Light at the End of the Tunnel, Part 2

Obviously, I knew it was time for a change.  In my case, it was time for 100 changes.  I knew I had to completely shake up my life and re-create it if I was going to stay afloat.

First things first – I got into rehab.  I found a great outpatient program that I could afford on a negative income (those with student loans get it!) and started going to two group sessions a week as well as a one-on-one with an addiction counselor.  The rehab program was the first and most important step in my recovery. Obviously, I learned about dealing with stress and anxiety, navigating life with a criminal history, and how to resist the urge to drink.  I got even more, however, from my mates in rehab.

As someone with a mostly clean history, I frankly saw myself as a better person than those who were addicted to, for example, meth or prescription pills, or those who had their kids taken away after a felony DWI.  But there I found myself, in my 20s, sitting right next to those people and realizing that they were just like me.  They were not uneducated, uncultured losers with no self-restraint.  They were people…mothers, adolescents, professionals, blue collar workers, average Joes, all shoved out into the world and learning to deal with the angst of life just like I was.  We all came from different demographics, but in that group therapy room, we were equals learning to fight off a common enemy.  It was quite a humbling experience for me, and it completely changed the way I think about the criminal system and treatment of addicts in our society.

Despite all my efforts to fit in, those around me would still make comments such as “how did you end up here with people like us?”, or “I never thought lawyers dealt with this shit.”  I would answer basic questions about criminal procedure (with the strong warning that I was NOT a licensed attorney and I cannot give legal advice) and share my stories about my past.  The nice clothes I wear and the expensive degree I bragged about sometimes hid my history of depression and alcoholism, unresolved issues with my father’s death, and feelings of inadequacy.  I think I helped them in the same sense that they helped me – I helped at least some of them realize that just because they struggled with addiction and happened to get caught, it didn’t mean that their worth was decreased.  It definitely put some obstacles in their path, but they could still shine.  It had been quite a while since I felt that I was capable of motivating or inspiring anyone, and it was such an honor to have a few people look up to me. I treasure that time, and if anyone reading is going through the same issues – please reach out and I would be glad to help you find an outpatient center like mine.

I attended a few AA meetings, and they just weren’t for me.  I see the appeal and I realize it works for some people, but it seemed too…spiritual.  I am a very realistic person and I felt that people in those groups gave up their addiction to alcohol and replaced it with an addiction to AA.  I learned some good lessons from the Big Book, however (the Big Book is a book given to AA members with several anecdotes and advice from the founders and previous AA members).  Don’t take my word for it though – maybe it would be great for you!  Just not my cup of tea.

To help with my case, I decided to do the best that I could, which means hiring the best attorney I could.  I chose a gladiator named George Milner III, who has a stellar reputation in Texas and beyond.  He wiped out my savings, but he made me feel calm and got me the best deal possible given the circumstances.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time for personal development outside of rehab.  As soon as I graduated (a month after my second arrest), it was time to study for the Texas Bar Exam – a three day monster with a 76% pass rate.  I dedicated at least 8 hours EVERY DAY (yea, weekends too!) to studying, sometimes more if I didn’t have to work or didn’t have a mini breakdown between lectures.  I stayed pretty isolated during that time, and I found it amazing how much easier it was to retain information and focus without a hangover.

At the end of July 2015, I took the Texas Bar Exam.  Four months later, I read my name on the pass list.  While this was one of the best days of my life, I could not help but focus on the asterisk located next to my name on the pass site.  This mark meant that while I passed the exam, I did not meet the character and fitness requirements of the Texas Bar, and thus, could not immediately become a licensed attorney.  Back to reality.

While I was waiting on the results, I worked in a few different places.  I had a well-paying contract job at a corporate office in Addison, TX, and I worked in a Middle Eastern cafe in Irving, TX.  It was there I met the man who would play a huge role in my future and my continued recovery.

He was a very polite and handsome customer, and he came in two to three times a week to enjoy a meal or smoke hookah.  He always sat in my coworker Karim’s section.  One afternoon while I was alone on the floor, he came in and it was my turn to wait on him.  Our initial interaction was not noteworthy, but after a few minutes he took out the key to my heart – a DayMinder Dayplanner! No, I know you wish I was kidding, but it’s true.  People like me, who enjoy writing down goals and errands into a spiral planner, are a dying breed.  I couldn’t help but comment on it, and I ended up neglecting my other tables to continue what turned out to be a wonderful conversation.  When he asked for his check, he also asked me for my number (to make a reservation at the cafe, of course) and I happily handed it over.

Many people advise not to date when you are recovering, because addiction is a mental condition, meaning you can replace your addiction to a substance with an addiction to a person, and when it doesn’t work out, you are even more devastated than before, and may turn back to whatever got you into recovery in the first place.  That’s very sage advice that I didn’t give a f**k about.  I let this man into my heart very quickly, and over the course of a month he knew about my family, my past, my addiction and arrest (really hard to hide that kind of thing with a breathalyzer in your car, lol), and all the ugly parts of my personality.  Somehow, he saw light where I could not, and we decided to give our relationship a real chance.

I concluded rehab and I wrapped up my contract job.  What happened next was SO unexpected, but it was just what I needed.

 

Light at the End of the Tunnel, Part I

I have been arrested twice for drunk driving.  I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t wreck, I had no children in the vehicle, or any other complications which would compound my guilt.

Let me tell you what it’s like to be under 30 with two very highly stigmatized arrests.  Since my last arrest in April of 2015, I have been incredibly depressed.  I until about a month ago, I would cry at the smallest reminder of my situation.  Even though I had accomplished many things in life, I felt unworthy of love, success, or escape from my situation.  I simply felt like a lesser human being.  I constantly fretted about how I would pay my student loans since I couldn’t get a good job, how I would explain my lack of success to my former law school classmates or family, how long I could pretend to be “normal” and “happy” with my life, and what I could possibly say to my future children about what I did.

