In the dark...

I had a moment of peace and quiet and was enjoying just sitting in my big wing-back chair sipping on a cup of tea. I looked around the room and saw my antique iron bed and the big boxy television. Across the room was my dining room table which had been turned into a makeshift desk. I thought to myself that it was going to take some work but this room had great potential. Just as my mind was finishing the word “potential” the lights went out – literally.

At first I thought somehow a breaker had blown and I groused at having to find the breaker box in an unfamiliar house by groping around blindly. It was so very, very dark. Something didn’t seem right. If I had blown a breaker, there would be some light from the street. I peeked out the door and realized that the lights were out on, what seemed to be, all over our block. There wasn’t even any light from the street lamps on the main road which is about two blocks away.

Riley came from his room and was panicking. He had a candle and we used that to find our two flashlights. He started barking orders to unplug all the electrical appliances and not to open the refrigerator. He told me this power outage would last indefinitely. There was fear in his voice. He suggested some sort of government plot or terrorist activity.

I hadn’t prepared dinner before the lights went out and Riley was asking me what we were going to eat and how were we going to cook it. He was concerned that he might not have any coffee in the morning. I told him I would fix him a salad, but if he were really that hungry, I’d fire up the barbeque and grill him a steak. I made a large salad and served a plate to Riley. That seemed to stop his pacing for a while.

He asked if my cell phone worked. I checked it and received a message that it could only be used for emergency calls. Riley informed me that this was a BIG emergency and I should be calling someone in authority. I tried to calm him by telling him to listen and he would hear the sirens just a couple of blocks away. There was no one to call.

Even though images of the new television series “Revolution” kept playing in my head, I stayed calm. Eventually, Riley went to bed and fell asleep. I, on the other hand, waited for the lights to shine again. It was almost three hours later when the entire neighborhood lit up and life returned.

While sitting in the dark, I had a chance to reflect on the previous weeks activities. Riley had appointments with a medical doctor and a psychologist. We were gradually moving which involved cleaning, sorting and manual labor. It had been a tough week and there was something comforting about being in a cocoon of darkness.

Riley’s appointment with the MD went about the way I had expected it to go. He seemed to be improving and things were going just ducky until… Riley expressed that he wanted me to let him go and find a place on his own. The conversation seemed to veer off in the direction of making the appointment more about me than about Riley. While no one REALLY believes Riley would fare well on his own, however, the question was once again brought up about why I don’t just kick him out the door.

It becomes irritating because this question comes up often during Riley’s appointments. Someone must have written that answer down somewhere in his record. Repeating the question never changes the answer.  Once again I give my definition of my personal moral obligation to prevent him from harming himself or others – especially my daughter. Everyone agrees the only reason he wants to be on his own is so he can resume drinking. If/when he goes back to drinking he will quickly become blight on society’s butt. It is morally repugnant to me to put him in a position of becoming so unable to care for his personal well-being that he interjects his insanity on my daughter as she tries to rush in and save him from himself.

I know what you are thinking… If my daughter wants to take him in, it is her choice. It may be her choice, but it is my choice to prevent her from living with Riley as he stops showering and wallows in his unsanitary clothes. It is my choice to prevent her from having to deal with vomit, urine and feces soaked bedding. It is my choice to not have her career ruined by having to take time off to clean up his messes. I am his wife and I stayed his wife knowing full well that someday I would have to be responsible for this grown man who is really just a child. I have and will continue to live up to that responsibility.

I tire from having to repeat my reasoning over and over again. When asked the questions, I always have to work diligently at keeping my anger in check because I know they know the answers. It always feels like some kind of Al-Anon intervention. My eyes are wide open. I know what is ahead for Riley and for me. I don’t live in a fantasy land and don’t feel I need someone to force me to see what I’m doing to ruin my own life. My life is NOT ruined if I can make my daughter’s life better. OK. Maybe I’m just a stubborn old lady – I’ll own that as well.

As distasteful as it was to see the medical doctor, it was almost equally as pleasant to see the psychologist. We discussed how he could help Riley right now in the current timeframe. Since Riley has not been drinking since May he wanted to focus on that. He only wanted to discuss the very early stages of his alcoholism and where he is right now. He answered my questions with straight direct answers. He has objectives and I came away feeling that they were reasonable. The Dr. knows that he can’t stop Riley from wanting to drink, but maybe he can make this sober period more enjoyable for Riley. He believes he might be able to help Riley accept his physical limitations and learn to live more harmoniously with me as a result. Maybe, just maybe, Riley will stop seeing me as the enemy.

Just before the lights returned, I had made a resolution that I would give Riley more “things” to do. He can set up the coffee pot the night before. He can fold the clean laundry. He can keep the bathroom tidy (I’ll do the heavy cleaning). There are things I can do to make him feel more useful and that might make him feel better about his life in general.

In the brightness of the incandescent lighting, I felt a little dismayed. Reality seemed harsher in the brightness of the room. I set my teacup in the sink and crawled into my bed. Even with the lights turned out, the darkness was not the same. That’s OK because at least I know the ending isn’t just like the television show. Riley’s paranoia was for nothing and for that I am grateful.

It's been a while...

