DRUNKLAND II~ SILENT LUCIDITY

I’m still feeling nostalgic today. I have no one to talk to. My father could be sitting next to me and wouldn’t notice. This morning I actually broke down step by step how I would buy a gun, surround the room with plastic so there wouldn’t be a mess put the gun to my temple and…… ABSOLUTELY NO RESPONSE!!

I didn’t mean what I was saying. I was sad and frustrated, I wanted someone to hear me. He didn’t. I don’t know why I thought he would. I really just want to sleep but I’ll write a bit before I do.

There was usually a certain type of guy that would approach me whenever J would have parties. This was often and always crazy. I usually had a safe spot to sleep so I was protected when everyone went to bed. When I would wake up and see the apartment the destruction was immense. I’m talking they used the carpet as an ashtray, the kitchen sink to piss in, the smell of beer would be everywhere. There was also a motley crew of passed out bodies all over the place. I have to admit I could be mean at times. If I didn’t like the girl she was getting the boost whether she was dressed or not. There was one stripper that always came over and ALWAYS lost control of her bladder while sleeping. I don’t care what she looked like nothing is worth waking up in someone else’s waste. I was sick of seeing it and cleaning it. She also had a child. I knew what I was, who I was, for the most part. I knew I was a drunk and slept with too many people when I drank. But I also knew that if I had child I wouldn’t be out drinking every night.

There were times when I was at J’s apartment when a young girl would come over with her child. He would expect me to watch the kid. I put my foot down one day. I told him there would be no children there at all or he could find someone else to take care of his shit.

Of course I’ve gotten off track about who I attract. Let’s see there was a guy who asked me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. I was drunk so I did. He proceeded to put his fake eye in it. (I dropped it and screamed) One time J and I decided to go to a bar we had never been to. Who decides to buy me a drink? The tall guy with jet black hair halfway down his back, with a black ankle length trench coat, and before I forget a prosthetic arm. But he didn’t go with the usual hand instead he chose a meat hook. Yes! May I please date you? We had a bar called Jerky’s in the city. It’s named appropriately. The security guys were usually good to me. One night W and I went without anyone else. Bad idea. I kept feeling something pull on my leg. I kept drinking and ignored it. It wasn’t until I went to walk and felt a weight come with me that I looked down. It was a man on a skateboard. He only had half of a body. I was concerned because there were so many people and he was so drunk. He became rude and a little handsy when I tried to ask him questions. I wanted to know if he had friends with him. Finally the bouncer I knew came over and took him away. He said he was there often and caused a lot of trouble. I still felt bad.

Another guy wore nothing but muscle tank tops and spandex shorts. This was all year round. He would also get up on stage and sing Queensryche at the top of his lungs sometimes when there wasn’t a stage or Karaoke. J said it was because I made eye contact. I stopped making eye contact. There were oddly enough very attractive men also. They all came with their own impairments.

There is one I regret not talking to more. I knew he felt alone in the world. I knew he felt unloved, voiceless. He sold heroin but didn’t use it. (I know that doesn’t make it better it’s a reference point) I found out a few months after seeing him that he had started using. I found out 6 months from then he had hung himself. I was so numb myself at that point in my life that it didn’t really hit me. You know when it hit me? A few years ago when W and I were talking one night and she asked if I remembered him.

It was then I cried. I didn’t stop crying for a long time.

The places that my alcoholism took me were mostly sad places. I can try and tell my funny stories of being in a port a pottie in a rain storm and having it slide down a hill and tip over. But in the end it was always painful. It was always sad. I always felt pathetic. That feeling has never gone away.

The Time I Thought I Loved

There came a time when I slowed down my partying ways and applied for a full time job at a Video Rental Store. It was one of the big chains. The stores I worked at were owned by a husband and wife. The wife and the “District Manager” handled the day to day problems of all 10 stores. He golfed.

I loved my job because I loved movies. I would work whenever they would let me. I moved pretty fast up the ladder. I was there a month when I met the Manager of one of their other stores. He was handsome, witty, and had greenish blue eyes. When he talked to you he made you feel like you were the only one in the room. I was sort of sober at the time, always sober at work, and not used to men being nice to me.

At first I stayed away from him. “Nice” was outside my comfort zone. But the next thing I know the bosses had made me Asst. Manager and him Manager of our own store. This meant I couldn’t avoid him. I would get butterflies in my stomach on the way to work. It was horrible. At first I  tried to be a bitch but I just got in trouble for it. So after that I was just my self.

I hadn’t been myself with anyone in so long it felt great. We laughed constantly. He would come to see me when it wasn’t his shift. Customers thought we were married and owned the store. The flirting was out of control. I kept thinking “why doesn’t he ask me out?” or “why isn’t he taking anything further?”. A few years went by where we went on like this. I would hear a rumor of him dating some girl. I would ask him about it and he would say “don’t believe everything you hear”. He would get upset when I was upset about gossip I had heard. He came to my friend’s apartment one night at midnight because I told him I would be there. It was an hour away for him. I kissed him and don’t remember what I said exactly. He left around 3 in the morning and had to open the store for me because I was hung over. Why would you drive all that way to see me at midnight if you didn’t want to be with me? I couldn’t figure him out and it was slowly driving me insane.

