A Grave Situation

A few years after I met my first husband (well, not a “legal” husband as gay marriage was illegal at that time so I couldn’t really call him a husband, in fact he was technically nothing but a boyfriend as even domestic partnerships were only a concept at the time and it would be decades before straight people would “allow” us to get married.) he had scheduled a visit with a salesperson from our local cemetery to come to our home. I was opposed to the visit since I was only in my 20’s and I felt that if we purchased a grave we were “putting the devil on the wall” as my mother used to say. Putting or painting the devil on the wall is essentially defined as having or offering a negative view of a situation. I just felt like Murphy’s Law would intervene and since we were about to own graves it wouldn’t be long before the universe would demand they be filled.

The cemetery lady came to our apartment and told us all about the advantages of purchasing graves while we were still so young. The thing is we did not have the money and couldn’t afford these damn graves, but my husband was insistent that we move forward with the purchase, and we did.

For the next decade or so, we made payments on these burial plots that we couldn’t afford and after the graves were finally paid off, we were visited again by our “friend” from the cemetery, and she promptly signed us up to pay for crypts and the opening and closing of the graves.

My fears about an early use of the graves were unfounded as of course I never died. My husband died about four years ago, but his death doesn’t really impact this story. Or at least not in a major way when it comes to these particular graves.

As I noted the graves were now paid off and we struggled to pay for the additional items and services we would need to bury us properly. It was sometime around this time that my mother-in-law (I say in-law but remember marriage isn’t legal, so I guess in the eyes of the law she was nothing to me) died. It was an unexpected demise, and we were all shocked. My husband made all the arrangements for his mother’s cremation with his sister interjecting every now and then, see she (my husband’s sister) and her mother had a falling out some years back and had never been friendly to each other, at least as long as I knew them, in fact my “sister-in-law” wouldn’t even refer to her mother as her mother, rather she would often ask my husband “How is your mother?” but she only did that to call attention to the fact and make it known that she and her mother were estranged for the most part. She was not shy about sharing her hatred for her mother which also included her younger sister (yet again another story). Most of the time she would ask this question whenever she knew my husband had either recently visited or been visited by their mother and generally,  we’ll almost always, when other people were around so she could make herself the center of attention. My so called “sister-in-law” was quite the drama queen.

Now, as noted my sister-in-law had nothing really to do with her mother so when “mom” for a lack of better words, would visit us she was not allowed to stay with her daughter. My husband and I always had to host “mom”, entertain “mom”, and of course feed “mom” (and any other people that she would bring during her visits) while my sister-in-law would sit in her lavish home ignoring the fact that her mother had traveled in her car, driving for eight to ten hours to visit her children. So “mom” died, and “sis” did nothing other than work very hard to bring attention to herself, but again, as I have said in so many of my postings, this is another story, so I won’t go into it here. Just suffice to say that my sister-in-law was (and still is unless she has finally died too) a BITCH!

So “mom” was cremated however it turns out that my husband’s grandparents had purchased 6 graves sometime in the 1950’s and these had been given to my husband’s uncle. Well our uncle had already made arrangements for he and his wife to be buried and didn’t need the graves, so with Grandma and Grandpa already occupying two of the graves this meant that our uncle gave us four graves and the plans were that we (my husband and I would be buried in two of the graves, and that my husband’s mother and step-father (their ashes) would be buried in the other two graves. However my sister-in-law held so much animosity towards her mother that she refused to contribute financially in burying her mother and step-father and since my husband and I were rather “poor” we couldn’t afford to pay for the opening and closing and all the extras that would have gone along with burying his parents so his parents ashes remained in my home (my sister-in-law, of course wanted nothing to do with the ashes as she hated them as much as she hated her mother.) Okay remembering that we already had purchased two graves on our own, we now owned 6 graves. Now I should say that originally, there was a tree and a bush on two of the graves and my husband’s grandparents had wanted those to remain intact forever however over time the bush had died and now the two graves were occupied by a large tree that was also dying. The people at the cemetery told us that over time all the trees die because of all the digging and the tractors driving over their roots, they also said being buried under a tree was silly since “Everyone wants to be buried under a tree but there just isn’t enough room for that”, granted our grandparents had purchased the extra graves with the intent that some of their children (they had six kids) might use them and were hopeful that the existing foliage would remain forever but that just was not going to happen.

Now we have six graves. The two we purchased, the two given to us to where we (my husband and I) would be buried, and two where my husband’s mother and stepfather would be buried. Saving the tree was just not realistic.

My father died. We had no where for him to be buried unless we buried him at Arlington Cemetery as he was retired from the military (Arlington was just too far away) so my husband suggested that we give our two extra graves to my mother and father. My mother didn’t have the funds necessary to purchase graves and bury my father so giving my parents this gift only seemed the proper thing to do. My husband made all the arrangements, and my father was now buried in the grave that I was supposed to occupy. However, another snafu was occurring as it turned out my mother hated the graves we had gifted my parents. Originally our graves were located far from where people would park their cars as they visited their lost loved ones but my husband, being the good-hearted man he was, and obviously before my father had been buried, had worked with the cemetery to move our graves closer to the street so my mother, who had difficulty walking far distances and relied on a walker, wouldn’t have so far to walk. The only reason the graves were moved was to make life easier for her when she visited my father. My mother shared her feelings about the graves’ new location with everyone but myself and my husband.

My older brother whom I’ve written about in several of my postings and I think I’m even rehashing this story at the moment, decided that the graves I had given my parents were not good enough because of the location and my mother’s constant bitching about the location. She just didn’t like it being so close to the road and it wasn’t under a tree. It had to be under a tree. So my brother had my father exhumed and moved to another grave that my mother’s insurance purchased (it should be noted my parents were buried under a tree that is now long dead, so they are no longer buried under the “prized” burial location that everyone desires). He had to get my permission to move my father as he is not my father’s son, rather a stepson. My father was moved to his new grave which left us again with the two graves that we had originally gifted to my parents. Since we still didn’t need six graves, we decided that we would sell the two that we purchased, and eventually bury his parents and their graves and then he and I would be buried eventually in the other graves. Made a lot of sense.

