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The Light at the End of the Tunnel
- Thread starter ghost62
- Start date
I'm so glad to hear it went well!
Having a caring dentist makes a HUGE difference.
I got dry socket once because of how the dentist wrecked my mouth. It got bad, so bad that I wont go into detail for your sake.
I hope you have a speedy recovery and get rested up real nice and good.
I'm just really glad to know you're okay
Frawg
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I managed soup for lunch. The one and only time people will ever hear me say that "bacon's not a good idea right now."I'm so glad to hear it went well!
Having a caring dentist makes a HUGE difference.
I got dry socket once because of how the dentist wrecked my mouth. It got bad, so bad that I wont go into detail for your sake.
I hope you have a speedy recovery and get rested up real nice and good.
I'm just really glad to know you're okay
My bill will be paid as soon as I have the $ to do it, even if it means I take my entire half the pay for the month and plunk it down at the end of each week. Because the sooner I pay off the remaining almost $300, the sooner I can go in and get other teeth fixed, before they break.
My dental issues are half hereditary and half medication induced. FDA now issues warnings with albuterol inhalers, that albuterol sulfate causes internal dental erosion, so an asthmatic has more issues with dental problems happening from the inside out, because of their need for meds to breathe. So all the brushing in the world won't help/prevent my issues.
I'm off to promote my shop on facebook...
Ok... this is pretty bad, but when I had the tooth pulled, I put the drip tip against my right nostril and vaped that way!
It works, but I don't recommend it.
I'm glad things went smoothly for you- hopefully you get thru this both quickly and as painlessly as possible.
It sounds like they did a really good job so the discomfort should pass within a day or so. I was shocked at how little it hurt once I got thru the first night.
Hang in there!
Sorry I didn't get a chance to respond earlier. How ya doing?
Wow. Nothing's gonna stop you from vaping is it lolOk... this is pretty bad, but when I had the tooth pulled, I put the drip tip against my right nostril and vaped that way!
It works, but I don't recommend it.
I'm glad things went smoothly for you- hopefully you get thru this both quickly and as painlessly as possible.
It sounds like they did a really good job so the discomfort should pass within a day or so. I was shocked at how little it hurt once I got thru the first night.
Hang in there!
The way I figure it- I broke my jaw playing rugby when I was 24 and they had to wire it shut and I found a way to smoke...
Yeah right! True that is. I'd leave the dentist with my mouth all numb and still somehow smoke. I think I'd use my fingers to hold my lips shut whilst taking a draw. Hard for me to hold them shut
Hahaha!Yeah right! True that is. I'd leave the dentist with my mouth all numb and still somehow smoke. I think I'd use my fingers to hold my lips shut whilst taking a draw. Hard for me to hold them shut
The image I have in my head right now it's priceless!!!
Frawg
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Yeah he actually told me "no nasal inhalation because of the sinus involvement. I only vape for flavor, no nic, so really its not an issue. My gum chewing habit is worse for me. I can't do that for 10-14 days. I can vape after 12:01am Thursday morning. I don't work at the vape shop til Thursday afternoon so that's a win-win. The dentist said he may have me come in and explain vaping to his staff, since I work at a vape shop. He's all for getting his smoking patients off the smokes and off the chantix/wellbutrin since they complicate dental work immensely, and he's never had any issues with ex smokers who vape having any type of complications. He wants to educate his staff of like 30 hygienists, and he & his wife, and probably two other area dentists. I told him I'd be happy to and to provide him a pile of research too if he wants it.
Like like like like like like like like like like like like like like
Sorry. They only let me hit the button once
kelli
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Hi ghost. Sleepy today, but pretty good. Getting ready to head out to work soon. How are you today?
Was just looking back over the thread and realized that I've never really shared my story. Got the day off today so I'll work on getting it posted.
It's long and twisted and filled with the insanity of addiction, but no more so than anyone else's story.
It's long and twisted and filled with the insanity of addiction, but no more so than anyone else's story.
Hiya Huck!
Got a rare day off today (that's two this month! Can't remember the last time that happened)
Wife is at work. Grandson is at the sitter. So basically, I'm kicking back and doing nothing!
Doing nothing.
I love the sound of that
Might fire up the grill this evening if the weather holds but that's it.
I hope your day goes well
The only thing that tops those kind of days for me when I'm whooped... a cool rainy day, a good movie and a blanket. One or two cats may or may not join me. The dog, however, will not leave me alone, lol. Doing nothing is nice!
Good thanks. My sleep has improved a bit lately but it comes and goes in cycles. Maybe I'm a werewolf
My story pt 1
Let me start with saying that my clean date is 05/12/08. That was the second worst day off my life, but I'll get to all of that soon enough.
I was a drinker.
That's how I saw myself. A drinker.
