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Thread: My Story... to Be Continued

  1. #1
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    My Story... to Be Continued

    I am soon to be sixty and a retired nurse. I grew up in an alcoholic family. My parents went out to drinking and partying most evenings when I was very young. However, as they and our family got older, they began to drink incessantly.


    When I was young, holidays were non-stop drinking, and my father was often violent. He died when I was twenty and I met my husband, then a medical student. We had little money but were experienced home-brewers (with extra sugar to increase the alcohol level). And I married into an alcoholic family. Long Sunday lunches with lots of California home-grown wine. All of our friends drank similarly.


    One year, my sister came out to California because she’d broken up with her boyfriend of 5 years. Poor sis, all she could do was party and cry, cry and party. That’s when I noticed that she was beginning to show signs of alcohol dependence. But, at that point, I chose to overlook it rather than confront the issue head-on. I guess I was enjoying my own free-drinking lifestyle too much.


    After sis left, a crazy 18 months later, life began to assume normalcy. That is, normalcy for my husband and myself. He, being a physician having a small practice in the Napa, CA. area, and me, working in various hospitals in the general area.


    Soon, it became apparent that my husband was suffering with an addiction problem. His drug of choice was alcohol, but he was also heavily involved with prescription pills of every kind. At any one day, he was unable to distinguish exactly how many and what kinds of pills he’d taken and how much he drank it down with.


    The fights started. He accused me of being “miss goody two shoes” and I saw our marriage slowly disintegrate under the pressure. Soon, his patients began to notice and his practice was in jeopardy.


    After he disappeared one day, my life started again. It was a total nightmare. They believe he’d walked into the ocean at one of the beautiful Santa Cruz beaches, but we don’t know. His body was never found. He’d left some strong clues, and that’s it. Silence.


    My sis came out again, this time, to help me put my life back together. But all she did, was drown herself in her own love affair with alcohol.


    She died a long, painful death just this last December. I can’t write about it yet; guess I’m just not ready.


    My point in writing this: we’ve all been affected by addiction. Whether by parents, lovers, or siblings, or ourselves, it’s all so very painful. Why do we put ourselves through it? Why do we allow addictions to take so much out of our lives? Why, if we’ve seen others go through hell, why do we even go near it? Why take that first voluntary sip?


    Anyway, it’s time for me to go have a good cry. About loss, grief, suffering… what might have been. Thanks for reading. If my support here helps just ONE person, then, I’m happy. Thank you.


    i-am-strong.know.weak.96.jpgi-am-strong.know.weak.96.jpg
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    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

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  2. #2
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    Forgot to Finish My Story...Sorry; It'll take a while. Too much pain

    Where am I? The lights are so bright. The bed is so hard. Who are these strangers having a very loud and apparently humorous conversation over me? I open and close my eyes several times trying to clear my vision, but to no avail. Iím finally told by an EMS (emergency medical services) worker that Iím in Kaiser Hospital in San Jose and was brought in by ambulance. Apparently, the police found me sitting in my car in the parking lot of a public park. ďWhere is my husband?Ē I ask still trying to clear my vision. A female EMS worker responds. ďThe police are questioning him.Ē
    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

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  3. #3
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    “Did someone sexually assault you?” she asked while finishing some paperwork. “No. Why do you ask that?” I inquired. “Your pants were around your ankles when you were found in the front seat your car.” “Oh,” was all I could muster as I strained to scan my alcohol-soaked memory to recall what happened. “I think you passed out,” she commented. That was the moment I remembered. “I pulled into the park to use the restroom and tried to get back to the car.” I completed the rest of the sentence in my mind. I remember having difficulty walking back to my car. “No,” I thought so loudly that I was afraid everyone heard me. “I’ve done it again.” Alcohol had taken me to another terrible place and now the police are questioning my very tolerant and loving husband. (This was before I found out about HIS other life...)

    4tRACY
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  4. #4
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    I lay there thinking as my memory started to clear. I was driving to a friend’s house and realizing that there was absolutely no way I should drive since I couldn’t see the lines that separated the lanes in the road. I vaguely recalled parking the car and seeing my sweet dogs in the back seat staring back at me. It was if they knew the truth I had not been willing to see. They were familiar with my alcoholic pit of despair, bottoms, each taking me to a deeper level within my disease of alcoholism. Their beautiful big brown eyes added to the guilt and shame that my drinking brought me.

