Based on the small number of reads I've had on my blog reflecting on how hard it is to forgive myself for my past, either it really sucked or it was avoided completely due to the subject matter. If you avoided it because it hit a nerve, I'll make sure I don't write about denial. If you are planning on reading it, and just haven't gotten around to it, a procrastination blog will send head your head spinning - someday.
This is blog 98 since I started it on December 13, 2010. 99 is going to be from my wife's perspective on her experiences living with me and her ex husband who also had drinking issues. Number 100 will be a summary, and then we'll see what happens. God will let me know how to proceed. It fascinates me that out of the 97 blogs I have written, and over 5000 reads in 60 days, that the comments have been about a dozen total. It shows me that people are interested in my experiences but don't want to be the one at the front of the classroom with a question.
If you ever need to reach out and don't want to comment, email me directly at tommyconnolly@att.net . I will do my best to share my experience with you and point you in the right direction to finding support. I will answer all emails to the best of my ability based on MY experiences with addiction and recovery. I am not a doctor. I'm a recovering drunk and addict. Admitting there's a problem is the first step in solving any crisis. The willingness to reach out for help is the wild card. Nobody wants to admit that they are out of control or risk being found out. Believe me, you're out. Addiction and recovery is a team effort, not a solo act.
I have written about being homeless and wanting to take my own life in my beautiful home. I have written about doing scenes with Jennifer Beals, William H. Macy and Kate Winslet. Through most of my addiction, I was just a working stiff. I was a functional alcoholic and addict. In using the word functional I am referring to the fact that I held a job, looked fairly normal, was a part of the family and put on one helluva show. I didn't get wasted until after work and on weekends. If I stood in a line-up of 10 people, and you were asked which one was the fall down drunk, I would probably be your tenth choice.
The first response an addict or alcoholic does when contemplating whether they have a problem is to look for all the differences in the stories they hear. Common thoughts amongst the alcoholic are "I never did that" or "I make a ton of dough and drive a nice car, drunks live in the gutter" or "I never got arrested." Some other "Top 10 drunk denial excuses" include: "I go to work every day", "I never had a DUI", "I can stop whenever I want to, I just don't want to", "If you had my life you would drink too", "I'm different!" Please let me make it clear that addiction doesn't care what you drive, wear, do for a living or if you are sipping the finest scotch or a bottle of Mad Dog.
Let me ask you a simple question. In the middle of the night have you ever considered that you may have a problem with alcohol or drugs or that you really need to cut back? I know you probably quickly dismissed it as being silly, but if the thought came to your mind EVER, that is a huge red flag. I have never sat watching "Ancient Aliens" and wondered if I was E.T.! If you have ever considered the POSSIBILITY of having a problem explore it now. All those things you "haven't done" are known in recovery as "YETS."
Addiction and alcoholism always progress. They never regress. Have you ever found yourself dreading a weekend barbecue at the home of a friend who doesn't serve alcohol? You probably politely declined the invitation or you had a few in you before you got there. That's what I did. Do you find yourself getting a little uncomfortable around someone you know who doesn't drink? I bet you didn't have that same feeling eating a Big Mac next to a chubby guy! These are warning flags.
Have you ever had a few drinks before a party so you could sip only a few once you got there so people didn't notice how much you drank? Have you told your wife the "half story?" This is a term I coined because if my wife came home and smelled beer on me and asked me how many I had I would quickly reply 3 when it was really 6. If I was ripped I would say I didn't eat anything all day and probably should have eaten before I drank. For those of you who drink vodka thinking it is odorless, it is as odorless as skunk roadkill!
Believe me when I tell you that I have lost everything, gained it back and nearly lost it all again due to booze and drugs. It is just a matter of time. Addiction is patient. It will wait for years being happy that you're drunk when it really wants you dead! By the time you get to the bitter end of abuse you will probably wish you were dead. My addiction made me question my sanity, marriage, jobs, opportunities and running away from it all. No matter where I run to, I am there to greet myself and my addiction is adaptable to any climate, occupation, relationship or rationality.