I'm nearly equal parts Russian, German and Irish (the PERFECT pedigree for a booze hound) and I thought the way I lived was perfectly normal. I worked hard, paid my bills, paid my taxes, and then rewarded myself with a few drinks.
Normal, right?
Not for me. Not the way I did it.
One more was never enough...
I was born an addict.
Not because my mother used, or even drank for that matter, but I had the gene handed down to me from a long line of alcoholics on both my father and my grandfather's side. Both of them drank themselves to death.
I had the complete addict toolbox from birth and began using those behavioral tools early on. When I was three, I spilled an acidic degreaser in my eyes and was blind for almost a year. My mother had to sit on top of my chest and rub a mildly caustic salve into my eyes twice a day to dissolve the scar tissue so I would regain my sight.
I was young, but I remember it too clearly. It was absolute agony and my mother would cry as she did it. The only way I could cope with it was to retreat into myself and build walls around the real me so the pain couldn't get to me.
That became the dominant pattern in my life.
End pt 1
Let me start with saying that my clean date is 05/12/08. That was the second worst day off my life, but I'll get to all of that soon enough.
I was a drinker.
That's how I saw myself. A drinker.
I'm nearly equal parts Russian, German and Irish (the PERFECT pedigree for a booze hound
) and I thought the way I lived was perfectly normal. I worked hard, paid my bills, paid my taxes, and then rewarded myself with a few drinks.Normal, right?
Not for me. Not the way I did it.
One more was never enough...
I was born an addict.
Not because my mother used, or even drank for that matter, but I had the gene handed down to me from a long line of alcoholics on both my father and my grandfather's side. Both of them drank themselves to death.
I had the complete addict toolbox from birth and began using those behavioral tools early on. When I was three, I spilled an acidic degreaser in my eyes and was blind for almost a year. My mother had to sit on top of my chest and rub a mildly caustic salve into my eyes twice a day to dissolve the scar tissue so I would regain my sight.
I was young, but I remember it too clearly. It was absolute agony and my mother would cry as she did it. The only way I could cope with it was to retreat into myself and build walls around the real me so the pain couldn't get to me.
That became the dominant pattern in my life.
End pt 1
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Glad to hear it. I have difficulty sleeping as well. It really wears you down...
Exercise can help deal with a lot of pressure and help put a lot of problems in perspective. It does help me sleep to a degree but I think it's more of a psychological thing. If I do it I feel I've accomplished something and that helps me relax. So I force myself when I don't feel up to it because I know I feel better on the other side of it.
Pt 2
I learned very quickly. How to walk. How to talk. To read. New skills came naturally and I was like a sponge for knowledge. When I started school I was already reading at a third grade level.
I've found that to be common among addicts- not in all cases, but a lot.
My problem was, though, that I had already learned that to keep from getting hurt, I had to bury myself deep inside and put on a mask to show the world. I wasn't really good at that yet so I tended toward being shy and quiet.
I was a good student. Quiet. Learned fast so naturally, I was a target.
It didn't help that I was overweight and we moved a lot so I was always the new kid.
BIG TARGET.
Any friendships I managed would always end so eventually I stopped trying to even interact with others on anything more than a superficial level.
That was my life for the next several years... I studied. We moved. I learned. We moved. I got better at putting on the masks. We moved some more. I became a chameleon. Moved. A liar. Move. I grew. Hate grew. Hurt grew. Another move.
By the time we settled, I was a full-blown addict, just not using yet...
End Pt 2
I learned very quickly. How to walk. How to talk. To read. New skills came naturally and I was like a sponge for knowledge. When I started school I was already reading at a third grade level.
I've found that to be common among addicts- not in all cases, but a lot.
My problem was, though, that I had already learned that to keep from getting hurt, I had to bury myself deep inside and put on a mask to show the world. I wasn't really good at that yet so I tended toward being shy and quiet.
I was a good student. Quiet. Learned fast so naturally, I was a target.
It didn't help that I was overweight and we moved a lot so I was always the new kid.
BIG TARGET.
Any friendships I managed would always end so eventually I stopped trying to even interact with others on anything more than a superficial level.
That was my life for the next several years... I studied. We moved. I learned. We moved. I got better at putting on the masks. We moved some more. I became a chameleon. Moved. A liar. Move. I grew. Hate grew. Hurt grew. Another move.
By the time we settled, I was a full-blown addict, just not using yet...
End Pt 2
Pt 3
(Dividing my story into sections helps keep me from jumping forward and backward, so please bear with me)
My mother did her best to keep my brother and I clothed, fed and with the few luxuries we could afford but that required her working two jobs most of the time.
Public assistance was available, but she believed, as do I, that you don't take when you can earn...
So, I was alone a lot. Which was fine with me. My grandparents watched my brother and I kinda fended for myself. I made money by mowing yards, a paper route, doing odd jobs so I had my own money and didn't have to deal with other people except on the most superficial level.