He would say and do little things that led me to believe he felt more than he did. Don’t call someone beautiful, don’t touch their breast, don’t pull them on your lap, don’t spend extra time with them, IF YOU ARE NO INTERESTED! If you want to just be friends SAY IT! Don’t pussy foot around it for 10 years! My father even loaned him a large sum of money in an emergency. This was huge for my dad because he is very protective of his money. My dad was paid back. My mom loved the guy. When he would call the house he would spend extra time on the phone talking to her. He didn’t come to her wake or funeral even though most of the other company employees did. When I returned to work after my mom died the owner had put him in my store to cover for me. She wanted him there for a few more days while I adjusted to being back. For some reason he was rude and itching to pick a fight with me. I lost it.

I called the owner to tell her to get him the hell out of my store while at the same time he was outside on his cell calling her too. I think we reached our breaking point at a manager’s meeting 2 years before when I was asked to contribute money for his wedding gift. I had no idea he was seeing anyone, engaged, let alone getting married. You can imagine how I felt. The day before he was at my store flirting in my office, and said he had to show me something on his laptop. It was a girl from our State in a porn movie. I laughed it off because that’s how he was. When I thought about it later I wondered how his fiance would’ve felt about him watching porn with a woman that he was close to alone in an empty store at night.

It was around this time that I ruptured a disc in my back. I also had 2 bulging discs above it and 2 bulging discs below it. They also found 2 pages of other problems. No one would operate because it would set off a domino effect. I had 4 epidurals with no relief. Finally the company couldn’t hold my job any longer. Video stores were closing everywhere so it was only a matter of time before they started closing ours. I got out at the right time.

I didn’t talk to the guy from the video store for a few years. It wasn’t until I joined Facebook and he friend requested me that I thought about him. By this time he had children. I was hesitant but accepted anyway. In a way I’m glad I did. I got the closure I needed. He had matured quite a bit and had heard about what I was going through. He apologized for hurting me and not being honest with me.

That being said he was messaging me too much and I was responding. I thought again if I was this guys wife how would I feel? So I told him the truth. I told him he probably meant well but I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to talk. He understood. I was sad. He knew me so well that just by reading a simple post he could tell something was off. He would immediately message me to ask what was going on. No one else did. No one else does.

I’ve closed my Facebook account because it’s too much for me. I know half of what people put on there is a fantasy. They aren’t going to talk about their shitty days all the time. It’s only happy, happy, joy, joy, all the time. I can’t take it. It makes me feel more alone.

I haven’t met anyone like him since. Someone I feel comfortable around sober and I’m attracted to. I don’t exactly put myself out there either. I’m too tired and worn out. It’s easier to be alone.

 

Is There A Doctor In The House?

Do you ever feel there is a huge lack of Doctors that truly understand Bipolar Disorder or Mental Illness at all? I do. When I was going through everything with my dad and was extremely irrational I called mine. I was stuttering and rambling on. I was trying to explain that I needed to be there for him. I needed to feed the birds. I needed to calm down. I needed SLEEP!

He wanted me in the hospital. I laughed at him. He gave me a prescription for basically an over the counter sleep aid. The ingredient in Benadryl. Diphenhydramine HCI 50 mg, and Trazodone 100 mg. I didn’t even get the over the counter one because I already have it. I took the Trazodone and was out for 6 hours. When I woke up I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I also couldn’t speak. I used my nose to dial my sister on my cell phone and tried speaking to her. It scared the crap out of her. Two hours went by before I could move almost normally. I called the Doctor who told me to take extra Adderall to counter act the Trazodone. I’m not a lab experiment.

I think I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my meds because he never adjusted them after I told him I now only have a total kidney function of 79 %. I have LOST 120 % of kidney function. Most medications are filtered through your kidneys. He asks me everytime I go to see him “So have we tried ……… yet?” Gee you’re the Doctor don’t you know? And what’s this we shit? It’s just me suffering with these crappy side effects, not you! I’m sick of it. Why can’t they make a pill that makes me feel how alcohol did until it didn’t anymore? Sorry, I’m cranky.

It’s Been Awhile.

A fee weeks ago my father was taken to the Hospital from dialysis. He was bleeding somewhere internally. After about 3 days he discharged himself against Doctor’s orders. That Sunday he ordered me to get him suppositories at CVS. I told my sister and she yelled at me to “just do it”. Neither one of them would listen to me. I told both of them that sticking a suppository up his ass after having internal bleeding was not a good idea.

