The Last Drunken Halloween

I wanted to start by saying that I have not celebrated a Halloween in years. When I woke up this morning and went on Facebook  (my first mistake) to see if my Hair Stylist answered my question about her flat iron I burst into tears.

I saw my best friend dressed up hanging out with another couple having fun. It was at a local place. I could’ve handled being there and not drinking. After 6 and half years and after just going through kidney failure. The want is gone, the need is gone. The only things left are hurt and anger at being left out.

The last Halloween we were all together I admit wasn’t exactly pleasant. It was my best friend with her boyfriend, her boyfriend’s best friend and his girlfriend, then me. So I was odd man out. I was also 250 pounds with bleach blond curly long hair and blue eyes. My best friend- 5’8″ thin with a nice figure, long strawberry blond straight hair with some blond in it. The other girl- 5’6″ thin with a nice figure, shoulder length dark straight hair and a tan. Why am I describing everyone? You’ll see.

Everyone was laughing and joking at first. My friend was dressed as a “sexy pirate” and the other girl was a “sexy cop”. I really didn’t do costumes. There were never any at the store and felt like it was putting lipstick on a pig.

The other guy says “let’s get the 2 SEXY GIRLS TOGETHER for a picture”. That meant NOT ME. Ok I’m sensitive. But there were only 4 of us in the room. Him and us 3 girls. So it was obvious. I know that he wasn’t thinking and didn’t say it to be rude. He just thought of me as one of the guys as usual. To feel better I drank more that night. I had to drink way more than usual, I just couldn’t get it out of my head. This caused me to be sarcastic and a bitch. I think I was thrown out. Instead of saying “Hey you know I’m sitting right here. You’re being a d*ck.” I just drank it all down.

The problem was I would’ve done anything to be able to wear a “sexy” costume over those years. You know how many concerts I went to in jeans and a “nice” top because I couldn’t wear what the other girls were wearing? In the long run this worked for me. But that’s beside the point.

When I used to pray I would tell God he could have 10 years of my life if I could just be pretty and normal.

I’m 130 pounds, 5’6″ with long red hair and a very pretty shade of blue eyes, like the ocean. I am now called “pretty”. The man at that Halloween Party didn’t know who I was recently and called me “hot”. I ignore all of it. It wasn’t done through exercise or eating right. It happened because of Sobriety, Celiac Disease, Bipolar Medications and whatever other illnesses I have. It’s no victory. Except the Sobriety part.

So even though some might say I’m pretty, I’m still 42 and definitely not “normal”. Sometimes I’m ok with this and sometimes I’m not. It’s only when I see my “bestfriend” out having fun when she tells me she never does anything that I’m hurt. I need to start using something other than best friend. Maybe an old acquaintance.

Sobriety and Me

I had recently mentioned that for the first time in years I wanted to drink my pain away. I sat in the parking lot of a bar at 4:00 p.m. and watched people go in and out. I left after 10 minutes. All it took was seeing 1 drunk person leave the bar for me to know I didn’t want to do it. The thought of death scared me a little too. My body would in no way be able to handle alcohol and neither would my mind.

My brother in law is in recovery. He goes to AA. It works for him. This is his first attempt at getting sober. He goes to meetings where everyone knows him and most of the people are his age. He is the comedian, the social butterfly. He enjoys going.

Him and I were alone the other day and I confided that for the first time in years I had an urge to drink and sat in the parking lot of a bar. His response was “You need to stop telling your sister that you’re going to drink and making her a hostage of your disease”. He said it was ok to tell him but not her.

I was livid to put it mildly. I told him that I never talk about my drinking with my sister because the few times I tried at the beginning she shut me down. She didn’t want to hear it. I’m over 6 years sober and I have discussed it with her maybe twice. They were very short discussions. She was/is disgusted by my alcoholism and won’t talk about it. She will talk about her husband and support him in every way. My father refuses to talk about it also. He also doesn’t believe in positive reinforcement. He doesn’t think alcoholics should get a chip for staying sober. He’s an alcoholic. He’s been sober for 35 years. He’s old school. He went cold turkey because it was ruining his family and that was that. He did what he was suppose to do.

So I have usually kept quiet about my alcoholism. I never expect anything from anyone. I do get annoyed when people quote AA stuff to me when they do not know the truth of what they are talking about. AA for me was not a place to socialize. I was with a lot of old timers. They thought all medication was a crutch and you should be going to meetings morning, noon, and night. Which is fine if you are retired but not if you work 60 hours a week. But then I would hear “You found time to drink you can find time for a meeting”. I won’t get into the religious aspect of the organization because it’s too frustrating. I was told when I left that I was a quitter and I would be dead in a week. I did relapse many times but eventually found my way.