Today my wife smiles at me instead of avoiding me. My kids talk to me about anything without fear of me going off. My employers get my best everyday. Today I can look at that guy in the mirror and be okay with him. I used to hate looking at that empty shell that stared back at me every morning. Today I have friends in recovery I can call when I need help with a problem. The dope man and the liquor man didn't show up at my father's funeral but 23 people in recovery did. All of the things you think you have missed or regret are there waiting for you in sobriety. Why don't you give it a shot, instead of drinking another one?
Showing posts with label Functional Alcoholic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Functional Alcoholic. Show all posts
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Dad? I Know It's My First Day of College....I'm In Jail...
Tom Dreesen, legendary comedian and Rat Pack wing man, chimed in on "How to Scare Away The Legends of Comedy in 3 Easy clicks" with some insightful comments on life that illustrate the point of this chapter and a lot of my comedy. As I have written Mr. Dreesen, David Brenner, Mike Toomey and many other comics and actors have helped me with my career, this chapter and with life lessons in general. I have never met them in person but consider them friends. Their willingness to reach out a hand of support to a stranger is rare and refreshing.
In the comment Tom referred to some advice that Carl Reiner gave him while climbing the ladder of comedic success. Reiner said that he should, "Make the people laugh...,"Show them your pain...," "They love to see the pain..." Those comments summarily state my intended purpose here. I share my pain and mix in something to chuckle about so you can relate. I use this platform to expose my pain in hopes that it reaches out a hand of support to a stranger who knows that same pain. I hope I never give you the impression that I feel sorry for myself and that every day was black. That isn't so. Everything that I went through good, bad or indifferent got me to TODAY! If one person gets relief from one of my chapters then my experiences were worth it! God got me through that so I could do this.
After graduating from Lincoln-Way High School in New Lenox, Illinois with the class of 1983 I was anxious to leave for college. I was heading to Illinois State-Bloomington and I was ready for the time of my life. After seeing the movie "Animal House" I was absolutely driven to go to college. It wasn't to receive a good education and forge a path to professional success. It was to party! I wanted to be Bluto Blutarski plain and simple.
I arrived at the state campus in August of 1984. My car was packed to the roof with all the necessities and comforts of home to fill my tiny cubicle-like dorm room. I had arrived with a case of beer, some pot and I was ready for "Delta House!" I parked in a no parking zone and put on my flashers as I began schlepping my stuff up to the 9th floor of Manchester Hall. I took the the fridge and the beer first so I could have it chilled for unwinding after my haul was unloaded. I had a fake I.D. and thought I was going to be the big man on campus.
After my first few trips up and down the elevator to my room I met a returning sophomore. Look at me, I have only been here an hour and I'm already hobnobbing with the upper class men! I offered him a beer, which he accepted, and we small talked our way through the suds. I was naive, and still am, about the motives of my new friend. After finishing his beer he opened up the window and tossed the empty can out of the 9th floor window. He wished me good luck and went on his way. I thought it was so cool. College was just like I imagined it would be!
I finished my can feeling smug and assured that this was the life for me. After returning to my car for the final load of my new home's contents I arrived back at my room only to be greeted by two new friends. One was the resident assistant and the other was a uniformed member of the campus police. I trembled as they asked to search my room for contraband. Upon entering they quickly discovered the beer in the small fridge and confiscated it. I was issued a warning from the R.A. and a verbal undressing from the campus officer. He was standing on the sidewalk near the dorm and saw my new sophomore friend toss the can from the window to the ground below. He counted the rows up and over to the window and matched it to my room. The 22 remaining beers in my mini-fridge were the same brand as the hurled empty and I was busted.
Feeling shaken at the whole incident I was both scared and exhilarated by the encounter. I got away with it. How cool was that? Remembering that I had my fake I.D., I returned to my illegally parked car. Replacing my lost booty would be easy because there was a liquor store just a few blocks away. Buying beer in a college town was a lot different than getting some hooch from one of the isolated taverns around the little village I had just come from. I entered the store and was greeted by a man who asked to see my identification. With complete confidence I pulled the bogus credentials from my wallet and handed it to the fine fellow. I grabbed another case of beer and headed for the check-out line.
