Every 19 minutes...

By the time I finish writing this post three children will have died as a result of drug or alcohol abuse.

I had a wonderful Mother’s Day. My daughter, granddaughter and great-granddaughter all went out for breakfast and then got mani-pedies. I hadn’t been out in a while and being with "just the girls" was a great way to relax and I even found myself laughing.

Mother’s Day is always a little hard on me since my son’s death via alcoholism. There is this part of me that is missing. I miss having him call me at the crack of dawn and say “Maw!!! Happppy Mother’s Day! Aren’t you happy I made you a MOM!” He was my first child and so he always claims the rights to being the one who made it appropriate for me to be called a Mom. His younger sister says she gives my title “staying power.” Meaning another child means a strong hold to motherhood. Not sure if I really "get" her theory, but sibling rivalry can sometimes be endearing even when it makes no sense.

Now that my son has died a senselessly, his voice is always in my head. I hear him over and over again. And I miss him so much that sometimes it is unbearable. I’m told that it gets easier. If that’s going to happen I wish it would just hurry up and take place because sometimes the pain is as fresh as it was the day he passed.

There are a lot of mothers and a few fathers in the OARS Family and Friends of Alcoholics Support Group. (www.OARSFFGroup.ning.com) They find comfort in communicating with others who know the emptiness of losing a child. They know the helplessness of watching your child walk down a path that can have no good end. It doesn’t really matter if the child is 40 or 14, to a mother a child is always a child no matter how old the child may be.  The pain of the loss is the same. To join the group go here:

http://oarsffgroup.ning.com/?xgi=4R6sAeUek4uZ9X

The inherent paternal instinct is to protect the child above all else. But how does a parent trust and let their child grow into adulthood when the dangers are all around? Should we wrap them in bubble wrap and attach an ankle device that monitors their every move?

I think Dr. Phil might have the right idea. You just do everything you can to protect them. Do everything you can do and then do some more. If you suspect that your child (teen) is involved in drugs and/or alcohol, you must invade their privacy; track their cell phone; lock up your liquor and medicine cabinets; check out their friends; watch for fluctuations in their grades; and get them into counseling.

One child dies every 19 minutes. One life that could have been a teacher; President of the United States; inventor of backpack jet propulsion for everyday use; scientist who discovers a cure for Duchene’s Muscular Dystrophy or Autism; author of a Pulitzer Prize; or an outstanding ice cream cone scooper or coffee barista. It doesn’t really matter what they might have become. What matters is that they won’t have a chance to be anything other than a statistic of how many dead children we accumulate in an hour.

I have been a supporter of the Hollywood and Vine Recovery Center's upcoming fundraising event. They have already been able to help one of my followers by providing recovery services for the child of the follower. They were proactive and speedy in making sure that one specific child would not become a sad statistic. I am grateful that, even though I don’t know who either the parents or child are, they got the help they needed. Their website is:

http://www.hollywoodandvinerecoverycenter.com/

Being in the throes of parenting a teen-ager has always been exasperating. I don’t know what happens when a child begins to reach the magical “teen years”, but it can seem as though your child was snatched in the middle of the night and replaced with a pod person. Reason and logical seem to no longer exist. Parenting a teen by using reason and logic often feels futile. When drugs or alcohol is added to the equation the chaos magnifies beyond understanding.

There is no such thing as too much knowledge. If you have questions for a professional who deals with addicted children on a daily basis, Dr. Gloria Montgomery can help. On Wednesdays between 3 and 5 pm (Pacific Time), you can go to www.RMCONAIR.com and join in the “Expect a Miracle CARE FOR KIDS” live radio and internet stream radio. Dr. Montgomery will answer your questions. There is also live entertainment and interesting interviews. This is a “home grown” program, so if it feels a bit unprofessional that’s because these people are not performers. They are real people working in the real work of doing everything they can to help addicted children. No frills here. Just facts.

I started writing this post at 8:30am and it is now 10:00am. It’s been 90 minutes and at least four children have died.

Who's life is it?

As the spouse of an end-stage alcoholic, people often have a misconception of my marriage. Many times I hear about how much I must love Riley in order to stand by him the way I do. Love is a funny word. There are all kinds of love and I do love him, but I am not a wife in a true sense of the word. I am also not in a marriage that I would really consider as traditional.

In my opinion, a traditional marriage is one where two people join together to create a partnership where they work equally towards a happy life. In a traditional marriage major decisions are made after discussions between the couple until they come to a mutually agreed upon conclusion. The responsibility for financial obligations is shared even if there is only one person working for a paycheck. Communication is open and flows freely. Each person supports the other during times of hardships or ill health. The partner/spouse will be the one person you can trust without doubt. There will be arguments, disagreements, frustrations and even heart-break. But, at the end of the day, they will always be a solid unit.

So maybe I live in a dream world. Maybe that’s how marriage is only SUPPOSED to be but in reality maybe it never is. I don’t know for sure, but if I was in a traditional marriage I think I would feel so differently than I do at this moment. I don’t feel like Riley’s wife. I am care-taker or more of a sister or mother to him or, maybe, even a type of personal manager. There is no desire for anything remotely resembling romance. There is no sharing of hopes and dreams, no working toward a jointly desired end goal. There are just two people living in the same house with absolutely opposing opinions and lifestyles.

