Beyond Addiction

My dreams have been totally weird lately.  I often dream that I am with one or more of my children and we see their brother and that brother is with the other brothers’ children. Totally unaware that those children are his.  I dreamed just a couple weeks ago, that my oldest son and his wife kidnapped my 3 sons. So…Ron was kidnapping Ron and his brothers.  Crazy.  I wonder what all of that means??

I am in awe each time I see one of my sons.  They are the truest loves of my life.  Their was never a bad time with any of them.  My life was complete once they were in it.

Just a thought for the day.  No great revelation, I just wanted to stress and see on “paper” the love that my children have given me.  Oh, well, they aren’t children anymore..36,39, and 40.  Incredible, that’s what they are.

Stuff.  That’s all it is…stuff.  I read an article about a gal that wanted so badly to be in acting, but after several years of trying, it just wasn’t working.  She then decided to start a business to assist people to “Shed”.  I thought, “I am SO there”.  This gal had saved all of her play reviews, props, scripts.  Living in a small apartment, these items were shoved gently under her bed and under the kitchen table.  In the first year of her business, while teaching others how to “shed”, she realized that she hadn’t even cleaned her own “stuff”.  She took all of her “stuff” and diligently examined each item to decide it’s worth.  It all went.  There was nothing there of use.  Why save the scripts?  Why save the costumes?  She Shed her past and went on to have a very successful business…and is still in business as I write this.

During my deepest drug use, I managed to fill my apartment with a lot of stuff.  Because I left the area, after the drug bust,  my sons were forced to clean that apartment.  Mind you, I had many many “things”.  My boys and their families took on the awful task of “shedding” my things.  When I came out of hiding and moved in with my ex-husband, I realized that the majority of my “stuff” was gone.  I felt angry and betrayed.  How could they be so negligent in deciding the fate of “my stuff?”.

It’s now 3 1/2 years since that episode (as my son delicately refers to it).  I am preparing to move into my own place.  I’m hoping I have enough money saved by March or April to do this.  While packing for this move, I realized that there isn’t anything of the past that needs to move with me.  Nothing.

What my sons did for me truly helped me at this crossroad in my life.  I have no anger, no felt betrayal.  My choices during those drug filled months led me to this place.  All that matters is today.  All of that “stuff” is nothing.  Oh sure, it’s nice to get a new pair of shoes or a set of dish towels, but the value of those things are rarely worth the money that it cost to buy them.

I’m “good” where my head is today.  I’m 57 and ready to embark on a new life.  A life that I never, truly never thought I would do.  I don’t need a man to complete me.  I am looking forward to having my own place with my cat, Mikie.  I have gained strength, strength I never knew was inside me.  I have no fear of failure.  I work 2 jobs.  I bought a Jeep.  My health is pretty good for a young-old lady. I’m ready to roll.

I’m beginning to release the guilt.  I’m in the process of  believing I am a good person.  My drug use?  I don’t miss it.  I don’t miss the day before or the day after.  I have “shed”, and I’m loving it.

My life has turned in many directions since I blogged last.  I was in Arizona visiting my son and his family. The 2 grandsons out there were wonderful to be with.  Hunter the youngest, took me back to my own kids at that age.  I enjoyed everything with him.  Even when we didn’t like each other…for a moment.  Isn’t it crazy how young children don’t “judge”?  Hunter loved me in the morning even before I brushed my teeth.  When we sat at the breakfast counter, he didn’t even mind that I showed him “see-food”.  He was so fun.  Zack, the oldest, isn’t into Gramma much anymore.  But, we had a good time together.  He is a good kid.  I am happy that much of his free time is spent with kids of the same belief as him.  I had the honor of going to one of Zack’s football games.  He’s one of the two biggest kids on the team.  My daughter-in-law always treats me like royalty.  Ron, my oldest, is Ron.  He’s a good man.   I had mixed feelings for the flight home.  I could have stayed longer in Arizona, but I really couldn’t miss more work.  BUT, Lorna and Ron paid me for the time I was out there.  Crazy, huh?

The last 3 1/2 years have been tough, but it has been an uphill experience.  I was so low in life, I wasn’t sure if I would even be given a chance at improving my spirit.  I had settled for working at Kmart forever.  And, I had convinced myself that it was OK.  And it was.  When I would run into someone that I hadn’t seen for awhile, I would be asked, “So, where are you working?”  K mart, I would say and I once more my spirit would die.  It’s not so bad working at K mart.  I work hard and I get paid $7.50/hr, but it has been ok.

