A special gift...

It breaks my heart to read all the comments from people who are asked their opinion on surviving the death of the alcoholic closest to them. The loss generates questions about what the non-alcoholic could have done to prevent the demise. I can truly see this from two distinctly separate points of view -- as a mother and as a wife.

Although my son didn’t live all that far from me – only about a 4 hours – I really didn’t see him very often. He and his girl friend were always working and she seldom wanted to make that trip. My transportation was “iffy” and I didn’t want to push my good old heap to make the journey. But we talked every weekend and often during the week. I seldom talked to the girl friend because it seems she was always in the bathroom when I or Alea was on the phone.

You would have thought I would have known what was going on. But I didn’t. There were innuendos and comments, but nothing concrete. I talked with Brian often about his drinking and asked what I thought were all the right questions. But I was not listening close enough.

The point is… I failed my son. As a mother I failed to protect him because I didn’t realize that he could be in danger. I have beat myself up over this so many times and I try to rationalize and give myself a break. But there are no breaks for me. My inaction killed my son. So I grieve everyday for my little boy who never really grew up. For him I ask, why? What if? But I know the answer and I do NOT like it.

There is another side to this. There is Riley, the father of my little boy who shared the same addiction to alcohol.  He has been saved so many times from a path of his own choosing which complicates the lives of everyone around him. I no longer see him as my husband who shares everything with me. He is now my roommate, my responsibility, but not my lover. I have detached from him and that is how I survive.

We had a discussion this morning about his death. He is not drinking at the moment and therefore is not in eminent danger of dying. But, it is just a matter of time before the cycle begins again and he will meet his demise. And, in my jaded mind, his death will be the ultimate gift to me, Alea and Ryan, because it will be the gift of freedom from insanity. We have already grieved for the husband, father and grandfather that we knew in the past. It has taken us years to get to this point – but here we are. When he dies our tears will be representative of the joy of being able to let go. We will miss the Riley with the handlebar moustache – but we’ve been missing him for a very long time.

So why is it different for Brian? I never had the opportunity to accept the reality of his addiction. I never detached because I didn’t have the conflict with Brian that I have had with Riley. Brian never lived in my house as an alcoholic. He never caused me to be concerned. He never went to a rehab center. I never detached because I didn’t know I needed to. And so I am left with this immense hole in my heart.

It seems cavalier of me to say… detach and you will not be in so much pain. Oh... just do as I say and everything will be rosey. Well… guess what it is NOT rosey and will never be rosey. The loss of a loved one hurts – even on a good day or a bad relationship. But the loss can be less intense if you can see it for what it is. A gift.

My son gave me a gift – even if I didn’t want it – he gave me the gift of not watching him follow in his father’s footsteps. He gave me the gift of not consuming my life with insanity. He gave me the gift of forcing me to let him go. If I don’t believe this, I am doomed to live in the darkness of his absence.

Riley will give me a gift – a welcomed one. He will give me the gift of sanity. He is not ready yet to wrap it up with a pretty bow – but eventually he will hand it to me. And I will gladly accept his gift of letting me go. If I don’t believe this, I am doomed to never escape from the insanity of his alcoholism.

Surviving Valentine's Day...

I have survived another Valentine’s Day. I am definitely a hopeless romantic but I haven’t been successful at romantic relationships. That adds up to me having a love-hate relationship with the one day of the year that’s intended to generate love all around. Oh… I have love stories and they are all worth writing about. Some might even surprise you and some might generate a tear, smile or even a laugh. Love is such a complicated thing and can take so many different forms. When the object of that love is an addicted person – the complications increase hundred fold.

In a recent conversation, I mentioned that I seldom feel as though Alanon is a good fit for me. My experience has been that the newcomers to Alanon haven’t yet reached the point of realization that there is NOTHING they can do to stop the alcoholic from drinking. Most of them are still holding on to that dewy-eyed belief that if they love strong enough... complete enough... long enough... that their beloved will return to them as the lovingly whole person the alcoholic once was.

They also miss the concept of change for themselves. They hear that if they change they can have a better life. But they aren’t understanding that the better life is for them personally and not the alcoholic. In order to understand they must also understand that each of us is a separate entity from our alcoholic.