In spite of all of that, I have a life. It doesn’t matter to me that my life is in conflict with what Riley wants. Riley made choices that have put him in the situation he is in today. That was his life to screw up or to succeed as he deemed fit. I also made choices that have changed the path of my life. They were my choices to make for my life. I own my decisions, good or bad.

I do not feel that Riley has the authority to make decisions for me. My brain is not toxin saturated and I am still reasonably sane and competent. To have him make decisions with me jointly is like asking my three-year granddaughter what dress to wear today. I might end up wearing a princess outfit, complete with wand and tiara, to a job interview. Unless I was applying for a job at Disneyworld, I doubt I would be hired. The concept is the same. Riley’s decision might seem perfectly reasonable to him, but in reality may not be appropriate.

In the quest for some kind of “traditional normalcy”, I might ask Riley his opinion and even consider putting it into action. I believe that we all want that sort of connection with our spouse. We may even strive to find it in every conversation or action. We search for something that says, “I’m the most important person in my spouse’s life.” We are grasping at straws because we know in our heart and soul that the most important thing in our alcoholic spouses life is getting and maintaining a foggy mind.

Spouses of addicted persons must stand up for themselves and remember that they are individuals and they must make decisions based on sound, reasonable, rational judgment.  That means that the alcoholic spouse doesn’t have a right to make demands or force upon us their need for the appearance of a healthy, happy marriage. Usually marriage to an alcoholic spouse is neither healthy nor happy when the non-alcoholic is constantly treating the alcoholic as though he/she had the capability of being of sound, rational mind.

Alcoholics are human beings and even though the brain may be broke. They don’t think it is. They truly believe that they are capable of the “traditional” marriage. They long for it. They need it. Or at least they need the appearance of it. I respect that it may be what they need, but I do not need a broken brained individual to decide what clothing to wear, who my friends are, or when I should go to the doctor.

Recently I heard a wife say that her husband wouldn’t LET her friends drive her to an event. The husband is an alcoholic who drives drunk. He wanted to drive her to her destination.  I wonder in what world this would be acceptable? If Riley said that to me, I would tell him to back off. I would tell him I would not allow him to drive me around the corner, let alone to an appointment. I would remind him that he is not allowed to make decisions about my life.

My life belongs to me. Although I may include Riley in discussions about decisions, the bottom line is all on my shoulders. I don’t always make the right decision. Sometimes my decisions put me in an awkward, difficult situation. But the decision was mine. I value my life and will not knowingly leave it in the hands of a drunk driver or any other person whose brain doesn’t function in reality.

I ask all my readers to please do not get into a car with a drunk driver behind the wheel. Value your own life enough to want to keep yourself safe from harm. Take control of your life and respect your own decisions. Listen to that little voice in your head that says – you are worthwhile and you can decide on your own. Let’s not any of us leave decisions to people who may love us, but can’t understand logic or live in reality.

My magic wand...

It is always interesting to me how life plays itself out in the real world. There are joyful times and sorrowful times. There are fleeting moments of peace and quiet and then monumental crises. Each interval of life requires a decision by someone. Sometimes the decision is by the person directly involved and other times it’s made by a second or third party. No matter how you look at it, a decision is made.

A lot of people in my life have to make decisions about life-changing circumstances in rapid succession. A friend is struggling with changes in her relationship with her son as well as her work environment. My granddaughter is juggling work, school and motherhood. Another friend fights alcoholic demons every single minute of every single day. And, my beloved Carrot is facing a surgical procedure that may cause her life to end.  Even with the procedure, Carrot’s life expectancy is grim. There is nothing I can do to help any of them except to let them know that I understand the difficulty of their circumstances. Of course, having a magic wand might be of some advantage.

I often feel that it is unreasonably unfair that some people’s lives are cut short for no reason of their own and without a decision needing to be made. Many people that I love have left this earth before I felt their time should have been up. Two of my brothers died before they could claim to be senior citizens. Carrot’s husband died only a year after they were married. I see on the news about young children whose lives are snatched before they ever really begin. There was no decision to die but there was a decision to live which didn’t come to fruition. I guess it would be best if I just remembered that things happen and sometimes I won’t be happy about it.

The thing being thrown in my face recently is about a decision to try to keep Riley alive. The newest argument in our house is that everything is my fault because I decided to call 911 when Riley was having his heart attack. It seems to Riley that it is my fault that he is alive and if he wasn’t alive, I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in today. That is the position of being his caretaker because he cannot live alone as well as many other incidental situations.

It is Riley’s opinion that if I had not called the EMTs that he would be dead and I would have my life back as it was before I took him back into my home. To some degree that is true. But then I would have to look at myself in the mirror and know that I had not thrown a drowning man a life saver that hung within my reach. Riley recalls asking me to call 911. He doesn’t remember telling me to “PLEASE, please” call for an ambulance. He doesn’t remember sobbing in pain. He says I should have closed my bedroom door and gone back to sleep.

I made a decision that night. I decided that it was against my moral convictions to let a man die in the bedroom across from mine without making an attempt to get him help. So, I guess Riley is right. It is my fault that he is still alive. However, I am not the only one to blame.

