So that's some background. Alcoholism does not rule me, but it is part of me. The purpose of this blog is to follow me, as I go through college. I am 35 years old, had not set foot in a class for 18 years.
I had decided in rehab that I want to be an addictions therapist and help others find a better way of living. They showed such compassion, and focused on teaching me that I wasn't a bad person, I was sick and did bad things. I was responsible for my actions, but I wasn't that woman, and never had to be again. Their empathy was amazing. I wanted to be that person who gave hope without judgement for someone else. I told my therapist that back then, she smirked (as I sat a whole 18 days sober) and said "I think you'd make a good one, down the road when you have years of sobriety and something to offer." Funny, I knew she was right, and it would be a while before I could begin to think of others, I was a hot mess.
On top of this I am Bipolar, and have bad anxiety issues. I hope to inspire those people too. Life is freaking scary, but the power we have inside is so strong. We often feel sorry for ourselves and limitations, but the only "real" limitations, spare a few, are ones we impose on ourselves.
Okay at the time of this post I am in week 7! I didn't know how much work this would be. Oh, it's my own fault LOL no denying this. See, my mind works just fine, I am rational (mostly) and I know my limits. However the impulse of a Bipolar sometimes gets you screwed LOL..I am my own worst enemy at times. This is how it happened..
I'm all smart and calm and think "Let's start slow, see how this goes and how well you deal and go from there. We'll try 2 classes in the fall." Logical thinking. After looking into colleges with the program I choose to start at CCRI. I went down to enroll and all of a sudden I'm at 4 classes and do you just want to start the summer session 3 weeks away? What? Well at the time this sounded "logical" I wouldn't have much time to back out and make excuses! Bipolar impulse, really didn't know what I had just agreed to.
Hahahahahahaha..Does anyone "explain" a summer session? Nope. Well, it's 2-six week accelerated courses that end up 12 credits in a shorter time. 15 weeks of classes in 6. And I took 2 each session. Right, right..so going from a stay-at-homer for the past years working here and there, to all this work is a boatload! Seriously people, I find I am the minority, most take 1 or 2 classes a summer, not 4. It's paid for though and I am determined if nothing else. My anxiety gets bad. My mood hadn't been all that friendly. I'm getting better with that. Not at school, but at home.
Okay so I started the first session in May. Most days were not all that bad, there. I had a few times where a panic attack was coming on and I swore I couldn't walk in there alone. I did though, I talked to myself and somehow made it into the seat. I couldn't concentrate fully until I was down, but you are there for hours, ask questions. I drove highways myself, in the dark..I am woman I am telling you LOL
I was rusty and thankfully paper formats were online. One class, Intro to Human Services involved up to 7 papers a week, and the other was an English writing so that tells you. I worked my ass off. Ended with an A & A- respectively.
Home life was a bit more tricky..
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
The family afterward
The first 2 years were a real struggle. Learning how to deal with life on life's tems is hard when you drank away all fears, feelings..I had "luxury complaints" and I had real tough times.
My first plan of attack was to do everything, everyone told me to do. Aftercare, therapy, stay on meds. Somethings unfolded easily, my then 14 year old son was returned to me in 10 months. We had regular visits, holidays and sleepovers. DSS really pulled for me and the Judge applauded my efforts. Cam presented me with my first year medallion. I was blessed, he only wanted to see me well. He often asked me to wake him for Sunday morning meetings to attend, I think to keep check on me doing what I was supposed to. No matter, he needed it and he learned a lot by being there. He will go occasionally now, but he's had his fill. In the end, it was all about the blueberry cake cruller I often bought on the way in case Stevie got there first!
