Chapter 50
She is crying on the other end of the phone.
I love hearing her voice but hearing her cry makes me feel a little helpless. I can't really do anything for her but listen. I can picture her sitting alone in those phonebooths at the bottom of the stairs.
We talk for a long time. I am very happy that I was home when the phone rang and she tells me that she is glad I was there to answer. She gets out next week and I tell her that I want to cook her dinner.
You can cook?
Dang straight I can cook woman!
I guess we'll see.
There is a nice hint of flirtation in this that makes me smile and for the first time I think that maybe Lacey and I have a little something brewing.
She has to get going and I reluctantly let her.
Once again it is night and once again I am alone with myself. I sit down with my Big Book and another book that Jeff told me to get called Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. He referred to it as "The 12 and 12".
I know that I am willing to do whatever he tells me to do. I barely know him but for some reason I trust him.
I read the first chapter in the 12 and 12. It outlines what step one is all about. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable. It all comes down to one word for me.
Humility.
This first step is all about humbling myself.
For the first time in my life I really have to admit that I don't have everything under complete control. I am hopeless when it comes to alcohol and drugs.
They own me.
I take out a piece of paper and I fold it in half lengthwise. On the top of the left side I write the word "Powerless" and on the top of the right side I write "Unmanageable".
The numbers one through ten line the left outside edge.
It doesn't take me long at all to make the list. My disease has left me with enough personal scars to make a couple of these. I don't just write this out to get it done or because Jeff told me to.
I am doing this because I believe the only way to get real sobriety is to do the work. To become honest enough with myself that I can admit I am weak. I know that to some this admission wouldn't be hard at all. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do.
I know that there is only one way to go through fire.
You walk a straight line right through it.
**************************************************
I am uncomfortable in my own skin.
I am shaking quite a bit.
My stomach is in complete knots and that familiar calling is ringing in my head. It is like it controls me and it knows exactly how to get to me. I hate this feeling more than anything else in the world.
This one won't let up.
Sweat begins to form on my forehead and the palms of my hands.
I have to feed this.
If it is the last thing I do I have to feed this.
I am downstairs in no time at all and I am rummaging through every cupboard. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My insides are screaming.
I am literally clearing out the cupboards with sweeps of my arms. Glasses are falling to the kitchen floor and breaking at my feet.
I could care less.
I have one thing on my mind and the rest just doesn't matter. Nothing matters at all to me when I am chasing my high or my drink.
Nothing.
I can't think of anything else. It doesn't matter what I just went through.
I find the half a fifth of Jack above the fridge and I don't even hesitate. I tilt the bottle to my lips and I swallow mouthfuls. The bottle is drained in two swigs.
More.
I have to have more. I crossed the line and now it is pointless to turn back. I want more. I want blackness. I want death.
What I am doing finally sinks in.
All of the work and all of my time is gone.
The hatred rises in me.
How could I let myself do this?
I run into the bathroom and I stand over the toilet and force my finger into the back of my throat. If I can get this poison out of my body maybe it will be alright. I throw up nothing but blood.
I splatter blood all over the toilet and the floor.
Rage.
I look and see my reflection in the mirror.
I scream at the top of my lungs as my fist shatters the mirror.
I realize that I am sitting straight up in my bed and I am crying hysterically. I know that I actually screamed during my dream because I awaken to it still reverberating off the walls of my room.
I am drenched in sweat and for almost a minute I have to try and convince myself that all of that really didn't happen.
I can't stop crying.
The dream was so real that I can still taste the Jack Daniels on my lips.
I love hearing her voice but hearing her cry makes me feel a little helpless. I can't really do anything for her but listen. I can picture her sitting alone in those phonebooths at the bottom of the stairs.
We talk for a long time. I am very happy that I was home when the phone rang and she tells me that she is glad I was there to answer. She gets out next week and I tell her that I want to cook her dinner.
You can cook?
Dang straight I can cook woman!
I guess we'll see.
There is a nice hint of flirtation in this that makes me smile and for the first time I think that maybe Lacey and I have a little something brewing.
She has to get going and I reluctantly let her.