We put the two graves for sale in our local newspaper for a couple thousand dollars and they were purchased within a week. The absolute irony of this story is that my father’s best friend purchased the graves. So he and his wife would be buried where my mother and father were supposed to have been buried. Small world!

Two decades passed and my husband and I own the graves that his grandparents had purchased so many years before and we never really thought anymore about burying his parents, that is until the day my husband died of heart failure. That’s when the graves became important to me again. I had four graves and I buried my husband in one of them. While I was working with the cemetery people to make the arrangements the lady that worked in the office asked me what I was going to do with the other two graves, and I told her we had talked about burying my husband’s parents there, but his grandparents who originally owned the graves really wanted the trees and bushes to stay where they were forever. The cemetery lady laughed and expressed that keeping the tree was impossible. She said every time a digger drove over the roots, the trees were damaged. Those trees would be pulled out anyway. That’s when the cemetery lady repeated herself and said “Everybody wants to be buried under a tree, but there aren’t enough trees and even when there are trees they eventually die.” The only difference here was that the original two graves that had belonged to my husband’s grandparents were purchased with the intent of keeping the trees, however, being realistic, my husband’s uncle realized that it made more sense to bury his sister along with her husband. But that never happened. The cemetery lady told me that I should consider selling the graves, and expected I would realize approximately a couple thousand dollars for these graves.

I of course paid for everything to bury my husband. My sister-in-law sat with me and I insured that her concerns were met as well. Even though she didn’t pay a dime. At my sister-in-laws request made sure that we had a religious person come speak at my husband’s eulogy even though I knew my husband would despise this as he and I are both atheists. However, I decided that I would let my sister-in-law have things her way in some of her desires as she loved her brother, and like I, was in mourning. I even let her pick out the announcements and the poem that was included in the announcements.

While we were sitting there discussing our options for burying my husband, I asked my sister-in-law if she wanted the two additional graves that were supposed to have been for her mother and stepfather and she said no, she and her husband had already made previous arrangements, they were being buried next to her husband’s parents and it was a done deal. So then I suggested that perhaps we go in halves and bury her mother and stepfather. My sister-in-law looked at me and said “I already buried her once, I’m not going to bury her again.” This surprised the hell out of me as my sister-in-law had not even paid a dime for her own mother’s burial leaving everything up to her brother to handle, so how could she claim that “she” already buried her mother once before and for that matter I did more to bury her mother than she had done. I guess she forgot that I was there while my husband worked so hard making his mother’s arrangements while my sister-in-law did nothing to help him. But now when I offered to pay half to open and close the graves for her parents and purchase a marker she would not do it.

Having no other options and determined to keep the graves as long as the tree remained as to keep my husband’s grandparents wishes, I mentioned to my sister-in-law that the cemetery lady told me I could make a couple thousand dollars if I sold them. Mind you I had no intent to sell them, however, my sister-in-law responded in her typical manner and rather forcefully she stated “You are not selling those graves you are giving them to me”. I should have known better than to tell her about the potential of money being earned for these graves, however I never thought in my entire life that she could be so shallow as to put a couple thousand dollars before our relationship. However, that’s what she did.

She called me week after week after week after my husband died and in almost every voicemail asked me if we could get together and sign over the graves. She was very kind in the beginning calling me her favorite brother-in-law which was something she had referred to me almost the entire 38 years I had been with my husband. However, I never called her back because I did not want to deal with her ever again. I had told my husband prior to his death, that if he ever did die I would never have anything to do with her again and that was my intent. She had always been, for a lack of better words, a bitch to me, only being friendly when she wanted or needed something.

You can imagine my surprise when I received a call from the cemetery one day that my husband’s uncle went to their office and attempted to have the graves illegally signed over to my sister-in-law and not even to himself, which would have made more sense since he originally owned the graves, but he was working in the interests of his favorite niece. The cemetery lady told my husband’s uncle that the graves were deeded to me, luckily at some point during the 20 or so years that we own these graves, my husband had added my name to the deeds. I don’t think it would matter anyway since we were legally married. I believe that these had automatically become my property, however, whether they did or didn’t, my husband wanted me to have them.

So here my sister-in-law and my husband’s uncle contrived this plan to play dumb and with fingers crossed, hoped that the cemetery would have been too stupid to realize that these graves were owned by someone else and would have just blindly signed them over.

You see, I was willing to give these graves to my sister-in-law prior to her saying no she didn’t want them because she had made other arrangements. Of course, when she refused to bury her mother and stepfather and then also insisted that I simply give her the graves because she found out the value there was no way I would give her those graves ever. She was just being a rich greedy bitch. I wasn’t going to sell them because I was not going to profit and have her forever tell everyone that that was my goal when I had been so generous to her. Her greed had only escalated in the weeks to follow as I was thrratened and bombarded with evil texts and voicemails left by her, her own husband, and her uncle.

I still have the voicemails on my phone. Voicemails of my sister-in-law calling me a “Piece of Shit”, voicemails from her uncle who had actually attended my wedding referring to my husband, my partner of 38 years, as “your friend”, in which he said things like “You will NEVER be buried next to your friend because I will dig your fucking ass up”. (Note, “your friend” because apparently I was no longer considered family.) This is just a small example of how I was treated.

I was angry and I attacked back. My attacks were a bit more public as I shared my thoughts on Facebook so I wasn’t surprised when my sister-in-law hired a lawyer and had me hit with a cease and desist. After she had harassed me for weeks and encouraged others to harass me, when I returned the favor I got served. I was so angry. She was my sister-in-law for as long as I could remember, 38 years! (if my husband were still alive it would be about 42 years now), yet she turns her back on me over two lousy graves.

I tell you what hurts more than anything is that people I considered family for decades could be so evil and callous. They dismissed my relationship out of greed and now my husband lays alone in a cemetery some 1,937 miles from where I currently reside. Their actions more or less caused me to pursue other employment opportunities or as my current husband says, I let the bitch drive me away from where I lived my entire life.