I lost a man I loved because of the arrest.  I had to listen to the “I told you so” lecture from friends and family, and I learned that people will forgive mistakes, but they will not forgive patterns.  After my first DWI, people shook their head, chuckled, and said it could happen to anyone.  After my second one, I was isolated, and I could hear buzzing in my ears from people talking about how foolish I was.  It is extremely lonely.  I gave up on trying to be friend with the people I had been close to in my past with a few exceptions because, even if it wasn’t true, I felt those people were judging me.

For example, I went to a wedding for a girl I used to call my best friend in August of 2015, four months after my arrest.  Of course, she knew about my issues.  I drank at her wedding, and she came by the table and I made a joke about some of her coworkers that was inappropriate.  Everyone at the table had just been talking about the same thing, and they encouraged me to say something.  I often make jokes that cross the line, so it really had nothing to do with the drinking – that was just my personality.  After I told it to her and everyone laughed, she pursed her lips, shook her head, and just walked away.  I felt hurt of course – she was a great friend and I had offended her on her wedding day.  I found her outside later and said I was sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.  She said…yeah, I know how you are when you’re drinking.   The thing is, no. she. fucking. didn’t. She didn’t know anything about my problems, because she never cared to ask, and she was so rude that I always worried that she would ridicule or judge me if I opened up to her.  I asked my date if we could leave, and I couldn’t even wait until we got to the car to start crying.  He went to find her and told her I was crying, and she came to the car and said – get this – “I’m sorry if my friends were mean to you.”  I just shook my head and told her don’t worry about me, go back and have fun. I really considered our friendship over at that point, and I never actually told her what she did or how much it hurt me.  The thing I learned from that episode?  1) If you are afraid to open up to someone, they are not your friend, and 2) once you fuck up, everyone will judge you and see you as a product of your addiction.

After my arrest, I would get irrationally angry.  One small argument would result in me locking myself in a closet, threatening to kill myself, crying until I could no longer withstand the pain in my abdomen, or screaming and saying horrible things that I regretted as soon as they left my lips.  I would tell my boyfriend to just leave me, that I wasn’t worth anything, that he could find a better woman literally anywhere.  I  wasn’t trying to taunt him or beg for attention, I actually felt that.  I worked for a very awful boss (70 years old, power hungry, narcissistic jackass attorney who believed women belonged in the home and made blatant sexist comments to me an others), and even though I can usually deal with geriatric shit stains like him easily, every time we would get in a confrontation (read: weekly) I would cry.  I just couldn’t handle criticism nor friction.  Imagine a life like that!  It was just awful.

Little by little though, things started to change…

Diary Entry: May 7, 2016

Yesterday I received a letter from my lawyer asking for $9,000 and advising that my BAC for my DWI 2nd was 0.125.

Standing outside of my apartment reading the letter, I felt as if Freon was coursing through my veins.  I was cold, shaky, and honestly shocked.  I entered the apartment after a few moments in the passageway.  My husband, who was finally home after 2 1/2 weeks on a rig, was blissfully unaware of my emotional state, was cheerful as usual as he did the dishes.  I tried to maintain my composure for his sake.  I failed.

I went into the bedroom and shut the door, then cried as if I had lost a loved one.  It actually hurt.  My jaw is still twitching today, nearly 16 hours later.

He wants to understand what is going on in my mind, and I want to tell him.  In order to do so, I must understand it myself.  There is a mosaic of emotion in my mind, and the part of glass which catches the most sunlight is the color that shines through, even if it’s the not shade I wish to focus on at the moment.  This leaves with the monumental task of controlling the sun.  Here goes nothing…

  1. The first thing I feel is ANGER.  I am angry at myself for being so dumb, for ruining my career for an insignificant night with people who are not even my real friends.  I feel angry at the smug officer who arrested me.  I feel angry with the justice system for not adjudicating my case despite it occurring over a year ago.  I feel angry at the Texas Board of Law Examiners for denying my licence for a mistake I made even though I am paying the price for it every single day.  I feel angry at my friends and family for sweeping my addiction under the rug (and even encouraging it sometimes) instead of giving me the slap in the face I needed.
  2. I feel HOPELESS.  I lost hope in getting a law license in Texas and Oklahoma. I lost hope in getting a job that will pay my bills.  I lost hope in even getting an hourly job for which I am overqualified and underpaid because I can’t pass a background check.
  3. I feel FEAR and ANXIETY.  If I can’t be a lawyer and I am limited in other job options, I will not be able to pay my bills.  I have 5K in credit card debt and 200K in student loan debt.  My money will go to bills and court fees while I empty my savings and drown in interest.  In 5-7 years, when my background will be less of an issue, I will be near 40, and I don’t know that I will still be sharp enough to convince anyone that I deserve a second third chance.
  4. I also feel SHAME.  I see my friends celebrating success in their careers while I am working as a part-time envelope stuffer.  I wonder what I will tell my kids about my life.  I wonder who knows about my history and what people are saying behind my back.  I feel ashamed to spend time with my professional friends who didn’t fuck everything up for themselves.  How do I explain to them that I put myself in mental and professional catharsis?
  5. I feel LONELY.  I don’t associate with other criminals, so there is not a single person in my life who can understand what I am going through.  I can tell people how I feel, and they will nod and sympathize and tell me everything is going to be OK.  But, maybe it won’t.  I know that, but they can’t possibly know.  Maybe my life really is on hold and it will continue to be miserable for the foreseeable future.  I am not a pessimist, but the truth is not always caked in glitter.
  6. I feel like a FRAUD.  When I was in law school, I was always terrified.  I kept fighting, studying, working…but on the inside, I was so self-conscious.  I thought everyone else had their lives together, that they were sure of themselves and the path they chose.  I was a kitten among lions, just waiting for someone to see right through me.  I still feel that sense of inadequacy and I simply don’t know why.  I have the brains and the talent, but something is preventing me from executing.  It was, at least. Now my pending trial has all but made me completely abandon all hope to chase my 24-year-old dream of being an attorney.
  7. I feel spectacularly UNMOTIVATED.  I don’t care about my looks, my cooking, reading, writing, keeping the house in order, setting personal goals – I don’t care about anything.  I wake up, do what I have to do for the day, then retreat into myself.  I numb my mind with hookah and TV.  I avoid talking to friends and family and even my husband.  I have no sex drive.  I have no joy.  Living like this is not living, but I don’t have the fight in me to change it anymore.

