Write Away

Thousands of words have been punched in by my hands. I am now ready to take my writing to a new level. Someone, somewhere can direct my path. I am calling on you now.Addiction and possible treatments are my passion. I was spared the hell of an alcoholic death by a hair’s breath. My death was called 3 times. Much to my chagrin, I was sent back.I am on this earth to use my words to heal. A mentor or guide is needed to move forward. Below is a sample of my work. Thank you for reading and offering any feedback:IronicIt’s perfect that the word ‘ironic’ has the word Ron in the middle because our story certainly was. In 1990, I moved to San Diego to marry a wonderful, elegant man. We courted and later married in a fairy tale wedding in the grand ballroom of the U.S. Grant Hotel. I couldn’t believe I was even invited much less as the bride.He had many people in the church crying when he broke down in tears during our vows at the First Presbyterian Church in Banker’s Hill. When we first started dating, he shared that he had once had an issue with alcohol and no longer drank.

Our engagement was announced in the social pages and we were invited to so many events that I had one closet just for evening gowns that I would buy at thrift stores and remake. I owned one when we came together.One night at dinner at Salvatore’s in Downtown San Diego, he ordered a glass of wine. “I thought we didn’t drink,” I said. He thought he could have a glass now and then with dinner. It seemed harmless and I knew nothing about how alcoholism works.It got a hold of him hard and fast. Within six months, he had wrecked both of our cars, racked up four D.U.Is (two priors), lost his job, had us drowning in legal debts for attorneys and went through our entire savings.All of a sudden the elegant man that I married was a drunk. I was lost with it. I held two jobs to support us and he kept drinking. With counseling from our church, I decided to legally separate and gave him a year to stop drinking.He couldn’t do it. I yelled, begged. Explained that I wanted children and didn’t want to give them an alcoholic father. I called him weak and shamed the heck out of him. Then, I gave up and with a heavy heart divorced the man I loved.In our last conversation, he said, “If you leave me, I don’t think I will survive this.” I blew up and said “you can’t stop putting a drink to your lips if it means our entire future plus your life is at stake?”When we buried him a while later from a failed liver, I almost lost my mind. I couldn’t stop going to the cemetery and just apologizing to his crypt. I didn’t know you could die from this disease at that point. Trust me, now I do.A short time later, my home burned and the stress ate at me in every waking moment. Living in place after place out of a suitcase trying to put my life back together, I started drinking to cope. More. And more. And more. It took insurance a year to pay the claim.All of a sudden it was me with my hands shaking in the morning. I shook and sweated if I didn’t have a morning drink. I had to have more every time I needed to get anything done. Alcohol had its hooks deep into me and I was scared.

In the ten years since that time, I tried and tried to quit as I moved five times. I think AA meetings might have been more effective if I could have stayed in one place. I moved 5 times and had 4 sponsors.In a sad twist of irony, I heard myself repeating his exact words, “Please don’t give up on me. Don’t leave me. I may die if everyone I love turns away.” Some said the same words I said, “Just stop drinking. Are you nuts? You’re gonna lose everything.” And I almost did.I’ve come to appreciate that we had a beautiful decade together. In His Grace, God forgave me for being human and not understanding his situation. I wouldn’t trade our memories for the world.My story is not a sad one but it’s been rocked by alcohol and I would help anyone stay out of its grip. Writing and sharing about the horror of the disease of addiction may at least give the experience some value.