivation was to protect my daughter from taking on a drunk who has no concern for what damage he may cause her life. The important thing for him is that he has someone to take care of him as he dives into alcoholic suicide. It really doesn’t matter who. He just needs someone to find the body.

Life in denial...

I live in Denial, NC. It’s just a small town but it has a large population of people who refuse to admit or accept that things are not as they should be. I should run for Mayor because I probably hold the most denial points than anyone else in town.

Yesterday I found myself lying at the bottom of the back steps, denying that I needed any help getting back into the house. I had gone outside to get the trash can ready to go to the street for pick-up. I was about to step down to the next step, but my foot hit a beer can and I tumbled down three brick steps and landed on my side on the concrete driveway.

Riley came to the door and asked if he could help me. I told him that he couldn’t even help himself get up – there was no way he could help me. That’s true – it’s not denial. He has no body strength and expecting him to help me back up the stairs would just have been a frustrating adventure for both of us. So he watched me.

I managed to crawl around to the stair railing and pull myself up to a place where I could hop on one foot up the steps and into the house. I managed to fix an ice pack and went to my office where I could put my foot up and ice it down. It’s not broken – but it’s probably sprained. I didn’t want to go to the emergency room because there really isn’t much they can do – x-ray, ace bandage, and ice packs. I’ve had sprained ankles before and that’s always the drill. I can do that myself. I’m not denying their help – just denying that I NEED their help.

As I chastised myself throughout the day for not being more observant – the stark cold truth hit me right between my eyes. I know and accept that I’m 62 years old – not much of a spring chicken anymore. But, for some reason I deny that I can’t do all the things that a 23 year old can do. I expect a lot from myself and I expect that I can do it all right now – right this very minute. I come from a long line of really tough women. I believe I’m just as tough as Gramma who had a terrific vegetable and flower garden until she was well into her 70s – and she depended on no one to help with watering and weeding – which she did daily. My mother was in her 60s when she went back to college and earned a 4.0 average. And -- she did it while growing an acre of black-eyed peas and selling them for extra money. I deny that I can’t follow in their footsteps.

I’m in denial that I’m blind in one eye and have no depth perception – the beer can that I tripped over was only a part of the problem. I deny that I couldn’t see the beer can because of my faulty eyesight. I deny that my knees don’t work well on stairs so that I have to take them slowly, one at a time. I deny that I needed any help back into the house or that I might need medical attention. And, I deny that I’m in denial about why I fell.

I have other denial attributes. I deny that I can’t cook a balanced meal every single night. I deny that I need help cleaning the house or tending the yard – well maybe not that one so much as that I deny that my budget doesn’t allow for the professional help I don’t deny I need. I deny that Riley will live another two years.

I’m not the only one who lives in this town. My friend denies that she has to make a decision about her marriage. My aunt denies she ever had a drinking issue. My neighbor denies that his dog should be spayed. My boss denies that I’m being set up for failure.  My internet provider denies that their version of high-speed is as slow as a turtle crossing the highway. Riley denies that his beer drinking is what causes his daily vomiting.

Ok. Here’s the deal. I will no longer deny that I can’t do everything I used to do. I will try to accept the fact that it takes me all week to clean the house – because I must do it one room a day. I will try to accept the fact that I must hold on to the railing while going down the steps. I will try not to take it for granted that the steps will be clear of other objects, such as beer cans. I will try not to deny that I have unrealistic expectations of my abilities.

Riley’s denial will continue. He will deny that beer is as bad for him as vodka. He will deny that he needs to shower more often than once a year. He will deny that he’s vomiting daily. He will deny that needs to wear a diaper. He will deny that he can’t walk from one room to another without holding onto something solid. He will continue to deny that he is killing himself.

The big difference between me and Riley is that I can use my denial to my advantage by recognizing it and using it to determine what I must change. I can use it as a tool for self-preservation. The trick is being observant and objective enough to see it for what it is. Sometimes that means taking a fall down the back steps because I denied opening my eyes to the reality of my denial – which was to open my eyes and see what was in front of me.

Pass the popcorn...

I had a heard a lot of good things about the Hallmark movie depicting Lois Wilson’s life as the wife of Bill W, the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. With a star like Wynona Rider playing Lois, I expected to be blown away by The Lois Wilson Story, When Love Is Not Enough. There I go with those expectations again!!