How does one re-invent themselves at 29?  What I always wanted is no longer an option, and so many doors of possibility are now closed.  And it’s all my fault.  I carry concrete bricks on my shoulders everywhere I go.  Before, I was hanging onto the glimmer of hope that I would have a low BAC and be found not guilty.  Now, that seems foolish.  The hopelessness I feel in this case is leaking into other parts of my life.

I know I have to change.  What I am doing isn’t fair to myself nor those around me. But how?  How do I pick up all these broken pieces when it hurts to get off the couch?  Others turn to faith, but I have none.  I loathe AA for all the false hope its attendees have. I can’t afford therapy.  Saying “no” and “I can’t” constantly is cancerous to the mind, but how do I convince myself otherwise?

My mental decline has affected my physical health as well.  I am always tired.  I broke my wrist 6 months ago and it simply didn’t heal.  I got my first-ever bladder infection.  My cramps have intensified.  I am prone to headaches and nausea.  I was always so strong, healthy, and energetic until about one year ago.  Now I am a roll of dough, absorbing every knead.  Fuck, how did I let this happen?

I don’t really know how to end this entry.  I should end with some resolution to change or some promise to myself that I will stop this selfish behavior and be the best person I can despite my circumstances.  I can’t do that this time.  I don’t know if someday I will laugh about this period of my life or look down from some high-rise office and remember when I through I couldn’t do it.  But for now, the score is Life: 1, Amber: 0.

 

****Not part of my diary entry, but I though it important to note here that I am not looking for sympathy, condescending remarks, or affirmation. I am using this blog as an outlet and if anything good comes out of it, it should be to help people like me in knowing that they are not alone in these battles.  Thanks.   -A

Real Talk: Life as an Alcoholic, Part III

This is Part III of the series , where I will discuss my first year and a half in law school.  Check out Part I  and Part II to get the full story.

The first year of law school was a blast.  There was drinking involved, of course, but it was so exciting and I got wrapped up in the rush of being in such an honorable place.  The fact that you are in law school – even if you don’t graduate, even if you are in the bottom of your class – impresses people.  I became proud of myself and began to believe that this was the second chance I had been working toward my whole life.

In my first year, I did pretty well.  I was in the top 11% of my class.  I got elected to represent my class in the Student Bar Association (the equivalent of Student Government on the law school level) as a 1L Representative (1L = first year law school student).  I got an internship with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission after just one semester of classes (which is a huge deal, most students don’t get internships until sometime during their second year).   I was a finalist in a 1L mock trial competition.  I made 2 great friends who are still close to me today. I did so many things right.

EEOC

Side note: During my internship with the EEOC I worked on the most fascinating case I have ever read about to date.  We fought for freedom for mentally disabled adult men being housed as slaves and working for a turkey farmer.  Read about it here.

For the most part, I was not drinking heavily during that first year.  I went out a couple nights and had more than I should have, but it was balanced.  I cared so much about my studies at that time and I really wanted to do a good job for myself. I was so motivated and wouldn’t let anything stand in my way.  I wish, I wish, I wish I could have kept that state of mind.

The summer after my 1L year was one for the books.  During the first half, I worked at a paid internship with a local criminal defense firm in the mornings and attended classes to get a few extra hours in the evenings.  I took Oil and Gas Law (big deal in Texas) and Marital Property (very important subject for me, see my last post).   The weeks flew by, and I was off to my first law school study abroad in Croatia to study Intellectual Property in the European Union.

Croatia

This is a photo I took at a port in Rijeka, Croatia.  Who could be unhappy here?

Croatia was a real turning point with my substance abuse issues, but I want to take a detour and share the funny anecdote which landed me my summer criminal defense internship.  As mentioned above, I got an internship with the EEOC during the winter of my 1L year.  That organization was not my first choice though.  I went through the application process to be an intern in the Dallas County Family Violence court; a position which I was thrilled about and initially believed would be my place of employment after graduation.  I went through the application process and disclosed I had been arrested for a DWI in Dallas County, and it wasn’t a deal breaker.  I was scheduled to go for my third interview (the in person one which would have resulted in a formal offer) when I got a phone call from the administrator.  She informed me that I was no longer going to be considered a candidate because I failed the background check.  I asked her for details (I previously disclosed my DWI so I didn’t understand what the issue could be), and she transferred me to a court clerk who stated that I had a warrant IN DALLAS COUNTY for failure to appear.  If I arrived at the court house, they would be able to detain me for a hearing with a judge.  I was furious and humiliated.  Remember, prior to my first DWI I had barely gotten a speeding ticket – not passing a background check was something that I had never experienced and never anticipated up to that point in life.