The decision made in the emergency room to air-flight him to the nearest heart specialized facility was the fault of the attending physician of that particular emergency room. When he arrived at the Heart Institute in Greenville, he was immediately taken for tests and treatment. Those doctors and nurses must also be blamed for their extremely competent and professional treatment. When Riley was placed into palliative care at the hospital and was no longer treated to prevent his death, was the hospital staff to blame? After Riley was admitted to hospice care at the nursing home and he survived, was it the fault of the nursing home staff and doctors? In Riley World, everyone who had a part in keeping him alive is at fault.

If I had not called 911, Riley would not have lived. I would not have to worry about who is going to look after him if I should have to be gone for an extended period of time. I would not have to be concerned about him falling and hitting his head on the Travertine Tile. I would not have to be concerned that he might say something hurtful to the great-grandchildren. I would not have to worry about where the money will come from for his legal fees and medical extras. I would not have to make sure he gets to his appointments or that he gets the most out of each one. I would not have to be concerned about when he will start drinking again. I would be Riley free.

I have to be careful because when Riley blames me for him being alive, I get angry. I feel that he is ungrateful for having an opportunity to breathe the air when so many others didn’t have the chances he has had. For Riley, the life he has now is not an acceptable life at all. If he cannot drink and has no means of being able to obtain alcohol then he has NO life worth living. He states that he is a prisoner in this house and I am his warden. He is not happy and won’t be happy until he is able to find some alcohol and get drunk.

This is when a magic wand would serve me well. I could use it to give my friend and her son insight into how they much they will appreciate each other when all the growing pains cease and they can move on to having an adult relationship. Maybe I could help her see a happy future after the chaos stops. The wand could be waved over my granddaughter so she could see what an awesome Mom she is and maybe even some money might appear to help with her tuition. The same wand could build a barrier between my alcoholic friend and the sneaky little demons that haunt her so she can have the happy productive sober life that she so desperately wants.

Most importantly I could use that magic wand to give Carrot the balance of Riley’s life and Riley the balance of Carrot’s. That is a decision I would happily make.

A little more review...

Let’s do a little more review, but this time let’s take out any reference to my personal situation. Let’s talk about something more important than how I get by financially or why I ended up writing this blog.

1 -- End-stage alcoholism is the condition of an alcoholic who has reached a certain stage in the addiction. Most are alcoholics who have been through rehab or detox several times with each end result being a return to drunkenness. By this time the organs have suffered damage and the brain does not function with logic. Often there may have been a stroke or heart attack caused from alcohol abuse.

2 – The liver is a miracle organ that has the capability of healing itself as long as there is still viable healthy tissue available for re-generation. However, eventually the liver will reach a point where there is no healthy tissue at all and will begin a total shut-down.

3 – The front lobe of the brain houses our ability to make logical, rational choices with a moral compass. When the brain becomes saturated with alcohol, the brain loses the ability to discern logicality from irrationality or to make moral choices. Expecting an alcoholic to make a rational, moral choice is like asking a baby not to cry for their next feeding.

4 – It doesn’t really matter what name you give to all the various medical complications associated with alcohol abuse. What is important is the effect it has on the body and brain. Once the non-alcoholic understands what is happening inside the alcoholic’s body, they are better able to understand why things are the way they are. But, really, that’s all it means if the alcoholic doesn’t stop drinking the condition will continue the downward spiral.

5 – There is no cure for alcoholism. The only thing that can save an alcoholic’s life is a desire to change their life direction. That’s a very tall order for someone who has a faulty frontal lobe causing them to not have the ability to reason.

6 – Recovery is possible even for end-stage alcoholics. Sometimes it may take some manipulation and coercing to get them into a detox center. Sometimes they get into detox via a medical crisis. However it happens doesn’t matter. What matters is that it happens. It is rare that an end-stage alcoholic suddenly decides that sobriety is a better way of life. I just don’t want anyone to think that it is completely impossible because it is possible.

7 – There are many support groups for the caretakers, family, and/or friends of alcoholics. Once upon a time the only option was for a 12-step program. That’s not the case anymore. Simply Google Alcoholism Family Support and you might be surprised as to how many options there are. Of course, anyone who reads my blog is invited to join the OARS Family and Friends Support Group. You will find the link in the side bar of this blog.

8 – It doesn’t matter if the alcoholic in your life is at end-stage, early stages or has already passed. What is important is that it does not destroy the lives of the people who love the alcoholic. There is life outside the alcoholic chaos. It isn’t easy to find, but it is there. It’s worth finding, so don’t give up the search.

9 – The alcoholic does not set out to harm anyone. They simply can’t see that they are putting people at risk. It’s part of the frontal lobe thing. The rudeness, meanness, narcissistic, selfishness is part of the result of the alcohol abuse. It is up to us (the caretakers) to decide how to handle the situation. We can ignore it, fight it, run from it, or cry about it. There is no right or wrong way. There is each individual’s way and that’s all.

10 – Detach is not a dirty word. I know it feels like it. I know it feels like we are abandoning the alcoholic and that action often feels like we are allowing them to die. But, really, there is no way to stop that snowball as it picks up speed going down that mountain. The only thing we can do is find a way to keep the fall-out from falling on us. Find a way to have a life of your own and enjoy that life.

11 – Everyone on this planet is affected by alcoholism in some way or another. There are economic, social, and familial consequences to alcoholism. Even those who do not drink must pay the debt created by alcohol abuse through higher medical rates or taxes to pay for prison sentences. Families pay by the loss of a father, mother, son, daughter, sister or brother. No one is immune.