My middle son called me the first week in October.  Randy heard that there was a position open in the office that I worked in back in 1983-84.  The same 2 counselors needed someone  to be their secretary.  When I worked for them, there were only 40-50 people in that program.  There are now over 400.  I hesitated to call when Jennifer called and asked me if I’d called.  I said no.  I was sure that the legal trouble would keep me out of an office.  I have 2 drug charges on my record for the rest of my life.  No one (I thought) would want someone working for them that had gotten into the trouble that I had.  Not to mention the drug abuse and addiction.  My self-confidence “sucked”!

Well, I called Carol.  She asked me to come and talk with her and Mike.  They look the same as 20-some years ago.  We had such a wonderful visit.  I had to tell her of my drug charges from 2005.  I wasn’t proud.  But, she needed to know.  Carol called me the next day and asked me to come work for her and Mike in their relatively new office on the main campus of NMC.  I laughed, cried, got on my knees and thanked God.  It was too good to be true. And we all know what that means.

A couple days after I had started working for Carol, she called me at home about 8:30 pm.  She had been out of town and when she came back, there was an e-mail from her boss.  He was wondering why she had hired me.  He asked Carol if she even knew about the trouble I’d been in.  She answered yes, and went on to tell him that I had worked for her many years ago and felt very confident that she was making the right choice by hiring me.  He wanted to meet with her and another of the “suits” to talk further about this.   Carol stood firm on the fact that it has been 3-4 years since that happened.  She reminded him of the whole purpose of the program that they run.  It is helping people who had made poor choices such as I did and who wanted  to better themselves.  My heart sank when Carol called me.  I jumped right into the “too good to be true” saga.

It turned out fine.  It turned out better than fine.  This Monday will be the 4th week I have worked for Mike and Carol.  I love it.  I am so happy.  I am not taking anything for granted.  I truly take each day at a time.

I still work at K mart.  I still don’t have a car.  I haven’t found an apartment that I can afford.  But I have ME!  Drugs took me to the grave, but it was my own strength that makes me feel more alive today then ever.  My drug use was killing me and everyone that I loved.  No power over drugs?  How true that statement is.  Today I know my weaknesses, but even better, I know my strengths.

The gray has set into northern Michigan skies.  This is the time of the year that I think is most beautiful.  The trees are full of shades of orange and brown.  One must get out and drive the area to appreciate these splendid colors.

I used to question the statement “beside myself”, however I know what it is to me.  For, I am beside myself.  To look at me I appear to be a fairly attractive woman in her 50’s…ok, so late 50’s.  I seem to be quite content in my home life and with my job as well.  I make a dinner each night for my ex-husband and I keep the house relatively clean.  I have a cat who stays by my side even when I am on the computer.  For some reason he has come to think that the clicking of the keys is a “here kitty kitty” note.  And, well here he is.

I work at Kmart.  I am one of 5 that empty a semi load of goods.  We then price the goods and put them on the shelves.  Poof, I go home until the next truck arrives.  I attend First Baptist Church on Sundays and I sing in the church choir.  I attend NA meetings, because I am an addict, recovering that is.

For the most part, I go along with “whatever” is happening.  I do as I am told and I smile.  I have 3 sons and 5 grandsons for which  I am so very grateful.  I also have 3 daughters-in-law, that are good women and help their husbands in keeping a good home running smoothly.  I should have no complaints, or should I.

My sons are grown.  My job as a young mother is done. Even as a Gramma, my job is to wait until they visit me as they are pretty much grown (except for you Hunter - Gramma loves you!)  My sons are the best of everything in my life.  I hope that they will except my decision with support.  I am moving out of Michael’s home (the ex-husband).  I’m nearly 57 and I am ready to live on my own.  I will still go to church because I love to hear the Word of God.  I will still sing in the choir.  I will continue to work at Kmart, until I find something more suitable.  My cat will continue to walk on my keyboard as he will move with me.  I will continue to attend NA meetings, as I don’t plan on ever using drugs again and I need that support to help me.  I don’t have a car, but the bus and my bike can get me pretty much wherever I need to go.  The best part of this is that I am so excited about it.  Michael knows my plans.

It may take me a couple months to find a place and get the $$ to move.  I attended a seminar this past Saturday sponsored by MSHDA.  MSHDA is an organization that assists those who are unable to find suitable housing or who are unable to afford a home on their wage.  I got a lot of questions answered.  It was a great source of information and I made a note to thank those who answered my questions, in particular.

This is not a sad situation, I am so happy.  Truly, truly, this is the first time I have planned to make such a move without a man moving with me.  YES!    It is a good thing.  So, needless to say, I am feeling pretty good.  I actually told Michael 2 weeks ago, when I signed up for the class he was curious as to why I would want to attend.  I know I will go without a few things, but the trade off makes it worth it.