 

So, I emailed my attorney with all caps demanding to know why I had a warrant.  He put the blame on his paralegal for failing to calendar the docket for my court date and apologized profusely.  Even though I was livid, I realize mistakes happen, so I forgave him…and jokingly told him he owed me an internship because he cost me mine.  Four days later, he called and confirmed the firm would be happy to have me as a paid intern the following summer.   Every time I relayed that story throughout law school, people would snicker and tell me how awesome it was.  I didn’t hide my arrest and something great even came out of it.  Sobriety would have been a better result, but I didn’t think of it that way then.

 

Now, onto Croatia.  I picked this trip on a whim.  I was never interested in traveling to the Balkan region, nor did I have a penchant for intellectual property.  The trip was the only one that allowed me to complete my summer courses, work, and travel.  It fit the schedule, it was (somewhat) affordable, and I wanted to get out of the country.  I think the only way to tell the story about Croatia is to start from the beginning.

 

First, I planned to fly into Madrid and spend 2 days there, then ride the train over to Barcelona for an additional night.  I love Spain, I speak Spanish, and I traveled there two times prior to this trip.  I just needed some Sangria and flamenco to forget the world.  While in Spain, I didn’t get too crazy.  I was alone, and I spent most of my time walking around, eating, drinking (but not over the top), and meeting locals who I would join at local pubs or discos later in the evening.  It was a tame three nights.  When it was time to leave, I was sad.  I had just a taste of the country that I loved so dearly, and I was headed to a spot I knew absolutely nothing about to study a topic that didn’t excite me.

Selfie Fail Madrid

Selfie Fail in front of the Royal Palace of Madrid

I arrived in Croatia a little late. I checked into the dorm and I was immediately disappointed.  The accommodations had been advertised as a place which had a café, air conditioning, a computer lab, and was within walking distance to major attractions.  It was none of those things.  The dorm was small and dirty, and equipped with two twin beds and nothing else.  There was a common bathroom for the entire floor (read: all students, regardless of gender) for bathing and everything else that happens in bathrooms.  The “computer lab” was a sweltering little closet with 4 extremely old model PCs running on Windows 95.  There was a café, but it was of course not open for summer.  The only things within walking distance were a TINY coffee shop (which literally only sold coffee) and a 24 hour bakery. For everything else, we had to take the bus, which stopped running around 9:45pm.  Later, I would come to learn that Rijeka is simply a miserable city, and there were other extremely exciting destinations in Croatia that offered more of what I had expected, but I would not be seeing any of those other places.

My roommate was a young woman originally from Jamaica who had a huge chip on her shoulder.  See, at this time, we were just beginning to enter the #blacklivesmatter era, and Croatia was not exactly the place to protest.  There are no black people in Rijeka.  In fact, people did not even attempt to hide their stares at my friend.  It wasn’t out of hate or disgust, but rather, they were fascinated.  They had never seen a black person in real life.  People would take photos, tell her she was pretty, smile, or just look at her and take it all in.  Rather than seize this and realize it is a great opportunity to show them that being black is just as ordinary as being white, she got angry and took offense to the people looking at her.  She yelled at a man on a bus when he asked her to move away from the door so he could exit.  She gave menacing glances to the people looking at her and cussed at them under her breath (or audibly, as the trip went on).  Thankfully, she usually just retreated to the dorm room after classes and I was able to venture out on my own.

 

Speaking of on my own, one thing that particularly bothered me about this trip was that four students from my university were also there.  Can you imagine the chances?  The trip was open to any law student at any level across the United States.  35 people attended – and 5 of them happened to be from Fort Worth, Texas (specifically from Texas A&M University School of Law).  The reason this bothered me was that even though I was in their class, from their school, and knew them all personally, I was excluded from their daily activities in Croatia.  I was never invited to go see the old observatory, go to the downtown pizza restaurant, hang out in the little pub, go shopping, take a hike at the waterfall…they just went on their own.  I tried to justify it and say it didn’t matter since it’s not like we planned to come to the same place…but it did matter!  I was so depressed about not having anyone to hang out with.  I traveled alone, and I expected to be alone because I didn’t know anyone.  Despite my predetermined solitude, I was not ready to have familiar faces next to me who would completely reject me.  Even writing this, I feel whiny and sensitive.  Back then, I felt whiny and sensitive.  Bottom line, I was lonely and felt like I didn’t fit in.  If you have read my previous posts, you know what this means.

I was drunk every single night in Croatia.

There is not much to do in a small city like that, so I found the city center to be a daily destination where I could fill up on white wine and read under the sun.  I tried researching new places to see, but nothing caught my attention.  I would drink, argue online with the guy I was dating at the time (who never wanted me to travel in the first place because he didn’t trust me), then try to find something to do late into the night.  Eventually, the guy and I broke it off, and I immediately internalized the pain by having a summer fling.  One of the waiters at the café, Ivica, seemed to be the best choice.  He helped me purchase hashish for one of my peers on the trip, and we had been messaging here and there.  We stayed together a few times, and it was absolutely understood by both of us that it would not be a long lasting thing.

only one with wine

Notice I’m the only one with wine.

One of the most interesting evenings I had in Croatia was with a man about 30 years my senior.  I don’t remember his name, but I will never forget him.  As you remember, I am an aficionado of hookah (or shisha, nargilah, whatever you would like to call it) and I always try to find a place to smoke when I travel.  In Croatia, I found a spot about 30 minutes away in a province called Opatija.  I planned my night, invited the 4 kids from law school (who declined) and got dressed and excited.  When I arrived, I noticed the destination was actually a hotel with a small lounge on the first floor which offered the pipes.  I expected them to be horrible (and they were) but the ambiance was incredible.  Opatija is situated on a somewhat steep mountain, and it overlooks the sea.  There are beautiful colors adorning every building, and driving there means following winding, narrow roads.  Every taxi driver is skilled at doing this in Croatia, but I was blown away.  Coming from Texas, where 8 lane highways and huge pickups are the norm, I felt like I was in a cartoon of sorts.