Well… hello there… finally I’m back. Since August 4^th, I’ve moved from the country house into my temporary place in my grandson’s house and now into a place that I hope will turn out to be a permanent home. I won’t say “forever” home – I’m way too much of a gypsy for that. Overall, this house will allow me a lot more office space in the future while allowing me to be just downstairs from my great-grandchildren. It’s the best of both worlds.

The additional office space will be greatly appreciated as I reach out towards the next phases in my life. There are changes about to take place and I hope that some of those changes will affect my readers in a positive manner.

Thanks to all the contributors on our funding site, OARS now has its own independent website on Ning.com. I will provide the link at the end of this post. The Facebook site is still up and running and will continue to do so, but for those who aren’t on FB there is another alternative. The independent site will be the primary website for OARS. It is private and secure. New members must fill out the appropriate questionnaire and be approved by an administrator. Each person will have their own page that they can customize to their liking. I request every member to go to their page and change their name to a nickname if they prefer complete anonymity.

Just like Facebook, it is free to join the independent site and free to use. All are welcome who are dealing with the realities of alcoholism. The new site offers several different groups for more specific discussions – such as one for parents of an alcoholic or siblings or spouse. There’s even a space for alcoholics! There is a “humor” group just to keep us laughing. We have a place for posting videos, pictures, etc. A calendar of events will keep us informed of relevant activities. We can easily find personal one-on-one help by consulting our map of members and find someone geographically close to each of us.

Next on the agenda is our very first OARS group meeting planned for Spring 2013. We will meet somewhere (probably in the mid region of the USA) and share stories, laughter and support. The type of place depends greatly on how many people express a definite interest in attending. This will be our inaugural meeting, which means we will be laying a lot of ground work for our organization.

Besides our big meeting, there will be smaller groups forming all over the US and, hopefully, beyond. While these groups will be similar to Al-Anon in providing support, they will be different because we are not a 12-step program. Each meeting will provide something enjoyable for the member to experience – a dinner out, miniature golf, a movie, anything that provides a bit of respite for the caretaker.  These meeting will always include sharing stories and offering of support and resources.

I had thought a few months back that I would write a cookbook and include all the recipes that helped me use cooking as an escape. However, the OARS members are creating a cookbook of their own and will be selling it as a fundraiser. I was hoping it would be out before the holidays, but that’s not going to be able to be the case. Our new goal is to have it out before Mother’s Day. It will be a great gift for either Mother’s or Father’s Day.

There is investigation into OARS becoming a non-profit organization. We have an advisory committee in place and we are diligently working on this prospect. More funding is needed to make this a reality. It always seems odd to me that it costs a considerable amount of money to become a non-profit. The filing fee alone is $845. That doesn’t include an attorney’s fee, accountant, etc. We will be applying for grants and seeking more assistance with funding, but for now we are completely dependent on the Go Fund Me site for financial support.

As you can see, I may not have been HERE, but I have not been idle. That new office space is going to really be a blessing! On my wish list is an assistant who can help me get my office organized and keep me on track!

The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife is still only available on this site as a PDF file only. I’m hoping to get into Kindle version before the end of the year. I’m working with a printer to make real soft cover books. I’m not sure when they will be available, but hopefully in the same time frame as the Kindle. I have several other books in my brain just trying to crawl out, but they will have to wait.

The Workbook for Caretakers of End-Stage Alcoholic’s is being updated, revised and improved. Anyone who already has the workbook will receive the updated version for a very nominal price. Expect the workbook to be out before the Spring meeting of OARS.

I think that should catch you up on what I’m doing. I know this is just business stuff and what you really want is to hear about my take on medical info and daily living with an end-stage alcoholic. Check here tomorrow and I think you will find what you really want.

To become a member of OARS on the new website go here:

http://oarsffgroup.ning.com/?xgi=5RdlI9D9YVdEJw

To become a member of OARS on Facebook go here:

https://www.facebook.com/#!/groups/273999545981419/

To make a financial contribution via Go Fund Me and help OARS grow into a non-profit organization and assist with other expenses, please go here:

 http://www.gofundme.com/17t82w

Tomorrow I’ll be writing about Riley’s current condition and my exciting rounds of visits to the doctor and psychologist. I hope you come back and read about my continual adventures thru the medical looking glass and back.

Can you hear me now?

There is so much going on right now and I don’t mean to ignore my readers. I apologize for not being able to post more often. In just two more weeks we will be moving into our new house. I’ll be back to having a dedicated office instead of working off the kitchen table while the two toddlers and three little ladies run in and out with many requests for all sorts of things. Hectic is an understatement for the situation right now.

Riley has reached a point of physical recovery that he is now as good as he is going to get. He shuffles from room to room without his walker while using every handhold available to keep him from falling. When we leave the house, I insist that he use the walker or the wheelchair – he always chooses the walker.

His OCD is only slightly tolerable for me. He squares the corners of the DVDs to the edge of the table and straightens his blankets on his bed several times throughout the day. Any wrinkle is cause for smoothing. He has a regimen and any deviation upsets him greatly.

The diagnosis for Riley is “alcohol dementia”. Basically, it’s the same are regular dementia except it was brought on from his alcoholism. The bad news is that it will get progressively worse even though he is not consuming any alcohol.