I went to CVS and got him what he wanted. I noticed something strange when I had come down the stairs that morning. 2 of the bathroom rugs were gone. I put my contacts in and saw a large amount of blood on the tiles and under the third rug. I ran out of the bathroom. I asked my dad what happened. He said “nothing”. I screamed at him. I called him a “selfish son of a bitch”. The 3 days he had been in the hospital the week before I had to water and feed his hobby of over 300 pigeons. I have a compromised immune system and 1 kidney. My sister’s husband forbade her to help me because it was hazardous. She wasn’t even “allowed” to help me with the inside of our house. He thinks we are animals.

A half hour goes by and a I hear a loud bang coming from the bathroom. I run and bang on the door. There is no answer. I force the door open and my dad is lying on the floor. I try to get him up. He opens his eyes and says “Darie please help me to the toilet”. It was at this time that I looked down and saw all the blood that had leaked through his sweat pant bottoms and onto the last carpet. I got him close to the toilet as he started to take down his pants I hear a loud splash on the floor and him landing on the toilet slumped forward. The splash was blood and tissue. He was hemorrhaging rectally. It was the brightest red I’ve ever seen and looked like it had large pieces of liver in it. I screamed and screamed. I called 911 and went and held my father’s head in my hands. They took him back to the hospital. He was there another week with no real answers as to why he was bleeding internally. I fed the birds again. It was torture. Some died. I buried them. He was mad. I yelled at him. He has to get rid them or the town will come and declare it a hazard. I know he loves them but at this point it’s too much for any one person to do let alone one that’s sick.

All of this has been too traumatic on me. I actually was more relaxed with him in the hospital. I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop constantly. I know my dad loves me. Since my mother’s death and his kidney’s failing he has slowly been going down hill mentally and physically. The dad I knew would never ever say some of the things he has said to me, or threatened me. I know this is because he’s ill. But I’m always the one left to deal with all of it. When I opened that bathroom door I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. My mind went somewhere else. I did what I had to but I wasn’t really there. I have nightmares about all the blood and him laying on floor. Just what my Conversion Disorder needed. I stuttered so much 911 didn’t understand me and went by the address that came up on their screen. I felt useless. A state trooper was looking at me while he talked to another guy. His smile was cocky, his thumbs hooked into his gun belt. I had seen him before. He twirled his finger around his temple in the “crazy” gesture. At that moment, if it wasn’t for my dad, I was going to show this asshole just how “crazy” I could be. Years ago I only dated ex-cons. They taught me quite a bit. I’m not proud of it but it would come in handy in certain situations. Like if someone enters your home during an emergency situation and thinks there is anything funny about it. But eventually I have learned Karma does indeed come back around. And eventually she’ll be waiting for me too.

Getting Off The Crazy Train

Recent posts have been erratic and have shown my petty, angry, jealous, spiteful, side. These personality traits usually only appeared when I was drinking and manic. I am sad to see them and hear them in myself now. I don’t enjoy feeling like this. I don’t know which is worse, the pity party and crying constantly or this itching rage of manicness. I’m making up words now. I have lost all patience for everything. There isn’t a thing to be done about it. So I’ll keep it to a minimum if I can.

What Do You Want From Me?

 

 

 

I never know which of my postings is going to do well. I could spend hours preparing a post on my feelings, Bipolar Disorder, Stigma, and Abuse. Then I come on here to see a big fat 0 in the views column and think what the hell did I just waste my time on?

I can write a small silly piece about the childlike qualities of Steven Tyler and see 2 views.

How you can still bake simple things Gluten Free o views.

Bare my soul again 6 views.

I just don’t understand and it’s making me tired. I’m barely keeping my head above water. I’m not sleeping, eating, or talking. The puppy is sick. It seems nothing is good right now.

Choked up, Fed up

 

I get negative feedback for my honesty and criticism of others when it comes to Addiction and Mental Health. I won’t apologize for my opinions. I have tried to be as honest as I know how to be with my OWN struggles. Maybe it isn’t fair to ask the same of other people. I just don’t think if you are in the public eye that you should out and out lie to everyone. You want to lie to yourself that’s fine but when you have people that look up to you and listen to you, that’s another matter. I know people want privacy. But when you make your problems public that changes.

I have lost so much in my life because I drank for 20 years. I have lost so much in my life by admitting I am Bipolar. I have even lost many things when I started my journey to sobriety. I have lost and lost and lost. I thought there would be more positives when I quit drinking and was diagnosed. There really have not been. It is a struggle I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The one thing that made me feel human I can never do again. There is no medication so far that has made me feel the way alcohol did. But the consequences are too great. I never do anything half way. I can’t have 1 bowl of cereal, I have to have 3. I can’t have 1 piece of cake, I have to have the entire cake. It’s how I’ve always been. I know this.

I don’t enjoy being alone but at the same time I feel I have to be. I’ve hurt too many people I love. I’ve lost too many people I love. That sticks in my head like a song on repeat. And no amount of therapy has been able to fix this. So I get up everyday and try to exist without hurting myself or anyone else. When I say it’s a struggle that’s an understatement. It’s hell. But I do it. And I write this blog in the hope that if someone else feels the way I do that they know they are not the only one.