 

As I sat and puffed on my orange shisha, a man approached me from the interior of the hotel.  He asked me something in Croatian, and when he realized I didn’t speak it, he said, “Are you enjoying your evening?”  His voice was eloquent and his English was perfect.  After he disclosed that he owned the hotel (which I believed based on the way he spoke with the hotel employees) I invited him to join me.  That night, we had a three hour conversation about traveling, life, dreams and love.  He was a spiritual man and he traveled to India quite a bit to get in touch with his inner self.  His wife left him for another man in Croatia, so he lived at the hotel he owned with his daughter and had, from what I could tell, an outstanding life.  After our chat, he offered to take me home (which I welcomed since I was strapped for cash nearly the entire trip).  He passed me his phone number and said he would love to see me again.  I wanted to see him too, but unfortunately it would never come to pass.

 

Flash forward 24 hours. I had very little food in my system, and I got unbelievably drunk in the city center (so much so that various waiters refused to serve me).  I left when it got dark and hailed a cab.  My memory is a little fuzzy, but I recall following a man who I believed was a taxi driver.  He led me into a dark alley and you can imagine what happened.  I don’t want anyone to pity me, but I think there are a lot of confusing situations for people, especially women, when they drink a lot.  It is hard on men to be able to tell if a woman consents if she has been drinking.  What if you have been out a few times but you thought the relationship was heading that way?  What if she has been all over you all night beginning before she was drinking?  What if you don’t realize how drunk she is?  There are so many what ifs.  Clearly, if you don’t know a woman, you all aren’t dating, and she is obviously drunk, then you are really F^#$#&d up for trying to hook up with her.  But there are just so many things that blur the lines.  This is coming from a woman who has been too drunk to consciously consent far too many times.  I don’t feel sorry for myself and I don’t believe those men thought they were doing something wrong or had a criminal intent.  I probably made them believe that I wanted it.  With so much practice, I am skilled at looking and acting quite sober when I am actually three sheets to the wind.  So what am I trying to say here?  Just don’t get messed up around strangers.  If you don’t have a significant other who will take care of you, then get some annoying girlfriends who force you to leave the party when you’ve had too much.  The people I see drunk out of their minds at parties are usually the ones who have no one looking after them – and they probably started drinking because they were lonely in the first place.  What a horrible situation to be in.

 

After the incident in the alley, I began to cry.  I cried like I meant it, sobbing and screaming, until someone came out on the balcony in the alley.  She told me to leave the alley because it was dangerous.  I didn’t answer, I just kept crying.  She said she was coming down.  I tried to run to get away from her, because I didn’t want to tell her what happened.  She found me around the corner at the bus stop and I gave her enough of the story that she pieced together what was missing.  She said I had to go to the police, which I didn’t want to do, but she really gave me no choice and called them for me.

opatija

A view from my “cell” in Opatija

For the rest of the trip, I had to stay at the home of the Croatian guide who assisted our group.  I just slept.  I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere, see my friends, use the phone, nothing.  I was miserable.  The only time I was allowed to leave was to visit the investigators and the judge. I wanted to fly to Portugal, where I had a dear friend waiting to see me.  I wasn’t allowed to go, of course, and that made me even more frustrated.  I convinced my parents to cut the trip short and pay to change my ticket.  Within three days of this event, I was a plane back to the states, feeling like a drunk fool once again.

 

Thanks for reading my lovelies. I can’t wait to share the next chapter of my journey with you.

 

An Affair to Remember

My stepfather, let’s call him Ron, who I hope never ever finds out about this blog, reminds me of the governor in Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas.  You know the one.  He is charming and friendly, but one small provocation and he turns into an angry destructive force.  The trait pops doesn’t share with the governor is his remorse for his own personal life and his propensity to cheat on my mother.  My father’s latest and greatest affair happened right before – you guessed it – I started law school.

halloween

The govna.

This time, he chose his ex-wife, a particularly unsavory (and extremely unattractive) hag named Renee.  Renee is one of those sorry older women who never quite grew up.  Though she is well into her 50’s, she owns several tanning salons and believes that her female teenage employees actually like her.  She drives a convertible that makes her double chin and shoulder fat flap in the wind ever so carelessly.  She lives in a large, 2-story home by herself and drinks and parties daily to mask her bitterness for being old and alone.  The affair started quickly and unexpectedly, and it lasted nearly 2 years.  During that time, my stepfather depleted his savings and retirement funds (which actually belonged to my mother as well since she has been a housewife for 20 years), he was hospitalized for having a stroke, and he shattered our family and my faith in him permanently.

The first time I learned of the affair, I was about 24.  My mom told me that Ron came home at 4 am one evening. When she asked where he was, he told her that he was out with his friends and she had to just deal with it.  My mom is not the best at just “deal[ing] with it.”  She started asking him his whereabouts all the time and finally knew he was having an affair.  “I just know it, he’s done this before,” she used to say.