AA has saved many people. There are many different groups and you need to find one that fits you. I had more going on than just being an alcoholic. There were many other factors. It wasn’t until they were brought to light that I could truly see why I was drinking and deal with my issues. My way wouldn’t work for everyone either. But as long as it works for me I’m ok with that. Knowing why I drank played a huge part in my stopping. It still does. Sitting in the parking lot weighing the pros and cons I still knew why I was there. It helped me make the decision to start the car and leave.

Reality Check

It’s been a tough few months. I have not been dealing with well. I also have not been honest with myself or seen things clearly. I’ve been irrational and impulsive. Depressed doesn’t even come close to how I feel. Dealing with my dad’s health issues, almost dying myself and not knowing why, losing my dog, my medications not working and physically not feeling well has taken a lot out of me.

I’ve been stubborn and delusional about getting 2 more dogs. I can barely take care of myself most of the time. I know I could probably do it but my dad would have to help. That isn’t fair to him. What my dad and sister don’t understand is my grief. I grieve longer and harder than anyone I know. There was already a giant hole in my chest that couldn’t be filled and aches constantly now it’s bigger.

When I tried to talk to my sister about it today I didn’t even get a complete sentence out. She automatically said “No more dogs!”. I could hear her husband in the background saying the same. They never liked our dogs because when they would visit once a year the dogs would get excited. The Pomeranian nipped my sister’s ankle and she was upset. There was no skin broken, no bruising, nothing. The dogs are used to it just being me and my dad. No one visits us. I made sure they were socialized as puppies and had them around people often. This got harder as my mother became sicker and I was taking care of her by myself. I spent a lot of time with them and so did my dad but I wasn’t taking them places anymore. They were happy though, they had their own little pack. One time my brother in law pushed my Papillon across the floor for begging at the table. I almost punched him in the face. I don’t discipline your kids you don’t discipline my animals.

The other day for the first time in years I wanted to go to the bar. It surprised me. I wanted to be numb. I also wanted to talk to people and not be alone. It scared me. If I drink I’ll die. It’s as simple as that. I won’t have 1 I’ll have 20. My kidneys will shut down or if I do manage to survive I’ll have no place to live. I’m also afraid of what kind of drunk I’ll be. The depression is so bad I don’t know if I would be happy or have the courage to hurt myself. I don’t want to find out. I do want to get better but nothing is working. It’s a circle of “we don’t know if this is causing this or the other way around”.

I’m becoming more and more afraid to leave the house. Then I get agitated and feel trapped. There is no relief. If the doctors don’t figure out something soon I’m going to Boston and letting them use me for a test subject or experiment for everything they’ve got. They can scan me from head to toe and I’ll be their guinea pig. It can’t be worse than this.

I Thought I Was An Adult

It’s extremely difficult to be 42 and living with your father. I have never lived on my own. Even when I was making $40,000/year and could move out, I didn’t. In the deepest darkest part of my mind I knew if I was on my own I would self-destruct. I’m annoyed that I have to ask permission about things because it isn’t my house. Technically it will be in the future but I don’t want to think about that. My dog that passed away was really more of a Therapy Dog for me. The other 2 dogs pay attention to my dad or sleep. Now that my dog is gone I’m devastated. I had seen 2 Chihuahua brothers up for adoption at a local rescue. One is long haired the other is short. Their names are Ham and Eggs. They can’t be separated. I went to check them out. The posting said that they take some time getting used to people but once they know you they are great. I sat in a little room in a submissive position with my head down. The woman opened the door and those 2 dogs ran to me and jumped in my lap like they had known me forever. I was petting them and giving them love when the woman asked said she would be back in a few minutes. They are both all black with one pat

ch of white on their chest. I normally don’t like short haired Chihuahuas but this one was incredible. If you looked at him in the right light he was actually brindle. Next thing I knew the entire staff was watching me through the window. I though I did something wrong. It was the exact opposite. I was the only person these dogs had interacted with this way and they were surprised.

My dad said no. I have done nothing but think about them since that day. I’m angry that he keeps letting his pigeons grow in numbers. He’s up to almost 300. They’re bad for his health and mine. I’ve never said a word about them not even when I had to help vaccinate all of them. This involves sticking a needle in their necks. I stuck myself a few times. I have several autoimmune diseases. But he needed me so I did it.

When it comes to allowing me this, something that would be considered therapy for me, and would help the other dogs because they have been down since Pookie’s passing, he says no. I feel like a child who had their lollipop stolen.

