Just some a few brief vignettes of other things I did or that happened during my drinking and drugging days:
I liked to climb things. Once I climbed up a crane, for no reason that I can think of. Another time I climbed up to a second story window of an apartment building and fell; someone I was with had lost their keys, so I volunteered to climb up and get in the window, and I guess they all thought it was a good idea. I got up there but then lost my grip and fell backwards, hitting my head on the cement. I lay there looking up at the others, who were asking if I was okay, and I was fine. They say God protects drunks and fools, but I do wonder if it may have contributed to my memory problems.
Other things I did when under the influence; tried to choke people (never hurt anyone) pushed my best friend into a pool, scream and swear at people (always someone important to me, usually a boyfriend), cry, and run for no reason. I took whatever drugs I could or were given to me but was proud I never used a needle. I was promiscuous. I had blackouts, once coming to -- to find I was sitting in my kitchen talking to a strange woman – in the middle of a conversation.
Another time I came to on New Year’s wondering where my boyfriend was. My sister and her husband were still there, and when I tried to call him, angry that he’d left, they said I’d kicked him out and ripped the phone cord out of the wall.
Once, I was with my sister, her boyfriend and my brother, we took some acid and went by Lake Michigan; in the harbor we saw a big dead fish. My brother and I totally tripped out on that fish, and it became a running joke between us -- ‘big dead fish’. Guess you had to be there.
I had befriended coworkers at a new job, a big hospital and health center. Once I was invited to a barbeque, got really drunk, and I was dancing and crying at the same time, thinking about the baby I’d lost.
I used to wander around in a rough area neighborhood, back in the days when pot was illegal, asking strangers if they knew where I could buy some. I almost always found some, though not the good stuff.
I was a victim of rape, at least three times. The first was a stranger; I’d been friendly to him because I was lonely hungover, and new to living in the city. Next day he was waiting in my hallway for me with a knife. Because I cooperated and pretended to be friendly, he left after many hours, and I wasn’t hurt -- physically.
Some years later, after my brother died, I went on a date, went back to the guy’s apartment, and he hid my glasses so I couldn’t leave. I eventually found them and got out when he fell asleep, which took a while because he’d been doing cocaine. He lived in the same building as me, and the next day he was in the alley screaming that I was a ‘fucking bitch’. I was terrified after that; I moved out as soon as I could. I had to break the lease which led to my wages being garnished. I think I was working at a university then. I had many jobs, would go to school or take classes periodically and then move on to something else.
When I was in college in the 80's, I had plenty of friends to drink and get high with, but once I was raped by a group of men. The one who didn’t participate, a friend, told me about it, but mercifully I don’t remember, because I was in a blackout. He said it looked like I was enjoying it.
The thing is, I put myself in all those situations. I just wanted to have fun, drink, get high, and get attention. In the first instance I was lonely and hungover - just wanted a friend. I didn’t think about what could happen. The others, I was just trying to have a good time partying. I carried a lot of guilt and shame for years. This gradually diminished, especially after one of my AA sponsors explained some things to me: she said you can take responsibility for your actions but don’t blame yourself for what was done to you. It was a process. It was also confusing because I often wanted attention from men – nothing wrong with that – but I there were many, many times when I experienced unwanted attention or worse. I know many women can relate to this.
But I will say, therapy helped me to process some of this, and it was most helpful to be told ‘it’s okay to be angry’. When I was growing up, I remember being told to ‘go to your room and don’t slam the door’ – expressing anger was not allowed.
I’ve had some flashbacks, but that has diminished. I saw myself as a victim for many years, full of self-pity and wondering what was wrong with me. I still wonder at times, but I know I’m not the only one. I have learned how to connect with people – adults as well as kids – through knowing pain, and healing (and a sense of humor). Maybe it’s not the best or only way to relate to others, but it’s human.
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| no mud, no lotus |
