Sobriety does not equal sanity...

It all seems so simple. The drunk reaches sobriety and the sun shines all over the world. Happy days will surely follow and life will return to logicality. But wait… I just looked it up in my New Merriam-Webster and the synonym for sobriety is NOT sanity. That is so disappointing. Just when you thought…

Being sober simply means that the alcoholic is not drunk. It means the absence of alcohol. It also means serious or grave in mood, having a quiet tone or color. Synonyms include solemn, staid, and sedate. Well I don’t know about all of that. What I do know is that for Riley being sober simply means that he is not drunk.

It is a fact. Alcohol causes the brain to shrink. The frontal lobe is the most vulnerable. It contains the control center for things such as emotions, motor functions, problem solving, spontaneity, memory, language, initiation, judgment, impulse control, social and sexual behavior.  Unfortunately, that’s where alcoholic liquid likes to go.

It takes approximately four years for an alcoholic who has attained sobriety to recover most, some, or any, of the frontal lobe function. And there is no guarantee. Each alcoholic is different just as each human is different. The longer the period of drinking, the longer it will take to recover. Four years is a long time to wait for sanity when it seems it should be right there within grasp.

The most visible example of that is in the highly vocal rantings of Charlie Sheen. He seems to have lost the ability to use good judgment and has very little impulse control. If you review the paragraph about what the frontal lobe controls you can see how most of those functions appear to be out of control for Charlie. He claims sobriety, but I don’t see much sanity.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Charlie Sheen. I love the whole fam damily – Martin, Emilio and Charlie. What’s not to love about such a group of talented beings? When I heard Charlie say he had achieved sobriety without the aid of AA or any other support system – I was delighted. I thought – yeah – there are other options. I wish he had just shut up after that announcement because it quickly turned into the exposure of a man who was not in touch with reality. And how could he be? It takes four years…

In Riley’s case, the ability to make rational judgments and follow in a train of conversation is sometimes… well… difficult. He doesn’t remember many things from day to day. Most of the time I can keep up with remembering what he has a tendency to forget. Other times… not so much.

I think what bothers me the most is the irrational logic when he is trying to make a point in a conversation. For example, his comments about Charlie are centered in the fact that Charlie can have two girl friends live with him in the same house. That elevates Charlie’s status for him. And that seems to be the only real thing that Riley is grasping. When I tried to make the point that Charlie was portraying himself as irrational -- he just relates something about some “young blonde bimbo with big tits who can claim to be sober for 3 days”. Riley also claims that Charlie is somehow profiting financially from all this bad publicity. I don’t get it and I certainly wouldn’t want to be part of it – whatever IT is. I try not to ask Riley his opinion any more. What’s the point? I almost never understand it.

We had to make a decision this week about taking a trip to New England for the decommissioning of one of the submarines on which Riley served. I loved New England when we lived there. Alea and I were ready to jump at the chance to spend a few days in our old stomping grounds and enjoy some fantastic lobster dishes. The decommissioning ceremony just created an excuse for the trip. After I took a look at the budget and saw how many vacation days I would have to take – I became a little less enthusiastic. That didn’t mean that Riley couldn’t go.

I presented the option to him – take the train to New London and cabs for transportation. He (We) wouldn’t have to worry about how drunk he was because he wouldn’t be driving. He could leave on Thursday and come home on Saturday. It was far less expensive for just one person without a car rental. I needed to return the RSVP card and pressed him for an answer. He couldn’t give me one. He kept asking me if I was “comfortable” with that. That’s when I realized that he was the one who was not comfortable. I believe he was a bit afraid to be on his own so far from home without a safety net. He wasn’t able to make the decision.

The three of us, Riley, Alea and I, will leave on a Thursday and travel to New London via Amtrak. The decision and plans have been made. He no longer has to think about it.

It’s all a part of the brain damage – the inability to make a decision, the fear that he may not remember how to travel on the train. This was once a man who could tell you the routes and timing of every train on Amtrak’s line. He loved to travel and especially enjoyed travelling alone because it allowed him the possibility of a chance meeting with a female stranger for a meaningless encounter. There goes the sexual impulse control – it’s just not there!