My sister-in-law has money, she doesn’t need anymore wealth and in fact, while she never knew this, my ringtone for her when she called me was “Rich Girl”. Perhaps she deserved the graves since she is a blood relative of my husband’s grandparents but these were left to me and I was legally married to my husband so as with any marriage we shared ownership but it turns out that when my “STRAIGHT” in-laws were tested as to how much they believed I was truly part of the family…they failed. I will forever wonder if my husband and I were a straight couple if there would have been the same push to take my property by whatever means. I think my sister-in-law felt that if I kept the graves that they weren’t truly in the family anymore. But guess what? It was her big mouth that caused me to resist giving a rich woman additional assets to add to her ever growing list of wealth. As such I contacted poor (or poorer) members of my husbands family to offer them the graves for free. Not a single person I contacted wanted the graves stating they either already had arrangements or they were being cremated so literally no one, except for the rich woman that didn’t need them and didn’t care about them prior to learning the value, wanted the graves.

However this didn’t stop my sister-in-law from continuing her harassment. You see, around the time all of this was happening, one of the poorer members of the family had passed away as well from the same heart condition my husband suffered. Unknown to my sister-in-law I had already talked to her family after finding out that she had passed and again they told me they didn’t need the graves as they had already made arrangements for this cousin to be cremated. I didn’t go to this cousin’s viewing although I really wanted to but my sister-in-law had already bad-mouthed me to all of the family members of substance. See she had little to do with those in her family that are not on the same or near the same income plateau.

As I noted I did not go to the viewing or funeral of the cousin that had just passed away but my sister-in-law did and after she left she sent me a text and said “I hope you are happy! Because of you my cousin had no where to be buried!” Wait a minute??? Weren’t these graves supposed to be preserved forever because there was a tree there? Now you are willing to forego maintaining the graves forever because one cousin has died and at the same time acting as if she would have been generous enough to turn them over to someone else when she would not profit. No, even if I had given these graves to her she would never have just given them away, not without making a profit. My further had the nerve to text me that she had shown everybody in her family my texts to her so they would all know what a true piece of shit I was.

After receiving these texts I contacted the sister of the woman who had just died and told her I was confused because I had asked her if she needed the graves and she said no but now my sister-in-law was saying because of me that the family had no where to bury her deceased cousin. The sister of the deceased woman responded that my sister-in-law had lied. She (the sister of the deceased woman) said that my sister-in-law made an appearance, spoke to a few people and left. She told me that my sister-in-law had not talked to anyone in her family about the graves in anyway shape or form.

Later I received another email from another of my husband’s uncles, one that had run-ins with my sister-in-law and he told me that he had heard about the “crap” that my sister-in-law was putting me through and that he was very sorry that she was doing this to me but assured me that I would always be part of the family. That said, he has not responded to any of my texts or emails following the receipt of his consoling outreach.

I still had three graves. One that I would one day occupy, however my sister-in-law and her supportive uncle made it clear that they would never allow me to rest in peace next to my husband. And the remaining two where my husband’s mother and stepfather were supposed to be buried, the graves with the coveted tree. I believe that over the years the intent and reason all of the graves were given to me and my husband became obscure. People simply didn’t remember the “tree” thing until it became convenient. I mean, if the graves weren’t meant for my mother-in-law and her husband then why in the world were they given to us in the first place? I know and I remember very clearly because my husband and I discussed on many occasions that we would one day bury his mother and stepfather when we had the money, however, we could never afford it. After my husband passed I had to use my 401k money to bury him so as I noted I offered to my sister-in-law that we could split the cost, this is how much I felt like part of the family. Even though I had no obligation to bury my mother-in-law and her husband I was still offering to pay half and as I noted my sister-in-law responded that she had buried her once and would not do so again.

So here I had this greedy rich side of the family that continued to insist I give them the graves, despite having made it clear to me that they didn’t need them and only wanted to preserve the tree forever, the tree that the cemetery lady had already assured me would one day in the near future, be removed, and at the same time I had poor family members on my husband’s side, that could have really used the graves, and not for profit, but really use them, but knowing the exorbitant costs associated with burials had either already made cremation arrangements or weren’t concerned at this point in their lives what would happen to their bodies after they died. No one wanted the graves other than the rich ones.

I donated the graves to a charity which I had already told some of the poorer family members that I had resolved to do and would not give the graves to my sister-in-law and I certainly would not allow my greedy sister-in-law to further spread rumors that I was keeping the graves to “profit” when that was the furthest from the truth. Now, no one has the graves unless, when my charity auctioned off the graves, my sister-in-law “paid” to get them back however, this is unlikely, unless she somehow manipulated the members of my charity or paid less than they were worth, I don’t believe she would have purchased them because she was too shallow and greedy, and other than the additional dollar signs that one could almost see in her eyes, she truly had no sentimental reasons for wanting the graves. I mean any woman, especially one of means, that would refuse to assist in the burial of her own mother, despite being offered a 50% contribution towards that burial has no interest in family or the needs of her family. In other words. “KA-CHING!”                               

The Attitude Stops Now!

My last post I wrote about whether I am an alcoholic or just simply insane. I have been drinking for a very long time, and during that time there were bouts when I would go months without drinking, and then there were bouts when I would drink every day for months. And currently that’s where I’m at, I pretty much have been drinking every day for the last year.

My husband tells me I’m overreacting, he does not believe that I am an alcoholic, however, he also drinks practically every single day. The only difference between he and I is that he has no regrets. My husband tolerates his drinking much better than I do, however, he does drink quite a bit, and he too has nights when he loses it like I lost it the other night, however, never to the extreme that I had. I think that I was truly insane for a matter of 3 hours. And it was all alcohol induced insanity.

I have a step-son who joined my family, or rather I joined his family after I met my current husband about a year after my first husband died. My step-son was 17 years old and I did everything for him and his twin sisters, but that’s another story. Anyway when my step-son turned 18 about three years ago he told us that now that he was a man he needed to go out in the world and make a life for himself. So my husband and I bought him a plane ticket (and since we weren’t  married at the time) my husband gave him $600.00 and I gave him $400.00 so he would at least have some cash to get him started… this was the day he left but let me tell you about the night before he left…

The night before my step-son left to begin his adventure as a man we received a call from him at approximately 1:00 am. I answered the phone and my step-son asked me not to wake his father but wanted to know if I could pick him up. He further said “You’ll have to use my dad’s car”. I was like “What happened?” Well not to go too much into this specific event, it turns out my step-son stole my car and was stopped by the police. Despite having pot on his person the police said they weren’t  going to mess with him because pot is becoming legal in most states and that unless we wanted him charged they were willing to release him to us if we picked him up. My husband shouted “I want him arrested!” But I said “No”. The only thing my stepson said to me on the ride home was “I don’t think what I did was that bad”. No, the fact he stole my car while I slept, was carrying an illegal drug (illegal at the time), and was stopped by the police. I don’t  think he could get anymore wrong. He left the next day on his way to become a man.

