647 Days

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Holy shit, you guys! So much is happening. I’m sorry for being quiet but I went through a much needed phase of rebuilding with a wonderful new sponsor. I’ve been working the steps, redid 4 and 5, and have been making amazing progress with myself.

Jail erased all the confidence I’d built up prior to my sentencing, and it physically and mentally wiped me out. I went into survival mode there; it was all I could do. But that’s behind me now and I’m moving forward.

I have gotten a job back with my previous employer: same job title but different department. And I just signed the lease on a cute little studio apartment! I move in this weekend, begin work on Monday.

Holy shit!

My head is spinning.

In the meantime I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that I cannot stop it from spilling over onto my cheeks and down my face. I’m blown away by how fast my life is progressing and moving forward. And I am so thankful for AA! I’ve survived the scariest and most awful moments of my life without having to take solace in a bottle, to remove myself from, well, myself. I am so humbled and so proud!

Once I get settled, I will return to regular posting again. I will have my desktop at my place, and that will help. I’m terrible at using tablets and my phone for long correspondence and blogging. Not my thing.

Thanks for being patient and for following me on this journey! Life is good, and transforming from a glass half-empty person into a glass half-full person is pretty fucking great. I hope you are all well!

Reminders

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I bought these Doc Martens the first time I was in London, March 2002. They’re wickedly uncomfortable, but I love them. There’s a blue and red stripe up at the top of the boot, some extra flair that my jeans cover up. And thanks to a night of heavy drinking in November 2012, the toes are scuffed all to hell.

Perhaps it makes them look a bit more weathered, but the scuffed toes tend to piss me off. I’m pissed that I fucked up my Docs, even more pissed that it’s because I was well (as the Brits say), pissed.

I was out celebrating the birthday of one of my best buddies that night. It began innocently, with sushi and a beer. I can’t remember where we all ended up or what happened. I just remember thinking once again that it was going to be a laid back night. Seems like those laid back nights always caused me the most grief! They often ended up being a catastrophe.

I have hazy memories of walking stumbling back to J’s house from a bar. It was her birthday, and while she was also a heavy drinker (and the birthday girl!), she was in charge of getting Drunky Drunkerton back to her house. Apparently throwing me into a cab wasn’t an option. Only a couple months earlier that happened at another birthday celebration and I ended up passed out in a park. Clearly I wasn’t to be trusted to get home safely on my own anymore once I reached the point of no return.

On the walk to J’s house, I was so drunk I kept falling down. It was freezing and I was done. I wanted only to sprawl out on the sidewalk and pass out. J kept dragging me back up, and I would stumble and fall on my face again. I woke up with some incredible bruises and some banged up Docs. I kept hearing J coax me back up: “Come on KC, we’re almost at my house. You can do this!” She was and still is so sweet to me.

It felt like I was attempting to cross the Appalachian Trail instead of a sidewalk. Our journey back took what seemed forever, but we finally made it. I crashed in bed with her, and never gave one thought to letting my ex know where I was. Probably because at that point, I didn’t know where I was and didn’t care.

That night reminds me of a party I was at before I turned 18. I ran around my friend’s house double fisting beer and wine the entire time. The night ended badly of course. At one point I was in the bathroom and two of my buddies were trying get me to stand up, coaxing me just like J had. I could see our reflection in the mirror, see them struggling to hold up my dead weight. 17 year old me and 32 year old me were exactly the same. It took until I was 33 to end the madness.

I wore my Docs yesterday for the first time since the spring, and tying those laces, seeing the scuffs brought all those memories back. At first it was shame and embarrassment, but the longer I wore them yesterday, the better I felt. I’m never going to be that falling down drunken disaster ever again. And that feels amazing.

Oy Vey

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A quick update: I’m still alive and kicking. Good news! *wink, wink* And I’m still sober, but I am having a hard time with my new normal. Getting out of jail and suddenly being surrounded by booze (my mom and her husband are drinkers) after being completely removed from it for half a year was a weird feeling. Like walking by an open beer made me feel…really uncomfortable. Almost like it was going to leap out and bite me. In fact, my entire state of mind is akin to my newly sober days. I am not coping as well as I was prior to my sentencing. I feel like I’ve taken 50 steps back in every aspect of my life and emotional well being. I’m not gonna lie, it sucks.