There is no immediate sanity in sobriety. What sobriety does provide is a better likelihood of a chance for rational thought. The situation is better when the alcoholic quits drinking. But we non-alcoholics must remember that there is brain damage. The four years following the alcohol consumption can often have us going --- Huh???

An indispensable tool...

I want to thank all of you for your comments and e-mails. I want to assure you that I’m fine. I took some time off work to do event and foundation stuff and feel a little better now. I plan to take a weekend soon and go off into the mountains to recharge in the midst of solitude and nature – without Riley.

My BFF, Carrot, called the other day and wanted to know where my next post was. She was jonesing for what I had to say. I told her she didn’t have to wait for a post because I was always here for her. But she says it’s not the same and wants more. OK, Carrot, you asked for it.

It is a vital survival tool to have a friend like Carrot. I call her often and tell her everything. All my dirty little secrets reside in her heart because that’s the only really safe place there is to put them. She knows me better than I know myself. I wish I knew her as well as she knows me, but there are parts of her past that she chooses not to share. And that’s perfectly OK. She has had an interesting life and has been involved in substance abuse. There are dark places that she does not share. I probably know more than most – but I don’t know all. But none of that matters because I love her just the way she is no matter what she has done or where she has been. My love for her and my friendship with her is not conditional.

We met in high school. We were the first girls ever to take the mechanical drawing class and we were instant kindred spirits. We were 16 and full of mischief. After hanging together for a year, she met my older brother. I was not happy about that. And when they married – the only happiness I could find was in the fact that my best friend was now my sister.

We both had children – four for her and two for me. The six kids were separated by no more than a year apart. We often switched kids around – I would take the girls and she would take the boys or vice versa. The pediatrician never knew which mother would bring which kid to an appointment. We were dubbed “Interchangeable Mothers.”

This woman senses from 3,000 miles away that I need to talk to her. There have been times when I’ve ranted on for an hour and she has never said a word. When she does say something it is usually a reminder for me to breathe. I sometimes feel guilty that I dominate the conversation. But, that’s the way our relationship has always been – she’s always been the listener. I’ve always been the talker. Somehow it works.

Anyone who is a non-alcoholic surrounded in the muck of alcoholism, needs a friend like Carrot. If you are in that situation and don’t have one – get one. Get one now! You may have to cultivate one, seek one out. If you look around and keep looking for the signs, you will find one.

I have a few tips on finding a best friend.

It should be someone of the same gender. Men and women are different. It’s not that they can’t be friends – of course they can – but the life view is different and often one is not able to see the other’s point of view. I have a male friend and sometimes I look at him and say – “Are you kidding me? Is that how you really feel?” I could never tell him that sometimes the way Riley scratches his balls makes me sick because he doesn’t wash his hands afterward. He would think that to be perfectly normal and not understand why I hate it. He might even question that I said it – that would be worse. I have enough guilt on my own.

If you attend Alanon meetings you already have a wealth of possible best friends. They share and understand many of the same things that are happening in your life. Sharing with these people is easy.

Who’s that in the same section as you in the bookstore? Could it be a potential friend? If they are in the same section, you must share something in common. And if it’s in the section containing books on alcoholism – it’s even better.

Or maybe the parent of one of your children’s friends – that would be convenient. The kids might not like it so much – but who cares what they think? The only reason they would not want you to be friends is because you become a united front against their shenanigans.

What about the fabric store? A farmer’s market? A cooking class? Find something and participate.

No matter where you find your friend, you must determine if the friend is truly friendship material. You should click. It’s almost like falling in love. There has to be chemistry of truly “liking” the potential friend. And the only way to find a friend is to be open to the possibility. Take the cotton out of your mouth and speak up – say hello – introduce yourself – invite someone to have coffee. No one will enter your life if the door is locked.

We non-alcoholics live in a world that we prefer to keep private. We often alienate ourselves because to admit our life is not perfect is somehow an indication of our failure. We don’t get out often enough. We become so enmeshed in caring for the alcoholic that the things we had a passion for in the past are now a faint memory. We lose ourselves in the insanity.

