monday monkey

a bad day drunk

~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

the truth help is in the details

Let’s dive deeper and deeper into this world I speak so highly of.  This is that lonely, sad yet, at times, slightly exciting world of the drinking problem.  This is my world.  This is not your world or your alcoholic friend’s world.  This place was designed by me and for me.  For those of you who may not understand this life, this way of stumbling through, literally and figuratively, perhaps my stories shine some light on your confusion or possibly intrigue.

Maybe there is one of you who wonder if you are like me or know someone who might be like me.  Let me warn you.  If it is you who are curious, if it is you who wonder, fear you are like me, the door is always open.  The communication line extends from you to me directly and has no people or hurdles in between.  But if you are curious because you fear you know someone like this, I’d suggest you be quite careful how you handle that.  I’m not a therapist, I’m not here to diagnose or reach out to someone you know.  If my stories resonate inside you, I am someone who can relate and talk.  But I only got to this place on my own.  No one could tell me to change or stop.  All I am saying is if you suspect someone you know has a problem, please explore your options before making a move, because you could be in a danger zone you don’t even realize or understand.

Well…..sorry if that got weird.  So how about I tell you about a really bad day.

 

the bad day starts yesterday

When it came to drinking, my bad days couldn’t be contained or qualified to one actual day.  They started long before the stroke of midnight.  In fact, they were usually still going strong when midnight hit.  The main question of whether or not to drink on a given night would sometimes be decided by a few, very important factors.  First question, what do I have to do tonight – probably nothing scheduled.  Second and more importantly, what time do I have something to do tomorrow and how critical is it.  Once I had the answers, the determination would be made.  Drink or not drink.  If we had reached this questioning period, the answer was most undoubtedly going to be – drink.  The third question would be, who can we drink with (sub-question – who will I have the best chance to stay out with super late).  Then it was time to get to it.

Grape vodka and cranberry juice, stiff as you can make it and I’ll meet you for a cigarette on the front porch (I was speaking to myself in this scenario).  When I would make drink #1, the adrenaline rush was significant, but I don’t want this to sound cliché.  It wasn’t glamorous as if it were a movie.  Tarantino would have quick cuts of ice in glass, drink mix and lit cigarette and it would make you want to have a cocktail right then and there.  In my picture, there was adrenaline filled with anxiety engulfed in self-doubt and self-loathing while still maintaining the internal vision of somehow this is all normal and maybe even….cool.  Then we were gone.

Once that first drink makes it down, once the fire is in the stomach and I am off and running, it isn’t going to stop.  One drink is all I need and then I can’t tell you what happens next.  But the idea of ‘tonight I need to take it easy’ or ‘I’ll just have a couple’ isn’t going to ever enter my mind.  Fundamentally, this is probably the top reason I no longer drink.  That list is five miles long, but this concept, in my opinion, is the root of my problem relationship with alcohol.  I can’t, I won’t, and I hate to stop drinking once I start.  The human body will, eventually, make you stop.  You will either pass out, start vomiting or die.  But ‘having desire to stop’ is not on that list for me.

Yes, you read that correctly.  ‘Dying’ is on the list of reasons a person can be stopped from physically drinking more yet ‘me wanting to’ is not.  That is not a mistake.  If you haven’t seen what this disease can do to a person, perhaps now you are starting to.  So maybe by 2a or 3a everyone has gone home.  Depending on how I answered question #2, I may just stay up alone and finish things off.  But you came here to hear a BAD day story.  So that’s when we introduce the second part of the story – next day responsibilities.

 

how being responsible and being an out of control alcoholic mix terribly

Responsibilities are the worst when you’ve been up until 3a or 4a drinking heavily.  Work, family obligations, basically anything that isn’t sleeping or drinking more really got in the way of my alcoholism.  They ruined everything.  “Who the fuck has a kid’s party at 11A on a Saturday without booze?”  I’ve come to learn that, surprisingly, a LOT of people do actually.  “I’ll go out to breakfast if they have a bloody Mary bar.  Wait, you’re not going to drink WITH me?”  Also I’ve come to learn that this is not uncommon for people to drink a little at night and then NOT want to drink the next morning.  “Fuck work for having me as an employee and having to be in at 9A.”  I don’t even have a response to this one, but I do remember feeling this way A LOT.

So I define “bad” for me as waking up when I needed to for something, usually work, and still being hammered.  Hammered meant no hangover (yet) and feeling like the world was ok and somehow I was still ok.  You won’t like this or understand it, but towards the very end, this feeling when I awoke and had to work meant only one thing.

I will tell you in this alcoholic’s mind the reasoning I’m about to share actually made sense and I felt it was somewhat rational. 

