Turning Point

A "common wisdom" amongst widows is that it generally takes about two years to adjust to one's new life and circumstances and also to clear up the residual business of the departed. With me it is taking a bit longer because I have had to mainly concentrate on raising my sons (neither of whom is low maintenance!) while working full time.

However, I seem to have reached a bit of a turning point now. Oh sure - there is still stuff to do. I have barely scratched the surface on finishing with the clean up of Hubby's garage and barn (all his car stuff including items which as I stumble upon them I ship to a museum in California) and I seem to still be opening drawers that are full of surprises to clear out. At least the alcohol stashes have all been found near as I can tell! But estate things are finished, the house and yard have been repaired and restored post-alcoholic-neglect and destruction and I have redone my will and all that kind of stuff.

Symbolic of the end of the beginning as it were was a trip that I took with my sons this summer to London and Paris. I have been to London and England fairly often in connection with my music and research but I had not been to Paris in almost 25 years. I went when I was a young composer with a residency at the studios of West German Radio in Cologne, Germany. From Cologne you could take an overnight train to Paris and I did so almost every weekend of the three months I lived there. I really loved Paris and got to know it well. I also remember telling myself that if I ever had children that I would bring them to Paris to show them the magic of the city because it just seemed like something children should experience. This has always been a bit of an obsession with me - when both of my boys were babies I would hold them close and tell them all about our trip to Paris. And my oldest son was always asking me when we were going to go to Paris.

Like the picture in my earlier post, I held on to that dream during the really awful times. During those times, a trip to Paris seemed near impossible to even think about. However, I DID think of it as being a great vacation escape from "Drunk Daddy" and began planning as such. Then Hubby died and everything was on hold again.

In mid-June (before the heat wave there, thank goodness! It was a balmy 80 degrees the whole time we were there) my sons and I stepped into the Tuileries on our first early evening in the city. And I just lost it. Broke down and cried and cried and hugged my boys. Telling them about how finally my dream had come true. Needless to say - we had a wonderful, magical time.

Since then I have really felt at peace. Now I think I am truly moving on. Even meeting with a broker to plan my savings for my retirement. Wow!

And on July 4th, my brother-in-law came in from my garage fridge with a beer; one of the few I had saved from Hubby's stash because it was expensive British beer and is great for flavoring chili (I still have about 10 bottles in the fridge) and he said, "I found this awesome beer! May I have one?!" and I, of course, said "Sure!" and chuckled to myself.

I hope for peace of mind and heart for you all as well.

"We'll always have Paris...." -- Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) Casablanca

This is the Fantasy

Here is the fantasy. The way we all imagine it might turn out. The way our alcoholic (or other substance abuser) might romantically change:

It isn't going to happen that way.....

A Picture to Focus On

One day when I was in a crafts store I found a small poster print that had all of the aesthetic elements and colors and ideas that I wanted in my house. Now before I go any further, let me explain to all of you (and, well, many of you will already know this!) that life with an alcoholic can get quite messy. Not only is there the physical mess (mid-to-end stage alcoholics have little control over body functions and also Hubby tended to stagger around a lot and crash into walls and furniture leaving big pits and scars) but one becomes so caught up in keeping life all together in the house and environs that gradually stuff can start to go to hell in a hand basket. Luckily - in my case - I was sharing the place with three males (one of whom was a drunk and the other two were little boys) so they never noticed!

Anyway, being a bit of a "Martha Stewart type", I bought the print and put it leaning up against the wall by my side of the bed. While I was still sharing a bed with Hubby, I would stare at it when he was tossing and turning about so much that I could not sleep or after a particularly bad day of being told how awful I was and how awful life was and how everything sucked etc. by Hubby. In short - I would stare at it when I was miserable in the dark.

Sometimes I would stare at it for a while and then I would close my eyes and pray for awhile - this is the only time in my life when I have ever prayed and the prayer was not spoken; I was literally in a sort of cocoon with God - hard to explain maybe like a Vulcan Mind Meld?! (haha!). And then I would stare at it again and know...just know..that someday the print would guide me into cleaning up the mess that would remain after the inevitable happened.