Having a friend can help us remember the interests we once had.  They can help us live in the real world. A friend gives us someone with whom to go to movies, shopping, on a cruise, on a game show, or almost anything else that you’ve ever wanted to do. Most of all a true friend will not place blame or generate guilt. And a true friend will listen.

I wish all my readers could have a friend like Carrot.

I'm tired...

It appears that having a “cooking” event in this area in the fall is not advisable. Evidently there is a flying critter issue – gnats – which would make it difficult to BBQ outside. We moved here last Sept and I noticed that we had a gnat problem, but I thought it was because we are surrounded by farmland. That’s not the case. I’ve been told that even downtown turns into Gnatville in the fall.

I have a reputation for thinking outside the box – I do “work arounds” for life’s complications. So, with the help of one of my readers, I have come up with an alternative. The event will be a Road-Kill Crock Pot Roundup. The ingredients are cooked in the contestants’ kitchen and then combined into a crock pot at the event. It can be anything – stew, chili, soup, bbq… as long as it gets cooked in the crock pot. I’m trying to work on a tag line like – The Road to Recovery’s Road Kill In A Crock” or something like that. Definitely open to suggestions on that one.

Funding is an issue as I do not have non-profit status. I’m attempting to set up the Brian Riley Foundation designed to provide support, education and resources for the families of end-stage alcoholics. This foundation would provide funding for events such as Road Kill as well as a website and referrals. It would host educational events and classes.

I’m also busy writing query letters and applying for writing jobs. And let me not forget about my real 9-5 job. So, it’s been fortunate that I’ve been able to delegate some of the errand running to Riley.

Well… I suppose it was fortunate.  As we all know… it was a slippery slope. I knew the risks and my disappointment was not unfounded. With each errand, Riley made a trip to the liquor store. And each errand resulted in an episode of drunkenness which in turn results in my not being able to send him to run errands.

The problem is complicated with the fact that I’m tired. I’m exhausted from being the policeman and explaining to Alea why he was able to get the booze. I want to just go buy him about ten of the “handle” size bottles of vodka and let him guzzle it down. Let him go into a stupor for a while. Let whatever happens happen.

The problem won’t be in the drinking… it will be when the booze flow ends and there is nothing left in the house for him to drink. That inevitability just leads me to another problem which would be -- what do I do next? Do I rush him to the emergency room as he goes into DT’s? Do I rush to the liquor store and buy him more? It’s a moral dilemma that I hate. I don’t think anyone should play God and sometimes I feel that I’m forced into making decisions that only God should make.

I’m tired. I don’t want to stop what my blog has started – the event planning, foundation building, answering the e-mails, posting on Facebook.  On the other hand, I’m tired. I need a break. It’s becoming harder and harder to remember why I started this. 

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.

Bad choices...

I’ve been a bit under the weather lately. With a lot of dental work going on, I’m unable to eat the foods I love – like crunchy fresh broccoli and crisp green salads. Instead my diet has included mostly soft foods, such as mashed potatoes and soups. As a result my energy – and my tolerance – is low.

During this time I’m thankful that Riley is not drinking. He has been attentive and understanding. He offers to cook for me so that I will not quit eating all together. He even baked a peanut butter coffee cake – and it was yummy. It was his first attempt at baking from a recipe rather than a box. He’s a great baker – who knew!!  I’m hoping that his new found interest in baking will help detour his mind off the alcoholic path.

(If you want the recipe for peanut butter coffee cake -- e-mail me and I'll send it along.)

Riley tells me that alcohol is always in his brain. It’s just under the surface and never goes away. He can’t get to it right now because of being so far out in the country and not having transportation. But, if he could, he would get that bottle and get back on his hazy train.  And I wonder – whose fault is that? Who is really to blame?

Back in the day – when I was first coming to realize that there was a problem – I blamed myself. If Riley came home drunk, in my mind, it had to be because he didn’t want to come home to me or the kids. If he got drunk on the weekend, I thought I didn’t clean the house enough, cook the right foods, look sexy enough. Much like an abused spouse – I felt it was always my fault.