My daughter, was a whole other ball game. She was 9, she lived with her father. I had blown off visits left and right I was too drunk. Broken promises, lies she knew were lies. She was pissed, she was hurt, and she hated me. It did not help her father did not explain alcohol, but let her think I abandoned her. Even with visitation rights he would not let me near her. Phone calls were spiteful as "I want a mother, just not you" came from my child. It took me 10 thousand dollars and until May of 08 , 20 months sober to have the judge enforce the visitation I had. It started supervised, we go to relationship therapy still but it's getting there. She comes unsupervised as any other divorced parent has, every other weekend, etc.. I take her on Fridays to volunteer at the library. She's not overly affectionate with me, but I do get "I love you" and a hug. It did not help anything the separation, and the spite of her father is bordering abusive. I was told I killed her dog and she helped me bury it! She thinks this. Her Rottie that died in 05 of old age, and that me, 100 pounds and a then 7 year old carried? It's insane. I can't fight his power and influnece, only keep proving to her I am who I am. She has noticed this, she's told me I'm nothing like she thought I would be. I have done everything I can, I apologized, acknowledged, let her let me have it and agree with her that yes, I was a liar and hurt her. My God is guiding, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly....
Brian is my husband. We've know each other since I was 7 and married 10 years. He was an enabler. He worked alot to get away from me at the end. I would call his work drunk I was told, he lost his job. He threw me out for being drunk, I called the cops and because he picked me up and placed me outside, it was called a domestic and he was arrested. The police knew it was me, and took my son to an ATM to bail him out and get them a hotel. So I was a troublemaker on top of not cooking, cleaning and taking care of myself. It's a wonder I am not divorced. I went to court and told the truth, I was an alcoholic and he didn't derserve it. It was humiliating but the truth, and I had to do it. He said he forgave me but he didn't. He held resentments, later telling me in his mind he didn't want to hurt me when I was working so hard. Would have been better for us if he did let me have it. I could take it, I earned it, I understand it's part of the process. Yeah, it hurts but holding it in led to more hurt in the end. 2 years we were not intimate, we tried marital therapy, he got more and more emotionally abusive. I left with my son for 6 month. He went to therapy and explored a lot of anger he had held towards me, as well as alot of other things of his. We are legally separated but living together again working it out. Things are going really well, he's my biggest supporter and has taken a 2nd job to get me through college. He's been and owns his own business that I did support him through. I wasn't quite the drunk for the entire marriage. We communicate more and are a normal couple or as normal as you can be with this life.
Finally, my mother, my siblings and me...
My family is still as messed as it ever was, other than my sister who escaped to Canada with her husband and child. My mother still wants this "perfect family" and God help the one that shatters that image. My brother is an addict, he had a bad coke habit he did kick but he drinks more than socially. My father has been sober 12 years, due to medical issues and my mother the same because he made her also.
I have worked my ass off through the kids, the husband, losing my home, living in a hotel for 5 months, working on my mental illness and just life. I remain sober, I sponser, I want to be productive and happy. I am still learning me and growing up. Alcoholics are emotionally stunted. I am enjoying the experience. I have gratitude for things others take for granted, I take care of myself. I still have a HUGE self esteem thing going on, but working on it. I am just aware.
My brother recently told me he thinks I am different, and when did I get so "philisophical". I laughed, I don't think that I am, I think I am at peace. Just how am I supposed to be? I don't know who I am yet and neither of us knows Tina, she was drunk for years. He seems to think I live my life for him. I am going to school to make myself look better than them. I didn't see me stop them? Go now. My only accomplishment the past 20 years was downing a bottle a day, and I would fail. Oh and "Stop fishing for compliments on something that takes no more than self will." I have decided that I have been the family fuck up for so long, that they always could say "Well, I'm not as bad as Tina" and I've taken that away. Scary looking in a mirror Mike isn't it? Who is it that you see and are you happy with him?
My mother said similar things a few weeks ago. She also added that her father and her were not alcoholic because they could just stop, and I needed detox. Okay. I guess only they can gauge that but a 6 pack a day and a case a weekend for over 30 years is not a problem? This started because my brother told her about his and my conversation.
I have realized it is not about me, it's about them. They don't get it, and they don't have to get it. It saddens me deeply that it is what it is, however I am not going to let them bring me down with them. I don't think I'm better than anyone, except the old me. My accomplishments are not their failures and my failures are not their accomplishments.