What I’ve touched here is only a small amount of what needs to be known about alcoholism. There will always be new information to reveal. There will always be stories of heartbreak and stories of success. There will always be people who are trying to make a difference.

At the end of Alcohol Awareness Month, we all need to be reminded that things are not always as cut and dry as they may seem. We all need to be reminded of the basics. We all need to remember that every one of us is struggling in some way. Let’s end this month with a renewed energy to survive.

Let's review...

Every once in a while, when I read some of the comments to my posts, I take a deep sigh and step back. I take a little walk around the property and breathe in the peace and quiet. Then I come back in, fix myself a fresh cup of coffee (Dunkin Dark, 2 tsp sugar, and lots of real cream), and sit in my big chair enjoying the creamy sweet liquid. It’s during this time that I’m thinking about how to respond or what should be the topic of my next post. Sometimes, during this time, I’m just putting my emotions in check so I can think objectively.

When I started this blog (way back in October of 2010), I never thought I would really become a public figure. I never expected that I would sometimes be getting as many as 3,000 hits per day. But, for good or not, it seems that I have, in fact, become somewhat of a public entity. I’m OK with that because I know that I must be helping someone to be generating so much interest. Someone somewhere is able to take the things I’ve learned and put them to good use.

However, with all this popularity come the “other” people – the ones who have a tendency to never see the good in anything.  I know and understand that my point of view may not be shared by everyone who reads my blog. Some people read it just to see what kind of stuff I’m spouting off today because they may think I’m just ridiculous. Maybe it gives them entertainment. That’s OK with me too. Whatever reason they may have for reading the blog, is their reason and not necessarily shared by everyone else who reads the blog.

I think what bothers me is that I feel I’m repeating myself over and over again. Sometimes, I want to say… “You can find that info in the post dated ____” , but it’s unfair of me to think that everyone has the time to read the blog from beginning to end. We are all busy and there are 224 posts not including this one. That’s a lot to read. So maybe it would be appropriate for me to do a little review, so that even the readers new to my blog will understand the background.

Here are some facts:

1)       Riley and I separated in the mid 1990s because he was a womanizing drunk who refused to get help or believe that he needed help. He had been through multiple rehab and detox centers and each time refused to take the help offered to him. When he retired from the Navy, he refused to take civilian employment because it interfered with his drinking. As a result, we lost our home and two cars. Even though I worked three jobs, I could not make ends meet enough to save our home. However, Riley managed to find enough money to take his mistresses on elaborate dates and weekends away. In a nutshell, this is why we separated.

 

2)      I did not get a divorce because I knew that one day the drinking would catch up to him and that he would need someone to take care of him when he stopped being able to care for himself. I did not want my children to be put in that position so we stayed married. Riley knows why I did not want a divorce. Riley didn’t want a divorce either because he said it gave him an excuse for why he couldn’t marry anyone else. It gave him an “out” of the relationships he wanted out of. It worked for him. 

3)      I get NO money stipend for taking care of Riley. I took over his finances when he came back to live with me and had to work very hard to get him out of a bad money situation. I used my own money to help him get even. Whatever money Riley has coming in gets combined into our joint marital finances and is used to pay OUR bills and any expenses relating to the fact that he cannot take care of himself any longer. Riley is not eligible to be placed into a nursing facility because physically he is not in need of nursing. To have him put into an assisted living facility would cost more than his personal income and most of mine. I would be left with about $500/month for my own living expenses. I can’t live on $500 a month. 

4)      I do not make any money for writing this blog. I have been asked for permission to advertise on the blog, but am extremely selective about what gets posted here. If something does not benefit my readers, I will not post it. I am only open to advertising that provides some meaningful advantage to my readers. Writing the blog is not a money making activity. The only money derived is from the sale of my books and donations to the OARS Group Fund. All these proceeds are applied to maintaining and furthering the OARS Group membership sites and future live meetings. I do ask for donations to the fund and I’m thankful for each and every one without regard to the dollar amount. 

5)      Comments are encouraged. Not everyone agrees with me and those comments are welcome as well as the ones that are in agreement. What is not welcome are comments that are mean and hateful. You are welcome to your opinion and I’m happy to allow that opinion to be read. 

6)      There are things inside the covers of my book that you will not find on the blog. It is the most complete way for me to communicate who I am and how I got here. Besides being factually informative, it is also the story of a young girl groomed to become a caretaker. There are instances in the book that will never make it to the blog. You can purchase it though Smashwords for your e-book reader. It is not out in print, as I do not have the money to make that happen. 

That’s my review. Please use the comments to ask me questions on topics you don’t feel I’ve covered adequately. I will do my best to answer each and every one. I appreciate all my readers and I thank you for being one of my followers.

Best left in friendship...

Recently I re-connected with an old friend. He was someone that I briefly was romantically involved with and then quickly realized that we were much better friends than lovers. We met about 20 years ago through a mutual friend. There have been long breaks between “getting together” and every time we talk it is as though no time has passed at all.

The last time we talked was right after my son died so it’s been quite a while. He had no idea the direction I took after consoling me after Brian’s memorial service. This friend never knew very much about my life before I met him. He knew that I was separated from my husband because of his alcoholism, but assumed there would be no divorce because I didn’t want to lose my military benefits.