I had to drink more, at work.  This way, I avoid the hangover completely (no) and can be normal (no).  I remember the face of the liquor store worker when I would walk in and grab a bottle of red wine at 830 in the morning.  It was not a judging face; it was just a face of indifference.  Yet it also had an awareness and, I believe, he made assumptions about what was going on.  It is possible that a lot of that description was in my own mind and fueled by my own anxiety, but I still felt that way.  You may have glanced over it or you may be asking “did he say red wine?”  Yes.  I did.  Also important to note is that I never really drank much red wine in my drinking career.  If I drank wine, I liked white.  So why did red wine become my ‘go-to drink of choice when I was still drunk from the night before and had to go to work so I’d stop by the liquor store at 830A and pick up something drink for the day, while at work – drink?’  I guess the first time it felt right for that very common, relatable scenario.

 

didn’t quite think this one out…

There is really only one slightly small problem with waking up drunk, not really eating and then filling your stomach with red wine at work to ‘stay normal’.  Time.  Have you ever seen basically ANY food at a sporting event and thought “well the best idea of the day is me eating that right now”?  Most of the time, hours later, it wasn’t the best idea of the day.  Well what seems like a good idea at 830a, even 1030a when you’re really in a groove, is going to eventually have to end or get worse.  You may think you’re creative, talented or superman at this point and think everything you are doing is pure gold.  It’s not.  You may think you’re talking normally to people, clients, and dogs.  You aren’t.  You may be getting away with it, and at the time that fact keeps you going somehow, but it simply can’t last.

Remember, the human body is going to win out somehow.  I recall one specifically bad day where I really felt good about where my drunk level was, not super obvious, but enough to keep myself happy.  I played ‘normal guy’ and planned an evening happy hour with a buddy near work.  The thing is, again, you can fool your mind, you can fool other people, but your body does not respond to this type of communication.  So you have a severe buzz going on and have been drinking now for 24 straight hours, minus the 3 hour nap you’re calling “sleeping last night” and havent eaten much at all.

Your body, which is the only part of you telling the truth these days, is a river about to overflow its banks.  A tiny bit more rain and the flood is coming and it will affect everyone in its path.  So you hit the bar at 5P, like a ‘normal person’.  You start the conversation and its fine.  I got this.  So….time for the usual – vodka and cranberry and perhaps, we suggest, a shot, to toast friendship or some shit like that.

Oops, we were afraid a small drizzle would overflow that river and instead hurricane just showed up and it’s coming on strong.  The conversation quickly diverts.  Uh oh, he notices that I am not seeming right now.  My brain can’t make words normal anymore.  This is a blackout’s beginning.  The world is now a movie I am watching from afar.  Time is disappearing and I don’t understand things.  I can sense the confusion in my friend.  He must be thinking how did one drink and a shot do this so quickly?  He knows something is wrong.  I stop caring and realize that exhaustion is upon me and I can’t think of anything except my bed and sleep.  It must be 10 o’clock at night.  (It is actually closer to 5:30)  I must leave.  I recall the idea of ‘let me take you home’ being thrown out, but I quickly say no to that.

I’m not proud of any of this and this part is hard to even type so many years later.

But I drove home.  I don’t know how I did it but I did.  This is something I thank God for all the time, that I never injured anyone doing something so reckless, selfish and beyond dangerous.  I recall even more confusion from my wife when I got home so early and obviously severely drunk.  I knew she must have been doing the math in her head.  “How could he have been out for such a short time and come home wasted?”  I passed it off.  I knew the pain was coming; physical, emotional and psychological.  That had to all wait while I passed out.

 

the bad day after the bad day

So that was the Bad Day.  However, as you can imagine, the next day was no peach.  When that alarm clock goes off, the true terror begins.  I know there are so many out there who are the ‘drink everyday’ type alcoholic.  Well, I just couldn’t be that.  Not because I lacked desire, but my body took these things very, very hard.  I wanted to die.  I knew I had to be at work again and I actually usually went on these days.  But they were very, very bad.  The nausea was so bad that every moment I feared I’d throw up but it was also so terrible that I couldn’t even force food into my stomach.  My anxiety and pain made me feel afraid that my heart would explode in my chest.  I would spend time sending texts or emails saying how sorry I was and trying to make excuses.

These were the days where the very small, subtle voice in the back of my head would try to suggest to me that this was not normal and that maybe I had a problem.  These are the days I would find that young voice that would say ‘I am never drinking again’.  My body, my mind and my soul had been run over by a steam roller and there was very little left.  My being felt 200 years old.  All I wanted was to get home and get in my bed again.  I would often think ‘if almost any other person I know felt this way ONE time due to drinking, they’d never touch that stuff again’.  I actually still think that’s true.