My first plan of attack was to do everything, everyone told me to do. Aftercare, therapy, stay on meds. Somethings unfolded easily, my then 14 year old son was returned to me in 10 months. We had regular visits, holidays and sleepovers. DSS really pulled for me and the Judge applauded my efforts. Cam presented me with my first year medallion. I was blessed, he only wanted to see me well. He often asked me to wake him for Sunday morning meetings to attend, I think to keep check on me doing what I was supposed to. No matter, he needed it and he learned a lot by being there. He will go occasionally now, but he's had his fill. In the end, it was all about the blueberry cake cruller I often bought on the way in case Stevie got there first!
My daughter, was a whole other ball game. She was 9, she lived with her father. I had blown off visits left and right I was too drunk. Broken promises, lies she knew were lies. She was pissed, she was hurt, and she hated me. It did not help her father did not explain alcohol, but let her think I abandoned her. Even with visitation rights he would not let me near her. Phone calls were spiteful as "I want a mother, just not you" came from my child. It took me 10 thousand dollars and until May of 08 , 20 months sober to have the judge enforce the visitation I had. It started supervised, we go to relationship therapy still but it's getting there. She comes unsupervised as any other divorced parent has, every other weekend, etc.. I take her on Fridays to volunteer at the library. She's not overly affectionate with me, but I do get "I love you" and a hug. It did not help anything the separation, and the spite of her father is bordering abusive. I was told I killed her dog and she helped me bury it! She thinks this. Her Rottie that died in 05 of old age, and that me, 100 pounds and a then 7 year old carried? It's insane. I can't fight his power and influnece, only keep proving to her I am who I am. She has noticed this, she's told me I'm nothing like she thought I would be. I have done everything I can, I apologized, acknowledged, let her let me have it and agree with her that yes, I was a liar and hurt her. My God is guiding, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly....
Brian is my husband. We've know each other since I was 7 and married 10 years. He was an enabler. He worked alot to get away from me at the end. I would call his work drunk I was told, he lost his job. He threw me out for being drunk, I called the cops and because he picked me up and placed me outside, it was called a domestic and he was arrested. The police knew it was me, and took my son to an ATM to bail him out and get them a hotel. So I was a troublemaker on top of not cooking, cleaning and taking care of myself. It's a wonder I am not divorced. I went to court and told the truth, I was an alcoholic and he didn't derserve it. It was humiliating but the truth, and I had to do it. He said he forgave me but he didn't. He held resentments, later telling me in his mind he didn't want to hurt me when I was working so hard. Would have been better for us if he did let me have it. I could take it, I earned it, I understand it's part of the process. Yeah, it hurts but holding it in led to more hurt in the end. 2 years we were not intimate, we tried marital therapy, he got more and more emotionally abusive. I left with my son for 6 month. He went to therapy and explored a lot of anger he had held towards me, as well as alot of other things of his. We are legally separated but living together again working it out. Things are going really well, he's my biggest supporter and has taken a 2nd job to get me through college. He's been and owns his own business that I did support him through. I wasn't quite the drunk for the entire marriage. We communicate more and are a normal couple or as normal as you can be with this life.
Finally, my mother, my siblings and me...
My family is still as messed as it ever was, other than my sister who escaped to Canada with her husband and child. My mother still wants this "perfect family" and God help the one that shatters that image. My brother is an addict, he had a bad coke habit he did kick but he drinks more than socially. My father has been sober 12 years, due to medical issues and my mother the same because he made her also.
I have worked my ass off through the kids, the husband, losing my home, living in a hotel for 5 months, working on my mental illness and just life. I remain sober, I sponser, I want to be productive and happy. I am still learning me and growing up. Alcoholics are emotionally stunted. I am enjoying the experience. I have gratitude for things others take for granted, I take care of myself. I still have a HUGE self esteem thing going on, but working on it. I am just aware.
My brother recently told me he thinks I am different, and when did I get so "philisophical". I laughed, I don't think that I am, I think I am at peace. Just how am I supposed to be? I don't know who I am yet and neither of us knows Tina, she was drunk for years. He seems to think I live my life for him. I am going to school to make myself look better than them. I didn't see me stop them? Go now. My only accomplishment the past 20 years was downing a bottle a day, and I would fail. Oh and "Stop fishing for compliments on something that takes no more than self will." I have decided that I have been the family fuck up for so long, that they always could say "Well, I'm not as bad as Tina" and I've taken that away. Scary looking in a mirror Mike isn't it? Who is it that you see and are you happy with him?
