My Relapse – Part 3

Relapse #3: I don’t remember what I had but I want to say it was another ½ mini-box of wine? Or maybe 2 mini bottles from a 4 pack? Weird I don’t know specifics because this was the least I had drank of all the relapses since my DUI.  Hubs came home earlier than expected. Since it was such a small amount, I really didn’t think he’d notice.

But he did. He asked. I lied.

H: “Why do I not believe you?”

P: I don’t know because I haven’t.

H: Okay then. Let’s go to your car and you blow in your breathalyzer.

P: (yep, I’m screwed) Okay, let’s go.

H: (sigh) nooo, it’s alright, I guess I believe you.

ANOTHER bullet dodged and man, was I sweating!  I decided right then and there that I couldn’t risk it again because the next consequence would be him leaving me – even though he never once said that he would.

See, that’s where my brain can go sometimes. Immediately to the worst case scenario with nothing to back it up. Like a hypochondriac (which I can also admit that I am to some extent) thinks they are at death’s door when they experience unfamiliar symptoms they cannot explain, I was foretelling the death of my marriage. It’s just so dramatic (eye roll).

I decided I’d wait a while.  I’d complete the 6 week outpatient rehab program, the dust would settle and I’d drink again when it fizzled into something we just didn’t talk about. You know, sweep it under the rug like it never happened. Story of my life.

But I haven’t.

My new date was now March 30th, 2012 and has remained that date ever since.  I am now 8 years sober from alcohol.

#morewillberevealed

My Relapse – Part 2

Relapse #2: I decided I’d do one final “test.” It’s a common test we lushes like to take and it’s rather quite simple for normal drinkers to do: have just ONE drink and that be all. Since I had a suspended license, I walked up to the liquor store and bought 2 of those mini fridge size bottles of vodka and pineapple juice.

Yes, that’s one drink – a double bay breeze, sans cran, duh. Why would I drink a single? I’ve never known an alcoholic to order just ONE single shot cocktail and call it a night. And I know a lot of alcoholics. I’m no different. But I REALLY wanted to be.

Of course I failed the test because the “phenomenon of craving” came on strong right away and before I knew it, I was walking back up the hill to the shopping center but to the grocery store this time.  I couldn’t return to the same place I was just at. I thought they’d think I’m alcoholic and I couldn’t stand the thought of that kind of judgment. I purchased 1 of those mini-boxed wines, hustled home and got to drinking.  I drank…maybe ½?…before H got home. And not soon after, he figured it out and left. I went to finish the box, but a strong sense of conviction came over me and I poured it out.

My new date was now March 24th.

#morewillberevealed

Skeletons 2.9 – The Relapse Series – Part 1

Relapse (past): The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker. The persistence of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death. (BB, Chapter 3, pg. 30)

Here’s the bottom line: I don’t remember my very first sobriety date because I wasn’t done drinking. All of the harsh consequences I had already brought upon myself weren’t enough to convince me I was a real alcoholic. I still needed more proof, hence the final 3 legit relapses and I will relive all 3 of them for you today in a series of 3 posts.

Relapse #1: I talk about it in My Recovery Rewind – Part 2 and Skeletons 1.9. It was a basically a true “relapse before the relapse” situation.  I had just gotten 30 days prior to a wedding weekend. When I was handed that token, my mind was already in Bend, OR, fighting off that trigger that I knew I wasn’t going to even try fighting.

I wasn’t excited about it. I didn’t rush home to show H or text pictures of it to my family or friends. I was also terrified of anyone knowing about it that weekend because, well, a) my prideful, alcoholic brain didn’t want them to judge me but more importantly b) if they knew, they’d try to tell me not to drink and I couldn’t have that. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. I had relapsed in my mind before crossing state lines.

H did tell our friends, I still hid it, I still got caught. I said I had one mimosa and I stuck to that story – with my sponsor, my counselor and everyone else who I told.  If you already read the posts mentioned above, you know that was not truthful at all and I still can’t believe I drove after the reception.