I don’t quite know how my mom found out it was Renee. Nonetheless, it was shocking news to all of us.  Renee and my father used to party together when they were young.  They broke up and went their separate ways, and she showed up a year later with a baby, swearing it was Ron’s.  Classy broad.  Now, Ron is about 5’8” with hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and fair skin.  The child, now 38, is 6’6” with bright green eyes, olive skin, blond hair, and no features similar to Ron.  He refuses to get a DNA test (they are old now, I guess it makes sense), but everyone has their suspicions.  Renee was a loose woman to say the least, and she still is for that matter.  Who knows whose baby she ended up with.    We found out that Renee initiated the conversation.  She asked Ron if they could meet to “catch up” and discuss what is going on in each other’s lives.  In case you missed it before, this child is completely grown.   There is absolutely no reason to “catch up” with an ex if you are in a new relationship.  You discuss your children until they are 18, then you get out of their lives and focus on your new spouse.

babydaddy

Oh yeah no, this looks legit.

Obviously, Ron took the bait.  That opened some Pandora’s box of feelings, I suppose, as it spun into a disgusting 2 year affair.  I don’t remember the order of everything, so the events below are not exactly chronological, but they are all absolutely true.  Before I get to that, I want to talk a little bit about why it happened.  I spent a lot of time thinking about what brought them to that point.  An indiscretion is one thing, but he just took a two year dump on my mother and all of us.  I want to believe there is a good reason, something I don’t know.  I didn’t find any of that.  I did reason, however, that he was bored out of his mind.

housewife

Mom, circa 1950.

My mom is a housewife, and she has been since they got married.  She is definitely not a sexually adventurous person (I know that because during this affair she shared a whole lot of things she shouldn’t have).  She is predictable – she doesn’t go out, she doesn’t drive at night, she doesn’t travel…and she doesn’t cook often (nor does she seem to really care about her cooking), and she was not a very good housekeep until very recently.  Those all seem like negative things, but I don’t mean them in that way.  She is not concerned about anything besides her family and she doesn’t do anything that would shock any of us.  That’s a good quality, I think.  In a marriage, however, men have to have a little fun.  Not with other women, but they need to do spontaneous things with their spouse; take trips; go out on dates; make a sheet fort in the living room – it doesn’t matter!  Just something out of the ordinary (and that includes intimate activities) from time to time.  I think this is what was missing from their marriage.  Sweet words and consistency are nice – but no variety will kill a relationship.

I would like to clarify, however, that I am NOT justifying the affair.  There is no excuse.  If you’re bored, say something.  Don’t f**k over the people who depend on you.

Now, back to what happened.  Renee set out not only to destroy the marriage, but she also intended to destroy my mother.  She went about this in several different ways:

  1. She separated the extended family. Since my father was previously married to Renee and she had a child with him (who was close with our extended family), she did not hide the affair.  She told everyone that he was back with her.  She gossiped to anyone who would listen about how all my mother does is spend Ron’s money and make him take care of her kids (read: my brother and I).  She labeled my mother an uneducated golddigger, white trash, not worthy of what Ron gave her.  Because Ron’s family is filled with unsavory characters and sociopaths, most of them listened.  His wife of 17 years, who nursed him through his first stroke, paid all of his bills, did all of his laundry, prepared all of his meals, slept with him, waited patiently through his extramarital affairs, took care of all his personal errands, and did everything she knew to do to keep him happy, was suddenly “just using him” for his money. Interesting.
obama-teenage-girl-meme-generator-oh-no-she-didn-t-820218

She did, Papa BO, she did.

  1. She had our utilities cancelled.   Since Renee was married to Ron in the past, she knew his social security number, birthday, likely passwords to accounts, old addresses, mother’s maiden name, etc.  She also knew his current address (i.e. where my mother lived).  So, once every 2-3 weeks, she would call and have one utility or another shut off.   The ones I remember were electricity, the alarm system, and our cable.  Eventually, we password protected the accounts so that she could no longer affect our lives at home.  Can you imagine how desperate someone has to be to go to these lengths?

 

  1. She drained my father’s savings. She convinced him to go to lavish restaurants, take vacations, buy jewelry, and anything else she could claw with her fat fingers.  She depleted the chance of early retirement for him.  And I am willing to bet that she did it not just because she is a pathetic whore, but also to make my mom suffer.  My father worked at a great non-profit for 17 years.  He had retirement set.  He traveled often, he was a well-respected director, and he truly enjoyed his employment.  He was, however, planning on getting out of the workforce at 65, and he was all set to do so until she came along.
  1. She sent malicious messages to me and my brother. Renee sent me one message before I sent her a scathing response and blocked her. It had personal details about me that she could not have known unless Ron told her.  She mocked me about them.  I was shocked to see that she had the audacity to feel superior to ANYONE, especially the step-daughter of the man she was sleeping with.  My brother played her game a little and messaged back and forth.  He never cared for Ron and he made that clear, but he is a mama’s boy if I ever saw one and he was furious about what she was doing to our mother.
  1. She had my brother robbed and beat up. There is no way to prove that she did this, but it is just too great of a coincidence.  In addition to tanning salons, Renee also managed a couple of apartment properties.  My brother lived in one of them before the affair started (for such a big place, DFW is a small world).  My step brother magically found out what apartment my brother lived in and GOT A KEY to access it.  My brother got pretty beat up, his apartment trashed, and several of his possessions broken and/or stolen. Trash just runs through their blood.
  1. She pressured my father into abusing substances. As I have stated before, I am aware that no one can make you abuse but YOU.  However, there are many environmental factors which may influence how much, what, or when the abuse takes place.  Ron was always a drinker, but he stuck to light beer (Michelob Ultra and the like).  Renee, however, would have Margarita Wednesdays, Champagne Thursdays, and all the other made-up drinking days which are pathetic to celebrate after college.  My father became a heavy drinker, and he also mixed in some marijuana, ecstasy, and perhaps other substances – who knows.  He is a diabetic, overweight, and already had one stroke.  Using this hard and this frequently put him right back in the hospital for stroke number 2.  She could have literally killed him.