Well, here is how I leave you on this post.  After all of that, after all of those feelings and horrible ups and downs, eventually I’d get to the end of the day and back in bed.  This would be the end of a three day roller coaster ride.  3 days!  And the worst part about it was when I awoke the next day, it was Day 1 again.  Question number 1 – what do I have to do tonight?  Looks like its Friday…..so I’ll plan on seeing you again Sunday….if I make it through this one.

clifford’s birthday party, the review of ignorance

~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

clifford’s friends are assholes

CliffordsBday-CoverRead the story.  I’ve read it 217 times to my son.  I get angrier every time.  This is what I take from this story and then I’ll tell you how I arrive at this point.  Don’t be a prick and don’t be friends with ignorant assholes. 

I’ve read a ton of children’s books over the last few years, but this one plays on my deepest fears and anxieties more than any other.  But that fucking dog and, more importantly, his owner Emily Elizabeth have some seriously rude “friends”.

So here is how the story plays out.  This terrifying, deformed, freakishly massive red dog is having a birthday party.  I mean this fucking thing is planned.  Invitations sent out, decorations up, ice cream and cookies ready to go, the asinine dog has a ridiculous party hat on and his owner Emily has her head in the clouds.

So then the time comes for the party to start and who shows up?  No one.  Not a soul.  Zero people show up and Emily is the calmest 8 year old in the world who literally didn’t have one person show up to the damn birthday party, even for a dog.  She just “wonders” where everyone is.  She’s a moron too by the way, but we’ll get to that later.

So, they handle it in an incredibly humbling and embarrassing way.  But also a way only someone with serious balls would deal with it.  So they go to the park looking for these “friends” to find out why they aren’t at the party.  They head to the playground and everyone is there.  Together.  NOT at the party.  I imagine this scene in reality and it’s the most awkward, gut wrenchingly sad thing I can even imagine.  These pricks are playing baseball and when confronted by Emily and the gigantic red monster behind her the best thing they come up with is that ‘they didn’t have good enough presents, not good enough for such a special friend’.  You have got to be fucking kidding me.  I’ve heard bad excuses before, but that is the worst one of all time.  And please don’t throw that crap back on Emily with the “special friend” bologna.  You are mean kids being mean and Emily and the nuclear fallout K9 could do a lot better than you when it comes to friends.  But…. she tells them to stop being silly and he’d like whatever they got for him.  THEY DIDN’T ACTUALLY GET HIM ANYTHING, EMILY!

This scene gets sadder and sadder and you can’t stop the train wreck if you tried.  At this point I’m begging the dog to mass murder all these jerks to stop this nonsense.  So now, these shit for brains are not only completely caught in a lie, they now need to somehow produce these inferior, made-up gifts and actually attend the party they blew off in the first place.  So they go home (probably rush home) to find anything in their houses they can pawn off as a gift for a dog the size of a house.  These “friends” are pathetic and lower than the dirt they were playing baseball on at the park…

Except…..maybe, just maybe, I am wrong here.  Maybe it is possible there is something behind this animosity towards Emily and her pet that fuels nightmares….

 

 clifford and emily are assholes?

So the so called friends show up at what must be hours after the original start time of the party.  The ice cream is ruined for sure, the cookies stale.  I can’t imagine what this poor mother is thinking.  She must  work 3 jobs already to pay for enough food to feed this beast that she has allowed her daughter to own.  Now, no one shows up to this party?  She must be halfway into a bottle of wine at this point.

 

the gifts

Scott’s gift is a large ball.  Not too bad.  Everyone plays with it until Clifford pulls out the fucking stopper and ends the game immediately.  Ok, not a big deal, maybe he didn’t know that would happen, he;s just a dog.

The next kid brings a piñata.  Not an ideal present for a 10 ton dog, but they decide to let him take some swings.  It goes poorly.  He knocks down trees, a shed, the fence and so on.  Horrific fucking scene.  Luckily no one was hurt or killed, but the 8 year olds are probably mortified and scarred for the rest of their life seeing such a massive force destroy the yard around them.  Yet time for the next gift!

Jenny didn’t even try.  She gave Clifford one of her yellow sweaters.  An 8 year old girl gave a dog as tall as a high school football stadium one of her own sweaters.  Yet the infinite optimist Emily Elizabeth, says ‘it’s perfect for his nose’!  Gigantic backfire, Jenny, ya dumb idiot.  I’m sure she hoped this would be the final straw to end the relationship.  Not today.

