Tuesday, December 30, 2008

A Secret. And my struggles

i gained back five pounds. That's no secret and has nothing to do with anything. but it does.

to begin, the secret. i stole an ambienCR from my sister-in-law and took it yesterday. i haven't decided what to do -- to tell her, to pray that she doesn't notice, to try to get more. i've actually taken (there's an easy word) four from her over the last month. she'll probably notice. this was the first in a while, and the first since my rehab. usually, i'd just get my own from a local doctor from very rare time-to-time. but that's no defense. here IS one defense -- i have asked her many, many times not to leave her Ambien in her bedside drawer, because it is such a lure. that doesn't quite take away the fact that I, a 44 year-old woman, am going into her drawer in her home and stealing sleep pills.

ahhh, what a sleep i slept and how great i felt today. cheerful, rested and upbeat. not sedated and nauseous like i do on the stuff they let me take. the extreme lethary and nausea have been concerning me, but there's really nothing else that doesn't mess with your brain and doesn't make you addicted. it all stinks!

it also stinks that most people seem able to drink moderately. And some people can just stop drinking whenever they feel like it, and it's a not problem ---yes, i do mean you Boyfriend.

we have my sister who's in town (more on her natural skinniness later), and that one wine or glass of champagne she sips and sometimes doesn't finish, throughout the meal. (let's not forget the dessert she has no interest in, et. al.) to her left sits my brother-in-law who grew up wealthy in Europe and pairs his two glasses of wine to the food. he's drinking for the taste! my brother who likes diet coke with his six courses and coffee with sweet-in-low with dessert. and to his left, i give you my sister-in-law on her fourth beer, getting a little red and a little nasty. i resent her too -- no one's telling her to stop drinking. and she gets to drink so much.

i resent everyone who's not me. i want my wine!!!! hello.

it's been a hard holiday season, but it's winding down. i don't want to see a glass of wine for a long, long, long time.

on christmas eve, we went to the Boyfriend's family's. his brothers and sisters-in-law drink for utter recreation on the holidays. his sister-in-law was taste-testing wines. his brothers mixed decadent cocktails all evening. his father (from the old country) did shots. the Boyfriend didn't drink, but he didn't care.

i had no clue what to do with myself, especially when they all spoke Ukranian for the grandparents, aunt and uncles sakes. they've all known each other all their lives. the grandparents met when they first got to the US, and all the kids and their wives went to nursery school together.

usually, a couple of glasses of wine put me at ease. instead, i ate a lot (back to those five pounds.)

thursday, i met a friend at our favorite bar where we know some of the customers. i had diet coke, she had one glass of wine, at my insistence. usually, we'd drink quite a few together. i don't think the bar life is for me now. i was dying of "thirst".

saturday's party was better than expected. most folks didn't drink, but once again, i ate way more than was comfortable.

sunday, monday and tuesday, my brother, his wife and i ate with my sister's family in very (too) expensive beautiful restaurants in manhattan. again, i longed for wine and ate like a super bowl champ. what's with all this over-eating?

my sister's in from pittsburgh. she hasn't gained weight since she had her last kid 13 years ago, and even then, she looked great in a tiny bikini a month later.

i've been jealous since the day i was born, eight years after she. my sister was my EXACT oppositive. she was pretty, never needed braces or glasses, didn't have zits, she was a cheerleader and popular. and always thin. naturally. with no addictions. none.

my sister married a lovely doctor who came from great wealth, and they bore the two greatest kids in the world (i swear, i'm not subjective!) she hasn't worked in eighteen years and takes a lot of french and dance classes. and i can't forget all her charity work.

they travel constantly, often to monaco, where his dad lives. it's a great life.