Though my mother told my father about all of these things, he didn’t really believe her.  He thought my mom was hurting and doing what she could to break them up. The thing is, my mom didn’t have to make up any stories about that woman.  The truth was a much better story than my mother could have ever imagineered.  When my father’s eyes were finally opened was when Renee took it one step too far.  She went after the grandbaby. Renee’s fatal blow:

  1. She filed a complaint with Child Protective Services (CPS). CPS is the organization in Texas which investigates reports of child abuse and neglect and has authority given by the state to remove children living in dangerous situations.  As I mentioned in my previous post, my mother raises my brother’s first-born son.  At the time of the affair, my nephew was around 11 or 12.  Renee called CPS and claimed that my mother was alcoholic, suicidal, and had guns in the home.  These allegations were seasoned with the truth, but must be qualified.
  • My mother developed a temporary binge drinking habit when she believed her marriage was over. I don’t think she was the first or the last person to go through that.
  • Suicidal – meh? I think many people flirt with the thought of “what if it all just ended?”  I don’t think that makes one suicidal, but therapists tend to think if the message is in your brain for just a fleeting moment then the alarm must be sounded.  I don’t know that my mother was going through that, but I would not be surprised if she considered it considering the circumstances. I don’t think she would ever, EVER follow through. She loves all of us too much.
  • Finally, we had a ton of guns in the house. Probably 50.  But, my mother and I hate guns.  They were inherited by my stepfather when his dad passed away.  His dad was a gun collector and a veteran, and since he was near 90 when he died, he managed to collect quite a few. The guns were kept in a safe with an 8 number combination lock which only my stepfather knew the password to.
  • To summarize, it was not likely that my mom was going to commit a drunken murder-suicide anytime soon.

Nonetheless, CPS can’t simply ignore complaints, even when they come from a filthy mistress.  They pulled my nephew out of school (quite unexpectedly to us) and talked to him about his home life.  They also paid us a visit, where we stated what was going on in very clear terms to the CPS worker. Though we suffered a bit of frustration, her attempt to pull our nuclear family apart failed in that regard.

As horrible as the CPS experience was for my nephew and my mother, it is absolutely wonderful that Renee went through with it.  It caused Ron to see what was really going on (and this time, he knew it was real, since CPS called him too).  He left Renee, ran back home, and never looked back.

drake

My boyfriend Drake always knows the perfect thing to say.

His homecoming didn’t come without consequences, however.  He did all the usual things that cheating asshats do; he bought my mother a car, took her on a mini vacation to a Colorado resort, got her a HUGE rock…but Renee wasn’t just going to brush off her defeat (why start acting ladylike now, AMIRITE?).  She hit him where it hurts – his job.  See, we found out later that Ron had been taking Renee on his business trips and using his corporate card to pay.  His company allowed spouses to travel free (and even children at a significant discount), but unfortunately for him, there was no company allowance for mistresses.  Since she was his ex wife, she still had a few contacts at the company, and she let them know all about the affair, the trips, and even told them that he didn’t have the degree that was on his resume.  He did lie about a degree (he was about 6 credit hours short of the degree when he dropped out to help the family business) but in his defense, he had been working there for nearly 20 years and proven himself capable (hence quickly becoming an international director).  Anyway, lies always tend to catch up to us, and Ron and his boss had been experiencing a little friction and this was just the fuel the boss man needed to let him go.  Ron was fired within a week of coming home.

At this point, I had a ton of emotions, but the thought which rang the loudest was – MY POOR MOTHER.  Mom was divorced when I was 6 because by biological father was in the weeds with a heroin addiction.  She quickly met Ron, and he they were married within a year.  She stayed by him during his alcoholism, during his first couple of affairs, and completely integrated herself into his family.  Hell, even while he was having the affair, she was taking care of his dying mother at our own home.  She has her flaws, but I am still amazed she stayed with him.

So…why did she?  I mean, anyone reading this would likely see that not only was this a bad affair, but it hurt more than just my mother’s heart.  There are so many reasons, how about another list?!

  1. Texas does not have alimony. There is a “spousal allowance” allowed in some cases (e.g. if you have children, if there was domestic abuse involved in the relationship, etc.), but there are no general provisions which help housewives after a divorce.  My mom had been out of the workforce for nearly 20 years and she was in her 50’s.  Getting a job would mean starting out at minimum wage.  She could have done it, but what kind of life would she be looking at?  We have a large 3 bedroom house with 2 living rooms, 2 dining rooms, a pool, and plenty of land.  Moving from that to a shitty apartment with a job at a grocery store would be rough to say the least.
  1. She was raising a child. Let’s not forget about my nephew, who was in junior high at the time.  His parents didn’t want him, and my mom was all he had. She didn’t want to disrupt what little security he felt.  Staying in the same house and the same school was something she believed he needed.
  1. She didn’t want to be twice divorced. This is something that I understand.  I think after the first fiasco, people just get tired.  They become a little more willing to deal with other people’s shit in order to avoid a messy legal battle and a huge transition in life.  Plus, she thought she was doing the Christian thing to stand by her man (I’m not even going to get started on that right now).
  1. She tried dating and it was terrible. My mom joined an online dating site and went out a couple of times. The guys she met were exactly what I expected – 20 years aged since their photo, body odor, visible wedding ring tan line, etc.  Not anything that was marriage material.  Plus, as she put it, she didn’t want to date.  She felt old, and she wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone new.  I hope I don’t just give up like that one day and decline a new chapter in life, but I respect what she felt was right for her.

online dating

  1. She didn’t want to have to depend on us. This one is the hardest for me to swallow.  My mom knew that if she got a divorce and went out on her own, she would have to call on us for help.  Her extended family can’t even take care of themselves, and my brother and I don’t completely have it together, but we are in a position to keep her head above water and we will do it without question.  She didn’t want that for us.  She wanted us to keep finding ourselves and living our lives without having to support her.

