When I went to treatment in May of 2008, I had no doubts about being an alcoholic. I never hesitated to identify myself as such. However, attending AA/NA meetings was sort of weird at first. I didn't know the "rules," such as no "cross-talking." And being newly sober, I thought I knew more than anyone else in the group. (It's a well-known joke at meetings that at some point most of us were striving to get an "A" in AA; being a perfectionist, I would accept nothing less of myself.) That all being the case, I attended meetings for only a few months post-treatment, as I didn't think they were doing anything for me. (When I did attend meetings, I would look for the table with the fewest people because I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. I think my Higher Power was playing a joke on me because those inevitably were the groups that talked the longest!)
Upon moving back to my hometown of Houghton after being released from jail, (or as I typically explain to people: "I moved back under less than stellar circumstances"), I began attending meetings as a requirement for my probation with the State Bar. Meeting attendance didn't stop me from drinking. I would show up, bitch and complain, get my sheet signed to prove I was there, and go out and drink as quickly as I could, as much as I could. Eventually, however, some things started to sink in, and I was able to open my mind up a little bit.
I found that although our specific experiences were different, people at the tables had many things in common. One of my favorites was that when we are/were in active addiction, insanity made perfect sense. It is difficult for non-addicts to understand the behaviors and experiences of their addict loved ones; I know because I have shared many instances with my loved ones, and they cannot fathom why I was living the way I was. But other addicts get me. They understand the insanity. And even better? We can laugh about it!
When I laugh and joke about some of the experiences I had in active addiction, it isn't to make light of them; the life or death aspect is very clear to me, especially in terms of hurting/harming/possibly killing others. I can't even begin to count all of the times I woke up in the morning to find that I had done more damage to my car; sometimes I still cannot believe that I didn't hurt someone else! But waking up to my car firmly imbedded in the garage wall or observing another dent/scratch/missing piece of the grill didn't faze me. I realize now, with a clear mind, that other people would at least pause to see such a thing over and over again!
My ex (the evil one, and yes, I feel completely comfortable calling him the evil one) and I were both practicing attorneys, drinking vodka daily and snorting coke at least a few times a week. Another favorite pastime? Calling the police on each other. When I think of the damage that must have done to his children (they were present in the house for several such calls), it makes me sick. Obviously the neighbors were well-aware of many of these visits from the police; we drank anytime of day or night. At first, the neighbors would forbid their children from coming in the house. Then, they would restrict their children from being in the pool area (we had an in-ground, fenced in pool in the backyard.) Eventually, they would only allow their children to play with his children on their property. And why wouldn't they impose such restrictions? We were crazy! Always drinking, always fighting, always having a police presence. I have considered contacting that division of the Oakland County Sheriff's Department to obtain the number of incident reports, if not the actual reports themselves, to see the level of craziness. (His ex-wife ordered copies at one point to threaten him with parenting time restrictions, or maybe child support increases, but she, like me, was easily manipulated by this asshole and dropped the issue. I wouldn't have blamed her for keeping their children away from him/us, and in fact, in the end I provided her with information regarding the exact extent of our drinking and cocaine use in the house when the children were present.)
I recall one specific incident of a fight of ours in the parking lot of his office. We were initially sitting in his vehicle, yelling and screaming at each other. (Wait...I just flashed back to two separate times this happened in his office parking lot. One time our fight was caught on the voicemail of a very good friend of mine, and I remember her telling me that listening to those 10-15 minutes of him saying nasty, hateful things and me screaming and crying was very disturbing. I believe the voicemail ended with him snapping my phone in half?) Our fight became physical, and I exited the vehicle. He followed, and we were pushing, shoving, and hitting each other when I called 911. I'm not sure what I said if anything? But we ended up calming down (there was cocaine to use, for goodness' sake!) and went home. Just as we were opening up the precious package and pouring the chunks of coke on the living room table, the police showed up. He went to the back patio door, which looked in on the living room, and told the police in an arrogant, all-knowing attorney tone that they could NOT come in. The police responded by saying that since I had called them and that by now they were well-aware of MY number, they had every right to come in and check on me. I remained on the couch, and an officer sat in the chair near me. I said I was fine, he noted the marijuana roach on the table, and they decided to leave. My heart was pounding! The second they left, Evil asked me where the cocaine was. I oh-so-proudly revealed that it was on the floor, safely covered by my heeled shoe, and not ground into the carpeting. The sickest part? We were both extremely proud of me! This fucked up moment briefly brought us closer together! I have found that in toxic relationships it is very easy to have an "us vs. the world" mentality...
One more brief example of our insanity ridden existence: our drinking and drug use lifestyle obviously was not free of charge. Therefore, budget cuts had to be made, and for a period of time we stopped paying some household bills, including the gas bill. Here we were in this $300,000-plus home, and we couldn't afford to take a hot shower. Most obvious solution? Bathe in the pool in the backyard, of course! Every morning for about a week we would collect shampoo, soap, etc. in the morning and head outside to jump into our big bathtub. We NEVER had a conversation about how this was really fucked up. To the contrary, we would put on our business suits and head out for our respective days in court, meeting at the end of the day to drink and drug and fight all over again, because damn it, we were hard workers and we deserved it!
Insanity would continue to make perfect sense for quite some time.
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