Wynona did a wonderful job portraying a woman dedicated to “standing by her man.” But, I was not even once drawn to tears or screamingly angry by any of the characters, situations or end result. It was interesting and informative. It was just something to watch when there’s nothing else on TV. I was disappointed.

I really think Hallmark missed the mark on this one. It could have been so much more. There was an opportunity to show exactly what it is like to be the caretaker of an end-stage alcoholic. Bill W was near death before he found his way to sobriety. But, I didn’t really get that from watching the movie. I simply saw Bill W not breathing and Lois telling him he was killing himself.

When I watch Grey’s Anatomy, I see blood and guts. When I watch Intervention, I see vomiting and filth. And that’s just on TV.  Movies have a much greater license to be realistic. I think I was missing that realism.

There were some good things about the movie. I liked the way Lois showed that Bill had shifted addictions from alcohol to alcoholics. She clearly portrayed something that often has befuddled many spouses. When the alcoholic finds sobriety, the spouse thinks everything will be “normal.” But, in fact, what often happens is the alcoholic swaps one addiction for another. It’s difficult to deal with. I can even remember asking Riley, “When will it be my turn?” just as Lois asked Bill. This in fact did hit home.

I also liked Lois’ mother’s death bed scene. Her mother advises her to make a life for herself. She states that Lois can stay with Bill, but still have her own life. That advice is something I have said over and over. Find your passion. Figure out who you are as an individual. Then, be true to who you are.

Another aspect that I liked was learning how Al-Anon actually came about. For some reason, I never saw it in quite that way. It almost started by accident. A hospitable Lois saw the spouses in their cars, waiting for their alcoholic husbands, and invited them into her home. What started with coffee and conversation ended up being Al-Anon. I appreciated the information and found it to be interesting.

Riley has read many books on how AA was formed and the journey of Bill W and Dr. Bob. He agreed that Bill W was, at one point, end-stage. He told me that, in his opinion, there are better movies out there that clearly depict end-stage. He suggested that I watch “Days of Wine and Roses.” I saw that movie, many, many years ago when it was first out. I remember almost none of it. I have ordered it and am eagerly waiting for it to arrive in my mailbox.

I’ve decided to watch the most popular movies on alcoholism and see which ones I think have the most accurate portrayal of end-stage and their caretakers. There really are a lot of good movies out there, such as… “Clean and Sober”; “When a Man Loves a Woman”; “Morning After” are just to name a few. But, even though I’ve seen them before, I don’t remember much of about them.

I’ve stocked up on popcorn and Milk Duds and I’m ready. I’ll review the movies in my blog. Please comment with your movie suggestions and I’ll watch them. This is going to be fun!

Sacrifices...

A friend told me she went on a little week-end vacation to a place that's just a couple hours from her house. She left her alcoholic husband at home. He is NOT end-stage, but he is heading in that direction. At about 1 a.m. on the first night, he called because he had passed out in the driveway and was too drunk to get into the house. She called her son who lived down the street. He rushed out to help his father.

When she told me about it I said… What??? You woke up your son to take care of his father who was in a drunken state?? I don’t know about you… but it seems to me, the alcoholic was sober enough hit all the right tiny little buttons on the phone… surely he could manage putting his keys into the door locks. Oh… he was too drunk to walk?? Was he too drunk to crawl??

This, in my opinion, is a case of the non-alcoholics taking away an opportunity for the alcoholic to face the consequences of his own actions. If it had been me in that situation, I would have told him that he would have to figure it out for himself. I would have left him in the driveway. I know he would call every 5 minutes, but I would have turned my phone off. I know the neighbors would call the police when they saw him passed out in the driveway and I’m thankful for their concern. I would have nothing for which to be embarrassed because I was not the one passed out in the driveway.

Of course, the next day, the alcoholic remembered very little of what had transpired the night before. So what did he learn – nothing. If he had awakened in the driveway – he might have learned something. If he never has to face how bad his drinking is, how will he ever understand how bad it is? There are consequences, but his wife and son didn’t allow him to have any because they removed them. Therefore, the consequences went to the wife – who spent her first night away worrying about her husband – and the son – who got out of his nice warm bed to physically get his father into the house. For the husband there was no consequence and no bad memory. How can that be right?