Once again it is night and once again I am alone with myself. I sit down with my Big Book and another book that Jeff told me to get called Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. He referred to it as "The 12 and 12".
I know that I am willing to do whatever he tells me to do. I barely know him but for some reason I trust him.
I read the first chapter in the 12 and 12. It outlines what step one is all about. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable. It all comes down to one word for me.
Humility.
This first step is all about humbling myself.
For the first time in my life I really have to admit that I don't have everything under complete control. I am hopeless when it comes to alcohol and drugs.
They own me.
I take out a piece of paper and I fold it in half lengthwise. On the top of the left side I write the word "Powerless" and on the top of the right side I write "Unmanageable".
The numbers one through ten line the left outside edge.
It doesn't take me long at all to make the list. My disease has left me with enough personal scars to make a couple of these. I don't just write this out to get it done or because Jeff told me to.
I am doing this because I believe the only way to get real sobriety is to do the work. To become honest enough with myself that I can admit I am weak. I know that to some this admission wouldn't be hard at all. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do.
I know that there is only one way to go through fire.
You walk a straight line right through it.
**************************************************
I am uncomfortable in my own skin.
I am shaking quite a bit.
My stomach is in complete knots and that familiar calling is ringing in my head. It is like it controls me and it knows exactly how to get to me. I hate this feeling more than anything else in the world.
This one won't let up.
Sweat begins to form on my forehead and the palms of my hands.
I have to feed this.
If it is the last thing I do I have to feed this.
I am downstairs in no time at all and I am rummaging through every cupboard. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My insides are screaming.
I am literally clearing out the cupboards with sweeps of my arms. Glasses are falling to the kitchen floor and breaking at my feet.
I could care less.
I have one thing on my mind and the rest just doesn't matter. Nothing matters at all to me when I am chasing my high or my drink.
Nothing.
I can't think of anything else. It doesn't matter what I just went through.
I find the half a fifth of Jack above the fridge and I don't even hesitate. I tilt the bottle to my lips and I swallow mouthfuls. The bottle is drained in two swigs.
More.
I have to have more. I crossed the line and now it is pointless to turn back. I want more. I want blackness. I want death.
What I am doing finally sinks in.
All of the work and all of my time is gone.
The hatred rises in me.
How could I let myself do this?
I run into the bathroom and I stand over the toilet and force my finger into the back of my throat. If I can get this poison out of my body maybe it will be alright. I throw up nothing but blood.
I splatter blood all over the toilet and the floor.
Rage.
I look and see my reflection in the mirror.
I scream at the top of my lungs as my fist shatters the mirror.
I realize that I am sitting straight up in my bed and I am crying hysterically. I know that I actually screamed during my dream because I awaken to it still reverberating off the walls of my room.
I am drenched in sweat and for almost a minute I have to try and convince myself that all of that really didn't happen.
I can't stop crying.
The dream was so real that I can still taste the Jack Daniels on my lips.
posted by steve at 12:26 PM
5 Comments:
Ohhh Steve! I just read the last three chapters and I was heartsick when I read the part about drinking the Jack Daniels. And then so relieved when it was a dream.
Thank you so much for writing this. My brother in law has been an alcoholic ever since I've known him and I never could understand him or his illness.
The main difference is that he won't admit that he's a drunk. And therefore he won't get any help. Most of the time he's functional, but he's the father of my niece, Mindy, whom I adore and who stays with us quite a bit (necessarily, usually, because of her father's episodes).
Anyway, thank you. I understand a bit more now, and I am praying that we (CJ's family) are able to love and support him. And praying that somehow he comes to the realization of what HE is doing to his daughter's life.
Happy New Year, Friend!
THANK GOD IT WAS ONLY A DREAM!! I was freakin and thinking - "NO - you can't drink now!!"
Exact same comment as Jojo's!!
(looks like people named Jodi think alike,eh?)
How you got from this post to where you are today is amazing. God is good!
I know this pales in comparison, but when I diet, I ALWAYS dream about foods that I shouldn't be eating and I almost always feel such extreme guilt in the dream. When I awake I am so glad it was a dream, but they are the most real and the most memorable of all my dreams. I will wake up and actually be hungry for whatever I was dreaming about.
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