Every article published these days about alcoholism and/or alcoholics will give you a list of ways to recognize a person with addictive behavior. The one always listed that I particularly enjoy is "does this person drink two beverages to your one". Well, maybe you are just a slow drinker. Yes, it could be an indicator, but in real life situations there are people that sip on one drink for hours on end. To me, the former professional drunk, it would be better stated as, does this person drink four beverages to your one. Or does this person have a glass of vodka with a splash of soda to your one shot and soda, if they are a smart alcoholic, they would have vodka and "water" anyway. Better yet, why has this person gone to pee eight times and I have only gone once? Probably because they loaded up before coming out to the bar, and/or are sneaking shots and chugging other drinks.
What I am getting to, eventually, is the fact that most of the lists don't give the typical alcoholic enough credit; and with these lists you could easily accuse someone who is just letting off steam from a bad day. So, I offer you a better list, some might state the obvious, but the obvious is often overlooked in many situations; while others just might make you think.
1. When they open their car door, do beer cans fall out? My car was a mobile recycling center. Yes officer, I was just headed to recycle these cans and the bag busted open. Right. Those who occassionally leave the house with a drink in hand will almost always get rid of the evidence at first chance. Alcoholics (a) don't care/don't think they will get caught and (b) cleaning out the car everyday is a given that you are trying to hide something. I would typically have a minimum of 18 crushed cans hidden under a blanket on the back floorboard.
2. How many "mini" refrigerators can be found in their house? Every good alcoholic has one or more mini friges for convenience...the closer to the tv or beer pong table, the better.
3. Do the household animals sit at your feet when you hold a beverage instead of food? I had one dog that would sit at my feet until she got a sip, as well as a cat that could smell liquor a mile away and would stick her paw in the glass. A slight indication that these drinks are around alot.
4. How many debit or credit card transactions have the name of a liquor store or a convenience store for around $18-20 bucks? Convenience stores are the best cover because you could always be getting gas or picking up snacks. But check the amount on the transactions...are they all similar? And how many are there in a weeks time?
5. Does this person have a stack of "around the world" club cards for local bars and pubs? If a person opens their wallet and there is a stack behind their ID, you might be on to something. And why behind their ID? Convenience.
6. Is a cooler a permanent fixture in their car? Unless they are shipping body parts to the local hospital on a daily basis, what else is a permanent car cooler for?
7. Does this person frequently smell like they have eaten a whole onion or a clove of garlic? Many people use strong perfumes or cologne in attempt to cover up the smell of alcohol, amateurs. FYI, mints, candy, and gum are only good while they last. The professional will eat foods consisting of strong ingredients or seasoning. They last a lot longer, and come back every time you burp. Gross? Yes, but it works!
8. Is the kitchen pantry full of snack food, but the fridge is bare? Alcoholics will at some point lose their appetite for food. Their drink of choice becomes the food, but they will snack on various, usually salty items. Plus, the fridge is reserved for alcohol...duh.
9. When they shop at a warehouse store, such as Sam's or Costco, do they purchase trash bags, advil, and chips? Or like me, purchase six to eight cases of beer? I never really hid my problem with alcohol until the last year or so when it really got out of control, so someone with a basket full of beer is usually stocking up for a party. But with alcoholism come a shit load of empty containers, a lot of hangovers and annoying headaches, and as I mentioned earlier the need to snack on salty food.
10. Does this person have a better relationships with bartenders than friends? And not just at one restaurant or bar. In the places that I frequented, which stretched all over town, there would be an ice cold Miller Lite on the bar before I even sat down. Additionally, if the bartender delivers all of his/her mis-pours to this person...you might have identfied an alcoholic.
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drinking. Show all posts
Friday, November 22, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
History: Part 2
Due to years and years of drinking, there are a lot of parts of my childhood that have either temporarily or permanently disappeared from my memory. I may stumble on a picture and recall the events that took place, or a dream might bring back some forgotten moment in time. But otherwise, I remember the negative parts of my family life, and believe it or not a lot of my completely obliterated moments. My assumption is that when you spend most of your time drunk, you are inevitably going to remember quite a bit of it.