Well our step-son was gone for nearly three years with pretty much no contact except for a text now and then. Right before Christmas my step-son sent my husband a text stating he needed some money to pay some bills, including his rent as he was facing eviction. He also told us he was going to be moving soon because the girl he lived with couldn’t stand his “attitude” any longer. So my husband Zelled him money and then since it was near Christmas we flew him home for the holiday, and spent nearly $1000.00 on gifts for him.

When he was home for Xmas he was telling us how horrible his life was at his current residence. You see, since he moved out to become a man he moved in with people in Pennsylvania, and they promptly threw him out so he moved in with friends in Florida, where once again he was thrown out. So he moved in with his biological father in Tennessee, and after a few months his biological father deserted him to move to California, leaving our step-son alone with no real income and no money until he moved in with the female that he was currently living with, the one that couldn’t Stand his attitude any longer.

I suggested to my husband that we allow him to live with us. My husband said “no”. So after Christmas he went back to Tennessee to live with the female that no longer wanted to live with him so he asked us for more money so he could find a new place to live. Mind you this independent man is now in his 20’s. No education, no income, no prospects for a future.

I said to my husband we could help the child out, he could move in with us, get a job, and save his money so that he could become a truly independent man which is what his goal was when he left our home when he was 18 years old. My husband reluctantly agreed however said he wanted no parts of it as his step-son only thinks about himself which when you look at how many people threw him out over the years, and from his experience our step-son is a very hard person to live with, but if I wanted him to live with us, it was my choice. So using my husband’s phone (with his permission) I texted our son and said exactly what I said above. Come home, get a job, save money, start your life as a man. He agreed. He moved into our home a few weeks later.

My husband and I spoke with an owner of a restaurant we frequented and the owner said he would interview our son and afterwards our son was offered a job. He lasted three days because “he didn’t like it” so he quit and for the next four months pretty much laid on our couch, playing on his phone and computer doing nothing.

Finally about a month ago he got another job. His father and I privately joked “how long will this one last”? So my step-son started working doing a very hard outside job. He seemed to enjoy the job and got up every morning at 6:00 am and used my car to go to work. After a week or two we started talking about selling my car to him once he had a month or two of work under his belt. Things were going good. I was happy for him.

My step-son has one major problem, a very bad attitude which I worked my best to ignore but I have to admit it was very hard to tolerate. An example of his attitude is shortly after he moved in with us he wanted to go on vacation, but he had no money so he asked my husband and I to finance his trip at first to simply pay for his flight. Later he asked if we would rent him a car during his vacation, followed by a request for us to book and pay for an AirBNB so he could have a party for his friends. Around this time we had an unexpected bill come in a week before his vacation and were only left with $2,600.00 in our checking. Of course we could have charged his vacation but I really didn’t want to go into further debt so he could have an unwarranted vacation. So for the next four days my husband and I were punished with attitude as he stayed in his room only to come out to eat after we went to bed. Finally the night of the fourth day of attitude he exited his room and asked if he could use my car to go to Taco Bell and of course I said yes. This ended our week of punishment for not paying for his “vacation”. (Mind you my husband and I haven’t had a vacation in four years…actually never since we’ve been together).

Well a few days back our son came home from work and was in good spirits. I spoke with him about several different topics until he went to take a shower.

After he showered and was sitting with us in the living room, and still feeling good about our earlier conversations I thought I would carry on, you know, continue to bond with my step-son.

I am currently paying an additional $300.00 each pay period for my step-son’s medical, dental, and eye insurance. This is a need to know, as it is important to this story.

“So what benefits do you have at your new job?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know”?

“I mean I don’t care what benefits I have” (Okay you don’t care while I am paying $300.00 each pay period to insure you, but you don’t care if you have benefits,I thought, annoyed.)

“What about 401k?” I ask.

“I don’t care about 401k.”

“Why not”? I ask.

“Because I don’t care about it and it’s my choice to make.”

Okay, so I let the 401k question go, because after all he is only 20 (note I work with young college graduates his age that make $50k a year but my step-son is still trying to become a man).

Mind you I am a heavy drinker and I had been drinking all day for no other reason than I was off work on a vacation day and what better excuse is there to drink?

And this is when the attitude started. Apparently, my stepson became annoyed by my inquiry of his benefits. And of course I’m now more than a bit miffed myself because of the extra $600.00 per month I could have in my pocket by removing him from my insurance, or to phrase it differently, $600.00 per month extra by not paying for the benefits he doesn’t care about. So, he stopped talking to me.

Fine… my 20-year-old stepson was now giving me attitude because he didn’t like me asking him a question. We ordered pizza and sat through a silent dinner without uttering a word. At least not a word between us and our son. My husband and I continued to converse and when we broached the topic of work we had done in our yard I turned to my son, who had finished his pizza and was now on his phone, and said “Did you notice that we did…” (the details of the yard work don’t matter) to which my stepson didn’t respond, it was like I was talking to the air. All this attitude simply because I asked about benefits. So being “drunk” and becoming irritated I said to my husband, loudly, “Either he doesn’t hear me, or he is ignoring me”. I would have thought this would have prompted a response but instead my stepson continued to ignore me and play on his cell phone. I went into the kitchen and poured my self another drink that I didn’t need, and I said loudly from the kitchen “I can’t believe a god damn question about benefits could piss someone off so badly”. Again nothing. I know that he heard me but apparently my “benefits” question was so offensive my childish little stepson felt he needed to now give me the silent treatment.

So now I became enraged. I went to work to get away from him. I work from home, so I went to my office and spent the next 2.5 hours working… ON MY DAY OFF! Afterwards, I went back into the living room where my husband was watching TV and sitting next to our silent son.