The wife and son must learn detachment. This is the only way we non-alcoholics can continue to have a life of our own. Detachment frees us from the chaos created by the alcoholic’s unreasonable demands. It also frees us from the fear that anyone who knows us will lump us into a package deal of insanity. It’s hard to not care about what others think – it’s almost unnatural. But, non-alcoholics must develop a thick skin and the ability to separate personas. If a neighbor asks about the incident, a response such as “Well, yes, it’s unfortunate that he drinks so much. Thank you for your concern.” But, don’t take ownership of the drunk’s actions. You did nothing wrong – you have nothing to be ashamed of or to have to explain.

In another case, a woman’s very end-stage mother lives with her. The mother is classic in that she sleeps in the day and is awake most of the night. The mother wakes up the daughter throughout the night making it impossible for the daughter to sleep. The daughter gets up and makes the mother a drink hoping it will be enough to get the mother to go back to sleep. The daughter knows she must sleep, but can’t ignore her mother’s calls for her to join her.

I believe, somewhere in the alcoholic haziness, it may be how they can have control of something in their lives. They have no control over the alcohol, but they can control what the non-alcoholic does be using the fear that something may be wrong. So when the alcoholic calls out, we respond because the alcoholic might be physically hurt and in need of assistance. Maybe it’s not the complicated. Maybe it’s as simple as the alcoholic is miserable and misery loves company that is also miserable.

If I were the daughter, I would firmly tell the alcoholic that I am going to bed now and do not wake me up. I would put a note someplace where the alcoholic would see it – do not wake me up. Then, because the alcoholic will ignore the notes, when she calls to me, I would call back asking what she wants. If she is not in peril, I would tell her I was not coming to help her. After that, I would lock my door, turn on my sleep music and attempt to go back to sleep. She will call again because she has no short-term memory. But, I would not respond. I might not be able to go back to sleep, but I would stay in my room and let her do whatever she is going to do. Once the pattern is established that I will not come to her in the middle of the night – maybe she will stop calling out. It might take a few nights for the message to sink in.  If she doesn’t stop, maybe I will get used to it and be able to ignore it.

If that scenario doesn’t work and the alcoholic is still interrupting the non-alcoholic’s sleep, I think I would do my best to hire someone to come in and spend four to six hours a night with the alcoholic. In essence, get a baby-sitter. Even four hours of uninterrupted sleep is better than eight hours with intermittent ups and downs.

As non-alcoholic’s we sacrifice ourselves for the safety of the alcoholic. The wife sacrificed her vacation, the daughter sacrificed sleep. But, the sacrifice doesn’t serve us well. We gain nothing except frustration when we run to the rescue of those who refuse to rescue themselves. I know that the caretakers of end-stage alcoholics must do the task of “taking care.” But, if we don’t take care of ourselves there won’t be anyone left to do the caretaking of the alcoholic.

Upgrading the rules...

I used to have 12 Rules for Living My Life. But, as I have been writing and learning and listening, I realize that 12 is just not enough. I've upgraded my 12 to 21. Maybe that's too many, but I don't see any on the list that I would want to eliminate. So.... here's the newly revised list:

21 Rules for Living My Life

1.                Make your own happiness… you’re the only one responsible for it;

2.                If a door shuts… learn to pick locks so you can open another;

3.                If someone is rude… kill them with kindness;

4.                Take care of your health… so you don’t create an unexpected loss;

5.                Do it yourself… don’t depend on others to fix your life – they have their own to fix;

6.                Plan for the future or the end… relieve loved ones of the heavy burden of wondering what you want;

7.                Learn tact and diplomacy… tell the truth but choose your words carefully;

8.                Value your friends… if you don’t, who will bail you out of jail?

9.                Value your family… they may not bail you out of jail, but they will love you in spite of your indiscretions;

10.            Do the best you can with what you have… even if it’s not much;

11.            If someone hurts you… find a way to get even – in a classy lady-like way, of course;

12.            Life is short… tell your family and friends you love them as often as possible because there may not be a tomorrow;

13.            Respect your elders… they hold wisdom;

14.            Protect and direct the youngsters… growing up is hard work;

15.            Do not deny anger… channel that energy into a productive endeavor;

16.            Never engage or promote physical violence… no one ever learned anything good from a beating;

17.            Have realistic expectations… expect nothing and you’ll never be disappointed;

18.            Ask for what you want… those who don’t ask don’t get;

19.            Share your knowledge… helping others is the only true way to make order out of chaos.

20.            Accept others for what and who they are in spite of differences… I don’t have to love everything about what you do to love you.

21.            Do unto others… as you would have them do unto you;

All rules are subject to change without notice…