From the outside, he would appear to be just a normal old guy who has past his prime. You can have short logical conversations with him. But, his ability to relate events of the past in an accurate manner seems to be sketchy at best. He sometimes doesn’t remember where we really live or why we are living with our grandchildren. He believes he is in charge and issues ultimatums and dictates actions. No one is listening to him. We hear him and breathe a sigh when he starts, but we don’t really pay attention. If he asked any of us if we can hear him now, we’d say “NO”.

I have noticed little lapses of memory in my own brain. I seem to be without as much patience as I had in the past and I often yell at Riley when he steps on my last nerve. This disturbs me.  I spent some time with a social worker last week and she informed me that often times the caretaker starts to display some of the same traits of craziness as the person needing the caretaking. Well… this is not good. It will take a lot of restraint and control of my own emotions to not join Riley in his crazy world.

Sometimes I think things were easier when he was drunk. But, then I think about it and realize that I do not need nor want to hurry the process of him returning to drinking. I know that eventually he will find a way to obtain alcohol. It may not be in the form of vodka or beer. It will more likely be something from our panty, like vanilla extract. Or it possibly could be something from the medicine cabinet, like mouth wash or cough syrup. Once that happens, I’ll be faced with more decisions that I don’t want to make.

The social worker asked if there was anything on my plate that I could remove with an idea of making my life a little easier right now. I ran through my mental list of projects – blog; OARS Facebook support group; OARS website; editing my book for Kindle; developing the cookbook for an OARS fundraising; turning OARS into a non-profit organization; going back to work at a real job; planning a reunion for my family; general cooking and cleaning in this house; negotiating a lease for the new house; plan and organize the move; etc; etc.

Well, I don’t really see what I would eliminate, but maybe I can prioritize a little better. Maybe if I can just designate some time for a long leisurely bath or an early morning walk, that might give the break I need to be able to keep my brain devoid of too much craziness. Personally, I think I’m just frustrated with the responsibility of taking care of someone who cannot understand that he needs to have a caretaker. I’m frustrated that I don’t feel qualified to give him what he needs and yet I manage to do it every single day.

In my opinion, once we get into the new house things will be easier because we will have more than 1200 square feet all for just Riley and me. I will have space for working on my projects. The privacy of not having to share a bedroom with Riley will be THE best thing. Cooking from my own pantry on my own time schedule will be awesome. Yes. I believe things will settle down and become more “normal” inside the craziness.

I’m very impressed at that OARS has grown to 100 members in less than a year. I reached out for help in creating OARS into a group with real meetings and becoming a non-profit organization. The future for OARS is bright indeed. We are planning an inaugural live meeting in the early Spring which will allow us to come together face-to-face. We will be planning the direction of our group, forming committees, establishing relationships with others who live close to us, and scheduling live meetings in many areas of the country. I reached out and found that they could in fact “hear me now.” Our vision may be lofty, but with all of us working together it can become reality.

To join OARS, go to Facebook and search for OARS F&F Group, request permission to join and you should be granted access in less than 6 hours. If you would like to help support our vision, you may go to our fundraising site and make a donation. Every donation is highly appreciated and, while they last, you will receive a tote bag in return. We accept donations of any amount from $1.00 to whatever you are comfortable in giving. Go to the link below to contribute:

http://www.gofundme.com/17t82w

I can hear Riley moving around in his room and I know he will soon be out here in the kitchen. He will want coffee and breakfast. He will want to “talk” and I will make an effort to “hear him now.”

Balancing act...

I have known for a very long time that Riley is narcissistic. Combine that with the fact that he doesn’t have a clear sense of right and wrong. He constantly insists that if something is right for him, then it is not wrong for him to do whatever that something is. No amount of reasoning can get it through to him that if something is wrong then it is wrong for everyone including Riley.

Weekends are always chaotic here in this little house. My grandson and his wife are off from work and the little ones are not in school. Things can get very noisy and confusing. On one particular day, we had addition family visiting from out of town creating even more chaos. The children were yelling and Nicole was making a valiant attempt at calming them down. She wasn’t having much luck. In the middle of all this, Riley emerges from his room and appears in the living room.

“I want a snack. RIGHT NOW!” Riley bellowed over the other loud voices in the room. I quietly got up and got him some cupcakes and a glass of milk. I took them to his room and set them on his table. Then I asked why he had been so loud and couldn’t have just asked me to step into the kitchen with him. His response was that no one was paying any attention to him and so he wanted to remind everyone that he was important. I shook my head and left the room.

The next day, when things were back to being the quiet normal workday, I asked him if he understood that his behavior was wrong. I reminded him that he was not a child, but rather a 70+ year old man who had the capability of simply asking me to fix him a snack. He proceeded to tell me it wouldn’t have had the same affect. That he got the attention of everyone in the room and I reacted immediately to his demand. He got what he wanted so his behavior was right for him. He continued to tell me that just because I thought he was wrong, did not make him wrong and he didn’t care about what was wrong or right for me.