Insanity.

My new date was now March 18th.

#morewillberevealed

Skeletons 2.8 – My Recovery Requisite

Requisite (Past): The only requirement for membership is the desire to stop drinking (Tradition 3, BB, pg 139)

After my second DUI, I was told 2 things:

  1. I had to stop drinking and
  2. I had to wait 6 months (or a year) to resume efforts to get pregnant.

I wasn’t asked. I was told.

No alcoholic likes to be TOLD to do anything, ESPECIALLY when it affects their drinking.

For me, if I am told to do something that I don’t want to do, I will resist until I have no choice. If I am told I CAN’T do something that I want to do, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that I CAN.

When it comes to #1, I told you: I secretly drank several times in a month before finally getting caught and forced into outpatient rehab. That still didn’t stop me though. After claiming an official sobriety date, I relapsed 3 more times, twice my husband knew about and once I lied about…for years. I’ll talk about that in my next post.

As for #2, the day after my arrest, H said he thought it would be a good idea to wait 6 months to resume trying to get pregnant. Per usual, I went into my childish theatrics – sobbing uncontrollably until I fell asleep, the whole time hoping he would feel bad and take it back.  But he didn’t. Not that night anyway.

It was also “suggested” by my first sponsor that I wait a year to get pregnant – newcomers are discouraged from getting into new relationships or making big life changes in the first year of sobriety. But H had already recanted the whole 6 month plan, so of course I lied and said I’d take into into consideration. I didn’t dare challenge her but there was also no way I was going to listen to her either.

For those that didn’t read the excerpts from the previous post, this is the only part that matters in this one:

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While my desire to drink  “someday” didn’t go away after that last weekend in jail, my choice to drink did. Yep, A1 had literally implanted herself the same weekend I received that email. She saved me from my own self because I most definitely would have relapsed again otherwise.

People have asked me if I’ll tell her that little detail about her conception and the answer to that question today is this:

I just did.

#morewillberevealed

My Reprimands – Part 4

I wrote some amends letters after my reprimands of SD2 and the last one was to myself (second person to first person,) and I ended it with this:

“Is that all? You done now?  Because I can think of some messed up stuff you did to other guys too, or have you forgotten?  I hope you plan on taking responsibility for how YOU treated some of the dudes that you spent your time with over the years because you were no saint.”

Yes, yes I do.


Yep, I wasn’t very nice.  In fact, at one point in my 20’s, I proudly claimed Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater” and “Promiscuous” as my anthems – which, not gonna lie, I still get a sick high every time I hear both of those songs and I recognize I should feel bad about that now but I don’t…not yet anyway.

Seriously though, I do feel bad for some stuff – how I handled some break ups, caused drama and led guys on.  Let’s face it, I was self-seeking and loved the attention of the opposite sex. I have yet to get to the bottom as to why but a thorough 4th step will uncover a lot when I get to it. For now, here is a short list of the kind of damage I did and would make amends for if it WERE appropriate because today, it is NOT:

  1. I broke up with my very first “boyfriend” on his doorstep, dropping him off after the “sadie hawkins” Valentines dance. 2 years later, the same was done to me after the Homecoming dance. Of course it did. I totally deserved it.
  2. Barely paid attention to my date at the Homecoming dance the year prior to the one mentioned above. Why? Because I was no longer interested in him and wanted to be there with someone else.  He went on to be a total jerk to me until Sr. year and as fate would have it, I married him 12 years later. Man, I am one lucky gal.
  3. I willingly fueled situations that led to physical encounters between guys I was dating and ones who had hurt me in some way.  That’s just weird to me.
  4. I befriended guys who wanted to be more than friends – when I was single AND in a relationship. It is clear to me now that I simply loved the attention, bearing no concern for their feelings. Careless and mean.
  5. Fell in love with “the one that got away” and broke up with D1 in hopes to be with him. But the love was not returned, so I went BACK to D1, only to cheat on him a few months later with H – and then lied about it so he wouldn’t break up with me.  Then I really broke up with him and called him pathetic when he wouldn’t stop crying. At that point, I really was a heartless drunk.
  6. “Dated” guys while I waited for H to move home from out of state. I DID however, tell them not to get attached because someone else had my heart and they were just “fillers” but still…selfish and not cool.
  7. I’m not going to say how but I hurt H at the beginning of our relationship. Pretty bad. I will be making a living amends to him for the remainder of our days on this earth.