To my boyz…who may read this, please know that this is a very good thing for me.  I hope to find a nice little, maybe upstairs apartment (above a house in town) that I can settle into.  Of course it is scary…but most of what I have done in my life has been “scary”.  This decision is a drug-free, man-free plan and something to which I am looking forward.

And now, the next chapter begins.

It’s been quite some time since my last post. I reread it and realized just how angry I was. I have a tendency to hold things in then let them all out to myself when I just can’t deal with loss or disrespect. I believe that I am a fair arguer, if that makes sense. I try to stick to the issue when “discussing” (arguing). At times, I just don’t know who to be. I’ve heard for ever “just be yourself”. Well, I don’t always like me, and I’m not always sure who I am, so what makes me think anyone else will. Oh, now let’s see what I’m doing here. I just stepped on my pity wagon.

The old “martyr” trip. My youngest son is well aware of what that is. As a young child, he knew very well how to be the martyr. He knew it so well that I had a shirt printed up that said, “Michael Martyr”. As a little guy, he was teased by his brothers because he was so sensitive. All they had to say was “cry Michael” and his little bottom lip wound quiver. I’d like to see one of his brothers say that today. Born weighing 5 pounds, he now towers over both brothers. Ahhh…that was a quick flashback.

So, I am leaving Michigan for 18 days. I am flying to Lake Havasu City Arizona on Sunday the 31st. My son and his wife are flying me out there to visit and watch their boys while they take a vacation. I can hardly wait to see Hunter. When I was there in February, I found it most difficult to say goodbye to Hunter. Although spending time with Zack was awesome, Hunter is the youngest and he doesn’t mind so much “hanging out with Gramma”.

I am truly looking forward to getting away from here. Not anything or anyone in particular, just everything and everyone. I felt badly leaving my friend Teri, I work with her and have found her to be a really great person. Teri’s son hung himself here in the Grand Traverse jail 4 years ago. Yesterday would have been this son’s birthday. My heart went out to her as she told me that she was going to visit his grave. I cannot even imagine losing a child. I pray I never have to know that pain.

So, there will be no posts for me while I am there, but I will be journaling and will come home and pick and choose what to write when I arrive home.

The best friend I have ever had is in the hospital today with e-coli poisoning.  The bacteria was finally known after several tests.  It actually began as a urinary tract infection.  It quickly spread to her kidney, I say kidney, as she only has one.  This infection has spread to her blood stream.  I spoke with her briefly, she sounded so tired.  Her breathing was shallow and the weakness I could hear in her voice.

Donna and I met about 22-23 years ago.  She and her husband (the then new pastor of our church) moved to Traverse with their family and Michael (my former husband) and I became as close as anyone who truly loves another.  A day didn’t pass that  we didn’t talk to one another.  We went out West together.  We cried together.  We introduced each other to people as “this is my bestest friend in the world”.

Then I decided to leave Michael.  Trying to have a life with Michael became boring.  If I wanted to do something such as a walk on the beach, a bike ride, go to a movie, hit a garage sale, watch a movie, or anything that required energy, I did it alone.  My life with him was taking me down.  I spoke to Donna about it.  I spoke to Pastor about it.  No one ever saw what I did.  My sons knew.  I did leave Michael.  But, the thing that I did was to get involved with another man right away.  He did all of those things with me and
more.  My  life changed.  I didn’t go to church any longer, nor did anyone from the church keep in touch with me.  Michael fell apart and Donna became HIS best friend.  She counseled him to the point that she needed counsel.

I actually thought things would start from where they left off when I came back to live with Michael.  They didn’t.  Donna and I are not close.  It’s gone, the love between us is gone.  I miss her so much.  I hurt for her so much.  I want my friend back.

Using DRUGS made me lose her.  I chose drugs over my family and my best friend DONNA,  How fucking stupid is that??  I can’t take it back.  I did what I did.  Sorry???? Yes, I’m sorry, but forgiveness doesn’t come easily.  Love the sinner, hate the sin.  That’s what Donna said to me for years. Bull shit.

I want my friend back!  My heart aches for her.  She sounded so weak and precious.  She’s a good woman and doesn’t deserve to have this.  I would so take it from her, if God would change that.  I miss her.

Donna is a part of me. I was a part of her.  This is not the way things should be.  I lost too much by my drug use.  Use drugs!  And YOU TOO can have this incredibly fucking life.  Family loses respect for you.  I’m not even welcome in my youngest sons home.  I don’t even know whY!!!  I hate this feeling.  I hate this feeling.