But I just wanted to let you all know that I am here and doing okay but still adjusting. Still trying to get caught up with all of you again. I just NOW checked my blog’s email account for the first time since I’ve been out. Oops! And there are others of you that I still need to reach out to and reconnect with. Please be patient with me, I’m in a bit of a tailspin at the moment. To all of you who are newly sober and checking out my blog (my stats are going up again, so I’m guessing that there are a lot of you here – Welcome!), I hope that you find my archives helpful. If you need help, do not hesitate to ask. Please email me if you’d like.

I hope you all had a great holiday season. I was spoiled as usual, and despite getting sick, had a wonderful time seeing family and friends I hadn’t seen in ages. And overindulging in lots of delicious food! I lost weight in jail, but I think I’ve gained most of it back already. No worries though, as I am out of that cold, depressing place! Today I applied for a job at my former place of employment. Unfortunately, it’s not my previous job, but it would be a step in the right direction. And trust me, direction would be great right now. Please cross your fingers for me.

Alright kids, be good! I promise to be back shortly.

585 Days

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I am still struggling to keep up with texts, emails and phone calls. Still adjusting to real life, along with my new normal: living with my mother and being unable to drive. There’s a lot that’s happened during the past six months, and I’ll get to that. There are also three more posts I wrote in jail that need to be published. Unfortunately the whole blogging from jail thing didn’t work out as planned, but that’s okay. Shit happens.

In September I received a copy of Hazelden’s Twenty Four Hours a Day book from a fellow inmate. It was custom to dole out extra commissary or other goodies to your buddies upon release. What a wonderful feeling it was to get to that day myself and distribute my shampoo, lotion, candy, notebook paper, etc.

In treatment last fall, we read from the 24 Hours a Day book every morning. I still don’t have a copy of my own, but enjoyed adding the daily reading to my morning rituals while incarcerated. One of the first things I did after getting the book was to flip through to June 9, the day of my sentencing. I was floored when I read it. I took this photo of the entry at a meeting yesterday morning:

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Coincidence? I don’t know, but it brought me to tears. The day of my sentencing and the start of my incarceration wasn’t my bottom, but it sure felt like another bottom. I was sober, but felt like I’d been drop-kicked into a sewer. Thanks to my drinking, I was broke, spiritually bankrupt, I hated myself and yes, life seemed impossible.

“We had to end it all or do something about it.” Waking up in the ICU, not knowing what I had done (aside from drinking and driving) to get there, I knew it was do or die time. Not everyone gets a second chance, and there’s a reason that I got one. There’s a reason that I lost nearly everything. I am here to help others and to show them that the impossible can be done. That despite all the shit stacked against us, it is possible to climb your way out the rubble, the ruins of drink. To come out of life on top. To succeed. To deal with hardship without diving into a bottle every time something bad happens.

“Am I glad I did something about it?” Hell yeah, I am! Onwards and upwards, friends. Onwards and upwards!

575 Days

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A quick post to let everyone know that I am finally free. I’ve missed you all so much, and appreciate your kind thoughts and support. It still means the world to me!

I am slowly adjusting to life post-incarceration and am reveling in simple pleasures: sunshine and fresh air, real coffee, walks with my dog, fresh fruits and vegetables, being able to hug friends and family, sleeping in a real bed with a pillow, wearing my own undies, etc. While I am grateful to put the past six months behind me, there are still many obstacles looming on the horizon. I’m scared and hope I have the strength to get through all this. One day at a time right?

Looking forward to catching up with you all!

13 Months + 3 Days

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15

Robin here. I finally got mail from KC today! Two letters, and she included a blog post in one of them. I’ll pass along any comments you leave. 

Hello from jail! So glad that Robin is able to post for me and that she gave you guys an update about my sentencing. Monday (sentencing day; this was written last week) was obviously awful. The victim did not show up, so unfortunately I did not get to apologize to her in person. Someone read a statement from her. She and her husband have forgiven me, but her family is still really angry. I wish we could have talked in person. I hate that I still don’t have a face to her name.

It took me some time, but I was able to read my full page-long statement to the judge/court. I could hear my family and friends crying as I read it. My lawyer hugged me afterwards. The judge acknowledged my 30 amazing letters of support/character and my achievements since the accident, but showed zero leniency. Six months in this hell hole, license suspended for three years, and three years probation. Even the women I live with here are in utter shock. I’m the only one not here for drugs. I’ve done nothing but rehabilitate myself since the accident, and now I’m taking enormous steps backwards.