More to the point, I didn't have to deal with 'me' as long as I stayed busy.
Then, two big things changed-
I discovered girls
And I made my first friend.
One increased my hatred for myself and the other gave me the acceptance that I so desperately needed.
I felt everything very deeply (another trait common in addicts) and I had a HUGE crush on this little blonde haired, brown eyed girl but she was one of the popular people. She came from a good family, had all the right friends, the best of everything. All I had was secondhand clothes and a toolbox full of masks and lies and longing.
I set out at thirteen to make myself into someone that she would choose as a boyfriend.
I made myself into the best student. I became an athlete and excelled at football and wrestling. I worked and worked to buy myself the cool clothes and saved and saved so I could go to all the cool places and do the cool things.
I became a 'tough guy' and I fought a lot because girls like the bad boy, right?
I was going to be the best at everything. School. Sports. Fighting.
I was going to be the coolest, toughest, smartest, most confident, most popular guy in school do I could get her.
Seeing it in black and white, it seems ludicrous, but I believed I could accomplish this.
I made it my goal.
Off course, I needed to get in with the right crowd...
End Pt 3
(Dividing my story into sections helps keep me from jumping forward and backward, so please bear with me)
My mother did her best to keep my brother and I clothed, fed and with the few luxuries we could afford but that required her working two jobs most of the time.
Public assistance was available, but she believed, as do I, that you don't take when you can earn...
So, I was alone a lot. Which was fine with me. My grandparents watched my brother and I kinda fended for myself. I made money by mowing yards, a paper route, doing odd jobs so I had my own money and didn't have to deal with other people except on the most superficial level.
More to the point, I didn't have to deal with 'me' as long as I stayed busy.
Then, two big things changed-
I discovered girls
And I made my first friend.
One increased my hatred for myself and the other gave me the acceptance that I so desperately needed.
I felt everything very deeply (another trait common in addicts) and I had a HUGE crush on this little blonde haired, brown eyed girl but she was one of the popular people. She came from a good family, had all the right friends, the best of everything. All I had was secondhand clothes and a toolbox full of masks and lies and longing.
I set out at thirteen to make myself into someone that she would choose as a boyfriend.
I made myself into the best student. I became an athlete and excelled at football and wrestling. I worked and worked to buy myself the cool clothes and saved and saved so I could go to all the cool places and do the cool things.
I became a 'tough guy' and I fought a lot because girls like the bad boy, right?
I was going to be the best at everything. School. Sports. Fighting.
I was going to be the coolest, toughest, smartest, most confident, most popular guy in school do I could get her.
Seeing it in black and white, it seems ludicrous, but I believed I could accomplish this.
I made it my goal.
Off course, I needed to get in with the right crowd...
End Pt 3
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kelli
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Pt 4
I started doing what the popular kids did, dressing like they did, going to the right places and I struck up a friendship with Evan. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but we became best friends right away.
He was active in sports but, better yet, he had everything that I wanted for myself. His parents were wealthy. He had all the right friends. The right girl.
For my mother, it was a Godsend. She thought that Evan's family could give me exposure to a world she couldn't provide and that maybe some of that world would rub of on me. Soon I was spending more time with them than at home.
My stock at school was rising. I was sitting at the right table at lunch. Hanging with the right crowd. I was one of three players to be invited to the high school's summer football camp between my 8th grade year and freshman year.
And girls were starting to notice.
Just not the one that I wanted to notice me.
I would talk to other girls as practice for the day I got up the nerve to talk to Melanie.
Then it happened.
No- not getting the girl I wanted. Not securing my place as the best at whatever.
I drank.
I had always snuck drinks at parties or family weddings, but I had never really sat down and had a beer as a normal part of life.
I was at Evan's house, staying for a few days, and we were having a cookout. His mom was getting plates set up out on the deck while his dad manned the grill, a beer on the railing next to him. He asked me to go in and get him another and one for both Evan and I. He said he had already talked to my mom and it was ok since no one was going anywhere and he would keep an eye on us.
I already knew the taste of beer but this was something altogether different...
It was ice cold and the hot July sun shone through the glass and cast deep green shadows on the wood of the deck. The leaves of the trees matched the bottle perfectly.
As I drank, a feeling of both chill and warmth spread through me.
It felt special.
New.
We sat out on the deck and ate burgers and corn on the cob, laughed and told stories. His dad dispensed fatherly advice to both of us. His mom gossipped about people in her bridge club.
Afterward, the neighbor across the fence invited us all over to swim in the pool with his family. And have a beer or two...
Here I was, 14 years old, sitting by a beautiful pool, among the beautiful people, discussing politics and sports and cars, watching the sun set on a perfect summer's day.
Then it hit me.