Right around the years that I began to explore the world with a buzz, one of my most negative and unforgiving moments occurred. It also led to an increased volume in drinking. I was still a few years shy of becoming a teenager, and spent my Saturday mornings as any child would...in front of the television watching cartoons. I can even remember that I was laying in front of the tv on my left side with my head propped up in my hand. My mom had been on my case all morning about taking some left over Christmas boxes to the storage shed out back of our house. "In a minute, mom."...the infamous catch phrase that typically ended in an arguement or excessive sreaming match. Things quieted down and I continued with my saturday morning entertainment.
Several minutes later, I heard a faint cry for help. I went to the back door to find my mom sitting in the grass, angry and in tears. She told me to go find help. I went to the neighbors house and found their yard guy. He followed me to the back yard and subsequently called an ambulance as well as my dad. Both arrived at the house right around the same time and my dad and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I don't remember anything about the car ride except for my dad running red lights.
My mom had decided to take one of the boxes out to the shed. She stepped in a rather deep hole in the back yard and literally crushed her ankle. In surgery, the doctor said the bone fell out like saw dust...quite an image for a kid. Six screws, two pins, and a steel plate later it was rebuilt. The horrifying screams from the emergency room still ring in my ears.
It is a moment in life I will never forget...and wasn't allowed to. Everyone in my family blamed me for the accident. "Why didn't YOU take the boxes to the shed?"...or "if you had just done what your mother told you to do". And, in turn, I was very unforgiving to myself. I spent my mom's recovery time catering to her every need as well as drinking whatever I could get my hands on.
"This would have never happened if it wasn't for you."
It would not be the last time I heard that phrase, which turned into a "you owe me for life" understanding within the walls of my house. For all the physical pain I had caused, it would be returned time and time again in the form of mental pain. And drinking allowed me to be happy.
Right around the years that I began to explore the world with a buzz, one of my most negative and unforgiving moments occurred. It also led to an increased volume in drinking. I was still a few years shy of becoming a teenager, and spent my Saturday mornings as any child would...in front of the television watching cartoons. I can even remember that I was laying in front of the tv on my left side with my head propped up in my hand. My mom had been on my case all morning about taking some left over Christmas boxes to the storage shed out back of our house. "In a minute, mom."...the infamous catch phrase that typically ended in an arguement or excessive sreaming match. Things quieted down and I continued with my saturday morning entertainment.
Several minutes later, I heard a faint cry for help. I went to the back door to find my mom sitting in the grass, angry and in tears. She told me to go find help. I went to the neighbors house and found their yard guy. He followed me to the back yard and subsequently called an ambulance as well as my dad. Both arrived at the house right around the same time and my dad and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I don't remember anything about the car ride except for my dad running red lights.
My mom had decided to take one of the boxes out to the shed. She stepped in a rather deep hole in the back yard and literally crushed her ankle. In surgery, the doctor said the bone fell out like saw dust...quite an image for a kid. Six screws, two pins, and a steel plate later it was rebuilt. The horrifying screams from the emergency room still ring in my ears.
It is a moment in life I will never forget...and wasn't allowed to. Everyone in my family blamed me for the accident. "Why didn't YOU take the boxes to the shed?"...or "if you had just done what your mother told you to do". And, in turn, I was very unforgiving to myself. I spent my mom's recovery time catering to her every need as well as drinking whatever I could get my hands on.
"This would have never happened if it wasn't for you."
It would not be the last time I heard that phrase, which turned into a "you owe me for life" understanding within the walls of my house. For all the physical pain I had caused, it would be returned time and time again in the form of mental pain. And drinking allowed me to be happy.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
the Girl Scouts
I can hear it now. What in the hell is she writing about the Girl Scouts?...is this a blog about Girl Scout cookies?? Actually, I could write an entire blog about G.S. Cookies without a problem, maybe next time. :D
I spent the majority of my elementary and junior high years in the Girl Scouts. Yes, me...I was a Girl Scout. I was also a band geek, but that is another story entirely. During my younger years, I was lucky enough to spend several weeks during the summer at Camp Wawbansee, which I am not 100% certain even exists anymore. I looked forward to those weeks of the summer more than any basketball camp I ever attended. It was a very rustic camp, full of pine trees, wide open spaces, trails for miles, and no air conditioning. The living quarters were screened in cabins with spring loaded cots, and spiders in every corner. It was a beautiful place.