Yes, I am sorry for all the above and that’s all I want or even need to say. When it comes to my days “playing the field,” it’s time to let go of all the shame, remorse, guilt and any other negative feelings that no longer serve me.

#morewillberevealed

My Reprimands – Part 3

Reprimand for Misdemeanor #2 – 2012:  My sentencing required a lot from me over the course of the next 18 months and, as previously mentioned, one of those things was spending 2 weekends on lock down. I find it hard to hold back telling you everything about this experience so here’s a sub-list of the moments that stood out as particularly memorable:

  • The seasoned inmate who called me “ma” as she consoled me in the depths of my emotional breakdown after waiting HOURS to be assigned a bunk and my name not being called. Fun little fact: “ma” was a nickname I shared with a couple besties in high school and it stemmed from a mean-spirited joke about someone else. Oh the irony.
  • The two other “weekenders” whom I befriended and at one point shared my hopes to get (or already be) pregnant. I became FB friends with one of them and I still am to this day. Coincidentally enough, I saw her 3 years later and locked eyes with her as I led a meeting telling my story. I was also pregnant with A2 at that time and she had gotten her 3rd DUI. Now THAT’S a trip!
  • Being solicited to smuggle drugs back in when I returned for weekend #2. I asked her, “do I look like someone who would know how to score hard drugs?” Where those balls came from, I have no idea and the fact that I escaped a lunch room beat down from challenging a broad like that is beyond my comprehension. Another bullet dodged.
  • My bunkmate the same weekend.  My first impression of her gave me no reason to feel intimidated or think she was in for anything other than drugs, like the majority of inmates.  That is until she nonchalantly tells me she had just done heroin for the first time the day before and later threatens to kick the ass of the person who had just farted in her general vicinity. Confession: it was me and I remained unscathed. (so many bullets!!)
  • The one and ONLY email I received from a loved one those two miserable weekends.  Yes, I still have it and no, you can’t read it. But you CAN read excerpts from it right here:

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(To the author of the above hilarity, if you are reading this, I still laugh at your humor in this email. You’re still funnier than me, but man of man do I have some new material!)

  • The wasted woman puking up blood in the drunk tank as I waited to be released.  I was far from accepting my alcoholism but I felt compelled to give her the hard word and told her if she didn’t stop drinking NOW, she was going to die. She proceeded to tell me she was already dying from esophageal cancer. Several months later, I saw the same woman at a rehab facility where I attended a handful of “after care meetings.” In that moment, I wanted to run up to her and tell her how happy I was to see her alive and getting help to improve the quality of her life for as long she had left. But I didn’t because I knew there was no way she’d remember me.

As the ex who traveled with me to the aforementioned foreign country where I EASILY could have become a cold case victim would say: fun times…fun times.

Like I said before, this series has been mostly for me; it serves as a “purging” if you will, much like what I talked about in my very first blog post.  However, I’ve beat myself up long enough for my choices with the opposite sex and my recovery journey. I think enough time has passed that I’m ready to be fully free from all of that negativity. God keeps doing for me what I could not do for myself and has relieved me of the desire to publicly shame these lost and damaged souls, therefore, I have removed the DUDS page from my menu, as well as deleted their “letters.”

I have totally forgiven all of those dudes who didn’t deserve me.

Thank you, God!