How can that be?? In love and in marriage we are united as one. As a couple we are bound together and our lives are one. We see it on TV, read it in books, swear to it on our wedding day in front of God, family and friends. As little girls (and even little boys) we grow up with the idea in our brains. Even when we go off on our own as adults – we are always on the look out for the one special person who can “complete” us. As we age into our senior years and find ourselves single once again – we still have in the back of our minds – hiding there deep in the space that holds romantic thoughts – there can still be another one and only. When we meet that special person he/she becomes “one” with you.

As a parent watching your child’s life disintegrate, you know your job is to protect. It is your responsibility to keep your child from danger. There is the parenthood gene that kicks in at birth, or before, that tells you – this is the most important person in my life. You will and do love this child as though he/she is “one” with you.

That kind of “love as one” cannot exist in the relationship between non-alcoholic and alcoholic. There is love, but the complexion of that love is different. In these relationships, I believe that our beloved dies in alcoholism long before the physical body is gone. The alcoholic becomes this other person whose actions we don’t like so much. It is unfortunate, sad, heart-breaking, unfair… and just downright crappy. We see this person in the flesh who represents all the things we hold dear in our life – and yet he/she is not really there.

In my opinion, this is one of the true and hard lessons of Alanon. Once the non-alcoholic can separate the beloved from the alcoholic, only then can they begin to understand the Alanon concepts. These are good concepts that I live each and every day even before Riley returned to my life.  But, when I first started out in Alanon, the true meaning escaped me. I kept going to meetings and listening and sharing, but Riley just kept hurting me over and over again and drinking more and more. I didn’t understand how that could be. It had worked for others – why not me??

Sometimes I think the first steps in Alanon should resemble a grieving process for the wonderful promise of a life-long loving partner or the promise of a bright future for our child. It is painful. Nothing on this earth hurts more than the loss of a loved one. And it takes a long time to recover if that is ever truly possible.

The next step should be in finding out who you are as an individual without being half of a whole. Get to know your interests, likes, dislikes and set your boundaries. This will help you see clearly what you can and cannot accept into your life. How far will you go to do what is morally right for you and only you?

Now you can get to know the person living in the body of the person you’ve lost. You may be surprised to find that, even in the insanity of alcohol, there is a person there that has a place in your life. Just as any other friend, there will be things that you don’t like so much. But there may be things still worthy of your attention.

Riley and I will never again be that loving couple with the dream of living out our golden years basking in the memories of loving days gone by. Do I love him? Yes – as the father of my children and a person with whom I share my home. Am I “in love” with him? No – and that’s what helps me survive. I am within the purview my moral boundaries and living up to my responsibilities. I have detached from the drunken, insolent, creature that resides in the body of my beloved – because that creature is not him.

Detachment in my world equals survival. And because of detachment I can return to being the hopeless romantic who still holds out hope for finding the “one” or at least adding to my repertoire of love stories.

Intervention...

BuddyT of About Alcoholism has an article in today’s newsletter concerning interventions. The article brought back memories of an intervention that was conducted on Riley’s behalf and I thought now would be a good time to bring this up.

Our son, Brian, was dying. He was in the hospital where he lived – which was almost exactly half way between my house and Riley’s house. When we got the word that Brian had been hospitalized, the entire family descended upon the small hospital. Alea flew in from NC and was devastated while she watched her brother slip away from her. Brian was receiving excellent care, but the doctors were quite clear – he would never leave the hospital alive. To say it was a difficult time would be a gross understatement. 

In typical Riley fashion, he ran away. He had brought with him a female friend who was also an active alcoholic. The two of them spent 90% of their time in the motel room on a drunken binge. They brought vodka with them to the hospital and offered it to Brian while he was conscious. Eventually, they were banned from visiting.

After Brian was gone and it was time for us to leave, Riley and his friend drove back home. The normal six hour trip took them a couple of days because they could not get sober enough to drive. Riley’s roommates and friends were extremely worried that they may not make it back in one piece. But, they made it and everyone drew a sigh of relief.

What happened next was a surprise for me, Alea and Riley’s brother. I received a phone call from Betty, a woman that Riley had once been involved with and that the family actually liked. She told me that an intervention had taken place and that Riley was now in detox at the local hospital. I was in shock. Alea was livid. Riley’s brother was confused.