Now, 40 years later, I know without a doubt that I had nothing to do with Riley being an alcoholic. After more than a dozen rehab centers, I know that the only one responsible is Riley. When Riley empties that bottle down his gullet next time – he will be the only one to blame.

I’m sure I’ll get a couple of nasty comments over that statement. But, before you put your anger in writing – think about this. If a person has had four nearly fatal detox episodes and also has been to more than a dozen rehab centers – don’t you think he would know that the bottle is not his friend?? When his grandchildren refuse to let him hold his great-grandson because he is so filthy and drunk -- and now he is sober and are welcomed to be a part of that great-grandson’s life – why would you go back to the bottle?

What I believe is, within the confines of Riley World, alcoholism is a disease of bad choices. Riley has the knowledge. He has the experience and even with his brain damage he has the intelligence.   Yet, he makes it clear that if given the choice, he will choose Vodka.

Once Riley has taken that first drink, everything changes. The choice he made will take hold and will not let him choose anything else freely again until he detoxes from the first choice – the one to take that drink.

When Riley has once again made a bad choice of inviting his friend Vodka back into his life – where is my sympathy? Where is my sadness? Where is my regret? I certainly have no sympathy for Riley, nor do I feel sadness or regret for anything I’ve done with/for Riley.

My sympathy is with the family who loved him so much and tried to help him so many times. My sadness is that he has spent so many years sitting and waiting for his next drink rather than living a truly productive and interesting life. My regret is that he has destroyed relationships and his health. But those are not things I have done. Riley must take responsibility for his own actions.

Sympathy, sadness and regret are reserved for things I neglected in my own life in order to keep him alive.

Déjà vu…

I was watching Dr. Phil on Thursday, January 13, 2011 and I saw the interview with Ted Williams. This once homeless man was an overnight hit via a You Tube broadcast. He has a wonderfully smooth, although gravelly voice and had once studied as a radio announcer. Since the You Tube performance he has been offered many jobs and is well on his way to fame and fortune. Well… Ted is well on his way, but there is this one little thing…

By his own admission, Ted Williams has issues with alcohol and drugs. A reunion with his family brought to light that although Ted claims to have been clean and sober for two years, he has now returned to one of his old friends – Vodka. Now that he has some money his favorite friend, Grey as in Grey Goose, visits often.

Dr. Phil had a confrontation with Ted on this particular program.  Ted stated that he would only go into a treatment facility if a “professional doctor or counselor” told him he should.  Dr. Phil reviewed his qualifications to Ted and then made him an incredible offer.

He offered Ted the opportunity to attend a treatment facility that only the very well funded and insured could possibly afford to attend. Ted’s response was a litany of activities that Ted felt he needed to do before he entered rehab. Dr. Phil met each of Ted’s required tasks with a resolution that would allow him to go directly to rehab without passing go or collecting $200. In the end, Ted was accompanied to his hometown by an official of the rehab center with the plan being to eventually escort him to the center at South Padre Island, Texas.

OK. So I get it. I truly do. What I get is that all alcoholics are the same. They have the same vocabulary and the same script. They all have the same set of excuses and sense of paranoia.

If I have heard Riley say once, I’ve heard it a thousand times – I want a “professional” to tell me that I’m dying… need to go to rehab… can’t drive… can’t live alone. And no matter how many times a “professional” does tell him, there is some reason why he can’t consider that person as qualified to make that determination.

All alcoholics have a million reasons why they can’t go into treatment now. They range from… I can’t take time off work… I can’t afford it… It’s too hot… It’s too cold… It’s Sunday… the sun came up this morning. I know and understand that a new way of life might be frightening – after all a known evil may seem better than an unknown good.

I listened intently to the program and at the same time felt I could have been Ted’s wife because the only thing different from Riley was the physical body. Ted’s actions, reasons, excuses and comments have actually been voiced by Riley. It was as though Riley had written the script for Ted. It was Déjà Vu all over again.

As non-alcoholics, it’s hard for us to understand why someone, such as Ted, with such an incredible chance at a life most of us can only dream about, would throw up road blocks in the path of that life. We’ve all seen it… experienced it… hated it with our own alcoholics.