Keeping the peace between me and Riley requires a delicate balancing act. On one end of the scale is his inability to see that he’s being a jerk. At the other end, is me trying to keep my temper intact while not agreeing or caving in with his demands. Actually, most of the time the scale is tipped in my favor because to keep it perfectly even means that he gets away with everything he wants. I make sure there is just enough anger to let him know I’m not going to tolerate his childishness. I’m much like a parent who makes sure the kids know that screaming in the grocery store for a toy will not get them the toy. But, if they ask politely they just might be accommodated.

I’ve heard from others that the alcoholics in their lives have similar selfish traits. There is no way to get through to them because they have their filters on that prevents them from hearing what we are saying. Alcohol shuts down the ability to be reasonable and objective. Those capabilities are housed in the front lobe of the brain which is the first part of the brain to be damaged or clouded by alcohol consumption.

When we see before us a person that we once shared reasonable, rationale, humorous, insightful, enjoyable conversations, we tend to forget that the current person before us is not using the same brain functions as they did in the past. It’s hard to remember that the alcoholic cannot reason out situations. They do not have the ability to use good judgment. It is extremely frustrating. We often get glimpses of the original person, but as the alcoholism progresses those glimpses are fewer and farther between.

As I’m writing this post the entire house is quiet. Everyone is still asleep. These quiet times when I can write don’t happen every day or, even, every week. I want to take advantage of the quietness while it lasts. Riley comes into the kitchen. He stands at the end of the counter and asks where his coffee is. I tell him I haven’t started it because I wanted to finish this post. I say those words as I stop typing and get up and start the coffee. I pour in the water and load the coffee basket and am just about to push start when Riley says – “You don’t have to do it right now. It can wait until you’re done.”

It takes all my strength to not tip that balance scale until it hits bottom. I want to scream at him – “Are you kidding me! You wait until I’m done making it to tell me NOT to make it??” Instead of screaming at him, I turn and look at him with that look. All the women reading this know the look I’m talking about. All you men reading this know that look from seeing it on your wife’s face. It’s the look that says it’s time to shut up and leave the room.

With the noise of the water running and shuffling of canisters, etc, the great-grandkids are now up and asking for chocolate milk, wanting their coloring things set up and needing attention. Oh well… my quiet time is at an end. The little ones are so loving in the morning, I am happy they are awake.

In a few weeks we will move into a larger house with Riley and I being in the downstairs and the rest of the family upstairs. It’s the perfect set up for us. Riley will be out of his room more and able to get his own coffee. I won’t worry about waking anyone up because they won’t be able to hear what’s going on downstairs. I will have a dedicated office where I can write my posts without interruption. I’m hoping it will be easier to keep my balance scale level in this new environment.

I'd like to meet you...

It was almost two years ago that I started this blog. I had no idea that I was opening such a gigantic box containing so many people in my situation. The more I wrote the more I felt that I was genuinely helping people. It felt good to know I could help others while helping myself. My loyal readers have read my journey through this insanity and know me without ever meeting me. I am truly fortunate.

A lot has transpired since that day in December 2010 when I published that first post. There’s the Workbook, the ImmortalAlcoholic Facebook page, the OARS F&F Group, my book The Immortal Alcoholic’s Wife and I never felt my work was complete.

There is still a lot to do. I believe I’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg. The membership on the OARS F&F Group is growing daily. With our numbers increasing the Facebook format is making it difficult for people to maintain a string of conversation without getting confused. We need our own website.

Several OARS members met in person last month to have a live meeting. It turned out to be extremely helpful to them and they are looking forward to future meetings. It was a simple get-together in a restaurant that was reachable by everyone. Besides sharing stories, they laughed and enjoyed an evening outside the chaos. We need more live meetings reaching more caretakers who need support and camaraderie. Imagine meeting someone face to face who truly understands where you've been -- or possibly knows where you are going.

All of this leads to me believing that the time is NOW for me to begin the quest to turn OARS into a non-profit organization. This non-profit organization will provide support, education, live meetings, maintaining an independent website, and other resources to the friends and families of alcoholics in general. While I have always focused on the caretakers of end-stage alcoholics, this would be open to anyone inside the chaos.

I know there is Al-Anon and I believe they help many people. Unfortunately, there are many people that Al-Anon just doesn’t seem to fit. This is especially true of end-stage alcoholism. There is room on this planet for many different support progams.

At one point in time, I would have been able to fund the cost of becoming a non-profit on my own. But, since I’ve retired and Riley now has special needs, the funds are just not available to defray all the costs of filing paperwork, securing an attorney and accountant, and just simply getting things set up. The current members of OARS have banned together to initiate a fund raiser, but that won’t generate money for quite some time. We need this now.

Below you will find a link to a fundraising site that I have set up. This site allows me to accept donations from interested parties. Please be aware that because we not yet a non-profit organization these contributions are considered to be GIFTS.

It is not in my nature to ask anyone for money. When/if I do, it is an extreme emergency and not just a frivolous request. These gifts are not for me personally. They are expressly to facilitate an organization that I believe will help many, many people.

Please join me in my next step in my journey. Please support me in turning OARS F&F Group into a non-profit organization. No amount is too small. Everyone can help me in reaching my goal. On the right side of the screen you will find a link to the funding website. Click now and join the cause!

Thank you…

Linda

Live til you die...

