A Year In The Mirror

When my drinking started getting completely out of control, my body changed drastically. My arms and legs were twigs, and my stomach and face swelled. I looked horrific. Sick. Dying. Because I was. Now that I'm five months sober, I look, well, like me again. I've started a Flickr set to document the beginning of the year I started looking at myself again, starting on my birthday, June 30th. It's work for me. It's still very hard for me to look at myself, to look at the person who almost died due to my own emotions and resulting actions, who medical professionals were convinced was not going to make it. But I'm doing this as a project of survival, and the beginnings of accepting and loving myself - maybe for the first time.

A Year In The Mirror.

Things That Have Not Improved With Sobriety

And I had such high hopes...

1. Ability to spill or drop everything I pick up
2. Ability to walk into every door frame I attempt to pass through
3. Forgetfulness, including but not exclusive to forgetting to A) put coffee in the filter, B) Turn on coffeepot, and C) Plug in coffeepot.
4. Falling, falling, falling all the time, all over the land, even when standing still.
5. Tripping over cats, coffee table, own feet, air.
6. Breaking/forgetting how to operate every electronic device I own.
7. Forgetting things like my own phone number, address, and spelling of own name.
8. Where the hell is my cellphone? What did I do with my coffee cup? What was I talking about again?
9. Stabbing of self in eye when attempting to apply eyeliner.
10. Bruises of unknown origin.
11. A bunch of other stuff that I can't think of right now, because my attention span is also shot, and I'm now thinking about monkeys. I love monkeys.

Basically, I still appear to be intoxicated mostly all the time, even at almost 5 months sober. I really need to be in a padded room with protective headgear so as not to be a menace to myself and others. I'm really just thinking of the greater good. And monkeys.

Thoughts on Statistics

I've been very open and blunt about my stint in rehab, and my addiction to alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Enough to put me as close to death as one can get without actually being on the slab. I talk about it, I joke about it, and 104 days after my last, almost fatal drink, I'm still beating it soundly, as they say, one day at a time.

I'm one of the lucky ones. In more ways than one.

I got a phone call today from a fantastic person I went to rehab with. We were thick as thieves there, and by the time we became "old timers" there, were more caregivers than anything else. I was, obviously, a drunk, he a "pharmaceutical enthusiast." We both had serious drive to get better, and coming up on four months on the outside, we're both doing very well. He just became a father, and I'm regaining my independence. We are not the norm.

We chatted about who we had heard from and/or about, and out of all of us, we are the only ones left who haven't "gone out" again. The statistics for relapse are grim, and for today, he and I are indeed, in the vast minority. I was proud of us, terribly proud, and at the same time, incredibly sad for all the people we knew who are back out. There's nothing we can do for them, and that sucks. But, given the damming statistics, we can't. We have to take care of ourselves. It's not easy, being selfish. But we have to be. Just listing all the names of the less fortunate made that grimly obvious.

I don't have anything stellar and inspiring to say about all of this. I'm just a little stunned at the perspective I gained from that conversation. I think often about the people I went through rehab with, I wish them the best, I worry about them. But for today, I'm just incredibly grateful for what I have, and that my pal is doing so well.

Congrats, DP. You're going to be a great dad. You know what to do. Love ya.

So You've Decided To Go To Rehab!

Rehab: A Primer

(Or, Damn, How the Hell Did I Get Here?!?)

So you’ve decided to go to rehab! How exciting! Or perhaps you didn’t have a choice. Perhaps you’re running from the cops, or maybe the FBI! Maybe you ended up in a coma after drinking a gallon of vodka! Not that I know anything about that! No matter! Herein is a convienient "how to" to help you along your jolly, sober way.

Learn new phrases: "What’s your drug of choice" and "how’d you get here?" will replace "Nice to meet you." We want to know your bizness, newbie. And be assured, EVERYONE will know your life story before you are even unpacked. We will also begin to place bets on such possibilites as: When you will get kicked out, when you will jump the fence, when you will get caught sucking face with a junkie with several missing teeth. We are bored. And we are shameless gossips. (see below.)

Learn exciting new things!: A drunk? You’ll learn the ways of the junkie. Junkie? You’ll learn how to hide vodka bottles in new and crafty ways. Crack fiend? Pharmecutical enthusiast? No matter. You will learn the ways of your fellow addicts in such detail you will be able to write a thesis on drugs you have never taken. Learning is fun!

You will be bored.: Oh lord, will you be bored. BORED. And forget weekends. You will be SO FREAKING BORED. Things, pathetic things, will begin to be paragons of excitement. Such things include: Lifetime movies, having a new pack of cigarettes, eating the food your roommate left when she went to the halfway house, going to the grocery store, going to Walgreens, (don’t get too excited, these are the only places you will go, and only once a week.) Going to Winn Dixie! Hot damn! I CAN’T WAIT. This is your life now. Live it, love it. Or jump the fence. Whatever.

You will thrive on the only vices you have left: Cigarettes, coffee, and gossip. It’s the breakfast of champions!

Speaking of gossip: Rehab is a lot like junior high. Male or female, you will gossip like wee schoolgirls, with great vigor and excitement. Some girl came to group in hoochie shorts? Scandal! Some chick threw a punch at her roommate? Awesome! Some idiot put his fist through the soda machine? I need to take pictures! And forget it if someone throws a tantrum, packs their shit, and starts tossing their bags over the fence, and scales the gate. Light a cigarette, place bets on if they are just a drama queen or if "holy shit, she’s really going to do it this time!" Make popcorn. This is way better than Lifetime movies.

Group therapy: Sharing is Caring!: You will learn many things in group. You will learn that you are NOT the baddest dude on the block. There will always be someone who did more drugs, drank more booze, got arrested more times, flatlined more times, stole more, whored out more, did everything and anything more than you did. Settle down, tiger. This ain’t a contest.

You will forget things such as date and time.: You live in a bubble. Calendars are only used to count the days you have been there/days until you leave.

You will, hopefully, start to get it: In all seriousness, you will. And if you don’t, just hope you live long enough to try again.

You will eventually leave.: Rehab ain’t forever, even when it seems like it. A weird thing will happen when you leave. You’ll miss it, kind of. You’ll insist people write and call you on the outside. Hugs will be given and recieved. Yes, even that rat-faced guy with the sketchy teeth. You’ll worry about the people who have to leave when their insurance runs out when everyone knows they’ll be shooting up within 20 minutes of leaving. You’ll get used to the outside world again. Hopefully you’ll work hard and learn to take care of yourself again. You deserve it.