I traded my Girl Scout uniform for a basketball uniform in 7th grade, but that was not the end of my scouting career. Around 1990, I returned to camp as I was hired on as a lifeguard for the summer. It is important to remember that I was a pretty hardcore alcoholic at this age. My first summer at camp, I made friends with the wrong people and almost lost my job because of it. It was at this point in my life that I realized how much alcohol was already taking over, and how much I was in need of a positive role model in my life.
Insert role model here: We were allowed one night off camp grounds each week. One night as my "friends" and I returned to camp, we were greeted by the Camp Director, Kay. Kay was a physical education instructor for special needs children, in addition to her job with the G.S. Counsel. She cornered us on the stairs of the dining hall, and asked us if we had been drinking. Although we had spent the evening drinking bottles of vodka and probably reeked of it, we all said no. She then proceeded to tell us camp horror stories of counselors being injured, fired, and even sued for having alcohol in their system on camp grounds. As we walked the long path back to our unit (the camp was divided into four units, each housing a different age group), the others were stumbling and laughing the whole way, but I actually felt horrible about what happened. Something that had never happened to me sober or drunk...remorse, I think you call it. I had let down the person that hired me, believed in me, and trusted me to take care of campers whether in the unit or at the pool and lake.
The following Sunday when we returned for a new week of camp, I made a change. I traded out my partners in crime, and by doing so made several enemies, but got to know other counselors that were much more respected by the administration staff. I also spent a lot more time getting to know Kay. And by a lot...I worked for her for four additional summers. Every summer I moved up the ranks and became the director of programing as well as the waterfront director. I was also placed in charge of our summer trips to canoe the Buffalo River in Arkansas. I grew up a lot in those five summers and truly learned what hard work and earning respect meant.
Kay was a strong woman, extremely confident, a great leader, and loved her job. I aspired to be just like that. So, I dumped out my bottles of vodka for the month and a half I spent at camp...ok, so I really just left them at home, but only drank on our 24 hour break on the weekends. I had found my first female role model and because of her would continue to pursue my career with the Girl Scouts in Dallas as well as Pennsylvania. Which, in turn, would lead me to meet another great Camp Director!
I spent the majority of my elementary and junior high years in the Girl Scouts. Yes, me...I was a Girl Scout. I was also a band geek, but that is another story entirely. During my younger years, I was lucky enough to spend several weeks during the summer at Camp Wawbansee, which I am not 100% certain even exists anymore. I looked forward to those weeks of the summer more than any basketball camp I ever attended. It was a very rustic camp, full of pine trees, wide open spaces, trails for miles, and no air conditioning. The living quarters were screened in cabins with spring loaded cots, and spiders in every corner. It was a beautiful place.
I traded my Girl Scout uniform for a basketball uniform in 7th grade, but that was not the end of my scouting career. Around 1990, I returned to camp as I was hired on as a lifeguard for the summer. It is important to remember that I was a pretty hardcore alcoholic at this age. My first summer at camp, I made friends with the wrong people and almost lost my job because of it. It was at this point in my life that I realized how much alcohol was already taking over, and how much I was in need of a positive role model in my life.
Insert role model here: We were allowed one night off camp grounds each week. One night as my "friends" and I returned to camp, we were greeted by the Camp Director, Kay. Kay was a physical education instructor for special needs children, in addition to her job with the G.S. Counsel. She cornered us on the stairs of the dining hall, and asked us if we had been drinking. Although we had spent the evening drinking bottles of vodka and probably reeked of it, we all said no. She then proceeded to tell us camp horror stories of counselors being injured, fired, and even sued for having alcohol in their system on camp grounds. As we walked the long path back to our unit (the camp was divided into four units, each housing a different age group), the others were stumbling and laughing the whole way, but I actually felt horrible about what happened. Something that had never happened to me sober or drunk...remorse, I think you call it. I had let down the person that hired me, believed in me, and trusted me to take care of campers whether in the unit or at the pool and lake.