I had done it. They accepted me. Listened to what I had to say. I finally felt a part of their world.
All thanks to the one missing piece of the puzzle-
A cold beer.
To me, that made all the difference.
End Pt 4
I started doing what the popular kids did, dressing like they did, going to the right places and I struck up a friendship with Evan. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but we became best friends right away.
He was active in sports but, better yet, he had everything that I wanted for myself. His parents were wealthy. He had all the right friends. The right girl.
For my mother, it was a Godsend. She thought that Evan's family could give me exposure to a world she couldn't provide and that maybe some of that world would rub of on me. Soon I was spending more time with them than at home.
My stock at school was rising. I was sitting at the right table at lunch. Hanging with the right crowd. I was one of three players to be invited to the high school's summer football camp between my 8th grade year and freshman year.
And girls were starting to notice.
Just not the one that I wanted to notice me.
I would talk to other girls as practice for the day I got up the nerve to talk to Melanie.
Then it happened.
No- not getting the girl I wanted. Not securing my place as the best at whatever.
I drank.
I had always snuck drinks at parties or family weddings, but I had never really sat down and had a beer as a normal part of life.
I was at Evan's house, staying for a few days, and we were having a cookout. His mom was getting plates set up out on the deck while his dad manned the grill, a beer on the railing next to him. He asked me to go in and get him another and one for both Evan and I. He said he had already talked to my mom and it was ok since no one was going anywhere and he would keep an eye on us.
I already knew the taste of beer but this was something altogether different...
It was ice cold and the hot July sun shone through the glass and cast deep green shadows on the wood of the deck. The leaves of the trees matched the bottle perfectly.
As I drank, a feeling of both chill and warmth spread through me.
It felt special.
New.
We sat out on the deck and ate burgers and corn on the cob, laughed and told stories. His dad dispensed fatherly advice to both of us. His mom gossipped about people in her bridge club.
Afterward, the neighbor across the fence invited us all over to swim in the pool with his family. And have a beer or two...
Here I was, 14 years old, sitting by a beautiful pool, among the beautiful people, discussing politics and sports and cars, watching the sun set on a perfect summer's day.
Then it hit me.
I had done it. They accepted me. Listened to what I had to say. I finally felt a part of their world.
All thanks to the one missing piece of the puzzle-
A cold beer.
To me, that made all the difference.
End Pt 4
Pt 5
I've given a lot of thought into what to include in this part because I don't want to glorify drinking and using.
Therefore, I'm going to condense 25 years of rise and slow decline into a few paragraphs...
That one summer evening was a turning point.
I changed from an addict into a using addict. Before I started drinking, I had all of the attitudes and attributes of a full-fledged alcoholic minus the alcohol.
I was a liar. I used people. I wore whatever mask I needed to so you would accept me. I wasn't capable of caring about anyone because everyone was just another tool to get what I wanted.
Without a drink in my hand, I knew I was a fake. Inside was still that 3 year-old, screaming in pain, blind and outside was just an illusion that I had built so you all would never know the real me.
Eventually, I became popular. There were girls. People wanted to be my friend and sought out MY acceptance.
I was the 'must have' person at all the weekend parties.
I got hurt playing football but I didn't care anymore. I could get all the validation I needed at parties.
I graduated but blew off college to work and party. I told myself that I was so damn good I didn't need an education to open doors. I would work and charm my way to the top.
Melanie and I never did get together but at a class reunion years later, she told me one thing she regretted was never hooking up with me. She said that she was too insecure to approach me because she didn't think she'd have a chance.
How's that for ironic?
25 years of my life were just a series of girls, a series of relationships, a series of jobs, never settling, moving on as soon as I got bored.
That's what I told myself. Bored. Time to move on.
I know now that I was afraid and that's why I never stuck with anything or anyone. The strange thing is I wasn't afraid of failing. I was afraid of succeeding.
Reality allowed me to get away with my delusions for two and a half decades.
Even without an education, I always worked my way into positions of power and responsibility. If I was alone for the night, it was usually by choice. I had a nice home and all the toys. I served on boards and committees where people told me how valuable my contributions were.
I had a daughter that adored me and was the apple of my eye.
Still, two thing had been there the whole time...
A bottle.
And the fear that the world would find out that I was a fake.
End Pt 5
I've given a lot of thought into what to include in this part because I don't want to glorify drinking and using.
Therefore, I'm going to condense 25 years of rise and slow decline into a few paragraphs...
That one summer evening was a turning point.
I changed from an addict into a using addict. Before I started drinking, I had all of the attitudes and attributes of a full-fledged alcoholic minus the alcohol.
I was a liar. I used people. I wore whatever mask I needed to so you would accept me. I wasn't capable of caring about anyone because everyone was just another tool to get what I wanted.