There is no way around it. No way to fight it or fend it off. Alcoholism destroys lives. It takes away free-will, rational thought and the ability to appreciate life in and of itself. Alcoholism is a slow form of suicide and it is painful for everyone around to watch as it progresses toward death.

Caretakers of end-stage alcoholics do everything and anything to keep the alcoholic from reaching death’s door. They plead, manipulate, threaten, and anything else they think will help at the time. Many live insane lives trying to find some reason in the chaos. Is the whole process futile? Does a caretaker ever manage to really reach the alcoholic’s sensibility to make a difference?

Maybe the process is futile. But, just maybe the one alcoholic that person is dealing with is the one that finally gets the fact that life is worth living. How are we to know if we don’t try? And so we try. We try over and over again.

When I hear about people trying to find ways to prevent their alcoholic from getting the alcohol or from drinking their coveted juice, I get this little chill up the backside of my neck. Because even though I think we must try to help the alcoholic find reason, I also think there is a line that must be drawn about how much trying we should do.

In my opinion, it is not productive to file law suits against drinking establishments who serve alcohol to drunken patrons. It is also not productive to force cab drivers to refuse to take inebriated persons to the liquor store. Forcing others to be accountable for the bad decisions made by others is just too much policing for my taste.

There are other things that can be done. Calling the police and reporting that your drunken loved one has just driven off, for example, is one way to make the alcoholic’s drinking life difficult. When they are in jail, don’t bail them out. Don’t call their employment and tell them the alcoholic is too sick to come into work. Don’t clean up their messes. In short, let these people be responsible for their own actions. Make them accountable and don’t back down on any consequences that have been established by either you or society. Of course that is just my opinion.

As most of us know, things change a lot as the alcoholic becomes end-stage. It becomes easier to just let them be the way they want rather than to try to initiate change in any manner. After several rehabs or detoxes, it becomes obvious nothing is going to stop them from making that journey to the morgue. It is inevitable. It may take days, weeks, months, years, but it will happen.

Once the reality hits that change in favor of the better life for the alcoholic is not going to happen, we must change our point of view and take a look at our own life. Of course, we should have been doing that all along – but – something happens and we get all tangled up in the drama. Some of us even begin to welcome the drama because it is an indicator that we are still alive. But, our lives are more important than that. Life is for the ones who truly want to live – I don’t see end-stage alcoholics as people who really desire even one more year of life. It is the caretakers who want to live. Unfortunately, if they don’t come to terms with that they will often die before the alcoholic from the sheer stress of the trying to preserve the alcoholic’s unwanted life.

My mother was really big on saying that today was a wonderful day and that we will never have it back again. She insisted on productivity in each and every day. She never wasted one day – not ever. I’m a bit like her. I don’t want to waste a day because I’ll never have this day to do over again. Once it’s gone – it’s gone forever. I don’t think I have to be productive work-wise every day, but I do have to produce something that is meaningful. I not only insist, but demand, that I find some joy in each day. I find humor in a simple word or action. I smile even when I want to frown. I find something to do that creates a good feeling inside me, even if no one else notices.

I’m lucky. I have found my passion. If it had not been for all the nonsense I’ve been through with being Riley’s caretaker, I may not ever have known that my passion was helping others survive similar ordeals. Other people have other passions. For one woman it was taking photographs of her pets. Another enjoyed reading stories to children at the local library. These two women were trying to find a way to escape all the insanity and when they ventured out past the alcoholic world, they found life in the other worlds they explored.

No one knows better about how difficult a task it may be to step aside and let the alcoholic do as they are going to do. After all, we must protect ourselves and our homes from the damage they can create. Sometimes we must find a person who will stay in the house with the alcoholic while we are gone. Sometimes we have to close the door to their area while occupying ourselves with other activities. I’ve heard of one man who observed his alcoholic daughter over a period of time and made notes and videos of her decline. He then put together a video document. He also put together a memory book of all the great memories he had and wanted to remember forever. After the daughter’s death, he put his alcoholic creation in her casket with the daughter. No one will ever see it. He keeps the memory book on a table within easy reach. Both creations (good and bad) occupied his time and thoughts and when it was over – he realized he had found a way for it to be truly over forever without losing all the good things his daughter represented. The time span for his creation was only about a year. It was a year well spent because he now has the rest of his life to be free.

As caretakers, we must not forget how to enjoy our own life. It is our responsibility to be as happy as we can possibly be. OK. So the alcoholic did something horrendous and we must now find a way around it or fix it or do SOMETHING about it. So do it and move on to the next challenge while finding a way to look forward to something that is pleasant for you. Do what you must that may be distasteful and immediately follow it with something that makes you smile. A few minutes ago I cleaned Riley’s poop from the bathroom floor, now I’m here writing in my blog, because it makes me happy. Tomorrow after doing all his ugly laundry, I’ll be taking a walk on the beach. This is how I survive.

Life as the caretaker of an end-stage alcoholic is never easy. Sometimes if feels downright impossible. But we must always remember that life is for those who WANT to live. It’s not an easy thing to remember, especially if your alcoholic is your child. If we give up our lives for theirs, who will take care of them? So in a round-about-way, helping ourselves is also helping them.

Slip but don't fall...