When I told him that I had taken my husband back in, he was a bit surprised. He was not surprised when I told him why I had done it. It seemed like what he would have expected from me. There was no “OMG!” or “What were you thinking?” There was just acceptance and understanding. That felt good.

I was happy to hear that he had a woman in his life and was secure in that relationship. Believe me, he would be considered to be a “fine catch” in almost anyone’s opinion. When my mother was alive, she would always ask me “So what’s happening between you two? You know he’s the best one for you.” I would explain that sometimes things are just best left in friendship rather than push for something that could destroy everything. Mom didn’t buy my theory. If there had been another daughter in the family, I’m sure she would have been pushing her as well.

At this point in my life, the last thing I would ever consider is a relationship with anyone. I have my family, dog, and cat and to add a man would be simply insane. The fact that I have a husband is only a minor issue. Riley and I have not been a truly married couple for so many years, that sometimes it’s hard to remember what it was like to be happy to be around him. I have to re-read chapters in my book to help me remember why I fell in love with him in the first place.

Each time I read those chapters, I re-live the meeting and early days of our courtship. Sometimes I think, “How naïve can a girl be?” and get irritated that I fell for all the hearts and flowers. But, there was such sweetness in Riley, a gentleness that most the men in my life (father, brothers, uncles, cousins) never displayed except on rare occasions. Besides, the fact that my adult relationship experience was non-existent, gave me no reference from which to draw. I was like a lamb to the slaughter lead by a pied piper.

I’ve taken an excerpt from my book which talks about meeting Riley.

The weather was perfect for an evening walk. It was cool but not cold and the stars lit up the sky with a silvery glow. Our apartment was only a block from the lake which had a walking path completely around it. Walking around the lake was a popular activity in this city.

We took a couple of detours which allowed us to walk by stores that had closed for the evening. The windows were lit and displayed their products vividly. We discussed the fashion and I was full of myself as I explained the history of the style of clothing. I was in my element.

At the very far end of the lake there is a pergola that juts right into the lake. Standing there you feel surrounded by the water and trees. It is truly a beautiful place. That evening the moon shone across the smooth water like a mirror. The stars got brighter as each hour took us deeper into the night.

That’s where it happened. Riley kissed me. It was a sweet gentle kiss, but it was filled with passion. I forgot about the divorce, kids, age difference, I forgot all those red flags and enjoyed every second of that kiss.

We walked home, holding hands and talking about things that didn’t really matter. I was surprised when he asked me to have dinner with him on Saturday evening. I wanted to say NO! Every fiber of my being screamed out STOP! He’s too old!! He’s divorced with kids!! But, it seemed I was outside myself listening as I heard the words flowing from my mouth… “I would love to have dinner with you.” So much for being cautious.

It’s too bad that I didn’t listen to that little voice that said NO. In the long run, it would have saved me from heartbreak and disappointment. On the other hand, I would have missed a lot. I would not be where I am today. I would not have had the experiences (good and bad) that I’ve had over the years. As disappointed as I may be, I do not regret any part of my life with Riley.

Whenever I re-read those chapters, it’s as though I’m re-connecting with Riley. If just for a few minutes, I can connect with that sweet-starry-eyed time and that makes me smile.  

April awareness...

April is Alcohol Awareness Month according to several different governmental organizations. That’s good. We should all be aware that alcohol is out there. I was thinking maybe someone might have missed the fact that alcohol exists.

Maybe it should be Alcoholism Awareness Month. That would make more sense to me. But, even then, doesn’t everyone know that alcoholism exists? Unless you’ve lived on a desert island or in a bubble, how can a person not be aware of alcoholism?

I know that for some people alcoholism is something that happens to someone else. It is in someone else’s family; ruins someone else’s life; kills other people’s loved ones – but for some people alcoholism just doesn’t seem to have much of a meaning to them. The belief that alcoholism has no effect on people who do not drink is just a fantasy.

We are all, in some way or another, affected by alcohol abuse. Here are some facts that non-drinkers may not have ever considered.

According to the Pacific Institute for Research and Evaluation. Costs of Underage Drinking (Updated edition. Prepared for the Office for Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention Enforcing the Underage Drinking Laws Program under contract no. 98-AH-F8-0114. Rockville, MD: Author, 1999) the total cost attributed to underage drinking (which includes the cost of traffic accidents, violent crime, injuries and treatment) is over $52 million per year.

If you are thinking that is not a cost borne by the everyday person, think again. When these expenses are not met by the families of underage drinkers, they are picked up by social service organizations like Medicaid which in turn translates in higher taxes and higher medical expense for those able to pay.

In 1992, the estimated productivity loss for employees with past or current alcoholism was $66.7 billion. (Harwood, H., et al. The Economic Costs of Alcohol and Drug Abuse in the United States, 1992. Rockville, MD: National Institute on Drug Abuse, 1998.) Again, you may be thinking that would be the employers’ problem and not yours. Those losses have to be made up somewhere. The end result is an increase in the consumer cost of whatever that employer produces.

Here’s another thing to be aware of: When alcoholism results in crimes for which the alcoholic becomes incarcerated who pays for their cell, clothing, food, health care, etc? The answer is that we all do. Our taxes pay for our prison system which is full of drug and alcohol addicted persons.

