A Friend of Bill

I am not an alcoholic. But it seems that many of the people in my life – the ones closest to me – are. For a long time I didn’t understand the disease of alcoholism. Like many people, I thought “why can’t you just stop drinking? when did alcohol become more important than me? than your children? than your family? than everything?” The risk of arrest, institutionalization, physical harm, emotional combustion, and even death were not enough to stop these people who meant everything to me to stop drinking, so how could I think that I was enough?

I married an alcoholic and lived surrounded by chaos and fear. To this day, the stench of stale beer on a man’s breath literally makes me gag. While our contact is limited so I can’t know for certain, I believe that Danny still drinks, and that makes me sad for him and for our children. My sister, my best friend, my twin (who technically isn’t my twin but might as well be), has been in recovery for a little over five years. I remember like it was yesterday presenting her with her 1-year medallion. And I can quote verbatim what I said to a room of alcoholics just before I handed it to her. ("I am the very proud mother of two beautiful children, so my life is not short on proud moments, but as I stand here today, I can tell you that I have never been more honored to be somewhere and prouder than I am right now of my sister"). But those years before then (and there were probably 10 or 15 of them) when she was drinking and drugging were hell on earth for my parents, me and collaterally for my daughters as well. And now, my beloved Antonio. I can't recover for him, but I will be there unconditionally with my love, support, strength and whatever guidance I can offer. I will never give up on him, unless he gives up on himself. Hopefully, he will come out of this the man I know he was meant to be. Happy, content, at peace, and sober.

I can party with the best of ‘em. I actually like drinking, getting silly, and letting it all hang out. I’ve often bragged that I can drink like a man (in hindsight, maybe that’s not such a good thing to boast about), but there is a time and a place for everything. There but for the grace of G-d go I?

A Pretty Poem (I didn't write)

Never had I seen the sun shine brighter, so many days seem so precious, my life so complete, and the feeling of my dreams being placed into the palms of my hands ... never had I, until the day you touched my soul with your love.

I can't take credit for it. I just know I really like it.

I AM TOFU

I once sat in the therapist's chair, looked him square in the eye and told him I was tofu. He actually stopped writing, raised his eyebrows, looked over his glasses and told me I had just said something he had never heard before - and he had heard it all. Then he asked me in typical shrink fashion to explain myself. So I explained to the esteemed doctor that being tofu meant that I absorb the flavor of whatever is around me. Maybe I start the day floating around in a nice, mild vegetable broth. I find myself in a situation where I have a well-settled opinion. I feel strongly about my position and am comfortable with where my head (and heart, as the case may be) is. But along comes someone else's take on it (whatever "it" happens to be), and all of a sudden - whether I realize it at the time or not - I am suddenly transformed into a rich, pungent venison stock. I literally take on the other person's flavor. More pauses from the good doctor, more raised eyebrows, and more astonished looks. Translation: I am easily swayed. Pursuaded. Steared in one direction or another. I am so pliable that my surroundings and the people around me influence my very moods and my very personality.

I wrote that on June 6, 2006. I must have started it and never finished, or perhaps by June 7th, it didn't seem important to me anymore. Today, it is important. Because over the past few days, I have discovered a hideous side to the man I loved more than anyone before; the man I brought into my home; the man I fed three meals a day; the man I financially and emotionally supported for 12 months; the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Things that were hidden in plain sight, but I was too busy being tofu to see them.

Immediate Gratification

G-d,

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…
Courage to change the things I can…
And wisdom to know the difference.

Please. And quickly, if You don’t mind.

Tears & Saliva

1 year, 2 weeks, and 6 days - that's how long Antonio, a/k/a Fred, a/k/a Plan B, and I lasted. Born July 7, 2006...Died July 27, 2007.

We spent our 1-year anniversary in Naples on the beach. Things were so different 20 short days ago. Sun, fun, drinking, and lots of luvin'. While we were there, we came up with this slogan: "Its not good sex unless there are tears and saliva." We were just so full of ourselves...thought that was the most clever and funny thing ever, and that there must be a market for t-shirts or bumper stickers or something with our slogan plastered all over them. Could be that we were just so drunk and goofy in love that the idea was good only to us, or maybe it really is brilliant. Who knows? I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I have been in bed for 2 days. Horizontal in my room, watching the variations of light to dark through the blinds. Morning to night to morning again. Staring into an empty space in my closet where his clothes once hung. Reliving every conversation, every touch, each kiss and every time we made love.

Tears and saliva minus the saliva leaves just tears.

The Root of All Evil

Two years ago, I sold the house I used to live in with Danny and the girls. We had bought it 10 years earlier and made a pretty penny on it. I put whatever profit I made down on the townhouse the girls and I live in now. I've been reading a lot lately about these people who took out sub-prime loans a couple of years ago with adjustable rates that are all of a sudden jumping from 6% to 10% and I thought to myself how terrible for those poor people. They were probably trotting along nicely making the payment to the man every month, when all of a sudden their mortgage goes from manageable to foreclosed upon. That was until I opened my mail last week (for those of you who have read prior posts, yes, me opening my mail is a new phenomenon) only to find that I am one of those poor people. I must not have read too carefully before I signed on the dotted line, because I sure was surprised to learn that effective July 1, 2007, my mortgage rate is going up to 10.74%.

As I sit here typing this, there is bile in my throat. I feel as though I might throw up. I could actually lose my house - the only thing I own - the only security that I have for my daughters. I can barely pay for it as it is, so I can't imagine how I'm supposed to come up with $300 more a month toward interest. Fred keeps telling me not to worry; that he will help me and that I can refinance, but right now, I can't see it. I'm so overwhelmed I just want to cry. To add insult to injury, the refinancing isn't going to be so easy because my credit is shit. The company who holds my mortgage now won't touch me which leaves me with yet another sub-prime loan which, if I can even get, I am going to end up paying for dearly. I'm so fucking mad at myself I could spit. Mad that I let my credit get so bad. Mad that I got myself into this situation. Mad at Fred for insisting that "everything is going to be ok." Its not ok. Period. Whether it will be ok later is beside the point. Right now its not ok and I'm not ok, and damn him for not understanding that.

My First Semester

Stacy,

The presentation grade was 184/200.
Grade on the final exam was 90/100
Grade for the class 923/1000

As you can see by your syllabus a 923 is an "A"

Good luck with the rest of your studies.

M.H.
Adjunct Professor