As I approached the older looking man at the counter I began to feel uneasy. I kept my cool and slid the case before the cashier and reached into my pocket for some money. As I did so another man walked into the store. It was a fully uniformed Bloomington police officer and he was quickly shuffling in my direction. "Sir, is this your identification?" "Yes." "Are you T. Connolly?" "Uh-huh?" "Sir I am going to have to place you under arrest for trying to purchase liquor as a minor and possession of fraudulent identification. Can you please step outside?"
As he ushered me outside my mind began to race. I had seen movies about prison and "Scared Straight." All of my worst nightmares flashed before me at the vision of me washing my cell mates underwear in the tiny metal cell sink while he called me sweetheart. I turned to the officer and asked meekly "Are you going to put me in a cell with a big guy called Bubba?" He chuckled and said that I would be processed and released if I could post the bail for the charges.
I was already a functional alcoholic by this time and after realizing I wasn't going to become some mutant felon's play toy I laughed inside. I thought it was so cool that I had been arrested! Look at me, the skinny kid from Mokena has a wrap sheet. I will forever be able to spin yarns about the time I spent in the joint. There was no shame or connection that I had been very close to serious trouble involving booze twice that day. I gloated at my good fortune and thought to myself how it was like the movie.
I was finger printed and had my picture taken center, left and right with a tiny placard that stated my name and case number. I don't remember the number or how much bail it cost to get out. I called my roommate. After coming to my rescue we laughed all the way back to the dorm in the cab he had gotten. Upon returning to the store where I was taken down, I saw that my car had been towed. We quickly rerouted the cab and I spent more money getting my car out of the pound. I was not frustrated, ashamed, concerned or troubled with the events of the day. To me it was one big joke.
I made it back to my new home at Manchester Hall and told all my new friends my tale of crime, adventure, the narrow escape from consummation with Bubba and the car being towed. Then reality hit me. I had to tell my parents or at least A parent. I would call my father. He would find great humor in my story and we would both have a huge laugh over the whole incident. I dialed my dad's number and nervously giggled as I retold the events of the day. There was something missing! What, no laughing? The silence on the other end of the line was deafening and the pause seemed to last a lifetime. The weight of my irresponsibility fell on me. The disappointment in the tone of my dad's voice fell even heavier. "It's your FIRST day of college. Is this what I have to look forward to and worry about over the next few years?" My heart sunk. I mumbled an apology to my father and said goodbye. There would be more arrests, more calls to my father and even more empty "I'm sorrys."
In the comment Tom referred to some advice that Carl Reiner gave him while climbing the ladder of comedic success. Reiner said that he should, "Make the people laugh...,"Show them your pain...," "They love to see the pain..." Those comments summarily state my intended purpose here. I share my pain and mix in something to chuckle about so you can relate. I use this platform to expose my pain in hopes that it reaches out a hand of support to a stranger who knows that same pain. I hope I never give you the impression that I feel sorry for myself and that every day was black. That isn't so. Everything that I went through good, bad or indifferent got me to TODAY! If one person gets relief from one of my chapters then my experiences were worth it! God got me through that so I could do this.
After graduating from Lincoln-Way High School in New Lenox, Illinois with the class of 1983 I was anxious to leave for college. I was heading to Illinois State-Bloomington and I was ready for the time of my life. After seeing the movie "Animal House" I was absolutely driven to go to college. It wasn't to receive a good education and forge a path to professional success. It was to party! I wanted to be Bluto Blutarski plain and simple.
I arrived at the state campus in August of 1984. My car was packed to the roof with all the necessities and comforts of home to fill my tiny cubicle-like dorm room. I had arrived with a case of beer, some pot and I was ready for "Delta House!" I parked in a no parking zone and put on my flashers as I began schlepping my stuff up to the 9th floor of Manchester Hall. I took the the fridge and the beer first so I could have it chilled for unwinding after my haul was unloaded. I had a fake I.D. and thought I was going to be the big man on campus.