The above is just some of the economic costs forced upon society by this thing called alcoholism. There is also an emotional toll to pay. Let’s take a hypothetical here:

A man (we’ll call him Sober Driver) is driving home from work and gets hit by a drunk driver (we’ll call him Drunk Driver). Sober Driver dies instantly. Drunk Driver walks away without a scratch. How ironic is that? But wait, it doesn’t end there.

Sober Driver had in his car a very valuable silver cup which he planned on giving his daughter as a shower gift for his unborn grandson. The silver cup is destroyed in the accident which is a monetary loss if you don’t consider it was only gift he would have been able to give his only grandchild. Now the cost is not just the cost of the cup, but the memory it would have held which makes the cup priceless.

Sober Driver leaves behind his wife, who must now go back to work because after years of being a “stay at home wife and Mom”, she now has to pay the bills. She won’t make as much money as her husband because she doesn’t have a college degree. She may need to sell the home and move to smaller quarters. Not only is this another financial burden, but the loss of the family home creates a feeling of displacement. She becomes depressed over the loss of both her husband and her home. Someone else’s alcoholism has taken them both away.

The depression doesn’t end with Mrs. Sober Driver because her daughter and son, as well as any other family members, will mourn the loss of their beloved Mr. Sober Driver. The unborn grandson will never know his grandfather’s laughter and delight at holding the infant in his arms.

The expense continues when we find out that Mr. Sober Driver was an engineer who was working on a project that would make attaining fresh water a reality for third world citizens. Someone else will pick up the project, but it will take quite a bit of time for the new person to get up to speed which delays the project completion by as much as a year.

There are a number of scenarios that could be read into the expense of alcoholism as it relates to non-alcoholics. In my opinion the awareness that we must have is that alcoholism doesn’t just cause problems for the alcoholic or the alcoholic’s family. Alcoholism causes problems for everyone.

I'm a hypocrite...

Spring has sprung… I think. Maybe I should hold that thought for a few more days. Just when I start enjoying the beautiful day, we are hit with an awful day. Aren’t we past that six-week groundhog thing?

With the advent of Spring, my mind turns to fresh ideas to help me find other things than alcoholism to occupy my time. That is to interject some laughter, delight, etc. into my very full schedule. Without that break from caretaking Riley, I would become too stressed to do anything at all.

In the OARS Groups, I always push for the members to find their passion. Or at least find something that instills a sense of self into their lives. For some of the members it means taking a part-time job; or taking a class; joining a book club; create something; cook something; or anything else that they can do that is outside the realm of the alcoholic. The term often used is “detachment.” I don’t particularly like that term, but, OK, I can use it here. I don’t think of it as actually detaching, but rather finding oneself and learning to thrive in the midst of the chaos.

After it had been suggested that I “slow down” by my doctor, I felt a bit defeated. SLOW DOWN? I feel as though I’m already going rather slow. I don’t do a lot of physical activity and I can’t control the craziness that Riley sometimes generates, so I’m not sure how she means that I should slow down. In the back of my mind I’m thinking that there are certain things I do that I won’t compromise on – like writing this blog or creating live OARS group meetings.

I was still pondering the question when I was joined by my granddaughter. She, also, had been thinking about how I could slow down and she was in agreement that knowing me, it was not likely to happen. So she took another stance on the situation. In her opinion, for me to slow down might mean that I should relieve myself from a bit of stress. She wanted to offer a suggestion on how I could do that not by reducing my tasks, but by adding a task.

She showed me pictures of her daughter in dresses and outfits that I had made for her. She reminded me that making those clothes brought a lot of happiness to me. I remembered. I remembered how pleased I was and how calming it was for me to make those clothes. It was something that I truly enjoyed doing and I didn’t see it as a chore, but rather a reward. I agreed that I missed sewing and wished I were able to do some now. And why wasn’t I? I mean really? Why wasn’t I making the time to do something I loved to do that was so completely outside of the chaos circle?

I gave it a lot of thought. I was being a hypocrite. I was telling all my members to do what they love. I quoted from the book “Do What You Love – The Money Will Follow;” “Who Moved My Cheese;” and “What Color Is Your Parachute”. And here I was only partially taking my own advice. I do what I love, but it is only because I’ve been inside the chaos for so long. I write my blog, which I love. I push forward with the support groups and other activities, which I love. But, there are projects that were pushed to the back burner in the process. What about the family history book that I started? What about planning a family reunion? What about designing children’s clothing? All that got pushed aside so I could focus on helping others.

I see no reason why I can’t take back something that I love -- like designing little girl’s clothing. It is not stressful and it is productive. Most importantly, it is something all my own. Riley can’t touch the happiness I get from watching my great-granddaughter light up with anticipation when she knows I’m making something for her. Alcohol dementia cannot sneak in and ruin the feeling I get when I see her proudly wearing her new, original outfits. When she says “I don’t need to go to Macy’s because I have MeeMaw”, there is a sense of pride that overwhelms me.

But there is an issue. It costs money to create those outfits. Money is tight. So how do I make this cost-effective? My granddaughter was way ahead of me. She suggested that we start a children’s summer clothing line. She had already talked to two other people who were willing to help make this a reality. We would have a fashion show using the young girls in the family as models at our “grand opening show.” It was clear that she and her cohorts had planned this out and waited until they could meet all my objections before presenting it to me. I’ve been told that I say “yes” way too often and “yes” was the answer to the question – would I be willing to start Carolina Sunshine Creations?