Why the next kid would give Clifford a robot dog is beyond me.  Perhaps she figured a robot dog can’t judge or be terrified by a 3 story tall red dog or maybe she’s just a fucking idiot.  Clifford broke it immediately.  Shocking.  Assuming the narrator IS Emily Elizabeth, the line after he breaks the robot is ‘they don’t make toys the way they used to’.  So, to follow this logic, “they” used to make toys that were so indestructible that you could literally drop a house on them and they would not break.  No they didn’t.  They did NOT used to make toys like that.

Then Cynthia and her dog Basker arrive with an actual gift.  They bring a gift certificate to the groomer to get a free shampoo and haircut.  (Side Note: The Bow Wow Beauty Parlor will be adding a size provision to their future documents after the wash and cut of an entire yacht.)  But wait, the picture becomes a little clearer when we see Emily hand this gift off to Scott.  Emily likes Clifford the way he is.  This girl actually re-gifts the gift certificate right in front of Cynthia ala behind the back style that would be virtually impossible for Cynthia to not see.  That takes some serious balls.  Maybe now I am starting to see why some people didn’t feel compelled to make this party a priority.

 

the finale

So this whole disaster gets wrapped up when the cake shows up on a truck.  Clifford was surprised, but became even more surprised when his family pops out of the cake.  SO how fucking long were these poor dogs cooped up in this fake cake while all this non sense was going on?  How did they survive?  And how is Clifford smart enough to know his family and feel genuine happiness to see them yet not feel hurt and confused when they aren’t there for the hours of time prior to this moment?  That’s not fair to him.  The poor bastard has already had a rough go of it anyway being that he is a fucking GIGANTIC RED DOG!

I’ll tell you what should have happened.  Emily’s mom, when she immediately sensed no one was showing up to this thing, should have gotten that fucking cake out with Clifford’s family inside and made the best of things.  This mother was nonexistent after making the cookies and ice cream and that’s not right.  The whole party was mishandled from the get-go and it was a nightmare waiting to happen.

So what I am trying to say is that Clifford and Emily’s ‘friends’ are ignorant assholes, granted, and you shouldn’t surround yourself with that type of negativity, even if life has dealt you a bad hand, you still deserve better.  That being said Emily and her disfigured mutant could try a little harder to be nice to people, considering they know what it’s like to be shit on by crappy people.  Surround yourself with positivity and be positive yourself.  Don’t be a prick to people.  Life is just too short.  At least this is what I got out of the story……

 

permanent fixtures

~ the monday monkey ~ Leave a comment

We have some permanent fixtures in our life. We just very well may have the illusions of permanent fixtures as well. You might say there is a limit and that might be unfair. I am not suggesting that we can only have 3 or 5 or 20 people in our life that cling on tight and never let go. But some do let go….and you let some go…. Yet, if you are lucky, you have some permanent fixtures, people who stick with you even when they find out you are an ass. They even possibly love you for it, or at least, in spite of it.
How hard is it to have a desire for someone to join your select group, yet know they won’t or can’t or shouldn’t? I’d say it difficult. People say you know when you know.
I’ll know when I know. What does that mean…. It;s on odd feeling when something is put in your life for a good reason but you come to realize that the “good reason”, while it is good and positive and looks like homerun on paper, has actually turned into the greatest stress of your life. Good reasons can sure mean a lot of different things. Let me try an analogy. Lets say you want to help homeless animals, you want to do something that benefits the world and benefits your soul. You find a wonderful dog that you think is great and just needs to be nursed to health and then he will be ready to be adopted by a loving family. So you house the dog, feed him, love him. He becomes a vibrant pup once again and the messages come flooding in wanting to meet him. The good idea you had and the good reason you envisioned has come to fruition and now a family is ready to take him away. End of story with the perfect happy ending.
Not so fast. We have a problem. During this process you didn’t realize it, but you can’t live without the dog now. He means more to you than you ever dreamed and the thought that this little guy is going to live somewhere else, even though it would be a constant, love filled existence for him, is so gut wrenchingly devastating that your good reason has turned your life into a daily grind of stress and agony thinking of losing your puppy. The dog was put in your life for a good reason, a reason YOU wanted. Then the good reason, in your crazy head, became much more about your need for the dog and the dog’s love and acceptance of you. And THAT good reason was NOT what was placed in your life and is not available to you. The whole process makes you want to wish none of it ever happened, but then you never met your dog. Then, you never knew a life with something that made you float on air. So then, what do you do. Well I don’t know. I DO NOT KNOW. I just know that you’ve got stress and heartache now and all you wanted was happiness and serenity…..

So what’s my point?  Well maybe today, right now, I have no point.  Maybe just sharing a feeling, suggesting something sucks sometimes is just good enough…. Whether another person reads this or not, I know when making a point isn’t the number one reason to write something down….