I let drugs destroy my life.  I allowed it to take away the relationship with my sons and grandsons.  Forgiveness?  That comes with limits, for lack of a better word.  What the fuck is forgiveness?  It sure as hell doesn’t mean I’ll get a call from my youngest son to come downstate for the weekend.  Mistakes are not forgotten.  To some, it is like a sandwich sign.  “hi, I am a recovering drug addict, and I just might go through your house’.  Bull shit.

I lost what I had with my boys and I just might lose the best friend I ever had.  Can you guess who’s fault it is??

I’m angry and I’m done.

I got a phone call today that my god-son was rescued from committing suicide. This young man is the son of my late best friend, Carol. Carol and I met over 25 years ago, and just hit it off. We stood up in each other’s weddings and shared rides into town, when neither of us had money. Carol was one of a kind. She was killed in a bizzare accident. Nevertheless she has been gone for over 10 years now.

Christopher was 11, when she died. Carol had married a guy, that I would never have approved of, but she loved him and well, that’s all that mattered. After Carol’s death, his “dad” wouldn’t let me see Christopher anymore. Carol left a LOT of money and he (Rod) used it for everything except to take care of Carol’s 3 kids. It’s a sad story, but my concentration is on this “suicide” mission.

I know what it’s like to want to die. During my last months of “using” that is all that I thought of. I made plans so as to make things easier for my boys. I packed some things I felt my family would want and put them in storage. I removed my sons’ pictures from the wall, it was making it too difficult to see their faces and plan my demise…without guilt. My initial plan was to complete this “task” before moving from my apartment. The selling of crack and coke out of my apartment led the police there too soon and my plans were foiled. The night of the bust, the officers, after questioning me, drove me home. I was their alone, but didn’t have the proper drugs to do the “deed”. My depression was so bad and the timing was perfect, but no drugs. What drugs were there, the police took.

The following few days, I had to tell my boys that I was using and allowing selling of drugs in my apartment. I’d borrowed Randy’s car and that was confiscated at the bust. I had lost my car the day before and I received an eviction notice the day of the bust. I didn’t know what to do. Calling my sons for help was not an option for me. I only made things worse as time went on. Three days after the bust I disappeared. I was told to meet with the TNT Sargent a couple days later. And, I was told by another to get out of there as quickly as possible. I was told to tell no one where I was. For the following 3 months I believed everything I was told, I was so weak in both body and mind.

When I finally came back to Traverse, my only option, I felt, was to call Michael. He may have hated me, but I knew that he would have compassion and help me find a place to stay. I stayed at Michael’s. In the home that we had shared for nearly 20 years. I was safe, but it was time to finish my long awaited plan.

I knew Michael took many different medications. When I got there, I looked for those drugs, my plan was to be completed. One Sunday he left for church, then was to go to work directly from church. The timing was perfect. I stared at the 2 bottles. One was xanax, one was elavil. I counted out 10 xanax then swallowed them. That “felt” ok. I knew it would take more. I lifted the elavil bottle to my mouth and swallowed maybe 10-15. That wasn’t enough. I knew that this last step would be the final dose. I quick wrote Michael a note. I tipped up the bottle and downed about 40 elavil. When I swallowed, it hit me….I’M GOING TO DIE NOW, THERE IS NO TURNING BACK. I woke up in ICU. Michael was so confused as to why I would want to die but I was angry because I didn’t. None of those feelings were caused by my sons. I created the mess, they chose to stay away from it.

Suicide, it’s a crazy thing. Do I have the right to take my own life? Does anyone? Is it temporary insanity? Why would someone feel that distracted from reality? All I know is that I understand how someone can get so low in life that he/she believes that to die is the only way to “make things good again”. Actually, it is quite a cop-out. At least today I believe that. When one wants to die, the possibility of their being another option isn’t an option. It’s puzzling for those left to heal from the loss.

My god-son, Christopher, is alive today, but yesterday he didn’t want to be. I used to think that I could save the world, or at least a few people in it. I can’t. I can only save myself. I can’t save Christopher, but maybe I can help him to know that his mother loved him so very much. So much that he will want to stay on this earth and be the greatest revenge of his mother’s death…”To live well”.

Father’s Day. It’s for the celebration of fathers. Not necessarily good fathers, but all fathers. We (as a nation and Hallmark) seem to invite brothers, uncles, “men” in general, for this occasion as well.

