new raspberry; �HATES technological I am sick to death of erectile dysfunction, pass the tampons please |
AA Speaker 4 Over the next few years Over the next few years, life was the same thing week in and week out. Work, work, work M-F and party on the weekend. In the early 80�s my boyfriend and I decided that we should probably reap some of the tax benefits of being a married couple since we were married in everything but name. Isn�t that a totally romantic reason for getting married? We thought so. We bought a house in the suburbs and looked much like an average couple if you didn�t pay too much attention to our weekend behavior. He was a mechanic and we ended up getting involved with the local speedway where we would spend our Saturday nights, him working the throttle and me working the bottle. I would just drink myself senseless and say and do the rudest things to the people around me. That�s a hard thing for me to deal with now that I�m sober, looking back at my disgusting behavior. But you know, I must have surrounded myself with people just like me because no one ever called me on it. No one. In the mid 80�s I decided I was tired of having the kind of low wage jobs you get when you don�t have a higher education so I went to college to learn all I could about computers. I had a little trouble at first not being able to remember what I was studying and I finally realized that if I quit smoking pot, I could remember stuff much better. Who knows, if I had quit drinking, I probably could have gotten a PhD, but like everything else I did in life, I did just enough to get by. Just enough to get me where I wanted to be�and no further. Just enough to take care of me. Towards the end of my marriage, which somehow managed to survive into the 90�s, I made a good, good friend. The kind of friend any alcoholic would love to have, the owner of a bar. I knew my marriage was dead in the water and it was great to have a safe place to go to get stinking drunk and know that no one was going to hassle me. I was the only one at my house who was ready to admit that the marriage was over, that I was ready to devote my life to the bottle. I think my husband figured it out the night I pulled a knife on him in a drunken rage. He still didn�t want to let go, but he also didn�t want to lose any body parts so we split and I moved in with my friend ~S~, pretty much the only sane friend I had left at that point. We�d been friends since high school and she needed a roommate to help pay for the house she was renting. She knew that even if I was a drunk, I always made it to work and I always paid my bills. Besides, she had this fix-it thing going on where she would gather all the little broken people to her and make them well and whole. She helped to keep me from hitting bottom and I let her. Editor�s note: at this point I did a little ad-libbing to take a break. I talked a little bit about how I do journaling online and that we do this thing called �100 Things About Me� so that we diarists, who don�t know each other except through our writings, can get to know each other a little better. I talked about how it took almost a month for me to make my list and that this, writing out My Story, was harder than making that list. Part 4 of 6
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secrets pondering: Why the right wingers who want to keep the government out of their business insist on putting the government in my bedroom laughing about: It gets lost in translation crying about: bad habits: smoking totally ballistic about: amen sister: someone else�s take on childlessness regular reads: cactustree must see tv: |