Betty explained that the roommates and a group of AA friends were so concerned about Riley that they decided to hold an intervention as a means of getting him back on the right AA track. Riley had continued to be active in AA even in the depths of drunkenness. They truly believed that if he could get clear headed again – he would be OK.

As it was related to me, Riley insisted that he did not want to go into detox. He stated repeatedly that as soon as he was discharged he would go immediately to the liquor store. After several hours of interventionism – Riley relented. He agreed to go and was then taken to the hospital.

The family could not understand why we were not consulted prior to the event. Alea was now 3,000 miles away and I was 700 miles away, but his brother was nearby. All of my family was local. There were many people who would have attended had they been notified. But that did not happen.

Because the family had not been notified, no one knew or understood what had happened the last time Riley was in detox or even how many times he had been through the process. No one took into account that Riley was lucky to have emerged from the last detox and that he would need family support. I believe they all assumed that his good friend – Betty – would be there for him. And she was. Bless her heart – she was there not just for Riley but for the family as well.

The problem is… Betty had never witnessed such an intense detox situation. (See my page The Truth About Detox) She was not prepared for the in and out of consciousness and the delirium. She was hurt by the cruel, angry expletives Riley hurled at her. She didn’t understand the statements made by the doctor that Riley may not survive. But, Riley did get better and as he got better he became confused to the point of banning Betty from visiting. He also banned mine and Alea’s phone calls. He shut everyone out.

True to his word… Riley left the hospital and went to the liquor store on his way home. He then proceeded to work his way back into the hazy alcohol fog that he had been pulled from by detox. Two months later, his roommates made the phone call that landed him in my house.

I believe this was a group of good people who truly cared about Riley. I think they got so caught up in trying to help him that they didn’t take all the factors into consideration. Good people doing good things that didn’t get a good result. Riley told me later that the only reason he agreed to go was to “get them off my back” and “shut them up.”

At that time, Riley had just lost his son. He had to have been deeply depressed over that situation. He was safe and comfortable in the lack of reality. To ask him to be less than sober was asking him to accept a horribly painful truth.

There was no professional interventionist in the group. No one was experienced with grief therapy. And there was no one to accurately relate Riley’s medical or drinking history to the doctors at the hospital.

I think this intervention would have had a higher success possibility if there had been more planning and consulting of those who had been on this long road with Riley previously. I think the timing could have been an advantage if the group had knowledge of how to best use the circumstances.

In general, I think interventions can be a great way to get the alcoholic into rehab especially if it’s a first time rehab adventure. Anything that offers the alcoholic an alternative life – is a good thing.

In Riley’s case, detox is dangerous – just as dangerous as his drinking. It is a Catch-22. The likelihood of an intervention having any effect on him at all is – unfortunately – unlikely.

An event worth planning...

So I’m reading through the Recovery Month website and they are talking about events that celebrate recovery. I looked through the listing of events that have taken place over the years and I am impressed. It motivates me. I start thinking about having an event in my local area. But, I’m not so much for the celebrating as I am for the educating.

I have said all along that there isn’t enough information about the realities of alcoholism and almost no information about end-stage alcoholism. Oh yeah… we all know that it has horrifying effects on anyone even remotely involved with an alcoholic.  We all know that people can and do recover. To the people who are in recovery or are at least attempting to recover – I give you a standing ovation.

But, there are people who will never reach recovery. I don’t have any facts and figures, but I would think there are more who will NOT recover than those who do. That’s sad and especially sad for the families.

If I were to help get an event off the ground, I would want to focus on how the family can survive during their loved ones end-stage of alcoholism. I would want to provide facts about the biological aspects and medical concerns.

I have planned dozens of corporate events, but I’m not sure how I would go about planning something like this. I’m not sure what type of event would be best suited for this area. I would have to do it on zero dollars which means finding lots of people willing to do stuff for free. In this economy that’s not likely.

Because we are new to the area, I don’t know a lot of people in the community and have no idea who would be willing to support the event. To further complicate matters, I do have a full time job and to plan such an event would be time-consuming. 

So in the end, it feels that my motivation to plan an event is much like my power walk around the paddock. It’s a really wonderful idea that will not likely become a part of my reality.