I was told that a friend’s husband recently returned to drinking after a year of sobriety. My friend was a bit miffed at me because I didn’t seem surprised. In fact, I said that it was predictable. This is a case of me speaking without thinking. I should have consoled her and supported her, but instead I just spouted out the facts. When a woman is distraught, she seldom wants to be slapped in the face with something as useless as “facts.” I took a mental step back and put my logical mind on hold. I hugged her and told her I was sorry that her husband was being a jerk. That was what she needed and that was what I provided after realizing that I was also being a jerk.

However, facts are facts. This had been her husband’s first time through rehab and it is quite common for first-timers to “test the water” – so to speak. They may not be totally convinced that they are alcoholics so they have a glass of wine with dinner or a beer with the pizza. Most times those seemingly innocent slips turn into another descent toward the bottom. Sometimes they are able to stop and realize what they are doing is destructive and other times it just gets increasingly worse.

For the family and friends there is a process of discovery and acceptance of the relapse. When an alcoholic goes through rehab, the family is elated with the possibilities of returning to a normal, sober life. They envision rekindling of relationships, professional success, and the ability to have everyone seated around the dinner table for a meal. It’s almost like a honeymoon with all the expectations of a wonderful life ahead.

It’s because of this “honeymoon” that we don’t want to believe that the alcoholic has returned to drinking. We don’t trust our instincts because we want more than anything to be wrong. Our instincts tell us something is wrong. We see the signs, but close our eyes. We are afraid to confront the alcoholic with our suspicions because we don’t want to upset them and make them so angry that they stomp off to the nearest liquor store. In our minds we think that if we accuse the alcoholic of drinking and they are not that they are so fragile, they just might start drinking.

This is where things get a bit insane. We need proof. They only way to confront the alcoholic is to have solid irrefutable evidence that the alcoholic has in fact returned to drinking. We search the house, car, yard, or anywhere else that might contain a hidden bottle of booze. We check the bank account for liquor store activity. We might even follow them or set up baby cams. We begin to obsess over where they are and what they are doing. Then when we confront the alcoholic they might just point to the recent activity and ask – who’s the crazy one?

Most often our instincts are correct. It’s that feeling in our guts that tell us the truth. A spouse just “knows” when their mate is cheating. In the case of an alcoholic the booze is what they are cheating with and just like an affair – we know. Proof is good to have, but we wouldn’t be looking for proof if we didn’t already know.

 Unfortunately, most alcoholics are hesitant to freely admit they have returned to drinking. They give excuses and tell the family that they are wrong. They think they are smarter than everyone else and no one will know what they are doing. So they make it difficult for us to help them find their way back before they are in so deep that they cannot get out. It’s a sad situation.

The one thing that must be remembered is that it is very common for alcoholics to relapse. The relapse in and of itself is not the big issue. What is important is what happens afterwards. If the alcoholic is able to see it as a relapse and not an end, they may be able to get back into the sobriety arena. Sometimes a slip is just a slip and with a little stop and rebalance, they can get stay on the road that leads to a healthy life.

Families and friends have slips also. They have a slip back to the insanity of micro-observing everything the alcoholic does. In their valiant attempts to keep things going in the right direction, they get off their own path to sanity. In their search for “proof” they may do things they wouldn’t think of doing otherwise. At these times we must remember a slip is just a slip and not an end. The sooner we regain our balance, the more likely our lives will be less insane.

In the case of my friend’s husband, she was able to stop the search for proof by getting her husband into a situation where he was unable to run from the conversation. She then told him that she knew he had been drinking and that she wanted to help him over this bump in his sobriety road. Of course, he resisted and insisted that she was wrong. He wanted to know what proof she had. She calmly told him she didn’t need proof because she had her instincts to tell her that the man she loved was heading for trouble. She told him that he was the love of her life and she knew him better than anyone else and knew when things were “off.” And things were not right. She also told him that slips and relapses were common in the early years of sobriety and that she would provide him whatever support he needed to make sure would be able to enjoy their life together. She told him that if he decided not to get help and return to sobriety, she would leave him because, although he is the love of her life, alcohol took that person away and she didn’t want to live with the drunk.

He did not stop drinking. Within a month, my friend packed up her things and moved out. She left him in his drunkenness and set up housekeeping elsewhere. Only a few weeks after that, he went back into rehab and has been clean and sober for about a year. My friend has not returned to the family home yet. The couple are talking and “courting” and enjoying their time together.

This couple’s story may have a fairy-tale ending. Or not. Only time will tell.

In my opinion, my friend did the right thing. She confronted, offered help and ended with a consequence which she put into action. She presented herself in a sane manner and showed strength in not letting him turn the conversation into ranting and arguing. Inside she may have been a quivering mess of Jello, but outside she was strong and determined. She was able to maintain her sanity.

It sounds so very easy. Trust me – it is anything but easy. It’s never easy to confront an alcoholic or to leave your soul-mate. For most spouses of alcoholics, my friend’s scenario would not go down as it did for her. When dealing with alcoholism we must always expect the unexpected and be prepared for unpredictability.

They are just children...

It’s an adjustment really. I haven’t lived with small children for many years. I haven’t worried about baby-proofing, potty-training and/or snacks before dinner. This has been a wakeup call.