When I grieve it’s for a long hard time. Things are so rough right now, I just wanted something good. People tell me to just move out. It isn’t that easy for me. There’s money and I don’t want to live in housing afforded by the state. I’ve seen where my Aunt who is mentally ill has lived and it’s awful. Plus I’m scared and I love my dad. I’ll just have to suck it up.

The “Amazing” Steven Tyler And Other Opinions

I try not to do this often because there always seams to be some sort of backlash when I do. But me being who I am, never learns.

There is a video that someone put on YouTube featuring Steven Tyler singing the song Amazing at a Recovery Center. He also spent time talking to the people there in recovery. He doesn’t make a big to do about it when he does these things, he just does them. As far as I know.

There is a time during the song where you see him get emotional and he covers his face with his hands briefly. I know he was going through an emotional time then. He then looks out at the room, continues singing, and looks joyful. Maybe to have them there for support, people who understand where he’s been and where he is. Yes, I know he has money and fame but it really doesn’t buy you happiness at the end of the day when your family no longer speaks to you and the only people who do are the ones who want something. I’m not saying this is him but this does happen often. They are just people who hurt and struggle like anyone else. Although some will get pissed if their fans thought that of them. It’s ridiculous. Man up. You want to admit you are an addict/alcoholic but not human like the rest of us. I call bullshit on that. It’s why I loved watching Mr. Tyler doing his thing and not caring. He also didn’t call a press conference about it. I think it’s called humility.

In the world of the famous there is an outbreak of mental illness and addiction. They make it look easy. It’s misleading to the public around me. “You’re Bipolar? But So and So is Bipolar and you don’t act like her. She’s fine.” See what I mean? I get it often.

Mental Illness and Addiction comes in many shapes and sizes. There is no one size fits all or one cure for everyone. But I will say that nothing makes me happier than watching Steven Tyler sing.

Where Do I Put My Anger?

I find myself in a place that I try not to be in often. A state of anger, rage, and the past. I fought with my father today about today about the past. He screamed at me “How could we believe you when you were drunk out of your mind?”. I asked him if he really thought all that blood was from a simple fall? He asked me if I wanted him to kill the person because he’s dying anyway. I told him it didn’t matter now.

He thought I was over it. I asked him if he ever thought of why I startle so easily, why I don’t like loud men’s voices, why I cringe into myself when he starts slamming things around. He got up and went outside.

I wanted to dress up and drive by my friend’s house just to see who was there. I was frightened of what I might do if I saw she had company and again I wasn’t invited. I was afraid he would be there and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from screaming or throwing something at him. I can’t get these demons out of my head.

It isn’t just that one person. There are a few that treated me like I was nothing, useless, garbage. The things humans do and say to one another are what hurt the most. What I can’t forgive are the ones that pretend to understand and act nice but secretly have ulterior motives. I am a human being. I am not a marketing tool, punching bag, ego booster, or doormat. I feel things deeper and for a longer period of time than other people.

I Refuse To Beg


It’s another holiday weekend spent alone. One where once upon a time I would be getting dressed up for a cook out or party. I do not get invited to those anymore.

It could be because I no longer drink and most of the people at these events do. I am over 6 years sober and have been around alcohol with no problem. I have no need or desire.

It could also be that most people know by now that I have been diagnosed as Bipolar.

The last reason hurts the most. My best friend’s childhood friend is now dating the man that I drank with from the age of 17 to about 28. The last time I saw him we had argued. He broke a heavy wooden chair over my head, pinned me to the floor with his knees and repeatedly punched me in the face with a large skull ring on. Then he threw me down a flight of stairs.

There were no charges pressed. He brought me home and told my parents I fell. My father yelled at me that he couldn’t believe anything I said anymore because I was a “drunk”. This person bragged to several people about what he did. He said he was like “Mike Tyson”. My own brother still saw this person. He never stood up for me. No one did.

So now he sometimes stops by with my best friend’s friend. She ALLOWS him into her home. I hardly ever go there because I’m not invited. She knows what he did, her boyfriend knows what he did, yet they still let him come over. Out of respect for me she should tell her friend “You’re welcome anytime but your boyfriend can’t come here and you know why”. But they don’t. He’s manipulative and sadistic. I picture him sitting there laughing thinking he got one over on me because he’s sitting there with all of my friends while I’m alone at home.

I refuse to beg for companionship, for people to do what I think is the right thing, and for friendship. My own sister got what she wanted and now I can’t get in touch with her. A $300 hair service for free. I’m done.