It appears that after all… Ted is just another alcoholic. He’s no different than so many others that have lost outstanding opportunities because they chose their friends named Grey… Smirnoff… Seagrams… Popov… instead of taking a risk at a chance of a lifetime.

Update to Road and comments on Al-Anon and AA

The trip to the city went well. The dental work wasn’t as horrible as I had imagined and a plan was worked out for the rest of the necessary procedures. I don’t like going to the dentist – but I’m feeling better about the entire ordeal. By next month, this will be just a blip on my radar screen.

Riley got his hair cut at a nearby salon – actually all the hair on his head was trimmed down – not just one. He looked all nice and neat when he picked me up. And he was stone cold sober. He went to the salon and then back to the dentist office without detours. I’m proud of him for that.

We stopped at a very nice, upscale restaurant in the downtown area before heading back to the country. It was enjoyable to sit down to dinner and try the scrumptious menu offerings. No mention was made of a wine to compliment the meal – no cocktails – no alcohol of any sort. The meal was wonderfully peaceful and the food was delish.

Riley drove us home and we arrived in the country to be greeted by Jade and Maggie who wagged their entire bodies with excitement for our return.

AL-ANON and AA…

Al-Anon –

This is a wonderful organization that has much to offer those living in the insanity of alcoholism. I am not opposed to Al-Anon. In fact in the pages “What the Non-Alcoholic Can Do” and “Finding Help” there are references to both AA and Al-Anon. I spent many years going to meetings and appreciated the support and understanding that I received. It truly helped me. For many reasons, I currently don’t attend meetings. Even though, I don’t adhere to all the steps and traditions – I respect and understand the teachings.

It is my belief that we each must create our own steps to maintain sanity and they may not look like the 12 steps in Al-Anon. However, Al-Anon is a wonderful place to start and a perfect basic-training on the reality road.

Just to be clear, I’m not trying to save my marriage – my marriage was over 15 years ago.  (See “How I Got Here”) I’m just trying to take care of my daughter by not allowing the alcoholism to take over her life via Riley. I provide a buffer zone between the insanity of alcoholism and Alea’s daily life.

If I were to follow Al-Anon teachings to the letter, I would let Alea do whatever she wants to do about her father. I would only focus on myself and not Riley or Alea. They are both adults and can make their own decisions. But, the law of motherhood is supreme. Maybe, having lost my son, I feel it more acutely – but it will not be denied. Ask any mother what is most important – 99.99% will tell you it’s her children.

So… Alea will not live a life of cleaning up human feces or urine from the floor. She will not be monitoring the depth of jaundice in her father’s skin and eyes. She will not be the brunt of his unrealistic demands. And she will not find him dead in a pool of his own vomited blood. All of those things will fall on my shoulders because – I’m the MOM and legally the wife of her father. It’s a small price to pay to keep my daughter happy and safe so she can enjoy her own marriage, son and grandchildren.

After all these years, what I’ve come to learn is that I DO live a life based on Al-Alnon concepts and principles. I just do it differently and more subconsciously than most people. I do it without thinking about it. And I’m realistic. I know what’s ahead and I have planned accordingly.

Most people actively participating in meetings are there to help them stay with the alcoholic in their life. They are looking for a way to make sense of the insanity. It is soooo difficult, almost impossible, to detach from someone who is your entire heart. It goes against the grain of all things we learn about love and marriage throughout our entire lives. I pray for those people everyday.

I’m detached from Riley because I don’t see him as a loving husband. He came to me as a terminally ill man in need of care and attention. Do I love him? Yes – just as I love all my other brothers – but not with passion and desire as a wife should for her husband. He no longer holds my heart. That’s what makes this bearable.

Riley and AA –

For many years Riley was so entrenched in AA that there was nothing else in his life. He volunteered at the local AA Service Center and was DCM (District Committee Member) for his AA District. He switched his addiction from alcohol to AA – which was not a bad switch. But, all his many years ensconced in AA (from 1982 to 2008) was never a deterrent to drinking. He attended meetings drunk or sober.