I thought first of my son, Randy. He is the father of 3 sons. Is he a good father? Yes, but I’m his mother, of course I’d say that. His oldest son, was born out of wedlock, with a high school girl friend that son is now 19. He married and has 2 sons with Jen. Randy , to me, is a totally different father than any I’ve known. He’s always been like a mother…does that make sense? It does to me. I don’t know how to explain it another way. A mother knows if her child has coughed more than once in the night. It’s like that “kind” of fathering. I thought of him a lot on that “father’s day”…and I smiled

My oldest son, Ron has 2 sons. Is he is good father? Yes, of course. With Ron, there’s a “but”. I would like to see him tell his sons that he loves them. I would like to see him wrap his arms around them and say how proud he is of them and the men that they are growing in to. Nevertheless, I thought of Ron and smiled.

I thought of my own father. My memory of him is brief and based mostly on stories in which I have somehow placed myself. If all parents could practice this ONE thing…keep your word. If you promised an ice cream at 8:30 a.m., don’t change your mind and take it back. If you grounded your child for 2 weeks, make it two weeks. Most of all, if you believe you made a mistake with or to your child, apologize. Your child will grow up knowing his/her parent is honest and compassionate. What better emotions could a parent have?

It’s been awhile since I’ve taken the time to do an entry. I am grateful that I have taken on a second job, because like most, I too need the money. Getting up at 3:30 a.m. working until 10 a.m. then driving from noon - 7-8 p.m. doesn’t allow for much “free” time. I have time to think and am keeping a handwritten journal. I have put my efforts into a crossword puzzle book as well. My youngest says that will help to keep my mind from getting too old too fast…or something like that.

My thoughts are confusing to me. I think about where am I supposed to be in life. I think about whose decision it is as to where I should be living or what I should be doing. It’s almost as if I wait for something to happen which allows me to make changes in my life or living arrangement. But, in my heart it is only me that can make “me” happy.

My boys are grown and have been for some time. However, I still want them to need me for something. Their needing me is my last link to their childhood. I was thinking of the things that used to irritate me as the boys were young. Oh my, they would argue and fight, then yell “mom!” Ron did this or Michael did that. At the beach, they could barely put their foot into the water that some new way of pretending they could swim would have to be communicated to me IMMEDIATELY. “Mom, look what I can do!”

I was working late at Sports World one night doing inventory and when I got home, my boys were on the living room floor. Randy was whittling on some wood with a HUGE knife. Well, Michael (Spike) was so excited to see I was home that he jumped over Randy and into the knife. Well, before I could go back to work to complete inventory, we took a trip to the hospital for stitches. Ron almost passed out looking at the blood coming from Spike’s foot. Six stitches and I was back to work. Sounds crazy, but I miss that.

Life was busy then. Life is busy now, but different. Very different. It’s time for my boys to have those days and to establish memories with there own families. My mom said to me many times during her last 3 years of life that her best times were when me and Kathy were home. Now I know and truly appreciate what she said.

I knew when having my children so young that I would still be young by the time they were adults. It’s almost as if I have had several stages of my life. A child until 8, an adult until 15. At 16 I married and shortly after became a mom. Divorced at 26, and still a mom. Thirty three and still a mom and a new wife. Forty six a gramma. And here today, 56 I am still a mom and have the privilege of 5 grandsons in my life.

At age 51, my attempt of being single was a tragic mistake. A mistake only because I allowed a man into my life. I allowed this man everything. I gave up everything and everyone to be with him. That, was a tragic mistake. It’s crazy, but I still love him. My heaviest use of drugs were the last 6 months of being with this man. What I let myself get into was more than crazy, I can’t even understand it as I write this down. Addictions come in many forms. My greatest addiction was “this” man.

Because of my weaknesses to him and drugs, I lost all but what good memories I have. It’s time for me to regain my life. I”m not sure how this will happen, but I believe a crossword puzzle book has put me on the right track.

Have a nice day.

“I raise my cup to you, Barb” has passed away.  Her friend took her for a ride today out to Old Mission, they walked around for only a minute and she was ready to go home.  When she got home, she laid down for a nap.  At 2:00 pm, she was gone.

I cannot think of what to write.  My mind is running in circles.  Barb has never been in good health.  She was obese, which is a killer in itself.  Barb had serious thyroid problems and it was topped off by  full-blown diabetes.  To know of her life was to know a sad story.  I truly believe that she and I laughed together more than she did with anyone.  She was stubborn, got angry easily and held a grudge…forever.

I just cannot end this by feeling, that she’s in no pain or she’s in a better place.  I asked her (boy) friend if her family was coming up here or would they take her body to Midland for her final resting place near her parents.  I am sad to say that I was told her family will have her cremated and place her ashes in the township.  In a pauper’s grave.