Before I moved into this house, Nicole would call me and have only one nerve left which one of the children was always standing on. I wanted so much to be able to help her get some rest and take the kids off her hands even if just for a few minutes. I thought it would be a simple thing to just play with them while their parents took a nap. They are children – how hard could it be?

Six and two year olds have minds of their own. They may not want to play the same game you want to play. The TV may be turned on to cartoons, but that doesn’t mean they will sit like zombies and become enthralled in the program. They are, in fact, little people who have their own wants and desires. My great-grandchildren are independent little souls who march to the beat of their own drummer. When the heck did that happen?

When my children were their age, I don’t remember them being so set in their ways. I imagine that sixty years of hindsight has probably changed my personal vision of reality. I do remember being frustrated and wanting to lock them in their rooms until they were adults. As they became teenagers, I wanted to locked them in their room and just throw away the key. But, I didn’t and – lo and behold – they eventually became responsible adults. Who’d a thunk it?

Emily and Brian, my great-grands, have places to go during the day. Brian goes to DayCare and Emily usually goes to Nana’s. When school starts next week, Emily will be spending her days at school until her mother picks her up. I don’t really have them during the day and for that I’m, surprisingly, happy. That’s OK because Barkly, the dog, makes up for lack of chaos.

My day usually starts at 5:30 a.m. pouring coffee for Riley, Ryan, Nicole and me. That’s about a whole pot, so with the last cup I make a fresh pot. Then I help Nicole find shoes and other things needed to get them out the door. They all leave at once. Now it’s just me and Riley. I find something for his breakfast. Sometimes it’s as simple as cereal and other times it’s bacon and eggs or waffles. He is now situated and I can go on to other things. I straighten up the living and dining rooms, gather up the laundry and start a load of wash. Next it’s doing the dishes and coming up with a plan for dinner.

I take little breaks between the tasks, but getting comfortable on the sofa is difficult because Barkley must be next to me at all times. Getting comfortable with a 55 pound dog laying on me, is not easy. Barkley is a blue-nosed pit bull that Ryan got long before he should have been taken from his mother. Ryan bottle-fed him and is afraid of his own shadow. He must have a trusted human around him, or he cries – no, he doesn’t bark or howl, he cries like an infant. He simpers and you can see in his eyes that he just wants someone to tell him he’s going to be OK. I’ve never liked pit-bulls, but this one is different than any other I’ve ever seen. Ryan and Nicole are very careful about Barkley being with the children. Barkley is never left alone with them and the children have learned not to lunge for the dog. They have been taught that Barkley needs gentleness and that’s exactly how both kids and dog behave. I’ve been extremely impressed even though Barkley’s constant following me and sitting with me is a pain in the neck.

Dinner is planned and probably started and a load or two of laundry is complete. I’ve been checking on Riley throughout the morning and if he’s had an accident in the bathroom, I must go clean that up. It’s time for lunch which may be leftovers or a sandwich or soup. I go down the hall, for the millionith time, to take him his tray. If I am lucky, he will finish before Young and Restless comes on so I can lay on Emily’s bed with Barkley gated from entry and settle in for one and a half hours of rest and enjoyment. Sometimes I fall asleep, but most days I do not. Riley always naps during this time and it’s a relief to know I don’t have to make another trip down the hall for a while.

After my respite, I continue with my dinner plans, fold the laundry and put it away, and clean up in mine and Riley’s room. Now I have a couple of hours before everyone gets home from work, school, etc. I can get on the computer and see what’s going on. I check on OARS, the blog, comments, bank account, Facebook, etc., etc. If I have time I’ll write a post.

Everyone piles in the door at the same time. The toys I put away this morning are instantly scattered back throughout the living and dining areas. Both kids want a juice box or a snack or something to digest. When I first got here, I was freely giving the kids anything they wanted. But, their parents reminded me that if they get lots of sugar before dinner, they will not eat. I’m not as quick to oblige them anymore.

My great-grands are the most talkative children I’ve ever seen. It seems they do not know how to stop. They use their indoor voice, but it’s like a bunch of magpies at a convention. I try to pay attention, but they often loose me in translation. Somehow, their parents are able to sort through it and know what is important from what is just chatter. I’m amazed at their ability. I remember trying to explain to my daughter that everything she thinks doesn’t need to be vocalized – but I wasn’t successful. She’s now an adult and has out-grown her need for vocalization.

We have dinner and then Ryan takes charge of their baths. In between we keep expressing to Brian that big boys potty in the toilet, but he insists he doesn’t want to. It is frustrating because he will tell us that he is busy pooping, but when we tell him he needs to go poop in the toilet he becomes quite adamant that the toilet is not his preferred repository for bodily functions. We agree that we don’t want to use the toilet as a punishment. We are patient. All things in due time.

There are no set bedtimes. It really isn’t necessary. Emily will just quietly disappear into her bed. Brian gets extremely hyper as he gets more tired. He plays “red light, green light” which involves him running in circles and suddenly starting and stopping. After a couple of runs around the room, he crawls into his mother’s lap and falls sound asleep.