The following Sunday when we returned for a new week of camp, I made a change. I traded out my partners in crime, and by doing so made several enemies, but got to know other counselors that were much more respected by the administration staff. I also spent a lot more time getting to know Kay. And by a lot...I worked for her for four additional summers. Every summer I moved up the ranks and became the director of programing as well as the waterfront director. I was also placed in charge of our summer trips to canoe the Buffalo River in Arkansas. I grew up a lot in those five summers and truly learned what hard work and earning respect meant.
Kay was a strong woman, extremely confident, a great leader, and loved her job. I aspired to be just like that. So, I dumped out my bottles of vodka for the month and a half I spent at camp...ok, so I really just left them at home, but only drank on our 24 hour break on the weekends. I had found my first female role model and because of her would continue to pursue my career with the Girl Scouts in Dallas as well as Pennsylvania. Which, in turn, would lead me to meet another great Camp Director!
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Overcoming Fears
So, yes, I have a fear of flying. I don't mind getting on scary rides at amusement parks, I have been skydiving, and will pretty much do anything for the thrill of it...except fly. Every time I drive by the airport I hope that it will spontaneously combust. And with every day that passes, I get a little more nervous about my flight on Thursday.
Since I started working out again, I have overcome my fear of ripping my knees apart by squatting again, thanks to my wonderful coach and learning how to squat properly. And just yesterday, I hit another milestone by snatching 100lbs. No, 100lbs is not a lot of weight, but attempting a 100lb snatch back in '09 is where I first started having knee issues. So late last night, I loaded the bar and landed it...after trying to talk myself out of it about three times. It wasn't pretty but I stood up with the weight none the less.
Oh and did I mention that I have overcome my fear of living life without a beer buzz. Yes, that has happened too. And I am loving every minute of my sober life! Even as a I type this, I feel like I have been run over by a semi after my leg workout...but still loving it!
So what is up with getting on an airplane? I know my fear began just after grad school. I was on a flight back from Baltimore, where I had spent the weekend defending my master's thesis...I think in 2001 or so. The plane landed in Atlanta and all flights that ran through Houston had been cancelled because of massive flooding in the area. The next morning I boarded the last leg of the flight and as we got closer to Houston we were diverted around more storms. Around that time, the plane hit some turbulence and it felt like we dropped about eight feet. That was the end of my sober flying experience. Ever since then I have been buzzed or completely wasted on every flight...until now.
This time is different. There is no alcohol to disguise my fear. I am venturing out on this trip alone which means that I can not attach myself to a friend like a spider monkey. And don't think I haven't thought up ways to get kicked off. But I am committed to this competition and getting my ass to San Diego...in one piece. Whatever it takes, I WILL get on the plane. Maybe there will be a professional fighter on with me...one head shot and I will be out like a light! Wishful thinking :)
Since I started working out again, I have overcome my fear of ripping my knees apart by squatting again, thanks to my wonderful coach and learning how to squat properly. And just yesterday, I hit another milestone by snatching 100lbs. No, 100lbs is not a lot of weight, but attempting a 100lb snatch back in '09 is where I first started having knee issues. So late last night, I loaded the bar and landed it...after trying to talk myself out of it about three times. It wasn't pretty but I stood up with the weight none the less.
Oh and did I mention that I have overcome my fear of living life without a beer buzz. Yes, that has happened too. And I am loving every minute of my sober life! Even as a I type this, I feel like I have been run over by a semi after my leg workout...but still loving it!
So what is up with getting on an airplane? I know my fear began just after grad school. I was on a flight back from Baltimore, where I had spent the weekend defending my master's thesis...I think in 2001 or so. The plane landed in Atlanta and all flights that ran through Houston had been cancelled because of massive flooding in the area. The next morning I boarded the last leg of the flight and as we got closer to Houston we were diverted around more storms. Around that time, the plane hit some turbulence and it felt like we dropped about eight feet. That was the end of my sober flying experience. Ever since then I have been buzzed or completely wasted on every flight...until now.
This time is different. There is no alcohol to disguise my fear. I am venturing out on this trip alone which means that I can not attach myself to a friend like a spider monkey. And don't think I haven't thought up ways to get kicked off. But I am committed to this competition and getting my ass to San Diego...in one piece. Whatever it takes, I WILL get on the plane. Maybe there will be a professional fighter on with me...one head shot and I will be out like a light! Wishful thinking :)
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