Without a drink in my hand, I knew I was a fake. Inside was still that 3 year-old, screaming in pain, blind and outside was just an illusion that I had built so you all would never know the real me.
Eventually, I became popular. There were girls. People wanted to be my friend and sought out MY acceptance.
I was the 'must have' person at all the weekend parties.
I got hurt playing football but I didn't care anymore. I could get all the validation I needed at parties.
I graduated but blew off college to work and party. I told myself that I was so damn good I didn't need an education to open doors. I would work and charm my way to the top.
Melanie and I never did get together but at a class reunion years later, she told me one thing she regretted was never hooking up with me. She said that she was too insecure to approach me because she didn't think she'd have a chance.
How's that for ironic?
25 years of my life were just a series of girls, a series of relationships, a series of jobs, never settling, moving on as soon as I got bored.
That's what I told myself. Bored. Time to move on.
I know now that I was afraid and that's why I never stuck with anything or anyone. The strange thing is I wasn't afraid of failing. I was afraid of succeeding.
Reality allowed me to get away with my delusions for two and a half decades.
Even without an education, I always worked my way into positions of power and responsibility. If I was alone for the night, it was usually by choice. I had a nice home and all the toys. I served on boards and committees where people told me how valuable my contributions were.
I had a daughter that adored me and was the apple of my eye.
Still, two thing had been there the whole time...
A bottle.
And the fear that the world would find out that I was a fake.
End Pt 5
Pt 6
Fast forward to the last year before I got clean.
I'm the co-owner of a business that was growing by leaps and bounds under my management. So much so that my partner semi-retired to Florida leaving me in total charge saying that I 'had what it takes' to make us both rich.
I was working 7 days a week, 14-16 hours a day, killing myself, obsessed because I had found something that I didn't have to 'fake' being good at.
That's the way it felt. I didn't feel like I was faking it.
That's why I had always been afraid of success. I was afraid that, if I gained a certain level of success, that it would all fall apart. Then, both you and I, would know I was full of shit.
Because of my hours, my family life was suffering. My daughter's mom had been unhappy for a long time but that didn't register with me. All I cared about was work, drinking and my daughter. Everything else was secondary.
No surprise, but one day, both she and my daughter were gone. I told myself that it was a good thing because now I didn't have to put up with all of the fighting and bitching anymore. I convinced myself that, once things settled down, I could have a good relationship with my daughter and be her daddy again.
I convinced myself that it was all her mom's fault.
I convinced myself of a lot of things.
That's when the blackouts began.
Free of any accountability, my drinking escalated from a twelve pack a night to both beer and booze at night.
Then to drinking at work sometimes.
Then to drinking constantly.
Why not?
I had no boss, no one to answer to no one to stop me.
At first, the blackouts were pretty minor- not remembering short periods from the night before. Then it was not remembering longer stretches of time. Then whole conversations.
Then whole nights.
Somewhere along the line, I began losing days at a time.
All the while, I was running a business. There were times I would have to look at the paperwork from the night before to know what day it was. Sometimes I would find that almost a week had passed.
And I was miserable. Life was nothing more than brief moments of lucidity between longer and longer gaps of nothingness...
The hate and the hurt began swelling again. The fear returned. The walls were cracking.
I don't remember how long ago the party ended but it was definitely over and I was trapped in this deep well inside myself- alone with that scared, tortured, blind 3 year-old and the strong, confident protector that I had created was nowhere to be found.
End Pt 6
Fast forward to the last year before I got clean.
I'm the co-owner of a business that was growing by leaps and bounds under my management. So much so that my partner semi-retired to Florida leaving me in total charge saying that I 'had what it takes' to make us both rich.
I was working 7 days a week, 14-16 hours a day, killing myself, obsessed because I had found something that I didn't have to 'fake' being good at.
That's the way it felt. I didn't feel like I was faking it.
That's why I had always been afraid of success. I was afraid that, if I gained a certain level of success, that it would all fall apart. Then, both you and I, would know I was full of shit.
Because of my hours, my family life was suffering. My daughter's mom had been unhappy for a long time but that didn't register with me. All I cared about was work, drinking and my daughter. Everything else was secondary.
No surprise, but one day, both she and my daughter were gone. I told myself that it was a good thing because now I didn't have to put up with all of the fighting and bitching anymore. I convinced myself that, once things settled down, I could have a good relationship with my daughter and be her daddy again.
I convinced myself that it was all her mom's fault.
I convinced myself of a lot of things.
That's when the blackouts began.
Free of any accountability, my drinking escalated from a twelve pack a night to both beer and booze at night.
Then to drinking at work sometimes.
Then to drinking constantly.
Why not?
I had no boss, no one to answer to no one to stop me.
At first, the blackouts were pretty minor- not remembering short periods from the night before. Then it was not remembering longer stretches of time. Then whole conversations.