On the other hand… I’m not a defeatist. I’m like our dog, Jade, who is on the hunt for the gopher that keeps eluding her on a daily basis. She is out there everyday trying to catch that gopher. She brings us moles and mice, but has not yet caught the big one. Jade is not a quitter. She has a goal. I have no doubt that she will succeed.

Like Jade, I will probably keep thinking about this and trying to figure out how I can reach my goal. Unlike Jade, I’m not sure I will succeed. I want to be a realist, but maybe I’m too much of an optimist. How about if I settle for optimistically realistic?

I would truly love feedback on how you think I might make an event a reality. What kind of event do you think it should be? And how would I fund it?

Celebrating recovery...

Evidently, September is National Recovery Month – I didn’t know that. And next week is Children of Alcoholics Week. I didn’t know that either. Sounds good, although I’m not sure I’d want to celebrate being the child of an alcoholic.

Recovery month is sponsored by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration’s Center for Substance Abuse Treatment. It was created in October 1992 by a Congressional mandate to provide national leadership in the Federal government’s effort to improve the lives of individuals and their families affected by alcohol and drug abuse. At least that’s what it says in the “About Recovery Month” section of their website.

I know this agency has been around for a long time and so I think maybe they need a better public relations firm because I had never heard of them until now.  But then, who am I – I can’t know everything all the time.

When their representative contacted me and asked me to submit my story to the website, my first thought was – why?  I’m not an alcoholic and the person living with me that is an alcoholic is not in recovery. Granted, he has been in recovery many times – but to say he is in recovery now is just a matter of your own point of view. He’s in recovery by default – does that count?

So I called the representative and asked her – why me? Her response was that my story is about my own recovery within an alcoholic world. I asked questions about the organization and in the end I wrote and submitted the story.  You can read what I wrote by going to http://www.recoverymonth.gov/Voices-for-Recovery/Stories.aspx.

The truth is I don’t feel as though I’ve recovered from anything. I only feel that I am surviving an unfortunate circumstance. If, in the process of my own survival, I can help anyone else survive – I’m all down for that.

Back in my day...

At the insistence of my nieces I recently wrote down 86 Things About Me for a Facebook page. Since I’m 62 and have had a very interesting life – I think I need at least 20 more things. But, I wrote them down and, to my surprise, I learned a lot about myself.

I think the main thing that came to light was that I was born and raised to be a caretaker. I did not grow up in an alcoholic household and had very little experience with alcohol until I was in my late 20s. But, it was made very clear to me that my place in the family dynamic was to make sure that my male counterparts always had a soft place to fall after a hard day at work.

I always thought it was because my mother and I were the only females in a household containing seven very hard working males. The boys went to work with my father and I worked with my mother. It seemed logical and equal to me at the time. But, it was made clear to me that the males were the money makers and I was to make their lives more pleasant.

When I think back about my dating life AFTER high school, I never gave a thought about what a man could do for me.  It was always about what I could bring to the table.  If a man was great without me – he usually didn’t fit into my husband material category. The thought never entered my head that a man could want me just because he enjoyed my company. It's funny that it's so clear to me now and I didn't realize it then.

When I was separated from Riley, I never thought much about being anyone’s permanent anything. The men I’ve been the most connected to were more of a friendship nature rather than a committed relationship. That was probably because they were self-sufficient and didn’t really need a “wifey” type. By the time a man got to his 40^th birthday, they usually knew how to cook a meal and clean the house. I didn’t know how to develop long-term commitments without them needing me.

I don’t blame my parents for instilling this into my head. After all, they gave me lots of good strong values and an incredible work ethic. They made me believe I could take care of myself – even if they’d rather I find a man to provide for me financially. I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s and my parents simply followed what they had learned from their parents.

It is commonly known that people who grow up in alcoholic or abusive homes are likely to continue the lifestyle into their own adult life. But, I’m wondering about the people who didn’t grow up in this environment. Are there more people my age who grew up in an “old-fashioned” home that went on to become the caretakers? I wonder if the percentages of non-alcoholic background caretakers increase with the age of the caretaker.

So I guess, what I’m asking is… if you had a group of say… 1000 non-alcoholics who did not grow up in an alcoholic household… would there be more oldsters rather than youngsters?

True confession...