After my first few trips up and down the elevator to my room I met a returning sophomore. Look at me, I have only been here an hour and I'm already hobnobbing with the upper class men! I offered him a beer, which he accepted, and we small talked our way through the suds. I was naive, and still am, about the motives of my new friend. After finishing his beer he opened up the window and tossed the empty can out of the 9th floor window. He wished me good luck and went on his way. I thought it was so cool. College was just like I imagined it would be!
I finished my can feeling smug and assured that this was the life for me. After returning to my car for the final load of my new home's contents I arrived back at my room only to be greeted by two new friends. One was the resident assistant and the other was a uniformed member of the campus police. I trembled as they asked to search my room for contraband. Upon entering they quickly discovered the beer in the small fridge and confiscated it. I was issued a warning from the R.A. and a verbal undressing from the campus officer. He was standing on the sidewalk near the dorm and saw my new sophomore friend toss the can from the window to the ground below. He counted the rows up and over to the window and matched it to my room. The 22 remaining beers in my mini-fridge were the same brand as the hurled empty and I was busted.
Feeling shaken at the whole incident I was both scared and exhilarated by the encounter. I got away with it. How cool was that? Remembering that I had my fake I.D., I returned to my illegally parked car. Replacing my lost booty would be easy because there was a liquor store just a few blocks away. Buying beer in a college town was a lot different than getting some hooch from one of the isolated taverns around the little village I had just come from. I entered the store and was greeted by a man who asked to see my identification. With complete confidence I pulled the bogus credentials from my wallet and handed it to the fine fellow. I grabbed another case of beer and headed for the check-out line.
As I approached the older looking man at the counter I began to feel uneasy. I kept my cool and slid the case before the cashier and reached into my pocket for some money. As I did so another man walked into the store. It was a fully uniformed Bloomington police officer and he was quickly shuffling in my direction. "Sir, is this your identification?" "Yes." "Are you T. Connolly?" "Uh-huh?" "Sir I am going to have to place you under arrest for trying to purchase liquor as a minor and possession of fraudulent identification. Can you please step outside?"
As he ushered me outside my mind began to race. I had seen movies about prison and "Scared Straight." All of my worst nightmares flashed before me at the vision of me washing my cell mates underwear in the tiny metal cell sink while he called me sweetheart. I turned to the officer and asked meekly "Are you going to put me in a cell with a big guy called Bubba?" He chuckled and said that I would be processed and released if I could post the bail for the charges.
I was already a functional alcoholic by this time and after realizing I wasn't going to become some mutant felon's play toy I laughed inside. I thought it was so cool that I had been arrested! Look at me, the skinny kid from Mokena has a wrap sheet. I will forever be able to spin yarns about the time I spent in the joint. There was no shame or connection that I had been very close to serious trouble involving booze twice that day. I gloated at my good fortune and thought to myself how it was like the movie.
I was finger printed and had my picture taken center, left and right with a tiny placard that stated my name and case number. I don't remember the number or how much bail it cost to get out. I called my roommate. After coming to my rescue we laughed all the way back to the dorm in the cab he had gotten. Upon returning to the store where I was taken down, I saw that my car had been towed. We quickly rerouted the cab and I spent more money getting my car out of the pound. I was not frustrated, ashamed, concerned or troubled with the events of the day. To me it was one big joke.
I made it back to my new home at Manchester Hall and told all my new friends my tale of crime, adventure, the narrow escape from consummation with Bubba and the car being towed. Then reality hit me. I had to tell my parents or at least A parent. I would call my father. He would find great humor in my story and we would both have a huge laugh over the whole incident. I dialed my dad's number and nervously giggled as I retold the events of the day. There was something missing! What, no laughing? The silence on the other end of the line was deafening and the pause seemed to last a lifetime. The weight of my irresponsibility fell on me. The disappointment in the tone of my dad's voice fell even heavier. "It's your FIRST day of college. Is this what I have to look forward to and worry about over the next few years?" My heart sunk. I mumbled an apology to my father and said goodbye. There would be more arrests, more calls to my father and even more empty "I'm sorrys."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)