My mother will sacrifice anything for us, and I suppose that is the definition of being a mother.  I know many women who give birth and forget this obligation and that’s so unfortunate.  I have lots of issues with my mom, but I know that if it were between me and anything else on the planet, she would choose me a thousand times over.

Now that the mushy stuff is done…let’s get this over with.  My parents are doing ok now.  There has not been a new affair to our knowledge.  My mom has access to all his accounts and regularly checks his phone and email because she doesn’t trust him (and probably won’t until he can no longer go to the bathroom on his own).  He found another job after 18 months of unemployment and my mom is slowly patching their finances back together.  I moved to Oklahoma with my fiancé, and my brother is still a hardcore mama’s boy.  Ron has tried really, really hard to make a comeback.  He started taking my nephew to Boy Scouts and camping trips.  He started to call and text my mom regularly and take her out once in a while.  He works hard and comes straight home after.  He took a great interest in my law school studies. He’s done that for about three years now and they seem to be doing fine.  But as for me…I just can’t forgive him.  I want to be a bigger person and be able to set aside the fact that he (temporarily) threw our family in the garbage.  I want to believe that it must have been my mom’s fault too.  I want to believe that he was suffering from some demon that made him act out of character.  But every time I think about it, I come to the same conclusion.

He’s an asshole.  And she is a whore (…did I mention that she was married at the time of the affair to someone else as well?).  They will always be that in their core.  I can be pleasant to him since, after all, he does support my mother and he supported me through my adolescence, but I don’t have to like him.  And for now, I choose not to.

P.S. I apologize for the language and general negativity of this post.  The subject matter is difficult for me and though I am generally forgiving, I am still in the anger phase of healing with regard to this one.  Thanks for reading.

 

 

“The List” (dun dun DUNNNN)

This blog was created for the purpose of achieving goals.  I have several.  They range from small to colossal, and the effort, finance, and self-gratification that will follow achieving any of these goals will also range form minuscule to mammoth.  But, before I start to work on the goals floating around in my head, I need to get them in print (that is, somewhere besides one of the countless pages of the hundreds of journals and stationary I keep around the house).  I hope to periodically update this list and include an “achieved” section as well as time goes on.  But here you have it folks, the very first version.

Lifetime Goals

(work on these will be broken down into smaller goals over time):

  1. Write a book
  2. Work for the U.N. (or another equally impressive international organization)
  3. Travel the World
  4. Open a no-kill cat sanctuary
  5. Own a cafe
  6. Be a professor
  7. Be extremely fit
  8. Be on television (like, once is ok. I don’t need a sitcom)
  9. Become a millionaire
  10. NOT have a desk job
  11. Be extremely happy
  12. Coach other people to success
  13. Have a second chance program for homeless and addicts in my community
  14. Have a shelter for trafficking victims
  15. Speak fluent Arabic
  16. Be a lawyer (for a period of time, not as a career)

Baby Goals:

(Total list should be completed by April 15, 2016)

  1. Find a place to volunteer related to animals or international affairs (and follow through)
  2. Have an awesome patio
  3. Get my apartment super organized
  4. Research the U.N. and get in contact with someone to introduce myself and express my intentions
  5. Lose 10 pounds
  6. Become a cat sitter 🙂
  7. Pick ONE side hustle (no action needed, just pick one)
  8. Learn to fold a fitted sheet
  9. Prepare a schedule and follow it for one full week

Medium Goals: 

(Total list should be completed by August 1, 2016)

  1. Pay off my credit cards
  2. Pay my other expenses (more on that later)
  3. Have an independent investment account
  4. Have $15,000 in savings
  5. Lose 25 pounds
  6. Learn to read and write Arabic
  7. Get part 1 of my book completed
  8. Make $3,000 in income from side jobs/miscellaneous (anything not coming from my primary full time job counts)

Big Goals:

(List should be completed by year-end 2016):

  1. Lose 50 pounds
  2. Finish my book and self-publish it
  3. Make a comprehensive life goal list/plan (with details and deadlines)
  4. Have a little business, no matter how small it is – something that is registered and real

Current Progress/Achievement List (as of 3/9/2016)

Baby Goals:

Number 6 – I posted an ad on Craigslist to advertise my services as a cat sitter.  I’m not counting this goal as complete until I have an actual client. In addition, I requested franchise information from Fetch.com, a national, established company that offers a more standardized approach to pet care.  It is $15,000, so I’m not ready to open the franchise yet; but I’m keeping it very close in mind.

Medium Goals:

Number 1 – I have one credit card completely paid off.  The second one is going to be paid off by the beginning of next month.  The last one (which is the largest debt and currently only getting minimum payments) is going to be tackled beginning next month and paid off by August.

Number 4 – I have $4,600 in savings.  That isn’t a lot, but considering the fact that I started saving this year, it’s not half bad. There is a slight chance I will have to deplete my savings next month; but I am hoping that doesn’t occur.

Number 7 – I have an outline complete and I have completed a few chapters.  Part one includes all the time that my character is still in the United States.  Once I finish that, I will consider this goal complete.

Big Goals:

Not much going on here yet.  For my business, I am considering some options…but really thinking about starting a publishing company.

Well, that’s all folks.  I have gotten pretty excited writing this, and I hope you are excited for me too.  I really love planning, let’s see how I do following through. Ciao!