Now please know that I am ashamed of how I reacted, and I am blaming either the amount of alcohol in my system, or the fact that I might be insane but when I sat down, I said, “Is he still ignoring us?” loudly enough for him to hear. My husband responded that it appeared that he was and that I should just ignore him like he was ignoring us. But I couldn’t do that, being inebriated, I had to keep pushing, and I did.

I told my stepson that if he is going to ignore us then he needed to go to his room. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge me, acted as if I weren’t even there. Of course, now I’m seething. I repeated myself. “I SAID IF YOU ARE GOING TO LAY THERE AND IGNORE US THEN YOU NEED TO GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

He responded with a chuckle, in other words he was telling me to go fuck myself. Then his father said to him “You need to go to your room” to which he responded, once again with a chuckle. So now he was telling his father to go fuck himself too. My husband decided to go to bed. He knew that nothing good was coming from this devolving evening.

So, I sat there, on our family sectional with my silent stepson playing on his iPhone and continuing to give me the silent treatment… all this because I asked him about his benefits. Finally, the alcohol or my insanity took over. I yelled at him to “Go to your fucking room” to which he responded:

“Shut the fuck up old man before I knock out the rest of your teeth” (see I’m 58 years old and I have a couple of missing teeth that a really not noticeable, but he knows that my teeth are a sensitive subject to me as I am working on getting partials). That didn’t matter because once my husband heard the threat he came out of our bedroom and yelled at the boy “You can’t threaten my husband! You need to get an Uber and go get a hotel room”.

Now the boy was silent no more. “With what? I only have $2.00”. My husband said, “I don’t care, you need to get out since you threatened my husband”. To which our son responded “Dad, you better back off because my blood pressure is so high right now, I will knock you out”.

I lost it. I started screaming that I wanted him out of our house now. I began throwing things, breaking things, and simply acting insane. At this point our son went to his room. But I couldn’t stop now. He had set the stage, and he knew that I was drunk when he started toying with me, but I kept going, screaming at the top of my lungs that he needed to leave.

Okay so I can continue to go into all the details of my insanity, but the result was our son locked himself in his bedroom and the next day, after obtaining a plane ticket paid for by one of his friends, he moved out. His father dropped him off at the airport on Sunday and he didn’t speak a word to his father the whole time. He instead, spent the entire drive to the airport on a phone call with one of his friends. He told my husband as he exited the car that he will never forget the things I said to him the night of our argument or rather the night of my insanity.

So now we are an empty nest again and no one can be happier about this than my husband as he told me he felt relief as the boy left his car. However, the experience made me realize that I had done so much unnecessary damage when all I had to do was ignore the kid. But I didn’t. I should have known better as the adult, but that is just it, how can I claim to be any sort of sane or sober man after this experience. The answer is, “I can’t”.

Drunk or Insane

My blog was not supposed to be about being an alcoholic, but I think I have to admit that I am an alcoholic. I went to my first ever AA meeting a few days ago, and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the message, I enjoyed the people, I enjoyed the potential. I was so looking forward to becoming sober. I went again the next day. Many of the same people were there. They made me feel so good, making me feel that perhaps I could have a future at a normal life…

…last night I got drunk.

I cried lying in bed next to my husband after I don’t know how many drinks. Why had I betrayed myself? Why had I betrayed the people I met at AA? I fell asleep with tears on my face because I know that I am reaching the end of either my sober life… meaning I am close to becoming a raging alcoholic, or I am simply becoming insane. I don’t think in any of my blog posts since 2013 that I have ever stated that I think I might either be or becoming insane, but I hit an emotional rock-bottom the night before I visited AA. Not the typical financial ruining many alcoholics face. Not yet at least. But now I’m scared. Two days ago, at my first meeting I felt like there was hope. The second meeting they gave me the 24-hour chip. Now I have betrayed not only myself but everyone that I had met during those last two days.

So much has gone on in my life since my last post and I believe nearly three years have passed since that time. I lost my husband of 38 years to heart disease. I have gotten remarried. And I have moved to two different states for career advancements and even had three different jobs (doing the same thing for three different companies) and in each position I had been recruited for more money. And now I’m afraid I am going to lose everything.

So, I have come to the conclusion that I am either an alcoholic or I am insane. Because after everything that happened the other night, everything I did, followed by my very emotional visit to AA, I am writing this blog post and thinking how much I want a drink.

God I am a “Piece of Shit”

I was recently called a “Piece of Shit” by a person I used to consider a family member. I think I might actually qualify for this denigrating label. When I read back through a number of my postings I can’t help but realize what a selfish and hypocritical bastard I have been.

Better?

Things have seemed to be getting better lately. So why am I still having the GOD-DAMNED panic attacks? They aren’t as bad as they were a few months ago but they are still there. Almost everyday I think about having a heart attack. I hate living like this. It’s horrible living when you think about your death every day. At least its not every minute of every day…but even being distracted by it once or twice a day is enough to drive a man to go mad.

I’m on what I think is the tail end (I hope) of a mini-panic attack right now. I think the meds that the doctors have me on are helping a lot, without the Celexa (I don’t know how to spell it) I would be totally immersed in panic right now instead of the (ugh… slight?) panic I’m feeling. I just took two aspirin like I do every time I start to panic, just in case its the real thing. Then I drank some water and took 1/2 of a Xanax. Some people have said I’m addicted to Xanax but this is the first one I’ve taken in a week.

Okay…I just had to step away for a minute. Panic escalated. Still very nervous. Leg is shaking up and down as if I were about to make a speech or something. Not feeling great. Don’t know if its therapeutic to write about it or not but it is somewhat distracting. I took the other half of my Xanax. I’m really trying to limit my use since its seems that I’m giving the impression that I’m an addict. So this is the first “real” panic attack I’ve had in a week and the first Xanax I’ve taken. I’ve dealt with my other minor attacks for the last few weeks without taking a pill because just like the alcohol I have to prove I’m not an alcoholic by quitting drinking till a certain point.