It has been over three years since Hubby's death and I still have not cleaned up ALL the mess. There are still a few cabinets and a barn to go through. A couple of shelves in the garage. But - for the most part - all of the physical plant of the house has been fixed, cleaned, remodeled and done. The last piece was completed yesterday; when I came home from work a new fence surrounded my back yard.

And all of it...all of it stemmed from that print. The colors, the simplicity, the slight Asian feel (well, I am a martial artist!), the peace. I hung it on the wall of my new master bathroom. It is all done.

I hope that each and every one of you has something that you can focus on that takes you away from the misery every once and awhile. Something that gives you peace...and a goal.

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.” -- Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird)

It Just Gets Me in the Gut

Recently it seems like I am encountering folks dealing with loved ones' addiction issues all over the place. A colleague in martial arts just had his drug-addicted daughter relapse and run away leaving him and his wife with her two little babies (less than a year apart!) to care for and adopt. A colleague at work just had her drug-addicted daughter attempt suicide. A woman at church told me about her horrible home life - addicted, angry child and unsupportive husband.

It. Just. Gets. Me. In. The. Gut.

Because I remember it all too well. The awful feeling. Of nauseating despair. And I cannot help them. I can offer them advice and sympathy and a shoulder. And I know that helps.

But what really sickens me is that in these three cases at least, I know how it is going to end. Their loved one is going to die and there is nothing they can do about it. There is nothing I can do about it. I can gently suggest that they explore Al-Anon. That they read about "detachment" and other useful things. And it is so that they can prepare to say good-bye.

I know that there are happy endings often. In the cases above there will not be. I feel so awful for these friends and colleagues of mine.

But there it is....

Some Day You Will Stopped Being Defined by This Experience

When I was 27 years old I was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease. I went through 10 months of extensive chemotherapy that was very harmful to my psyche (extreme amounts of Prednizone makes you really fat and really paranoid and angry) but it DID cure me and I am quite grateful for that. I was so grateful that "being a cancer survivor" became my mission in life and almost my sole definition of myself for quite some time. I became a "Cancermount Counselor" (American Cancer Society program where you meet with and counsel folks with your type of cancer). I became a team captain for Relay for Life for many, many years. Somehow the fact that I was a survivor worked its way into every conversation that I had with someone. There were a couple of reasons for this, some good and some just "human nature." I have a very "missional personality" - I do believe that life throws things at you for a reason and you should try to make lemonade out of those lemons as much as possible. So, I used my negative and frightening experience to help others. Also - being a cancer survivor made me "interesting" - it was a good conversation starter. And that is where it gets a little weird and ambiguous - I tend to over analyze myself and was constantly worried that I was just trying to draw attention to myself and get sympathy, praise etc. for it. You know - who knows?

But then it gradually it stopped defining me so much. Oh, when I am asked to step up to the plate for cancer survivorship I still do so (especially since I later survived another kind of quite curable cancer - thyroid cancer - too). When my church has a Relay for Life team, I still do an hour of running for it and raise the money. But I am not captain. Nor do I go do the Survivor's Lap when I am supposed to be 'honored' - I just happened to draw the lucky card on that; the real honorees should be the ones still struggling and who are losing the fight.

And - geez - now when it comes up in conversation it is totally by accident and I cannot even remember how many years I have been a survivor. It has utterly ceased to be a part of how I define myself for better or for worse.

I now find that this is occurring with the whole "I am a widow of an end-stage alcoholic" thing. Really - for awhile there, I was managing to work that into every single conversation I ever had! And I think it did some good sometimes - I have been approached by my acquaintances, colleagues, church members - who know my story (because for goodness sakes, I sure was blaring it everywhere!) who know that they can come to me for comfort, advice, an ear and shoulder to cry on. It is why I write this blog; I DO have something to offer, I think, and once again am making lemonade of the lemons, I hope. But I also think that for ME there was a level of "self-aggrandizement" too (See what I survived!) - you know, human nature! I am only speaking about me and my motives - conscious or unconscious - your mileage may vary....