It’s already started. We have already put together the fabrics (from my fabric stash), designs and how they will be presented. Carolina Sunshine Creations is a reality. Primarily it will be sundresses, shorts, capris, tops, and cover-ups all mix-and-match coordinated. There will be matching hair bows, sunglasses, flip-flops and beach bags. The designs will be simple and each dress/outfit will somehow be unique to any other in the line. Since we live in a resort area, we will focus on the tourists vacationing at the beach. The clothing will be offered only between May 1^st and September 15^th. We hope to start a web page soon so the clothing can be purchased on-line. If this goes well, we will create Halloween costumes and a holiday collection. But, for the most part our main focus will be on summer clothing.

I don’t know if we will turn a profit. If we do that’s great, but if we don’t our profit will be the fun of working with my daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter and my granddaughter’s mother on a project that will bring us all closer together. My personal profit will be that the experience will help me thrive instead of just surviving.

If you are inside a chaotic circle and need some respite from the insanity, find a way to do something just for yourself. There are lots of avenues out there. Just a few may be: Volunteering; Reading; Writing; Tutoring; Cooking; Sewing; Working; and any other thing that may be close to your heart. I hope my readers can offer other suggestions on finding your passion.

Moonlight on my path...

I love a big, bright, luminescent full moon. And sometimes, just sometimes when I stare at it for too long, I can feel a bit of loony-ness come out in me. I laugh a little louder; sigh a little deeper; talk a little longer; create a little wilder; and believe a little stronger. I like the full moon because it gives me license to do all those things. That is – as if I needed a license – NOT!

Recently we had a full moon. I think there is an after-affect. Maybe a kind of glow that lingers after the moon sets and the sun rises. Maybe there is a kind of “full moon craziness glow” that lasts for days after the full moon. That would explain a lot about both mine and other people’s actions.

I had an awesome Easter Sunday with my family. I laughed so hard my sides ached; I talked until my throat was sore; and ate more than healthy amounts of every tasty food served. Then I went home (really just downstairs) and crashed into bed at an extremely early hour. I don’t know if my excesses were a result of the full moon and I don’t care. What a wonderful day!

Riley chose a different sort of day. He stayed in his room and watched NCIS re-runs and played with a visiting dog. Gander is a golden retriever who is too old to just run around in the backyard with the other visiting pups. He is quiet and gentle. Both Riley and Gander enjoyed each other’s company. It was a good way to spend the day for both of them.

Riley and I were presented with several paths through our day and we each chose a different one. Neither path was wrong, crazy, good or bad. It was just a route of our choice. It was what worked best of each of us.

It’s my experience that life is a little like that. There are lots of paths we could take and we make our choices based on information available at the time. Sometimes we take a path that is well worn by others who went before us. Sometimes we pull out our machete and carve a whole new path just for that segment of our life. No path is right or wrong. Sometimes there are detours. Sometimes a bridge may be washed out and we must go back and start again.

The interesting thing about these paths is that they really don’t lead anywhere. They are just routes that provide scenery, opportunity, joy, sorrow as we go through our life. There’s an old saying that goes like this: Life is not a destination. Life is a journey. If that’s true then what is important is not where the path leads, but what is found along the way.

Riley’s path is different from mine. He prefers certain things that I would avoid at all costs. It’s his path and his choice to follow it. It’s not my place to carve the path for him. However, if his path puts him into quicksand, I can chose to reach out the branch that pulls him out so he may continue in whichever direction he wants. Or I can choose to just do nothing.

My path is one that has ugly, dangerous thistle bushes mixed in with the beautiful gardenias and camellias. I know they all have a purpose and I appreciate their beauty even in the ugliness. I encounter many different people and they are each on their own path. If our paths cross, we may converse for a while, share a cup of coffee, exchange ideas or we may simply ignore each other. Sometimes people join me as a walk down my path. It’s their choice to walk beside me or to go their own way. I may offer my opinion on how dangerous it may be to walk through an alligator infested swamp, but if that’s the path the person chooses, well, so be it.

While walking down this path as Riley’s caretaker, I stop and try to gain every bit of information I can so that I can make informed choices about my direction. I talk to him. I talk to other addicted persons. I talk to other caretakers. I talk to my family and friends. I get their points of view, but at the same time, I remember that their points of view are just “their points of view” and don’t have to be my point of view.

Riley makes his desires very clear to me about the path he wants to take. He wants to not be sober. That doesn’t mean he wants to be drunk. But he doesn’t like sobriety. This path he is on at the present time is not a path he would have chosen willingly. It was the only route available. It’s like having to get over a mountain when all but one road is washed out. Sobriety is Riley’s mountain and he just wants the fastest way out of it. It would not be my choice. But, it’s not my path… its Riley’s.

In my opinion, Riley’s quality of life is pretty good right now. I don’t know why he would want to change that. But the fact remains that he does want to change it. He wants off this path and change the quality of his life because for him this life doesn’t have the quality he wants. For him, if this is the only life-quality he will ever have available to him, he would rather get off the life path altogether.