I’m in the awful “Catch-22” about alcohol and pills. My doctors prescribe me pills to help me deal with the anxiety and panic because I’ve been diagnosed with General Anxiety and Panic Disorder. Now this is something I’ve been dealing with since the 1980’s however during the 1990’s at some point they subsided and I may have suffered one attack a year, if that many. But in the last few months they have returned full force. (See: This is what a Panic Attack feels like…) Obviously I don’t like panic attacks. They are horrible and the doctors have given me a drug called Xanax (actually the generic) to deal with it however if I take them I’m labeled an addict. So do I suffer the panic, do I run to the ER and exclaim I’m having a heart attack so I can become reassured that there are people to treat me. Sit for hours and hours on end while they do blood work and x-rays only to tell me I’m fine and give me a Xanax? So if I take a Xanax I’m an addict. If I don’t take a Xanax my panic escalates and I go to the ER where they give me a Xanax but then I’m not an addict. Okay so my Xanax seems to have kicked in and now I’m much better.

Several hours later, panic averted. So my reason for today’s post is because for the last several months I’ve been pretty down but things seem to be getting better for me emotionally as of the last month or so. Also in regards to my domestic situation, things have improved with my husband too. Part of his improving has to do with his reading this blog, after he discovered it he shared with me how said I made him with some of the things I said. I didn’t mean to make him sad, I was just writing my feelings. I didn’t mean to share my feeling with people I know, I wanted to remain anonymous (See: Sometimes I am so Stupid) but screwed that up. After that if no one else in the world was reading my blog I can assure you that he was reading it every day. But the good news is after he got over his disappointment he started doing something about it. He started becoming more active, he working on his health, he started caring again. All things he had given up on, he was truly just living to die, like my mother, like my father. He was in a downward spiral but seeing himself through my eyes, through my writing, inspired him to get active again. He forced himself to not only attend but follow through with Cardiac Rehabilitation. He has (for the most part) been eating healthy. He has been doing things again, small things, but he’s doing things. He’s helping out around the house as much as he’s able. I like, no LOVE, this change in him. In this respect I’m no longer sorry that he read my blog, he realized and he knows what I was writing was true.

Having a more active and healthy husband has drastically improved things around the house. We lost one over our beloved animals during the period of my extreme depression (See: Good-bye to my beloved Pet) and I was talking nearly daily about either waiting to die or just being done with this life (See: How Can I Go On? or I Don’t Like Myself) but now things seem better. It might be because of the drugs I’m taking or it might be that there is some life in my house again or it might a combination of both things. Things may get worse again because I have another dog that is probably within the last 6 months of her life. She is only a year younger that the dog that just passed away. My whole family is leaving.

So things have seemed better lately. They are getting better at work and just seem to be improving all around (except for our renter who is paying worse which means we are heading towards for “financial problems” now but as those in AA say: “One day at a time”. (See: House for Rent)). Our camping season is about to start and I’m looking forward to returning to The Woods Campground for another year and at the same time I’m worried that my husband will have another relapse and end up in the hospital again while we are there, I think it will always be on my mind because I predicted it last year and it happened, his defibrillator went off a number of times and he ended up being hospitalized 2.5 hours from our home.

Anyway the reason for this post is things seem to be getting better. I’m in a better mood and my husband seems to have made a turn around. I don’t wake up in the morning anymore wishing I had the balls to jump from the Francis Scott Key Bridge into the Chesapeake Bay. I don’t think about hanging myself from a tree in my backyard. I don’t think about just getting in the car and driving into a wall at 100 miles per hour. So I think I’m getting better.

 

 

 

Coming Back to WordPress

Okay so I was sharing too much stuff, mostly on Facebook (Ugh… why oh why do I keep returning to Facebook? (See: FACEBOOK! Argggghhhh!!!! or You are SOOOO Annoying!!or even Facebook Hypocrisy). When I started this blog (how many times have I started posts with that line?) I was thinking about the future, a time when I’m gone, I was thinking about regrets and mistakes in life. I also wanted to think about accomplishments in life. I have always either kept or wanted to keep a diary. As a kid I kept a diary (See: Can you Hear me Now?) actually several diaries over the my childhood. Some I would get bored with (How many times can you write “Nothing much happened today.”?) and others my mother would throw away. As I got a little older and word processors and Computers eventually became a staple in every household I started keeping my thoughts (diaries and journals) electronically. But those devices either went out of date or crashed, file extensions became useless (Remember Lotus? I didn’t think so…) so those were lost as well. Later (in my 30’s) I kept a really nifty printed journal that I typed in Word and put each page in a binder. But then I discovered my husband as well as a temporary roommate were reading it when I wasn’t around. (Is nothing sacred?). So I stopped maintaining the “printed” version. I do still have it, but when I read back the pages were about as clever as my “Nothing much happened today” writing of my childhood memories. Just a bunch of garbage.

Then I started posting my thoughts in blog form (perhaps still a bunch of garbage, but at least most my posts have “some” meat to them and aren’t just single lined entries indicating the monotony of my life) which all lead to my starting “Turning Things Around” back in 2013 sometime. Actually let me insert in here that before “Turning Things Around” that at first my use of Facebook became my diary. I thought “Wow what a wonderful means of keeping and sharing my thoughts.” but my (ahem) “friends” ended up making life miserable for me through that medium so I started this blog. My mistake with the blog was that I didn’t stay anonymous, I shared it with my friends and family and didn’t hide my thoughts and feeling. I figured that unlike Facebook where every though is thrown into our Friends’ faces they would have to go specifically to this site to read my posts and who would be that interested? Well unfortunately there were several that were interested and as I reread some of posts I would think “Why did I say that?”. I mean it was just stuff (Like JUST BURN THE DAMN COUCH!) that I didn’t need to share. I mean sometime my anger posts would just make things worse, I would post something to get it off my chest and it would just ruffle feathers. (I hope what I’m saying here makes sense because right now I’m writing without thinking and without any direction).