    Oh the tsunami of guilt and shame that washed over me as I lay on those crisp white sheets. Everything in my life was tumbling out of control. Would this be the last straw for John? Please, God, no. I was drowning in an ocean of alcoholic despair and struggled to breath. For the thousandth time, I made a solemn promise in that I would never ever drink again, never. It was late November, late evening. I wish I could tell you I kept that promise. Upon my arrival home from the hospital I stepped into the shower to wash all the drunken memories away from the last twenty-four or so hours. The stench of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke was deeply embedded into my pores and hair. Repeatedly, I washed my body and hair to ride the stench way. I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose. Once showered and with clean clothes, I marched, with determination to take control of my drinking, out to the garage to see the damage I had left.

    ~4tRACY
    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

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  5. #5
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    Tracy, are u a writer?

    Hey, tracy, are you a profissional witer? Cuz i you sure got my attention! LOL

    I wanna hear your story to the end, darlin', it sounds so painful. It's hard to not get all weepy. I can feel your shame and pain.

    HUGS!
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  6. #6
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    Tracy prayers for you honey! I also come from an alcoholic/addicted family however with all the pain and anguish it came with I at least for now have a happy ending. My mom has over 35 years sober, her brother (who sexually molested me, we dont talk of course) has over 15 years sober, her sister sadly lost the battle and is buried down the road from my farm home here.

    My son just got out of prison, a rosary around his neck he did 15 months sober and vows to stay that way...I pray to our God and Jesus as our Savior he does!

    And I have years of sobriety, amongst many many many relapses. Addiction and alcoholism are diseases, I believe personally genetic...tho there are many facts to prove this Im aware there are some to disprove as well. Does it matter? NO! Recovery IS possible, it's not easy but then again neither is life.

    I dont live in yesterdays, tho I dont forget them and certainly have had to make more than my share fair of amends. I live in today as if today is my last day, and hope for a bright tomorrow. I live with recovery in the forefront of my day, without it my sun does not shine, my world falls apart as I destroy those all around me.

    I pray for all the other addicts, those in recovery and certainly those suffering. I pray for a cure, in my children's lifetime who are afflicted with the addictive illness and those to young to know. And until then I pray we find peace, happiness, love and harmony without having to use drugs or alcohol. They rob us of everything, I choose and pray for us to have LIFE.

    God Bless!
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  7. #7
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    Recovery: Staying sober, dealing with addictions

    Babydoll,

    Your words speak to my heart! You are so inspirational to me; I see so much strength and wisdom in you. Thank you so much for sharing yourself with this forum. I'm sure you'll never know how much you've touched someone who is struggling with their own afflictions, by reading about yours. Yes, we all come with baggage, I believe we cannot get through this thing we call "life" without being damaged, and learning how to overcome, forgive ourselves and others, and move on to the next trial.

    How we deal with our experiences - both "good AND bad", negative and positive, is our purpose in life. Everything we do or experience is for our "good", meaning, for our betterment. We are MEAN'T to experience hard things; that's the only way we can grow. I think the hardest part of this whole thing, is to let go; let go of the "yesterdays", not dwell on them, but learn from them and REMEMBER them as what they truly are - life lessons.

    It's like when we learn to walk. We fall down. A lot. But we persist. However, most of us don't just start walking, taking those few tentative steps. No, we crawl. We turn over. Getting a better view of the world than ever before (from a lying down position, unable to work our muscles, even to hold our head up), we push ourselves to build those muscles.

    In spite of all those bumps and bruises, we press on. Until, one day, we are standing, taking that first step. What a miracle! Of course, that's so long ago for most of us, we cannot recall the absolute joy we felt when that day happened. But I believe our body remembers, and it is constantly seeking that rush, that feeling of total joy. Unfortunately, as we age, "stuff" gets in the way, and we lose our direction, we misdirect that joy to self-gratification. And we lose ourselves.

    Most of us, by that time, are so hardened by the world, our view of the world, and how we "need" to build walls for self-protection. What we lack is trust. And faith.

    Some of us must be dragged down a deep hole of despair before we can allow ourselves to seek out a better answer in dealing with our sorrows, our pain, our sufferings. So, here we are, again, building up our muscles...this time, with baggage, but with a teeny glimmer of hope. Just like a flame, we must nurture it, feed it, protect it - at all costs, or down we go again. We will falter along that process... we WILL fail, one step forward, two steps back. but if we keep pushing, trying to expose ourselves to positive, and fighting off all negative, one day we are "standing" again.