I succumbed to the infomercial for Jack LaLane Power Juicer. In my defense I would not even have watched the program if it had not been for Alea’s telephone call telling me that we both needed one of these things. They were having a 2 for 1 special and so I took the bait and placed the order. I even upgraded to the heavy duty super duper industrial strength power unit. I bet that baby could juice a rock.

I made a special effort to buy some fresh fruits that I wouldn’t normally buy – like a pineapple. Of course, when the juicer arrived I had to juice every piece of fruit in the house – oranges, apples, grapes, pineapple and then some carrots. I was a juicin’ fool. I was disappointed when the fruit ran out and thought for a fleeting moment to send Riley to the store. Thank goodness I came to my senses quickly.

The best part of the experience was that everything tasted so wonderful. I usually have a glass of orange juice in the morning – you know – it comes in a half-gallon carton. But this fresh juice was so much better. I mixed the various juices together and it was such a treat. Then I added some yogurt to make a smoothy and was even more impressed.

OK. So now I’m getting all these wonderful vitamins, anti-oxidants and other healthy stuff. And I was even getting some pro-biotic from the yogurt. That lead me to thinking... hummmm... since I’m eating fresher things, maybe I should work a little harder at getting back on my diet track.

Or – maybe I could throw in a little exercise. I could take a morning walk around the paddock -- about a mile all the way around. I could work my way up to 5 miles a day. Then I thought... I might even buy a bicycle and ride around all my country roads. I work my way up and get really healthy!

Images flashed through my head of having the healthiest 62-year-old body in the county. I saw myself in size 0 jeans and running marathons. I thought of tennis matches and joining the local softball team. I would be so healthy that I'd be invited to be on The Doctors!! Oh… how glorious it was!!

This morning I woke up and put on my sweat suit, laced up my sneakers and headed for the paddock. I opened the back door and was met with the chill from the frosty morning air. Our little red car was covered with glistening dust deposited in the middle of the night. I watched clouds of air escape from my mouth as I walked toward the fence.

I hadn’t gotten far when it hit me. Pow! I was cold! My hands were freezing because I forgot to wear gloves. My ears were cold because I don’t have a hat or ear muffs. My knees ached from the arthritis that was trying to sneak into my joints. My nose was running and I didn’t have a tissue.

I headed back to the house… I wonder how much exercise I get from pushing that pusher down into the juicer???

In search of help...

In my effort to try to add to my "Rehab Review" section, I have had very little luck finding rehab centers that offer family programs. The family programs I’m finding are really just nothing more than an introduction to Al-Anon. While I think Al-Anon experience is great, I’m adamant that the people involved in the life of an Alcoholic need so much more such as education and instruction. There should be an evaluation as to what the family, spouse, partner really needs from their own rehab process. Many need one-on-one counseling to help them overcome the emotional abuse imposed by the alcoholic. Others need support groups to help them feel that they are not alone. Still others need direction in learning how to live their own life outside the chaotic circle of insanity.

If you are reading this as a staff member from a treatment facility – I challenge you to contact me and tell me about your family program. Send me an e-mail. I want to hear from you.

A friend asked me once, why I work so hard to try to find help or why do I take the time to answer my e-mails. She thinks that because I've reached this level of sanity that I should just take a break. I tell her that one thing that keeps me sane is trying to help others that are either in my situation or heading into an end-stage situation. I do it because I can't NOT do it.

OK. So that wasn’t such great news… but there is better news…

The very best thing I have ever done for myself was to participate in the Navy’s family program when Riley was in their substance abuse program. (see Finding Help) So, in my quest, I thought maybe I should give details on that military program (if it still existed). I felt that maybe my military family readers might be able to take advantage of this wonderful program.

It took some research, but I found it and the center stills exists. But, and this is a huge, gigantic but – they no longer offer the family program.

I spoke to JoAnne Kominisky in Patient Affairs, who on staff while I was there. She told me that the family program has been outsourced to other private civilian centers. She also agreed with me that it was an unfortunate turn of events for the family members and that she had been a proponent of that program from its inception. I don’t remember much about JoAnne, but anyone supporting family programs is OK by me.

When I was at the center, my counselor was Gill Haddock. I don’t think there was anyone in the group that didn’t like Gill. To look at him you would immediately think of Santa Claus. Well… don’t be thinking that this Santa is only carrying around happy packages in that bag of his. Some of his packages contain reality checks and heart-breaking memories.