#morewillberevealed

My Reprimands – Part 2

Misdemeanor#2 – 2012: The Arrest, Drunk Tank and Post Drunk Tank:

  • Drove with one hand over one eye and was pulled over a mile from my destination when I was informed that a concerned motorist had reported me. I didn’t bother attempting to lie. I was hammered. I knew I was screwed and didn’t even cry…at first.
  • Upon entering the drunk tank once again, I cried to the booking officer that I didn’t belong with the women already in there and that I was scared.  These chicks looked like they’d throw down if anyone even looked in their direction. I was officially “locked up” with them as they were recounting their arrest stories. Charges? Domestic violence. Yep, nailed it.

Did I just say domestic violence charges? That I did.  Cue another “winner” I dated.

He most definitely was NOT a fixture at the time because I was married, however, I HAD been in contact with him a few months prior.  Hubs wasn’t home, it was Halloween and I was drunk. Not only was I a frequent drunk driver but I was also a drunk dialer/texter. When you consider all the brain cells I have killed in my day, I don’t know how, but my memory is a vault and I can remember certain things most people don’t. I still knew his number and that particular night, I had texted him the following:

Hey, do you remember when we went to that Halloween party as white trash?…

…you could have gone as yourself.

Totally unacceptable. Really. Now that I am a mother, I feel sorry for calling him names. If some dude was calling MY daughters names like that, I just might find myself back in jail.

Kidding. I’m not one to use physical violence to send a message. No, I use my words and sometimes my words are mean-spirited and unkind. He’s still someone’s son and I remember her being so nice, quiet and meek.  He used to be a little boy and she was his mama…and down deep, he still was…a mama’s boy. Let’s be honest, most guys are.

But Pixie, you are calling him a selfish dick in this blog. Doesn’t that go against everything you just said in the paragraphs above?

That I am, no it doesn’t and I’ll tell you why.

But before I do, I want to make something VERY clear: by no means do I think single mothers aren’t capable of teaching their sons how to be men and/or how to treat women. If daddy isn’t around, and for whatever reason, she remains single and/or there is no positive male role model in his life, then she has no choice and will do the best she can because that’s what us moms do, the best we can.

But his parents WERE married and his dad BARELY worked soooooooooo…he was around. Calling him a selfish dick is not meant to be a reflection of her as a mother.  It wasn’t her job to teach her son how to treat girls/ women.

It was his dad’s.

That’s on him.

#morewillberevealed

P.S. Oh yeah, I mentioned “post drunk tank.” It was a Friday morning, I was supposed to be at work but instead I was on the phone with the bail bonds biz up the road. After getting my car out of impound, my husband went back to work and I went home to drink the rest of the opened bottle from the night before; because…why wouldn’t I?

My Reprimands – Part 1

Reprimand(s) #1 – February, 2005: The Drunk Tank and Community Service

Highlights from my arrest, “the tank” and community service:

  • Cuffed and chatting* with the young officer en route to jail, I BRIEFLY considered offering him sexual favors if he’d just let me go.** I said brief, people. It was like “I wonder if…” and then a half-second later I heard my OROD’s voice say in my head “don’t be an idiot, Pixie” and that was the end of that. 
  • Shared the drunk tank with a tweeker who kept banging her head on the concrete wall, biting her tongue till it bled and who I graciously allowed to braid my hair to pass the time.
  • Sought refuge in a corner as two women came close to brawling over the barely private toilet stall.
  • Upon my release, being the sentimental person that I am, I asked if I could keep my inmate tags they cut off my wrist.  The woman behind the glass window gave me disapproving eyes and I sheepishly bid her farewell, never thinking I’d find myself there again. You know what happened next. Just a mere couple hours later, I drank, got behind the wheel again, got pulled over and drove away with a warning. Un-frickin-believable.

Oh yeah, I mentioned community service. This experience was pretty uneventful. The only memory worth mentioning from my time in the orange vest was the small exchange I had with the supervising officer on day 1 and it went a little something like this:

Officer: Alright ya’ll, grab your gloves and let’s get to work.