Sis scratch bakes and cooks and cleans. her home is exquite. grrr.

i have other issues with my sister, which are harder. when my mom was ill, my sister only came at christmas for the final five years. she lived an hours flight, and she didn't work. one year, they took four holidays but refused to visit my mother, because they didn't want to put the dog in the kennel one more time.

my mother begged her to come and to bring the beloved grandchildren, who ADORED my mother. my sister refused, saying she was being guilt-tripped into visiting. she talked to my mom all the time on the phone but wouldn't come from pittsburgh to nj. when she did make that once a year visit, her family would spend all their time in NY while my mother was bedridden in NJ. do i sound a little bitter?

i visited my mom every holiday, weekend and during the week if need be until the last six months, when i discovered crack and stealing. i can't really talk about this yet. i can't believe i wrote it here.

during that time, only my best-friend and the care-giver we hired saw my mom. my sister still refused, and my brother and she were fairly estranged. sis called me all the time, trying to get me to put down the crack pipe and visit my mother. she even "threatened" to come and get me herself (yeah, right). i told her that the best thing she could do for me was visit my mother, so mom wasn't alone at a time i was too messed up to help her. nope.

i got clean for two months, and my family agreed to let me see my mom (i'd been banned),but she fell and went into a coma. HER LAST DAYS WERE THE HARDEST I'D HOPE EVER TO LIVE, watching this vibrant woman in a coma and holding her while she died.

i went back to crack and things got worse. my sister was furious with me and didn't talk to me for almost another year. now, we're friendly. she has no idea that she might have done anything imperfect.

i work on forgiveness. i will never forgive myself. that's okay. i would like to learn to understand that my sister came from her own weird, weak place. some days are better and easier than others.

on those days that i'm giving up booze and drugs, i'm crankier than others.

i haven't had a drink or klonopin and i told my therapist, my group and you about the ambien. before i wrote, i worried that you'd all think i'm awful. this is where i tell the truth. it helps me get real. thanks for listening.

Friday, December 26, 2008

on the wagon

it's harder this time -- being clean and sober. i'm not sure why. perhaps it's because i'm taking it seriously this time? last time i stopped drinking, i think i knew i'd drink again.

this time, i seem to have realized that i can't and don't drink moderately. i've kept the receipt warning the cop gave me instead of a DUI right next to my computer, so i'll see it everyday. To remember that there are serious repercussions when i drink and take pills. i can not drink, and i cannot take sedatives. bah, humbug.

last time, i didn't discuss how tough it was. sometimes, when we get off substances, we feel so good and proud and physically better -- that's called a pink cloud. i had one for a month after i got off crack and the last time i gave up alcohol and, later, pills. not so, this time. it's been rougher and harder.

last time i got off alchol, it was in rehab, surrounded by people who'd been drinking god knows what or how much for more years than they could remember. many were shaking and ill from the withdrawal. my experience was easy in comparison and, so, perhaps i didn't take it as seriously. and i was still taking klonopin and ambien.

this time is HARD. i've been out at a bar twice and have gone to one party. i've got a party tomorrow night and dinner with my whole family Sunday, Monday and possible Tuesday too. my sister-in-law will drink her usual 4, my brother-in-law will have his usual two, and my sister will gracefully nurse her one. and we'll have delicious food, which is, for me at this point in recovery, far less delicious that it would be with a full-bodied cab. (it bugs how much i long for wine. and shows me, again, how good it is that i'm in recovery.))

one side effect of this whole experience -- i feel like i have narcilepsy. my eyes close all the time, no matter how much sleep i get. they're starting to droop.

tomorrow, i'll tell you about my christmas dinner and the two nights at a bar. my sense -- the smart thing to do is to limit those activities. they take a lot out of me.

off to bed. i hope i feel a little rested tomorrow. (i hope we all feel rested tomorrow.)