Gill can cut to the quick -- right through all the BS. If you are in his group you will open up your eyes and see what you do not want to see and you will deal with the what you see. You will cry and immediately after the tears there will be laughter. He will teach you how to find your playful child inside again. He might not tell you what to do, but he will offer direction. If he feels you or your children are in danger he will take action. Don’t let that lovable Santa exterior fool you – inside is a strong, determined, knowledgeable, crazy, crusty old guy.

Sounds too good to be true, huh??  Gill has had his times of trouble, so maybe he relates better. He has both education and life experience – the best of all qualifiers. But in the end, Gill is nothing more than, in my opinion, exactly what a therapist should be.

I’m sure you’re saying…enough walking down memory lane… so where’s the good news?

Well… If you live in northeastern North Carolina, you can have the benefit of the Gill Haddock experience. JoAnne and Gill have partnered in opening the Broadstreet Counseling Center, in Edenton, NC. They are both Licensed Clinical Addiction Specialists and have been involved in substance abuse treatment since 1975. They currently do not have a family program as such, but they want to open one soon – very soon. In the meantime, family members can receive counseling through their office.

Generally, I’m not in favor of counseling sessions alone and don’t include them in my Rehab Review. But, because I’m so sure of the help that can be obtained from the Broadstreet Counseling Center, I’m giving them one gigantic thumbs up. If you are in any way able to visit them – do it. Here’s the contact info:

Broadstreet Counseling Center

216 South Broad Street, Suite 309 & 310

Edenton, NC 27932

252-632-4290

They don't have a website yet, but they are working on that too.

If you are an active duty military personnel, and find that you have a problem with substance abuse, don’t wait to get tagged by your Commanding Officer. Take that step now and contact the Substance Abuse Rehabilitation Program (SARP) of the Naval Medical Center, Portsmouth. Visit them on the web for further information: http://www.med.navy.mil/sites/nmcp/Patients/SARP/Pages/default.aspx

A learning experience...

It took less than 24 hours for Riley to consume his bottle of Aristocrat. Now that it was gone and Riley was back to a more “sober” state of mind, I asked him what he had learned from the experience. So I took a deep breath and asked him what he felt he had gained.

He stated that he gained nothing at all. He had not gotten the coveted buzz he was looking for and thought he could achieve. What he had learned was that he had to have the bigger bottle to get the desired affect. So… he will not buy the small bottle again… he will only buy the big one. He’s talking about 1.75L, also known as a “handle”, as being the bigger bottle. The bottle he bought was a fifth, which is 750mL.

The next question was, did he now feel that he could handle just drinking a couple of drinks a day? He explained to me, in a very matter of fact manner, that there were only four drinks in the 750mL bottle.

Hummm…. Let’s do the math…

A shot (jigger) is 1.5 ounces. A fifth is 750mL or 25.6 ounces. That means there are about 17 shots to a fifth. If I make a drink for myself… say a Vodka Collins – I use a shot of vodka to 2 ounces of sour mix and then finish by filling the rest of the 12 ounce glass with club soda. I should be able to make 17 Vodka Collins drinks from that one bottle of 750mL vodka.

If Riley only gets four drinks from a bottle then one Vodka Collins would be 5 shots of vodka to 5 ounces of sour mix. That fills a standard 12 ounce glass so there’s no room for club soda. That’s a pretty hefty drink.

OK. So Riley had two drinks between dinner and bedtime. Then he had two more drinks on Tuesday. That is… by his calculation. By my calculation he had 8 drinks Monday and 8 drinks on Tuesday. But, hey… really what difference does it make???

Riley says he can’t be the drinker that just has a couple of drinks because a couple of drinks won’t give him what he wants. That is – a couple of his size drinks doesn’t turn him into a sloppy, slurring, perverted mess. He needs more.

I don’t know about you… but my brain hurts from all the math. So what did I learn from Riley’s little escapade?  Because the truth is, Riley is brain damaged and I can present all the facts and math all day, but it doesn’t change anything. He sees through the eyes of an end-stage alcoholic and there’s nothing I can do to change his point of view.

What I learned is almost nothing. Nothing that I didn’t know already.