My mother said similar things a few weeks ago. She also added that her father and her were not alcoholic because they could just stop, and I needed detox. Okay. I guess only they can gauge that but a 6 pack a day and a case a weekend for over 30 years is not a problem? This started because my brother told her about his and my conversation.
I have realized it is not about me, it's about them. They don't get it, and they don't have to get it. It saddens me deeply that it is what it is, however I am not going to let them bring me down with them. I don't think I'm better than anyone, except the old me. My accomplishments are not their failures and my failures are not their accomplishments.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Alcoholic
I'll start with an introduction. I am Tina and I am an alcoholic. I won't go into a drunk-a-log, you all know them. I grew up in a family with alcohol, abuse of every type. The oldest of 3, we all had roles. Mine was to be perfect. Look perfect, perfect grades. I didn't count as a person, just a player in Mom's "perfect" family for the outside to boast about.
Drinking started with my abuser plying me with alcohol, and it ended with him too. I had a nervous breakdown when he died April of 07, my therapist told me, my family thought it was a safe place and I was already sick. I had just been diagnosed Bipolar, and had been treated for anxiety for years. I don't recall much of the next 4 months. I know I got my husband fired for calling his work drunk and saying God knows what, I know I got a DUI, and I know I had my children taken. Sept 4, 07 I was sectioned (there is an article about this in my links). I had been praying to a God I didn't believe in for help and there it was. After being found with a BAC of 0.477 they had enough.
I was not angry (okay in prison I was) I was relieved. I was grateful, and I had my spiritual awakening. I wrote my kids, my husband, apologizing & begging forgiveness. I said I would eat crap if they would give me a chance. Rehab was so emotional, so hard, yet so safe I never wanted to leave. I was facing charges, DSS and everyone with my embarassing behaviors.
I learned a lot there, and followed all aftercare recommended. I was going to do this, despite their warning most of us don't make it. I also decided at that point I was going to be one of them, one of the great people who treated me with dignity and respect. I found most of the therapists were in recovery. How beautiful to work a job that gives back, that you can trully empathize and you can call your client to the mat like no other. You can't bullshit a bullshitter. I knew it would be down the road, but I knew it was my calling. I had never before had direction or goals.
After 30 days I left, and so began my journey.
http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2008/05/15/for_women_addicts_jail_can_replace_treatment/ is an article in the paper on what happens to someone sectioned in this state. It is my story.
Drinking started with my abuser plying me with alcohol, and it ended with him too. I had a nervous breakdown when he died April of 07, my therapist told me, my family thought it was a safe place and I was already sick. I had just been diagnosed Bipolar, and had been treated for anxiety for years. I don't recall much of the next 4 months. I know I got my husband fired for calling his work drunk and saying God knows what, I know I got a DUI, and I know I had my children taken. Sept 4, 07 I was sectioned (there is an article about this in my links). I had been praying to a God I didn't believe in for help and there it was. After being found with a BAC of 0.477 they had enough.
I was not angry (okay in prison I was) I was relieved. I was grateful, and I had my spiritual awakening. I wrote my kids, my husband, apologizing & begging forgiveness. I said I would eat crap if they would give me a chance. Rehab was so emotional, so hard, yet so safe I never wanted to leave. I was facing charges, DSS and everyone with my embarassing behaviors.
I learned a lot there, and followed all aftercare recommended. I was going to do this, despite their warning most of us don't make it. I also decided at that point I was going to be one of them, one of the great people who treated me with dignity and respect. I found most of the therapists were in recovery. How beautiful to work a job that gives back, that you can trully empathize and you can call your client to the mat like no other. You can't bullshit a bullshitter. I knew it would be down the road, but I knew it was my calling. I had never before had direction or goals.
After 30 days I left, and so began my journey.
http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2008/05/15/for_women_addicts_jail_can_replace_treatment/ is an article in the paper on what happens to someone sectioned in this state. It is my story.
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