Then I realized the other day that this too no longer defines me. At all. I am just a women of 51 years. I have two sons, a dog and 4 cats. I lost the love of my life - first to alcohol and then to oblivion. But I don't have to work it into every conversation for my sake or others. I don't think about it every day. In fact, I barely think of it at all.

I am going to have a conversation with my sons this summer; see if they have experienced this. How do they think of themselves? How do they define themselves now? How did they define themselves THEN (when dad died....).

This is meant to be a comforting post (I sure hope that it is! If not - blame it on my clumsy language!). Right now, several of you are going through the horror that I went through. It may end soon for you; it may end later for you. I hope it ends sooner for you.... But it WILL end and it will fade and cease to define you. You will have been tempered after the fire and shaped into something new but the origins of your 'new shape' will diminish. The burns will heal. And one morning you will wake up and just be...you.... That is my hope and prayer for all of you who read this blog.

"Luctor et emergo ex Flammis Orior Per Aspera Ad Astra." - I struggle and emerge from the flames through the thorns to the stars.

Another Dreadful Shirt

Once again Facebook has offered me this on my timeline (because my status is "widow"):

If anyone ever buys me this shirt I will punch them...multiple times. And then kick them and stomp on them! I mean...words just fail me...

Post-Alcoholic Marriage Recovery Advice, Part One

Part One - Be Very Careful About Jumping Back Into the Game

I have a rather recently divorced friend who posted a picture on Facebook yesterday with the caption, "It's better to have nobody than to have someone who is half there, or doesn't want to be there." I happen to agree completely with this sentiment. However, my friend posted "Actually NOT...Half there is great because then I could still have me time..."

Argh! Did she not learn a THING from her awful marriage? (apparently no) Does she really want a man so desperately? (actually, yes, she does) Having been in an extremely lonely marriage because of Hubby's "mistress" the bottle (I have not had sex since January 2007 and Hubby died in June 2012...get the picture?) I cannot imagine a relationship with someone who is only "half there". I had that...and then brain damage made it gradually even less and less.

I can certainly understand wanting to have sex. Good heavens, along with chocolate and a nice glass of red wine, it is essential to life and I often feel the deprivation of such a necessary thing. But my friend has rushed into some dreadful romantic situations due to her hastiness. Being a martial artist who regularly teaches self-defense I actually worry a great deal about her safety as well and have urged her to attend one of my workshops.

I guess in many ways I am a fuddy-duddy. I have two teenage sons; I really cannot be catting around bringing home strangers who swiped RIGHT on Tinder. I tried signing up for eHarmony only to be utterly humiliated by their screening process and then I was REJECTED! (apparently it was because I don't want to be married) I scrolled through Match and POF and just felt like some sort of voyeur looking at men to buy....Ugh! Ok - so I am too old-fashioned to do that whole thing. (I admire women who can and actually another friend of mine has found a lovely gentleman through POF)

I suppose what I am trying to say in this post is - if you have survived the alcoholic marriage you probably have a great deal of healing to do. If you have children, they probably have a great deal of healing to do. And you have suffered...my God, how you have suffered... In short, you deserve the best the NEXT time 'round (if you even want a next time 'round). Hold out for a good partner now. Make a list. Have some absolutes: I absolutely MUST have this and I absolutely MUST NOT have that. You don't need to be going from the frying pan into the fire....

In many ways having been the wife of an alcoholic I have the kind of experience that lets me sense potential issues from far off. For example, I gotta say that my martial arts instructor is pretty hot stuff. Hoooo-boy is he hot stuff. But I can see the issues from MILES AWAY. There are definitely multiple reasons why this guy was only married once and it was for 18 months. I shall take a pass, thank you very much!

Someday if some guy just wants to come along, take me to fun places (and no, he doesn't have to pay all the time!), be nice to me and my family and come with a good supply of sex, wine and chocolate (hmmm...this seems to be a recurring theme!) I will be happy to play along and have a "boyfriend". And maybe that will never happen because I am too picky. But better to never have what I deserve than to settle for someone I don't deserve again....

"And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer, I, for all I learned."
--Dorothy Parker