My interest in blogging comes and goes in spurts. Right now I have probably a middle of the road interest, a few months back I was totally into it, recording my thoughts using voice recognition on my phone into Google Docs and then converting it daily. Since then I’ve gotten a little bored. I think the boredom comes with my Debbie Downer attitude of most my posts, this helps me understand sometimes why people don’t like to be around me, if I can get myself imagine how I must make others feel. I look back on the posts after the New Year and shortly before and everything is “Woe is me” and “My life is horrible”. I’m feeling better these days and it could be a combination of things. I’ve taking the Celexa medication with is supposed to balance the chemicals in my head to help me deal with some of the anxiety but I think I might need to readdress this with the doctor because I’m feeling better but I’m still having numerous mild panic attacks. They aren’t as bad as they were shortly after I stopped drinking as per my New Years Resolution and I’m not sure if that’s because I anticipated this horrendous fight with the “alcoholic” side of me versus the “sober” side of me. I know that I was stressing in anticipation of going 5 months without a drink.

Okay so I’m posting on WordPress and not hiding who I am then I started becoming concerned. It seems like the U.S.A. is tightening its laws. People can be sued and jailed for expressing their freedom of speech these days and I think its a matter of time for the 1st Amendment will become a right only to be expressed at our dictator’s will and our first ever and current dictator is not very tolerant. Because I was seeing the writing on the walls I decided that I wanted to start a more anonymous blog. There were several notions behind the decision to be less obvious about my identity number one being I was expressing a lot of views on Facebook, mostly pro-Clinton and even though a majority of my friends were also Clinton supporters I think I may have over done it. I believe a lot of people stopped following me so they could avoid my posts. And two because I believe that the as I previously noted American’s are losing our ability to speak freely. My goodness we have a President and First-Lady (Dictator and (BLEEP)) (I had to be bleeped because these people are sue happy.) who will sue the people they represent because they don’t like what’s being said about them or they might lose business using their Government titles to produce clothing and jewelry lines, and cosmetics and perfumes. Take the money off of someone with a limited income who simply repeated that he heard the First Lady was a (BLEEP) and that the President is a (BLEEP) and that they (BLEEP) when they (BLEEP) with Ivanka who will (BLEEP) her father. Sue their poor constituents to pad their pockets so when they leave the White House they will be that much richer and untouchable.

You know there was a time in this country you could be critical of your leaders without having to worry that someone that claims to be a billionaire would sue someone that’s close to the poverty level just because they are so insecure and thin skinned they can’t deal with someone saying anything negative about them. Think about this, foreigners have more freedom to talk about Dictator and his (BLEEP) that we do here in America, the land of the free. But I’m terribly off subject here (I just hate our new Dictator…)

So I was being less transparent and stopped using names in my postings but there were still too many people who knew me so I decided to start a new blog and I called it Saudade. I worked very hard to set it up and it was hosted on WIX.com. The site was actually beautiful. But the work involved compared to the ease of posting on WordPress started getting to me so I decided that I would rather return to “Turning Things Around”. I would edit all my posts and remove as many identifying factors as possible. I will (but haven’t yet) transfer all my Saudade posts to this blog and go back to using WordPress.

As far as the “few” people I know that might still somehow be linked to this site well I guess you will still know how I am, but I’m rather stay safely in the background. Especially in this day and age when we are one madman and one executive order away from Concentration Camps. I don’t believe in god but I would like to say facetiously “God bless what America used to be before Trump began his rule. America used to be great but now its scary”

Well back to editing my old posts (shhhhhhh don’t tell anyone who I am).

100 Days!

So today marks 100 days without a drink. I have 26 more to go and then I will be allowed to drink again. It was my annual New Year resolution to quit drinking until an event. This year the event is camping May. Last year the event was a birthday party in April, the two years prior not so good, only until February for both years because we went on R.S.V.P. cruises and there was no way I was going to do that and stay sober.

100 days – 126 days will be my record since I’ve become a regular drinker. Of course in my 20’s and 30’s I went months and months without drinking and it was no big deal but over the years the gaps in between have become smaller and smaller. I will say there were a couple of years at one point where I spent nearly every weekend (and quite a few work nights) drunk. I stopped doing the work nights years ago because I’m just too old for those shenanigans, but the weekend drinking has pretty much been ongoing except for my annual resolution.

People used to kid with me about my event rule laughingly telling me “The mail just arrived! That’s an event!” or some other snide little comment meant in fun. (At least I hope it was meant in fun) but the fact of the matter is I do drink too much and this resolution each year is to prove to myself that I can still quit. The question is can I really quit?

I mean look at me now. I’m not really counting down the days but I know that my drinking days will begin again soon. One of my friends says even though I’m not counting the days (the 100 days was just a coincidence, I used excel to subtract the days because I planned to write about this regardless how many days it was, 100 was not a goal or a trigger for me to do this, just pretty cool that I selected the 100th day of all days) I’m still counting the days because I’m looking forward to it so technically that makes me an alcoholic.

I don’t know what an alcoholic is anymore. I like to drink. I am looking forward to drinking again but I will say this I’m also enjoying this sobriety. Its a side of me that I’m not too familiar with seeing. I an argue that I’m more productive and in some ways I am (I’m more committed to my exercising for one) but then in other way (yard work, housekeeping, etc.) I’m pretty much still the same guy. Another thing I like about not drinking is getting up very early, and when I say very early I mean it, like 1:30 AM and I generally go to work so I’m usually at my desk by about 3:00 AM and I work until 3:00 PM. (12 hours days).

There are so many rules involved with defining us as drunks. Here’s a small list I can answer from an Internet site about what defines one as an alcoholic:

1. Feel guilty or ashamed about your drinking? My answer is NO
2. Lie to others or hide your drinking habits? My answer is NO
3. Have friends or family members who are worried about your drinking? This one is tricky. No one I am close to but an old high school friend believes I am an alcoholic and addicted to Xanax.
4. Need to drink in order to relax or feel better? If you would have asked me this 4 months ago I would have said yes, who doesn’t feel better after a drink? But no, my answer is NO.
5. “Black Out” or forget what you did while you were drinking? Okay I did have a few black outs about 30 years ago in my 20’s when I got really drunk with friends, but never on my own.
6. Regularly drink more that you intended to? TRICK QUESTION! When I drink (which is not regularly unless you count the weekends) I tend to drink too much so the answer to this is YES and NO.

Okay because I answered a half YES to at least one of these questions I’m an alcoholic. But I deny that based solely on answering these 6 questions that I can be defined as an alcoholic. Whoops! I “denied” it. When you “deny” that means the opposite, it means you ARE or FOR whatever you deny, at least in terms of Alcoholism. I can DENY I am a rapist, if we used the psychology that AA uses I am a rapist because I deny it.