My alcoholic thinking got the better of me the first two days here. It was screaming in my head, throwing toddler-style tantrums. I actually cursed my efforts to get well, all the time I spent in counseling, in treatment, in AA. Hundreds of hours felts squandered. In my head the court system didn’t give a shit if I was passed out in a gutter somewhere as they certainly didn’t care that I was a year+ sober

It’s amazing how fucked up our thinking is. I was angry at how hard I worked to turn my life around and achieve sobriety. In reality, all that hard work kept me from having a nervous breakdown these past two months. It’s kept me sane. There is no easier, softer way. This gift of sobriety is something I will have to work hard to maintain for the rest of my life. I have to take it one day at a time, just like this sentence. Looking forward only causes anxiety and stress.

The first couple days here were obviously awful. My body, heart, and mind were in shock. To make matters worse, I had to wait a full week until today (Monday) to go to commissary. All I had for a week was one change of clothes, one blanket (it’s freezing here!), a toothbrush, toothpaste and soap. No comb, no shampoo, no pens, paper, snacks, coffee. Thankfully some of the women here helped me out by lending me a comb and shampoo, making me a cup of instant coffee or handing me an apple or a couple cookies. Finding a hair tie under my bed the second day was akin to winning the lottery!

My body is already bruised from my bed. We have a thin bedroll on metal. For the first time in my life I’ve been thankful for not being a petite woman! I can’t imagine how much more painful my bed would be without my extra padding. The food is terrible. Salty and processed, zero fresh vegetables. My fresh fruit is limited to an apple or small orange every other day. The air conditioner freezes us out and we all shiver at night in our metals beds with one blanket. But I have a roof over my head, daily access to a shower, food in my stomach (even if it is gross), and I have the support from so many amazing people. This sucks, but it could be so much worse, you know?

Will send another update for Robin next week. Hope you are all well. I miss you all. Enjoy some fresh air, sunshine, and a salad for me.

 

 

 

An update

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I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to make any posts. However …

I’m Robin, the best friend Kristina mentioned a few days ago. Although we didn’t work this out in advance, it occurred to me today that I should give an update on Monday’s events.

As Kristina anticipated, the judge gave her the full six-month jail sentence, minus two days for time served. It took all damn day with those of us who couldn’t be with her texting one another in fits of anxiety and hope, until D. got in touch with the outcome.

He said she was strong while reading her statement in court. Having been friends for nearly 14 years, since she was an undergrad, I know how deep her fear of public speaking goes. To be able to stand in court and read her statement … I am in awe of her.

As Kristina mentioned previously, D. will be manning an email address for mass updates and Paypal donations. I will be posting updates here as she snail mails them to me.

This will most likely be the only post I make that’s not a transcription of Kristina’s words, as it would be so, so, so easy for me to use this as a platform for the grief I’m experiencing. It’s there every single time I reach for my phone to text her. It was there all afternoon when I walked into a video shoot by a member of the Flaming Lips at a record store. How can I possibly experience something of that level of fantastic weirdness without sharing it with Kristina? If she doesn’t know, did it even really happen? It doesn’t feel like it.

She didn’t give me the URL for her blog until two months ago. Today was the first time I read it. At the time I told her I wasn’t going to read it because I wanted her to have this private space, and I knew she’d share with me the things she wanted me to know. Tonight, I scrolled through, read some posts, and marveled at what a truly wonderful person she is. I always knew this. Even when I ended our friendship for a chunk of a year because I couldn’t handle the effects of her drinking while trying to manage my own postpartum depression. I knew she was still so good, right down to her core. That’s never been more clear to me than it is now.

But you’re not here to read my shit, and this is the last of it I’ll dump. The support Kristina’s found through the sober blogging community has meant the world to her. It’s given her that boost that only true empathy can provide. I’m honored that she asked me to update her blog while she’s away.

We got through May, 2013. We’ll get through this.

Kristina and me on my 40th birthday.

Kristina and me on my 40th birthday.

Sneaking into a Wilco sound check.

Sneaking into a Wilco sound check.

Two of my very favorite people - Kristina and my daughter.

Two of my very favorite people – Kristina and my daughter.