The vodka is gone. There is no alcohol in the house. I can re-start the sobriety/sanity counter (if I can remember how to do it). The alert level is back to a more relaxed yellow rather than red. Let’s get on with this blog because I have lots of important stuff to tell you.

The inevitable...

I knew this day would come. I knew I couldn’t control every thing every moment of every day. And now it has happened and I must shift gears.

Over the weekend, we rented a car so that I could run errands and do shopping. Since our regular car is not in great shape, I often rent a car. It works out well because I don’t like to have readily available transportation. That eliminates arguments over whether or not Riley can drive to wherever to do whatever. No car – no issue.

However, when there has been a car available and I have asked Riley to do little local runs, he has not disappointed me. He has done what he said he would do and returned without stopping at the liquor store or a bar. He returns home in a sober state of mind.

Yesterday I was swamped with work files. Being a telecommuter, I have an obligation to maintain a higher-than-average production level in both quantity and quality. Yesterday I was on overload because a new job task has been assigned to me and I need to show that I can handle the fluctuating requirements. If I can’t keep up my end of the commitment, I’ll be forced to return to the office environment – which means moving 3,000 miles from Alea and Ryan. That’s not a good thing.

Also, I expected the delivery of a sizable quantity of office supplies as well as the delivery of my daughter’s birthday present. My signature is required for the supplies.

All of that meant that getting the rental car back to Enterprise was going to be a problem. Adding another day would be costly. So I made a decision. I decided to delegate the car rental return to Riley. He had been doing so well… surely he could handle this. I was basking in the warmth of the last few months of his sobriety. But history does, in fact, repeat itself.

First off, I must say, Riley did not return home in a drunken state of mind. But, he brought home with him a bottle of his old friend Aristocrat. He didn’t hide it. He took it out of the bag and put it on the kitchen counter. It was a smaller bottle – about half the size of the one he used to go through in about a day’s time.

He justified his purchase with the fact that it was a “cheap” bottle of vodka. As if it really mattered to me that he could have spent more dollars. The monetary expense was not as important as the sanity expense.

I asked if we could talk about it before he cracked that seal and unleashed a whole lot of craziness. And we did talk. I listened to him tell me that he needed to see if he could handle just taking a drink or two a day. I listened to him explain how he thinks it might be different since he can’t get to the liquor store very often. I listened and it was as if I could say the words before they ever came out of his mouth.

Then I asked him to listen. I told him that I would not buy any booze for him. Once he emptied that bottle – I would not make sure that he got replenishments. Whatever the results of drinking that bottle were – would be results that he created. I reminded him that without transportation it would be difficult for me to get him medical attention quickly. I reminded him of further brain damage that could result. I made sure he heard me reiterate all the reasons why he should not take that drink.

After our conversation, we both continued with our normal routine. But what happened later seemed a bit odd to me. And I don’t know if it was me or if it was Riley, but I was surprised.

Riley had insisted that he cook dinner – steak, broccoli and pasta salad – yum. He usually started cooking at about 5:00 pm. When it got to be 6: pm, I came out and asked if he had started dinner. He just looked at me. Then he mumbled… that he was waiting for me to tell him that I was hungry. Huhhhh??? I didn’t know I was suppose to do that…

I took a closer look at him. He seemed very drunk… way drunker than he should have been judging from the amount missing from the bottle – which was nearly full. So… what the heck?? Why did he seem so out of it?

I went to my office and checked the bank accounts – nothing out of the ordinary there. He didn’t have any cash – so he couldn’t spend any. There were no checks missing from the checkbook. Everything was good. So he didn’t spend any money on getting extra booze. His return time didn’t allow for a bar stop-in and besides there was no money missing.

Two possibilities come to mind. The first possibility is a somewhat “Pavlovian” experience. This would mean the anticipation of consuming the alcohol was making him behave in a semi-drunken state of mind. I could also have had a Pavlovian experience. I may have expected him to be drunk and so I saw him as drunk.

The second possibility is centered in the fact that Riley has brain damage and the alcohol affects him quicker due to the reduced functionality of the noggin.

My gear have been shifted from “relaxed” to “on alert”. It will be interesting to see what happens when the bottle is empty and he has no way to obtain more. Will he be back to drinking anything or everything containing alcohol? I don’t know, I just have to wait and see. After all, there is nothing I CAN do except wait.