I looked at another quiz online and almost all the questions were the same as above with a few additional questions:

1. Being unable to stop once you start? Now this depends. If I am drinking and I know that I have to go somewhere, especially if I am driving then I stop drinking. So technically YES I can stop once I start, but if I know I’m going to be home and stay home I will get drunk. (I admit I’m a binge drinker which is a form of alcoholism. Or is it?) We can blame our laws and society for a lot of drinkers that stay home. Everyone is afraid to go out because they will be stopped, when they go out most people will control or limit their drinking (most, not all) but if you are home there is nothing to hold you back. Who cares? Drink away.
2. Neglecting your responsibilities? Oh how tricky this one is. I always slack off on working out so while I’d like to say NO to this I would have to answer YES, when I drink I’d rather play World of Warcraft or watch a movie.
3. Drinking in dangerous situations? (Like before work or when having to drive): My answer is NO.
4. Trying to quit but being unable to? Okay again another trick question. I have quit for 4 months with a planned restart day which hasn’t yet arrived. If I drink before that planned day then that means I was unable to make it and I am an alcoholic. Technically I haven’t quit forever but I never planned to (not yet). I will admit that this year I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to quit which is alarming in itself but I did. I have quit for 100 days with no program, with no help, and I still have 26 days to go.

Technically I am an alcoholic. I admit openly I have a drinking problem. On those Friday and Saturday nights (or other nights when I don’t have to work) I will definitely drink and I will definitely get drunk. That makes me a binge drinker.

Its like the old Salem Witch Trials. If I admit I’m a witch (an alcoholic) I will be burned at the stake. If I deny I’m a witch (an alcoholic) I will be tortured and accused until I admit it and then burned at the stake.

I don’t miss work (not yet). I maintain my house (still). I am responsible (for the most part). I admit I binge drink (but don’t when I have things that interfere). I don’t know if its a problem or not.

Okay now that all my pro-drinking rhetoric has been spewed let me say that for the last 100 days I have felt wonderful, and yes if you look back on this blog for the first week or two (another sign of alcoholism) I was afraid of facing the days ahead without drinking. I was worried because of the anxiety attacks I have, I would have not proper treatment other than the Xanax (which I only take if I’m having an anxiety attack). I don’t like waking up the next morning and thinking about the hair of the dog. I don’t like getting drunk just because its the weekend and I decided to start drinking. I don’t like a lot of things about drinking but on the flip side there are a lot of things I don’t like about not-drinking. I definitely don’t like branding myself an alcoholic. I don’t like that once you determine you are an alcoholic you are an alcoholic forever and ever and ever.

You know if you look back on all those questions I answered above I can answer at least one yes for the same question on another of other topics as well. Watching movies, playing with my dogs, working at my job, gambling at the casino, eating, sleeping, lying to people, reading, hanging out with friends, going to parties, going to bingo, mowing my lawn, laying by the pool, doing my laundry, and on and on and on. Does this mean that I have a problem with any of the above. Okay I’m rationalizing which means I’m denying which means I’m an alcoholic. I can’t win. There’s nothing I can say or do other than quit drinking forever to prove I’m not an alcoholic. But I like drinking (at least now, I even said this before I quit) I also like watching movies, reading, and laying by the pool and since I answered yes to at least one of those questions for each of these must I quit these other things I like to prove that they aren’t interfering with my life and my happiness?

I’m in a lose/lose situation here when I consider my drinking. I’ve seen others do and go far worse in terms of their drinking and I don’t label them (sure they probably drink too much but I don’t think I’m in the position to claim they are drunks or have a problem). Psychiatrists and counselors and judges and lawyers, etc., all have an interest in labeling us drunks. The government has an interest in labeling us drunks. Look at all the money they earn from stopping a guy that has had one too many. They lower and lower and lower the amount of alcohol in our bodies to make us legally drunk after one drink and once legally drunk they brand us an alcoholic. I mean their billboards alone tell us their main interest is in the money…. like the one that reads “This guy just “blew” $10,000″ and pictures a guy blowing into a breathalyzer. What about other alcoholics? Surely they have nothing to gain by labeling everyone they meet an alcoholic because they can answer yes during their lifetime to at least one of the questions above. Ever heard the saying “Misery loves company”? Of course alcoholics want others to be branded the same. There is no way in hell they want to think they are the only ones that can’t stop drinking and surely they are not the only ones otherwise the AA cult wouldn’t exist.

I’m looking at all this through sober eyes now knowing that I’m going to start drinking in less than a month from today. Maybe a year from now my fear that I had before this period of sobriety will be doubled, maybe I will be too week to quit again for month and months on end. Maybe I will find myself eating my words and think “What was I thinking, of course I’m an alcoholic. I must quit and never, ever, ever, drink again.” Perhaps that is my destiny. And sadly I’d like to satisfy all those that want to brand me as such just like I’d like to quit forever, but then again I don’t want to quit forever. I like the feeling of being up at 2:30 AM having my coffee, playing World of Warcraft and ready to start the day but I also enjoy staying up until 2:30 AM having several drinks chatting to people on Second Life while drunk, ready to go to bed and sleep late the next morning.

Either way I’m giving up something I enjoy. Either way I have a problem. Lets just hope that when the time finally comes that if I can’t control the drinking (by quitting when I want to quit) that I am strong enough to stop and admit that I have a problem. For now I’m happy to admit that I am a binge drinker and that binge drinking is a form of alcoholism but for the last 100 days I’ve been a “binge non-drinker”. I guess we will just have to see how this all plays out.

 

 

America! Putin’s Playground…

America! Putin’s Playground…: In my opinion our President has already committed treason when he begged the Russians to provide his with evidence to destroy Hillary Clinton’s campaign. The man asked a foreign government to interfere with our elections!

I Am Depressed

I Am Depressed:  I admit it, I am depressed and with all my other problems, I am sad, perpetually sad…

Lay Me Down to Rest

Lay Me Down to Rest:  I have said before and I will say I’m not a good person. My husband loves me, this much I know, but he has become accustomed to me, the type of passionate love that two people have for each other has long faded.