    Forgiving ourselves throughout the entire process, which is very hard.... but necessary. How else are we going to be free to try again, and again without forgiving ourselves? Nope, part of the "muscle-building" process, only, our "MOTIVATION muscle". We all get stronger in different ways. Pastor Greg wrote a book. He expresses himself through song. Babydoll grows by helping others, MCD grows by supporting her friend, I am growing by sharing my story.

    EVERY SINGLE PERSON READING THIS IS GROWING BY GAINING STRENGTH BY ASSOCIATION, by reading others' stories. There is no doubt in my mind that you, DEAR READER, are working hard, in whatever stage you're at, to overcome. Whether gaining the motivation to get back up after being knocked down...again, to looking around and remembering that faint memory of what it was like, before. Before the drug and/or alcohol, before the addictions.

    Just keep on Keeping on, as they say!


    ~4tRACY
    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

    ~4tRACY520

  8. #8
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    I was full of fear over what I would find and how the evidence would trigger my drunken memories. A flash of advice from the physiatrist before my release from the hospital a few hours before came flowing into my thoughts; “You have a problem and if you want to live, if you want to save your life, there is help - go to Alcoholics Anonymous.”

    I opened the front door of the car to be hit hard by the smell of stale vodka. Empty and half-empty vodka bottles rolled around on the floor, along with my spare car keys, loose cigarettes, and lighters.

    I picked up all the paraphernalia of my addiction and really, really wanted to hide the half-empty bottles of vodka but threw them away instead.

    Today I was not going to drink ever, ever, again.

    I was so humiliated I knew I had to stop and I wished all that day that I would stop. John was wonderfully kind to me and reassured me that I was done drinking and I agreed. I went to bed that night praying I would not pick up a drink again.


    ~4tRACY
    Last edited by 4tRACY520; 06-08-2016 at 12:13 PM. Reason: WORD CORRECTION
    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

    ~4tRACY520

  9. #9
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    My Story of Addiction and recovery

    Spring arrives. The morning sun is now greeted by singing birds. The smell of new blossoms filled the air. But for me, well, I roll over wishing it wasnít morning and wishing I wasnít feeling guilty, shameful, and remorseful. And I havenít even opened my eyes.

    What did I do last night?

    What did I say?

    Again I am scanning my memory in an attempt to recall what happened. I try to remember if my husband came home from work last night, but I canít. I pound my head against the pillow fearful that he came home and I picked another fight. Itís hopeless trying to remember. I decide to get up and face the music.

    I struggle to get dressed while pausing occasionally to nurse a severe headache. My mind is racing. Why can I not stop once I get started? Why am I the last one drinking at the end of the party? Why do I have to drink to feel normal? Is this a habit? What the heck (wish I had said that) is happening to me and my life?

    I try to brush my hair so I at least look acceptable. My mind continues its chatter. Bottom after bottom, my drinking gets worse. I keep finding myself in more and more dangerous situations. My husband is absolutely done with my self-pity. (I was painfully unaware of his own issues with alcoholism and drug addiction then).

    I have to get some help before he leaves me. I go out into the kitchen, but he has already left for work. A couple of cups of vodka in the morning, I make the decision to call a support group.

    I hang up after getting dates and times of the meetings. Iíll start attending in the hope of learning how to drink like a lady, a normal person, someone who can stop when itís time.

    Thatís a good idea, I think to myself.

    Most of all, Iím going to do this to satisfy my husband and to save my marriage. Previous mornings, John would beg me not to drink, cry with me and convince me that I shouldnít drink, didnít need to drink, and it wouldnít help me face the day.

    Every morning, I promised John I wouldnít drink and by 10:00 am, when the liquor stores opened, I was at their door buying alcohol to drink and hide. Alcoholics never, ever, want to run out of alcohol.

    I reflect back now, and think how naively unaware and deeply in denial I was on that spring morning, but it was only the beginning.



    ~4tRACY
    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

    ~4tRACY520

  10. #10
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    Mcd2830, thanks!

    Quote Originally Posted by mcd2830 View Post
    Hey, tracy, are you a profissional witer? Cuz i you sure got my attention! LOL

    I wanna hear your story to the end, darlin', it sounds so painful. It's hard to not get all weepy. I can feel your shame and pain.

    HUGS!
    Hi there!

    Thanks so much for the compliment; it means so much to me!

    I love to write and am finding that it helps me to stay centered!

    By the way, my story is so full of still-painful memories, that I've decided to post them in small bits so as NOT to romanticize or gloss over the raw emotion.

    This raw emotion, of especially what follows, hurts so much. I can only be there for a few minutes at a time.

    ~4tRACY
    Welcome. Please know this is a safe place. Feel free to share.

    ~4tRACY520

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