It is hard for a non-alcoholic person to understand why anyone would want to live in a hazy, crazy world of inebriation. As I sip on my occasional (once or twice a year) glass of wine while having dinner with a friend, I am careful not to enter that place of having one-too-many. I hate the feeling of being personally out of control and so I avoid it as often as possible.

Riley is the opposite. He loves that feeling of euphoric floating through any event. He doesn’t care what the consequences are; he only knows that the feeling is what he covets.  It is the path he will choose at every opportunity. If he can’t take that path, he will take the path to his room that ends in his rocking chair in front of the TV. He’s not really comfortable there, but he is as comfortable as he can be sobriety.

My point to my readers is this: You don’t have to walk my path. You don’t have to agree with the path of my choice. You are entitled to walk your own path. You are welcome to express your opinion about the path I chose. However, no one is asking you to read about my journey. If it upsets you or is incites personal anger, maybe you should read a different blog. If my point of view is offensive, why bother to read it at all? I’m sure there are other blogs out there that would intersect in a more agreeable manner along your path.

No matter what path you choose, my path will continue even if it is lighted by the full moon craziness glow. 

Shark bites...

Imagine this… you’re on a beautiful, white, sandy beach at the edge of a pristine blue water sea. You really want to go for a swim. Just as you reach the edge of the water you notice a sign saying that the water is “shark infested”. What would you do? You don’t see any visible signs of sharks. There’s no “Sharks” music playing in the background. The water is so inviting and calm and you just want to take a little dip.

This was the scenario I presented to Riley this morning while he was bragging that he had improved in his physical condition and was almost whole again. So I risked the question about going back to drinking. I said, “Do you understand that the reason you have improved so much is mostly because you are not drinking?” His answer was, “Yes.”

I was feeling way too confident or I would not have asked the next question. “Do you think you have learned that you cannot drink and stay healthy?”

“Well, you were wrong. Booze did not kill me and I believe it won’t ever kill me.” He was so matter-of-fact with that little smirky “I’ve proven that you were wrong” smile across his lips. “You don’t seem to understand that I’m addicted to alcohol and because of that you can never expect me to stop drinking.”

My response was that addicted people break the addiction every day and that I didn’t feel that it was impossible for him to stop drinking. After all, it has been almost a year since he had a drink. Why start back now and cause his health to go downhill?

He says he will go back to drinking because he’s an alcoholic. Personally, after everything that has happened over the past six years, it just seems ludicrous to go back to drinking when there is no longer any of the poison in his system.

At that time, I proposed the beach scenario to him. Would he go into the water?

He replied, he’d already been in the water and was still alive. The signs posted were probably more than a year old which meant they were no longer relevant.

Yes, he is still alive, but he has caused his body great stress and there are permanent life-long repercussions to his swim in shark-infested waters. The shark may not have eaten his entire body, he maybe have lost a toe on the first venture out into the water. Well, he lived through that, so let’s go just a bit further out there – and he loses his leg. He heals that then goes back in because, after all, he’s not dead yet. Back into the water and he loses everything up to his waist. And yet – he goes back into the water again and this time he becomes the shark’s dinner.

Riley sees that analogy and believes it just doesn’t apply to him. The sign must be lying, there are no sharks and even if there are sharks, they won’t get him. He was born and raised in Iowa, but I think it should have been Missouri because he has to see and experience those shark bites to believe it will happen. Even then – he really doesn’t think it will kill him.

A few people have asked me how Riley is doing. Why don’t I write so much about him anymore? There isn’t much to write. Riley can maneuverer around the house with the aid of a cane and furniture to give him balance. He can wash the dishes. He can do his own laundry. He can even cook soup in the microwave. He can find his favorite channels on his TV.

In Riley’s mind, that’s really all he needs. He seems to either accept the fact, or is oblivious it, that he can no longer drive, cannot fix a complete dinner, shower without assistance, figure out how to program his TV remote or record a program; play a game of bridge; or do grocery shopping. These used to be things he loved to do. But, he doesn’t seem to connect the dots that the alcohol has robbed him of those abilities.

He proudly announces that as soon as he has the chance he will be drinking again. So why don’t we just have a bottle of wine with dinner? Why don’t we have a cocktail while he watches me cook? Besides, I can keep him from getting drunk if he’s right there with me --- right?

WRONG. He wouldn’t share that bottle of wine with me. I’d have to have one of my own of which I would only drink maybe two glasses and he would finish my bottle too. It isn’t a cocktail while cooking – it would be a bottle which he would be the only one drinking. It would gradually increase to more than one bottle and, WHAM-O!  We are back in the hospital and he’s clinging to his last breath of life wondering where he is and how he got there.

I can’t control everything. Hell… I sometimes can’t even control my own diabetes. But, I will not subject myself to his insanity any sooner than absolutely necessary. I know the day is coming. I know he will find a way. Maybe it will start with my vanilla extract or mouthwash or the cough syrup. Maybe he’ll take a hit of my favorite perfume.

Riley is a smart guy, in spite of his stupidity, he knows that when I catch him drinking things not intended for consumption, I’ll probably give up and go get him a bottle. I truly hope it doesn’t come to that. And, it may not even be me who ends up buying it for him. He can be a very convincing man when he wants to be.

Right now, my waters are shark-free. But if I should see a sign posted, I will not question how long it has been there or if it is true. I’ll just lay on the beach and soak up the sunshine. That is, while I still have sunny days.