Day 86: Worst Memories of The Remorseful Alcoholic 2

208205_393627210707176_508969795_nPlease refer to Day 85 for context to this blog.

I will continue deconstructing the thought,’‘Oh, F, I totally ruined my parent’s wedding anniversary party and it’s memory, for everyone’

I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to not realize when I fall into imagination, as this character ‘the remorseful alcoholic’, with movies-moving images of various memories/scenes playing out in my mind, over and over, a forever torture of:

Being in my sister’s basement before I was drunk and taking to my mom and thinking how lovely she looked and how she really made an effort to get a nice outfit for the occasion, talking to my Mom’s cousin’s being over-friendly and ‘happy’, moving those bloody cardboard picture collages around from the backyard to the hallway and living room -like they were so important and my only contribution and god damn it people were going to notice them and praise me for making them!

…Taking my Dad by the arm (which I never do-I was good and drunk at this point but not stumbling drunk) and telling him something about God and death like I was an expert/had the inside track, specifically I recall him looking at me curiously and I thought it was because I was so wise, coming in and out of a blackout in my sister’s front yard and once pushing my sister-in-law, telling people I just wanted to take the kids and go and arguing with my family, giving ambulance drivers a hard time not wanting to go in an ambulance (I was confused about what was going on), note: my children did not witness any of this (or very little) as they were put in the basement and watching a movie, thank god.

THEN…snapped out of that black out, woke up with the police handling me-I was then VERY confused and scared and so I did not co-operate so they got Much rougher with me and clasped on the handcuffs and dragged me to the police car. I was too wasted to be humiliated at that point, I just felt like this is ridiculous, what is going on, just let me go and I’ll get my kids and leave, I’m fine for god sake. But no one was listening…

More scenes, being in this little room in the hospital with the police at times and times alone, I remember thinking, ‘F. them! If I have no power, I have the power to scream’, so I did. Not words, thank god, just the noise of the screaming, simply to piss them off. That does not make any sense to me now (I realize it was backchat I was listening to) but at the time, this decision seemed to make perfect sense…

DIP Lite Banner-01Continuing, the police telling me if I don’t behave they won’t let me go and the cuffs will remain on with my hands behind my back-which was VERY uncomfortable/painful-  and I will go to jail, so my reply was to scream more, ‘I’ll teach you to handcuff me and hold me here! How dare you hold me here captive!’ were some of my thoughts. ‘If they want me to stop screaming then I’ll give them what they are giving me -NO cooperation- so I screamed as loud as I could , for as long as I could…

Being in a padded cell, literally, I did not know they still existed and standing and screaming, leaning at the door of this cell, I remember thinking very clearly in my head, ‘I am standing here screaming, that’s kind of strange/weird’ but it felt ‘good’ to scream and was kind of natural/automatic, being cold -when I was exhausted and had stopped my performance and trying to sleep on the only thing in the room -a very flimsy mat- and asking for a blanket, curling up on the floor and falling asleep, being furious at everyone when I woke up the next morning and vowing I’d never forgive them ‘for doing this to me’. Calling my sister and being angry, my parents coming and me showing them my torn pants and bruises from the police brutality (they were very aggressive but I understand now), talking to a therapist or two -literally talking my way out of that place and thinking, ‘Oh F. I really messed up, I will be smart and say whatever it takes to get out of here, I can do it, I can talk my way out, be very careful, you are not free, you are incarcerated.’…

0My parents driving me home being supportive as they could be and me sulking, like a child, angry at everyone for ‘letting it going so far…why did you not just let me sleep it off, for god sake?’, was my retort. I did not even say I was sorry to my parent, which is shocking to me now.  My parents  defending  my brother, being at home writing letters of apology to my sister and her husband- feeling totally humiliated, I think I drank to get through those letters- to my parents and my 2 brothers…

A picture of myself speaking on the phone-in the kitchen- with one of my brothers and him telling me I pushed his wife harshly and she was quite devastated by the whole incident and that I  had told my dad ‘I talk to God’ and my brother then saying to me ‘Sandy, that’s schizophrenia’, I then remember being VERY frightened by that, thinking that could lead to me losing my children…

A picture of me talking to my other brother on the phone, standing in my kitchen, and my older brother saying he heard me screaming the whole time in the hospital, as he was waiting for me there and that it was the worst night of his life and he cannot and will not go through something like that again. (I think there was another incident I was crying on the phone drunk with him before I quit for good), apologizing to my children in the living room, speaking to my ex-husband (their father) in my living room,  having children’s aid over to my home.

I will continue with self-corrective statements in the next post, Day 87, on this imagination point.

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