Sunday, December 21, 2008

a funny thing happened on the way to the scale

okay, so this is my fourth or is it fifth post of the day? think someone's got some energy to burn?

back to my weight. i'm not going to ignore it. i've lost seven pounds since i started this detox. do i like it? you betcha.

but this time i'm not buying it. are you listening ED?

we know i've kind of "hermitted" myself in for the detox, but please, i spent a good part of yesterday looking at my flat stomach. (i think it's time to start getting out, maybe?)

i loved my flat stomach. i admired it much of the day.

admittedly, the first two days of detox i was nauseous and appetite-free. admittedly, dumping the bottle of wine cost me some calories, and it IS snowy and icey out and i didn't feel well, so i didn't make my usual food runs.

but, i liked that flat stomach way too much.

when i hopped eagerly on to my brother's scale this morning it said 124. not the 131 i've been weighing recently, nor the 134 i brought back from california.

124 isn't low for many (some of you may think that's a humongous number), but it's too low for me. i can't maintain it without going hungry.

the number frightened me. i don't want to go back. i don't want to watch my stomach all day.

today, i ate. breakfast, lunch, steak and rice (and asparagus) for dinner and some cookies. when my tummy rumbled, i ate.

I AM NOT GOING BACK!

i have to remember

....that the last time i came off klonopin, i felt EVEN worse. that the last time i came off klonopin, i weaned myself. this time i went cold turkey. that the last time i came off klonopin, i was sick for over a week, even after i'd weaned myself down. that the last i time i came off klonopin, i was already off alcohol.

giving up klonopin and a bottle of wine is difficult. i can not expect to feel well (read -- NOT ANXIOUS) quickly. (i'm currently a hyped up stream-of-consciousness ball of nerves.)

the last time it took over a week, and i finally felt human again.

i have to remember that i will feel human again.

the kittens

just back from visiting my bro's new puppy, Bo, and the very disgruntled cat, Becky.

i call the cat Miss Kitty for two reasons. 1) she's got quite the temperment. i picture her as a dominatrix and 2) she's the second becky. it's weird for two cats in a row to have the same name.

becky 1 came to us when i was eight years old. i was such a miserable, lonely child. my parents thought a cat would be good for me.

becky was a beautiful sleek full-bred siamese. i named her after the most beautiful person i knew, a woman named rebecca.

unfortunately, becky the cat was a biter. she'd chase after all my mother's piano students, trying to chomp on their little fingers. she terrorized everyone.

my father thought all of this was hysterical. my parents were going thru a very nasty separation, except neither one of them would leave the house. for FIVE years. (and that's a story for another day.)

anyway, my dad hated all the piano students and possibly me and certainly my mother, so becky's little "love bites" tickled him endlessly.

i'd never asked for a cat and once she got nasty, i was terrified of her too. when my dad finally moved out (hallelujah) when i was 13, he took his beloved becky with him. i didn't see either of them for several years. somehow we got back in touch for a little bit when i was about 17

evidently, becky tortured their new neighborhood. folks at the local diner would talk about the awful cat who lived down the road. my dad, a creature of absolute habit, went to the diner every morning and chuckled to himself -- no one knew he was the owner of Terror Cat.

eventually, someone poisoned becky, the true love of my dad's life. i didn't see him cry when his brother died suddenly of a heart attack and his sister died the following week of cancer. with becky's death, he wept openly and often and vowed not to get another animal because of the pain of the loss.

fast forward more than 20 years, and my dad, in his late 80s adopted a rescue cat and named her Becky, the second love of his life. she's a biter too. after my dad's death, my brother took the cat and we all swear she's got my dad's temperment. she'll kiss you and love, then chomp hard on your nose. all of us wear Becky Bruises.

this post wasn't mean to be about the becky's. it got more involved than i expected. this post was meant to be about the kittens.

after a miserable childhood, i became a far, far more miserable teenager -- morose, mean, angry, sad, lonely. i gained 50 pounds, bingeing alone in the house, had no friends for years and despised my life. my mother, with her new horrible young drug addict lover, didn't know what to do with me. especially as she was spending more time in nyc with him than in nj with me. (i sound bitter, don't i? i still have the urge to say "sorry, mom".)

my mother had no idea what to do with me. bright idea -- she'd get me kittens.