Me: Shoot, I need gloves?  I didn’t bring any.

Officer: You came to community service with no gloves? How many days you got?

Me: um, 2?

Officer: That’s all? Hey everybody! White girl here only has 2 days.

Me: (in my head) oh no, now I have a target on my back.

(Eye roll) So dramatic. Know what, I’m gonna say it: That’s some racist, judgmental, white privalege bullshit right there. All of it. On MY part. I mean, wow. Shame on me!

The Reprimand Series

img_0299All of that drunk driving I did eventually caught up to me…twice…and I’m lucky it wasn’t more. I’m even luckier that I never seriously harmed or killed anybody or myself.  I swallowed the bitter pills of humiliation and shame as I went about righting my wrongs. I paid my debts to society by spending a couple weekends in community service AND jail with a bunch of lost and abandoned souls serving out their short to long term sentences or awaiting trial.  The next few posts will feature highlights from my days in the orange vest, my time “on the inside” and the guys that were, what one might consider, “fixtures” in my life during those times.

That being said, I do need to say something:  I already told you, this series is MOSTLY for me. I know I previously mentioned that I wasn’t going to be very nice in my “reprimands” to my DUDS but let’s be honest, I’m also really good at blowing hot air.  It’s likely they’ll never read this anyway, but my conscience simply won’t allow me to unload it all. Truth be told, I no longer care what they think about me but I DO care about the impact my words MIGHT have on them or others they care about. Anonymous or not, it’s not right for me to go there.

Don’t be mistaken though. I’m still going to go there. Just not THERE there.

#morewillberevealed

Reprimands Avoided – Bullets (with Balls)

Reprimands (past): Many bullets dodged and not enough lessons learned.

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If there was a game called “let’s see who can dodge the most bullets in life,” it’s safe to say I would have dominated the competition. Remember that cheating scandal I told you about and how I was mad that I wasn’t in on the scheme? Bullet dodged.

Engaging in illicit activities along side my boyfriend with a stranger outside a club in a foreign country, losing my wallet and running into said stranger on the beach who had it with nothing missing? Several bullets dodged (seriously, you have no idea.)

Calling in “sick” from the night before or showing up late, still drunk with booze on my breath, misplaced or lost keys, and emotional outbursts without ever getting fired from my job? Obscene amounts of bullets dodged.

Countless times drunk behind the wheel and damaging multiple cars with no severe consequences? How about getting pulled over for expired tags 20 minutes after drinking bloody marys just after my release from my 1st of 4 stints in a women’s detention facility and driving off with a warning? Undeserving bullets dodged.

Then there’s my revolving door of friendships. I have run with various circles through different phases of my life and I’m surprised I didn’t do more wreckage.  I’m sure I did, I just don’t know to what extent and I cringe at the thought. But what matters today is how I show up for my friends now because I actually need and value these special people in my life.

But listen…just because I don’t drink anymore, doesn’t mean my “assism” went away. I can still be a total asshole sometimes. I’ve just gotten a lot better at recognizing it and making amends when necessary.

I came close to losing best friends at different times during my drinking career but came the closest to losing my OROD a couple times IN recovery.* No alcohol involved, imagine that. 

And finally, all the years, emotional energy and money squandered dating and/or pining over degenerate losers or playboys. Most of them were selfish with no moral compass who used me for their own financial gain and/or didn’t see me for more than a sex object. However, I still managed to redeem my stellar credit score and avoided a handful of STDs and/or getting pregnant with their children.

SO.MANY.BULLETS.DODGED.

Clearly, I got away with a lot of “shtuff” and needed to repeat the same mistakes over and over to end up in all the low places that I did, physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.

I needed things to work out the way I didn’t think they should have, in order for me to have the life I never thought I would have…

and you know what that means…

#morewillberevealed