Then whole nights.
Somewhere along the line, I began losing days at a time.
All the while, I was running a business. There were times I would have to look at the paperwork from the night before to know what day it was. Sometimes I would find that almost a week had passed.
And I was miserable. Life was nothing more than brief moments of lucidity between longer and longer gaps of nothingness...
The hate and the hurt began swelling again. The fear returned. The walls were cracking.
I don't remember how long ago the party ended but it was definitely over and I was trapped in this deep well inside myself- alone with that scared, tortured, blind 3 year-old and the strong, confident protector that I had created was nowhere to be found.
End Pt 6
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Pt 7
This is running a hell off a lot longer than I intended but it feels cleansing to share it. Sorry.
Two weeks before my clean date, I came out of a blackout with a 9mm against my left eye.
And I was pulling the trigger.
When I realized what was going on, I froze. It scared me so badly that my hands began to shake and there was a part of me that hoped that the trembling would set off the gun.
Somehow though, I managed to set the pistol down.
Rather than take that incident as a sign that I might be drinking too much, I did what any good addict would do- I drank myself unconscious so I couldn't hurt myself.
Made sense to me...
Rock bottom came weeks later.
I can't remember most of what happened between May 8th and the 12th, but I remember sending an email to my business partner, saying that I couldn't do it anymore and was moving away to be close to my daughter.
I've read it since and I can hardly believe I was the one that wrote it. It was morose and maudlin and angry and blaming.
Anyway, I do remember sitting at my desk thinking that I had to find a way out of this and opening the top of a bottle.
For days later, I came out of a blackout in the back of a sheriff's cruiser, handcuffed and on my way to jail. When we pulled up to the sallyport, the deputy in the passenger seat turned around and told me I was in bad shape and that if I ever wanted help, to call him.
Of course, it went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to get booked in so I could post bond.
I was charged with public intoxication, criminal menacing, assaulting an officer, resisting and criminal damaging.
Because I was a fairly well-known member of the community, I was released a couple hours later on an OR bond
The charges, and accounts of what I had done, shook me up pretty hard so I decided I should probably take it easy for a while- at least until I found a way to make the charges go away.
I didn't want to go home because I knew I would drink so I called a few friends to see if I could stay with them a few days. Turns out I didn't have any friends left.
My mother finally agreed to let me stay there until my court date.
Not knowing the dangers, I went cold turkey, white-knuckling through the detox period.
She worked during the days and while she was gone, I would go down and punch the concrete walls in the basement over and over and over just so something would hurt worse then the rest of me.
I did so much damage punching the walls for hours at a time that I never regained full use of my left hand.
A physical a couple months later revealed that I had two minor heart attacks detoxing.
Still, I wasn't ready to quit.
Rock bottom, for me, came 12 days sober.
The alarm went off at 8 a.m. and I remember looking over at the clock, wondering how I was going to get thru the day.
The next thing I knew, I was dressed, keys in hand and was locking the door- on my way to get something to drink.
It was ten minutes after 9:00.
I had lost over an hour.
Twelve days sober and I had a blackout.
That hit me. It hit me hard.
The world that I had built, the universe that revolved around me collapsed in that moment and my legs went weak and dropped me straight to the porch.
I couldn't sit up, couldn't move. All I could do was cry. And cry.
I had never felt anything close to that- ever. The sorrow and the desperation and the shame was so overpowering.
This wasn't me. I was strong. I was confident. I could handle anything.
But the lies weren't holding together anymore...
It seemed like I was laying there forever before I had the strength to crawl back inside. I made it back into the house and curled up into a ball on the floor.
It was then that I remembered what the deputy had said to me...
End Pt 7
This is running a hell off a lot longer than I intended but it feels cleansing to share it. Sorry.
Two weeks before my clean date, I came out of a blackout with a 9mm against my left eye.
And I was pulling the trigger.
When I realized what was going on, I froze. It scared me so badly that my hands began to shake and there was a part of me that hoped that the trembling would set off the gun.
Somehow though, I managed to set the pistol down.
Rather than take that incident as a sign that I might be drinking too much, I did what any good addict would do- I drank myself unconscious so I couldn't hurt myself.
Made sense to me...
Rock bottom came weeks later.
I can't remember most of what happened between May 8th and the 12th, but I remember sending an email to my business partner, saying that I couldn't do it anymore and was moving away to be close to my daughter.
I've read it since and I can hardly believe I was the one that wrote it. It was morose and maudlin and angry and blaming.
Anyway, I do remember sitting at my desk thinking that I had to find a way out of this and opening the top of a bottle.
For days later, I came out of a blackout in the back of a sheriff's cruiser, handcuffed and on my way to jail. When we pulled up to the sallyport, the deputy in the passenger seat turned around and told me I was in bad shape and that if I ever wanted help, to call him.