i didn't want kittens. i was in no place to take care of animals -- i was a depressed kid who was having a rough time taking any kind of care of herself. my mother insisted they'd be good for me, and we'd be getting them whether i liked it or not. i didn't.

i named them mimi and mittens (i felt bad that mittens got a less fancy name, but she looked like a mitten), but i had no interest in them. i didn't want to care for them. cat food made me gag, and cleaning litter provokes a more severe reaction. even to this day, i get super nauseous if my family's away, and i have to feed Becky and change her litter. imagine me at 14.

the kittens came from a farm in minnesota (long story) and were probably too young to have been taken. they shit ALL over the house. all the time. when my mother was teaching, she'd throw them in the basement, so they wouldn't bother the students. eventually, they spent most of their time in the basement. alone.

i didn't know what to do. i didn't want these pooping machines but felt endless remorse and guilt about the horrible lives they were living. i tried to be nice to them, but i was such a troubled kid. i wanted nothing to do with them.

one day, i came home from school, and the kittens were gone. my mother told me that one of her piano students let them out accidentally, and they couldn't be found.

my heart races even now, knowing that whatever happened, it was no good for those kittens. and races harder, for the guilt i felt then and now at the great relief their disappearance brought.

we never spoke of them again.

telling on myself

i woke up this morning to the following email:

Dear Melissa:
-------------------------
You can save money on 30 Generic klonopin 1mg Pills
-------------------------
You will not have to leave the comfort of your home at, Mountain Rd.
to receive your order
-------------------------
We meet your needs at (I ERASED THE NAME OF THE WEBSITE)
-------------------------

Melissa J, Collect from us a New ID : (ALSO DELETED)
-------------------------
add the New ID while placing a new order

I have not erased the email. i twiddled with ordering.
wouldn't it be nice to sleep really well?
and wake-up anxiety free?

again, i have not erased the email. i tell myself to erase it,
because if i'm that crazy for klonopin, i can always find it online
again. but i hold this in my inbox, because this place sent it quickly
and sent good klonopin.(always dicey when you're ordering from who knows
where.)

i need to delete this. i must delete this. but i'm not ready, and
that's a bad sign.

okay, i'm going to delete it. ow, this one hurts.

DELETED AND EMPTIED FROM TRASH!!! THANK YOU
BLOGGER BUDDIES.

Friday, December 19, 2008

sleeping and eating

i'm having a lot of trouble sleeping. a lot of wine and klonopin put me out and kept me out.

i've always been an insomniac. my natural sleep pattern is to fall asleep at 4 am and wake up at 11. when i waitressed or house managed theaters, that worked well.

but now i can't even sleep. i have trouble falling asleep and staying asleep and then nap on and off all day. not great patterns! i hope this gets better. i often think sleep is the most important thing in our lives. with enough sleep, we can do anything.

lack of sleep always makes me eat more. i think it will give me energy or i'm just too tired not to eat constantly. i don't like that whole deal!!!!!!!!!

eating's been weird during my detox. like the last time i came off klonopin, i've been nauseous and have zero appetite. and food looks and smells icky. i have eaten bits of things and made myself have dinner at my brother's tonight. it's even weirder, because i have my period, and that's when i always eat the most.

this pattern worries me, because it starts to become interesting. i've lost four pounds (that will happen when you cut out a bottle or so of wine a night and have no appetite.)

i hear my ED getting excited. "see, Melissa, you don't need to eat. look how little you're eating now. excellent work. bravo."

will he ever shut up?

i do feel certain that my appetite will return and my constant interest in food will return. this exact thing happened the last time i cut out klonopin and my ulcer flared like crazy. i lost a ton of weight, thought it was cool and interesting, but started eating again, like i always do.

so, this post was kind of blah. i initially wrote it so no one would read the one after it. i guess i do want you to read it. i've considered deleting it so many times or asking a friend's opinion first (you've heard this one before), but i'm leaving it up and keeping my fingers crossed that i made the right decision.