It’s quiet in the house now. Nicole and I can now spend a few minutes talking about the day, house-hunting, budgeting, meals, plans and other things. I’m exhausted. I need sleep. I climb into my bed and listen to Riley. He’s now sleeping on his side rather than his back and the apnea seems to have subsided. He talks in his sleep. Eventually I fall into a welcomed slumber. My mind and body prepare for the next day.

We are looking for a house where Riley and I are more separated from Ryan and Nicole’s family. We want to be in the same house, but not in exactly the same space. It will happen, but we must be patient (OH! There’s that word again!). The right place will come along. In the meantime, we’ll just keep doing what we are doing. It seems to be working so far.

To My Commentors - 8/26/2012

Since I started reviewing the comments, I’ve only had to delete one – which was not related to my blog. It was basically an advertisement. Thank you all for being so understanding.

I want to remind you that a proactive site exists for communicating with others involved with caretaking or just loving an alcoholic. We have about 70 members now and are still growing. OARS F&F Group is a private Facebook page. Only members can see who participates and what they say. There is almost always someone available on the site 24 hours a day. The only rule is to not judge or criticize. Our topics are so varied – sometimes we are crying and other times we are laughing. There is a bond among the members that I’ve never seen in an Al-Anon meeting. I’m not knocking Al-Anon, it’s a fabulous support group, but I just feel that OARS goes that one step beyond.

An independent website is being developed for the OARS group and it will work similar to Facebook. It will include a forum and live chat – although Facebook works just as instantly. I have issues with Facebook and not everyone has access to it, so a separation is imminent.

To access the Facebook OARS – if you have an FB account, simply search for OARS F&F Group and request permission to join. Access is granted usually in less than a couple of hours. If you don’t have a FB account or you want to double your anonymity – create an email address (gmail or Hotmail) using a nickname. Then join FB using the nickname and request permission to join. Several people on the site do this and only use that nickname for the OARS site. It is free and is available internationally.

Anonymous 17 year old with a baby – PLEASE consider joining the OARS group. You have already experienced a lot in your early years. I know how painful it must be to watch your father destroy his life. Fathers are very important in the life of a young girl. They should protect and provide an example of the kind of man she would want to share her life with. I don’t know if you are with your baby’s father, but try to use your father’s example as one NOT to follow. However hurtful you’ve had a wonderful learning experience as to what you DO NOT want. I wish for you courage and strength as you tend to your father.

Msterfun – I agree with you – but it appears Riley is not dying. Of course, I won’t really know that until I can get him in to see the primary care doc (earliest appt was in Oct.). But, for now, I must assume he is simply physically ill and not dying. He is a handful to tend to even in sobriety. My main consideration at the moment is that we live with my grandson’s family. There are two very young children in this extremely small space. I CANNOT and WILL NOT expose the children to Riley’s insane drunken behavior. For now, at least, Riley is alcohol free and will stay that way for as long as I can manage it.

Jo – I just now this very minute accidently deleted one of your comments. I’ll try to replace it later today. I’m very sorry. It was not intentional. My cursor was in the wrong place when I clicked. That’s what I get for having both things open at once.

Syd – Riley has said he would like another letter and now that he’s a bit better he will try to write back. I’ll send the new address in a separate e-mail. Thank you very much.

No more comment drama...

I’m pretty thick-skinned. I do pretty well with criticism and welcome opposing points of view. After all, we are all different and no one person thinks or believes or agrees with every other person on this planet. What a boring place this would be if we all thought alike. So I’ve always welcomed comments that didn’t agree with me. They are helpful to me to be objective and re-evaluate my own perspective.

My readers have always been had the privilege of posting uncensored comments. I haven’t reviewed them before they post. I have let everyone speak their own mind no matter how they expressed their opinion. I have deleted only two comments in the past two years and they were ones that had nothing to do with the blog or content – they were just filled with pornography.

I have always felt that everyone has a point of view that deserves to be heard. I am a strong woman and (for the most part) can take whatever is dished out. Yesterday I met with a social worker from the Veterans Administration who pointed out that disrespectful comments made on this blog can hurt people other than me.  I have a lot of readers who relate to what I write as a story of their own life. They see themselves in my experiences. When someone posts a hateful comment, it is not just hateful towards me, it is also hateful towards those readers who have made similar choices. It’s not just about ME anymore.

There is also the issue of the rudeness upsetting my family. They take the commenters words personally and want to protect me. I’ve asked them not to respond to the hurtful things people post, but the comments have become so upsetting, that my grandson’s wife, could not help but lash back (grandaughter).

It is a shame when the actions of a few result in innocent people having to pay the consequences. Unfortunately, this has become the case. For now on, I will review every comment before it is posted. I will not post comments that are venomous, mean, rude or hateful. It is cowardly is hide behind anonymity in order to hurt others. Simply put – if you don’t like me, don’t read my blog. I invite you to NOT be involved in anything I do.

I still welcome opposing points of view. I will not edit the comments. Everyone has a right to be heard, as long as everyone is respectful of everyone else. Anonymous comments will still be accepted as long as they are of a constructive nature. I especially like comments that provide positive suggestions and/or links to other sites with helpful information.

Thank you very much for being my readers. I appreciate every one of you. I hope you will continue reading even though there might not be so much “comment drama”.