Of course, it went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to get booked in so I could post bond.
I was charged with public intoxication, criminal menacing, assaulting an officer, resisting and criminal damaging.
Because I was a fairly well-known member of the community, I was released a couple hours later on an OR bond
The charges, and accounts of what I had done, shook me up pretty hard so I decided I should probably take it easy for a while- at least until I found a way to make the charges go away.
I didn't want to go home because I knew I would drink so I called a few friends to see if I could stay with them a few days. Turns out I didn't have any friends left.
My mother finally agreed to let me stay there until my court date.
Not knowing the dangers, I went cold turkey, white-knuckling through the detox period.
She worked during the days and while she was gone, I would go down and punch the concrete walls in the basement over and over and over just so something would hurt worse then the rest of me.
I did so much damage punching the walls for hours at a time that I never regained full use of my left hand.
A physical a couple months later revealed that I had two minor heart attacks detoxing.
Still, I wasn't ready to quit.
Rock bottom, for me, came 12 days sober.
The alarm went off at 8 a.m. and I remember looking over at the clock, wondering how I was going to get thru the day.
The next thing I knew, I was dressed, keys in hand and was locking the door- on my way to get something to drink.
It was ten minutes after 9:00.
I had lost over an hour.
Twelve days sober and I had a blackout.
That hit me. It hit me hard.
The world that I had built, the universe that revolved around me collapsed in that moment and my legs went weak and dropped me straight to the porch.
I couldn't sit up, couldn't move. All I could do was cry. And cry.
I had never felt anything close to that- ever. The sorrow and the desperation and the shame was so overpowering.
This wasn't me. I was strong. I was confident. I could handle anything.
But the lies weren't holding together anymore...
It seemed like I was laying there forever before I had the strength to crawl back inside. I made it back into the house and curled up into a ball on the floor.
It was then that I remembered what the deputy had said to me...
End Pt 7
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Pt 8
And final part, I think.
One phone call saved my life.
When I was able to keep my hands from shaking enough to use my phone, I called the deputy that had arrested me.
'I need help'
Three simple words but they were the hardest words I have ever said. Harder than any goodbye, harder than any words yelled out in anger, harder than any 'I love you'.
The deputy came to pick me up and took me to see the head of adult probation for the county. Even though I wasn't on probation, hadn't even been to court, he agreed to meet with me. 30 seconds in his office and he was on the phone telling the local rehab that he was sending someone over right away.
I spent the next 8 months there.
The bad part is, it is only a six month program...
I was VERY resistant to any challenge to my way of thinking and I made it a lot harder (and longer) than it had to be.
While I was in there, my partner tried running the business but couldn't handle it so he locked the doors one day, went into the bank and handed them the keys and was on a plane back to Florida.
I lost my house. My cars- gone. I had to sign away parental rights to my daughter.
Everything that I had spent a lifetime working for was gone.
Today, I'm glad it worked out that way. All of those things belonged to a lie, to a phantom that I made up so I didn't have to look at myself.
I've heard a lot of people say that recovery gave them their life back. I'm glad I DIDN'T give me that life back.
I'm married to another addict in recovery. We both work a program. We have custody of our 3 year old grandson and just bought a home to provide him with a stable and loving future.
I work one job that pays the bills and one job that allows me to give back by helping others.
I have friends. Real friends, not just people that I'm using.
I don't have the big house, or the hot new cars anymore. I don't have to have all the toys anymore.
Why?
Because I've learned that my worth comes from being me and that I am the ONLY one that can validate my existence. I can love others because I can love myself.
Today, I chose to share my story with you guys.
Chose. I made a choice.
That's such a powerful word. Choice.
I could have gone into my workshop and built coils. Or I could have gone to the park with my tablet and watched a movie. Or I could have napped all day. Or I could have done a thousand other things...
Choice.
I have choices today and that's such a wonderful gift because I get to make them. I'm no longer trapped into the choices a disease makes for me.
Thanks for hanging in there with me. Hope I didn't bore you too much.
If I did, then that's YOUR fault-
You CHOSE to read my ramblings!
And final part, I think.
One phone call saved my life.
When I was able to keep my hands from shaking enough to use my phone, I called the deputy that had arrested me.
'I need help'
Three simple words but they were the hardest words I have ever said. Harder than any goodbye, harder than any words yelled out in anger, harder than any 'I love you'.
The deputy came to pick me up and took me to see the head of adult probation for the county. Even though I wasn't on probation, hadn't even been to court, he agreed to meet with me. 30 seconds in his office and he was on the phone telling the local rehab that he was sending someone over right away.
I spent the next 8 months there.
The bad part is, it is only a six month program...
I was VERY resistant to any challenge to my way of thinking and I made it a lot harder (and longer) than it had to be.
