I moved back home.
Love to all. Even you, the cat who seems to have unplugged my gigabit switch.
What it does.
This is what I have learned.
Alcoholics Anonymous will provide a way to stay sober for another day. Everything else is a bonus.
I am surfacing from insanity: I had, towards the end of this episode, $12,500 in cash (yeah, it went up), and I was ready to disappear, drink myself nearly to death, and finish the job by overdosing on Klonopin and alcohol to when the money ran out.
Then I took advice from people I didn’t want to trust.
Yesterday, I told my sponsor that I was just put on a fantastic mood stabilizer with the unfortunate side effect of having arterial blood spray from my testicles whenever I cough or sneeze, and did he think this was worth it?
He believed me for a moment. Then he realized that I’m coming around.
I am not drinking today, and I don’t think I am drinking tomorrow.
I am off Vyvanse, staying with low doses of Klonopin for a few days, and ramping up something completely new: Topamax. It seems tailor-made for me. We’ll see.
My wife has told me she wants to work it out. She told me she loves me. I’m giving her space. I’m crying a lot. This is not normal for me.
The people who came forward to help me.. to really help me… fill my eyes with tears and my heart with this strange mix of appreciation and What The Fuck?
But I am learning that, in the end, I am Championable after all. And that means I have to act like the husband, father, friend, and boss that God intends… even if that means I say “fuck” too much.
I am sad and elated and frightened, and utterly in love with you.
I’m starting to cry, and need to stop typing now. I’ll see you back at my real blog home.
Love to all. Even you.
And then, she quits.
My wife just quit her part-time job at my company.
Love to all. Even you.
Verging.
I can picture it now.
Three cartons of American Spirit Blues. Maybe four. Several large bottles of Jack Daniels, or Maker’s Mark, or maybe both. Many cases of Budweiser, tall boys. Someplace where smoking is allowed in the hotel room.
Hotel room.
I’m sitting next to a bag with over $10,000 in cash in it. Right now. I”ll be hiding it somewhere where I can get it and run, if I need to. Need to find the traceability of American Express Traveler’s Checks.
Pretend. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.
I can leave any time I want. Go anywhere. Just get on the bus and go to a city where I can fulfill whatever my desitiny clearly intends.
I’ve got medication. Stores of it from when I’ve stopped or started different ADHD treatments. Take just one of them at the wrong time and my sobriety count is over. Shit I could get whatever I wanted over the interent anyway.
Today I’m going to fake that I am well. Tomorrow I may fake it. I may fake it for a week or two. See how things go with Maggie.
But if I am defined this way again, after so many years of moving away from this, then everything that has been said about me is correct, and I need to acknowledge.
I had something for a while. A wonderful, joyous energy and I could not only tap into, but was the essence of who I was. It’s gone. I’ve never felt it gone before. I’ve felt it diluted, before. Sullied. But I’ve had the spark.
My light has gone out.
I have been told two things:
- “Children of suicides are more likely to be suicidal.” That eliminates one of my plans.
- No matter HOW I feel, my job is to be the best sober father I can be, and repair things with my wife.
For today, I will try this. My light is out. I need to have faith.
Love to all. Even you.
What feels like the end.
“The kids didn’t even notice when you were gone. I don’t think it would hurt them if you didn’t live here anymore.”
Where I see colors, I wish for grays.
Love to all. Even you.
She doesn’t believe.
Friday, my wife was making romantic dates and saying how lucky we were to have found each other.
Saturday, after I came to her with the arument between my oldest and I, she says her “eyes were opened” and I wasn’t someone she should be with.
In therapy, she said that other than the arguing with my oldest, I have been a good husband and a good friend. But she wants me out. She is letting me stay against her judgement, on the advice of the therapist.
I am wearing out.
There are only so many times you can be redefined before it just doesn’t matter any more. I am going to try and stick this out for a little while, prove that I’m can change the interactions with my oldest.
But regardless, my wife doesn’t like me anymore. I don’t know about the love part.
Love to all. Even you.
Week by week.
On Friday, my wife thought I was a fantastic husband, a great provider, and a good Friend.
Now, she wants me out.
We have agreed to go to counseling once a week, and I am allowed to live here during that time.
I am a void. They just came home.
Love to all. Even you.
2.5 hours.
What I did:
- Four screaming arguments with my 12-year-old in the last five months.
- In one of them I cocked my fist and threated to hit him saying “How would you like it if someone bigger than YOU hit you?”
- In on of them I gave him the finger.
- Two days ago, when I came to my wife about the fact that I needed to start completely disengaging from these arguments, literally walking away from these things until I learn to deal with them better (I started screaming at him when he wouldn’t answer me, and had his back to me), she put her head in her hands… to which I said “Get your fucking face out of your hands, I need your help.” She said “I can’t believe you’re making me choose between you and him.”
- When I realized she was making it a “me and the kids versus Rich” situation - I knew this when she said “I can’t believe you are making me make this choice” I started packing a bag. After I felt that my wife was manipulating things so she could claim I was blaming her, I called her a fucking bitch. This was a terrible terrible thing to do, and wasn’t I manipulating things by packing a bag without the 100% intention of leaving?
I didn’t WANT to leave. I told her I didn’t want to leave. I said “Please don’t do this. I don’t want to go.”
She says she doesn’t trust that I can solve this situation with arguing with him. She keeps saying I blame him, when I keep telling her I don’t. At all. She keeps saying I only started to care about this when she threw me out. I have been talking to everyone - sponsor, therapist, friends, more - about this being the biggest priority in my life.
She told me to leave. I left for a night. Every PTSD trigger is absolutely exploding. I’m taking myself slowly off vyvanse. Been prescribed Klonopin. I called her and told her the therapy plan (I called one doctor to call another.)
I have a noon appointment with my Doctor, and a 1pm with the couple’s therapy doctor.
After that, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Everything is on the table. I’m embarrassed to say it because I feel like a drama queen, and I’m not going to say this in front of my wife, because she will mock me.
But everything is on the table now. I didn’t come this far, through this much, to have this happen.
There’s only so many times people can tell you what you are before you have to believe it is true.
When I picture being over, it’s my daughter that makes this a bad option.
Everything is on the table.
My hope is to have a plan after the next 2.5 hours.
Love to all. Even you.
Nothing matters after this.
My wife asked me to leave tonight. I am on a train to NYC right now. If I can write more about this later, I will. I plan to, by tomorrow morning
I can say this: everything is in jeapordy. If I am not allowed to see my daughter, there is no point to sobriety. To anything, really.
I have never felt this way before. I have plans for the next 48 hours. After that, we’ll have to see.
I am not about to do anything rash. I’m just telling it how it is.
Love to all. Even you.
Briefly: Hardware Review: MacBook Pro 15″ 2.8Ghz.
The stats:
MacBook Pro, 2.8Ghz, 4GB RAM, 320GB 7200rpm drive, dual graphic cards.
The scoop: the “carved from one piece of aluminum” aspect of this laptop is totally not hype. It not only LOOKS fantastic - no screws! - but it feels so freaking solid that my older laptop feels downright flimsy.
The LED display is super-bright, and it’s fast as hell. Running XP Pro in Parallels 4.0 while also doing Mac stuff is pretty snappy. But most importantly, all the new CS4 stuff in Photoshop is speeeedy.
Who needs a Mac Pro when you’ve got a four-drive Firewire 800 array?
Not me.
Love to all. Even you, the dad who doesn’t seem to realize his kid’s autistic.