I believe that AA only works if the alcoholic can be truly honest with himself and everyone around him. For Riley, I believe that drinking while being active in AA was a challenge. He loves being able to “get away with things” and not being called out on his drunkenness at meetings gave him a sense of accomplishment.

End-Stage and Attitude –

Riley is truly “end-stage”. That means all efforts to save him have been exhausted. Doctors no longer suggest he go into detox because the risk of death is too high. Rehab centers refuse him admission. No one tries to convince him there is a better way. Riley makes it very clear that he does NOT want to be sober. He hates living in the here and now and prefers to have his life hazed over by alcohol. The man I met in 1966 is gone forever and will never return. I have long since grieved over the loss of my beloved husband.

Why I started this blog –

I have spent a lot of time scouring the internet looking for information on end-stage alcoholism. I found very little. I knew there must be people who have been through what I’m going through. By starting this blog, I was hoping I would connect with others who have had similar experiences. I also hoped to provide information as well as support.

When I look at other people’s blogs, I see that they have been blogging for quite some time. I believe these blogs can be a wealth of information for my readers. By those standards, my blog is just a baby in blog world.  I have much to learn, so forgive me if I sometimes stumble.

My family is pushing for me to write a book based on my experience. No decision has been made on that as of yet. When I had my poll more than 80% of the people who responded wanted to see my blog in book form – so I’m leaning in that direction.

A request –

If you find someone who may need to read what I have written, if you have blog readers of your own who may benefit from my experience, please refer them to my blog or provide a link in your own blog. I will do the same for other bloggers and will try to answer all my e-mails that are not posted as comments.

Thank you and let’s make 2011 a triumphant success in all aspects of our lives by maintaining sanity within reality!

The road to...

I recently had major dental work done and have not been feeling is great. I have been lax about getting to the store to do the shopping. It has finally reached the point that we MUST do some shopping or Jax (the cat) and Jade (the dog)  will be bbq-ing us on a spit in the fireplace for their next meal.

Yesterday was the day. I reluctantly handed the car keys to Riley so he could go to the store – alone – unsupervised. It was the first time in almost two years that he had ventured outside the house without my watchful eye.

I was nervous. Images of him entering the package store and downing a bottle in the parking lot were at the forefront of my brain. I found myself  waiting for the phone to ring with a police officer on the other end telling me Riley was either in jail or dead from wrapping the car around a telephone pole. The fear created by those images made me physically ill.

But, before I knew it… there he was. He pulled into the driveway, greeted Jade and Maggie (Jade’s BFF) and then brought the grocery bags into the kitchen. It seemed he had not been gone long enough to have done all the necessary shopping. There must be something up.

I was wrong. Everything I had asked him to get was there. There were no signs of alcohol consumption at all. He was not the nervous little boy that had something to hide. He explained why he had to get a block of Swiss cheese rather than shredded. But I wasn’t listening – not really – I was just basking in the glory that the chore had been completed without incident.

Normally Alea takes me to my dentist appointments because I get very nervous and sometimes I must take something to help calm me down. But she could not take me this time. So… the plan for today is for Riley and me to make the 2 hour drive to the dentist office.  While I’m in the dentist’s chair, Riley will be getting a haircut. Afterwards, we are going to dinner (if I’m feeling up to it) and then drive back home. Riley will be my chauffeur.

My only concern is the time when Riley is supposed to be getting a haircut. There are numerous bars in the area of the dentist office. I’m hoping he doesn’t decide that would be a better use of his time.

I’m encouraged by the shopping event yesterday and feel confident that he can handle this trip.

Of course, I have a back up plan, I just hope I don’t have to use it. After all, feeling confident of his continued sobriety is one of the stepping stones that will pave the way to his drinking again. The more I feel I can trust his sobriety, the more opportunities he will have to drink. And once he starts drinking again… well… I cannot prevent the consequences that may follow. I could be wrong because he is the Immortal Alcoholic and the consequences that should occur just don’t seem to happen.

Anyway… I will take one day at a time and trust him – just for today – that he will not drink.