While I was in there, my partner tried running the business but couldn't handle it so he locked the doors one day, went into the bank and handed them the keys and was on a plane back to Florida.
I lost my house. My cars- gone. I had to sign away parental rights to my daughter.
Everything that I had spent a lifetime working for was gone.
Today, I'm glad it worked out that way. All of those things belonged to a lie, to a phantom that I made up so I didn't have to look at myself.
I've heard a lot of people say that recovery gave them their life back. I'm glad I DIDN'T give me that life back.
I'm married to another addict in recovery. We both work a program. We have custody of our 3 year old grandson and just bought a home to provide him with a stable and loving future.
I work one job that pays the bills and one job that allows me to give back by helping others.
I have friends. Real friends, not just people that I'm using.
I don't have the big house, or the hot new cars anymore. I don't have to have all the toys anymore.
Why?
Because I've learned that my worth comes from being me and that I am the ONLY one that can validate my existence. I can love others because I can love myself.
Today, I chose to share my story with you guys.
Chose. I made a choice.
That's such a powerful word. Choice.
I could have gone into my workshop and built coils. Or I could have gone to the park with my tablet and watched a movie. Or I could have napped all day. Or I could have done a thousand other things...
Choice.
I have choices today and that's such a wonderful gift because I get to make them. I'm no longer trapped into the choices a disease makes for me.
Thanks for hanging in there with me. Hope I didn't bore you too much.
If I did, then that's YOUR fault-
You CHOSE to read my ramblings!
kelli
Vapid Vapetress
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@ghost62 - I don't have any stories to tell, but I've been following this thread in hopes that I might be able to contribute something - anything. I tip my hat off to you and applaud the courage and strength you have in order to overcome all the adversity that life threw your way. Your story is as powerful as the man you have become, and I'm glad that you were able to share it, no matter how hard that must have been for you. I also applaud the deputy for his role in recognizing that you needed help, and was there to provide it when you needed it. It's people like you and him that provide so much hope and acceptance for everyone else. Please continue with the great job you've been doing, and may every person you touch see the light the way you did...
Thanks!
Trusting ourselves and others comes thru sharing. I have had negative reactions in the past but that's ok. It's mostly been very positive, but I would still openly share my story even if everyone came down on me.
Not because I have a masochistic streak, but because I get stronger every time and my story just might strike a chord with someone, someday and they will begin to believe there is hope.
Never heard that quote.
Very cool.
This damned disease kills more of us than get free (I have stopped counting the funerals I've been to) but I'm obligated to both stay clean and to keep being there when someone asks for help.
If no one had been there when I asked, I'd be dead now and wouldn't know the joy that life has to offer. I can't deny the same chance to someone else.
And I don't have any illusions about saving the world. What I do may not ever save even one person- may not make the slightest difference in anyone's life.
And if that's the case, ok.
The life I lead today is so much better than the one I had before. If someone else benefits then that's a bonus.
At least I'm no longer adding to the misery...
And @bystander, you do have something very valuable to add. You never know when a little support or a kind word CAN make all the difference in someone's world. Even if it doesn't, you'll still be that much better for it.
And if that's the case, ok.
The life I lead today is so much better than the one I had before. If someone else benefits then that's a bonus.
At least I'm no longer adding to the misery...
And @bystander, you do have something very valuable to add. You never know when a little support or a kind word CAN make all the difference in someone's world. Even if it doesn't, you'll still be that much better for it.
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Thank you, ghost.
Welcome!
Glad ya found us! Grab a cup of coffee, pull up a seat and stay a while.
Mrs Ghost pointed out something last night...
She said that it might be a good idea to post the daily readings from various fellowships.
Duh! Why didn't that occur to me? Thanks for keeping me balanced, sweetie.
http://www.aa.org/pages/en_US/daily-reflection
I will look for links to other daily thoughts/reflections/meditations but please feel free to submit some that I can include on a regular basis.
Love you guys.
She said that it might be a good idea to post the daily readings from various fellowships.
Duh! Why didn't that occur to me? Thanks for keeping me balanced, sweetie.
http://www.aa.org/pages/en_US/daily-reflection
I will look for links to other daily thoughts/reflections/meditations but please feel free to submit some that I can include on a regular basis.
Love you guys.
@Mommay is there an online daily study for OO?
I found this, but...
http://www.overcomersoutreach.net/8-default-category/19-daily-meditation.html
I found this, but...
http://www.overcomersoutreach.net/8-default-category/19-daily-meditation.html
I usually just read the daily meditation from JUST FOR TODAY & get the Hazeldon daily doo-hickey.
K. Thanks.I usually just read the daily meditation from JUST FOR TODAY & get the Hazeldon daily doo-hickey.
I wasn't having much luck. Now I know why.
In case I didn't say it earlier, glad you're here!