Life with a Drunk or Addict Makes You Feel Like Damaged Goods!

I have spent a lot of time sharing stories about my experiences with the destruction that I created while drinking and using. I grew up in an environment where alcohol was always in the picture so I see things from both perspectives. I have only briefly touched on my wife's feelings trying to deal with my self-destruction and the personal hell that loved ones go through living with addicted people. Yesterday I learned a lot more about her turmoil and frustrations that I was responsible for creating. Two incidents that occurred during the day gave me a direct line into what she was thinking and how she felt during my "lost moments." She has also promised to write a blog aimed directly at those who suffer along with the active user.

I spent my tender years with 3 heavy drinkers. Whether they were alcoholic is not for me to determine. That condition has to be determined by the user themselves. I do remember that I felt like I was always dealing with multiple personalities. I was never sure what "mood" the drinkers in my life would be in and had to be ready to morph into whatever character would upset them the least. I spent my time walking on egg shells and felt deep dread when I stood at the door wondering which personality would be waiting on the other side.

For some strange cosmic reason people who grow up around substance abuse, or over use, are attracted to friends and lovers who suffer from the same conditions. You would think that we would run away from people like me. Before I became an active alcoholic and addict I knew that I was drawn to troubled people. I felt as though I could save them. I felt helpless around my loved ones who "relaxed" too much. So I made it my personal goal to find someone I could "fix." I wanted to save every man, woman, child, dog and a few cats from having to deal with people like the one I became. I inevitably found myself with people who were emotionally unavailable and treated me like crap. Feeling like crap was normal to me and somewhere along the line I concluded that this is what I deserved.

 I was also drawn to the seemingly healthy minded so that I could seek out their flaws and exploit them through criticism and hurtful words. The thought of someone living in a well-adjusted, healthy world was impossible for me to grasp. They had to be faking it. I took the time to find something wrong and point out where the defects were. It made me feel somehow vindicated to tear down people to my level of pain. Even if I had to manufacture it. I sought out healthy people because I was jealous of their well adjusted behavior and felt the need to show them what "real life" was like, that dysfunction was the norm and the apparently well-adjusted were hiding something.

Yesterday Squeaky and I went to a recovery meeting that focuses on relationships. The people who attend are couples that have one person with addiction issues and their significant other. There are also husbands and wives of alcoholics and addicts who were enablers or caught in the cross hairs of the wrath an addict spews at the innocent while they're under the influence. It is the bringing together of the perpetrators and the victims to discuss recovery. Those who love us addicts and alcoholics need and have their own place to heal and vent and get well. I am glad they have these places.

I was a blackout drinker and don't remember many of the things I said or did under the influence. My wife has it worse because she remembers it all. The unreachability, indifference, anguish, helplessness and insecurity of living with an active user creates severe damage to the spectators who have to sit and watch their loved one self-destruct and possibly take them down with them. My wife and some other spouses of alcoholic addicts spoke up about their feelings and accounts of life with an addict. It really opened my eyes. Later in the evening my eyes were opened even more.

I had never considered many of the daily experiences and work that goes into living with an active addict. As a proud Italian, my wife was standing by her man. While I was unraveling she was following behind me rolling up the string of damage I was creating. She was the actor, not me. She had to put her game face on when I didn't show up for family functions or concoct stories to cover for the fact that I was home in bed with yet another brutal hangover. Anger and the discomfort of wondering"What would the the neighbors think?" or "What am I gonna tell Ma this week?" were always facing her. There was the reassurance to the kids that everything would be alright. It was a grand charade that required constant attention, planning, lies, stories and cover-ups on a colossal stage.

She made the comment of feeling like "damaged goods." Her remark hit me like a right hook. While I was going crazy the dedication to our marriage was a constant burden and made her begin to feel as if she was going crazy too. She felt like something was wrong with her, realizing she found herself in a second relationship where alcohol issues were prominent. When I stopped drinking a whole new set of emotional landmines went off around her.

How could a bunch of drunks and junkies keep me sober and she couldn't? There was resentment that I spent so much time with people in recovery after leaving her feeling abandoned for so long. What had she done wrong? The answer is nothing. Addicted people need the help of those who are recovering from addiction. The spouses of the addict need to spend their time with other spouses of addicts. They are both vital to the recovery of the family. If you are an addict and you say you're not hurting anyone but yourself, you're not fooling anybody but yourself. My sickness made everyone sick. My recovery is helping every one recover.

I have recounted times when I wet the bed after drinking too much. My wife endured every painful moment of those disturbing incidents. Trapped in my addiction I was able to justify it and just fixed it by scrubbing the bed. I never realized that our bed wasn't covered with fancy pillows and comforters for a reason. There was. My wife didn't want me to ruin such beautiful things with my late night loss of bladder control.

On the anniversary of my 6th month of sobriety my wife was going to let me buy a drum set, a passion I had in high school. She was glad to have her husband back and eager for me to find new habits to replace the old ones. On the way to the drum store we passed a mattress shop. My selfish side left me at just the right moment and God steered me to the mattresses, not the drums. She picked out the bed she wanted. I could see the happiness in her eyes and relief that the old mattress could be erased from our lives forever. We got our new mattress and today it has pretty pillows and comforters. It is amazing that since I have stopped drinking my bladder control problems have disappeared. It must be the new bed.

A few weeks ago we got our fourth dog. Her name is Fiona Apple Schmutzy Connolly. She is a puppy and full of life. That is a nice way of saying she is a typical puppy and out of her mind. We have been allowing her to sleep on the bed with us and Gracie, our other Pekingese-Chin dog. We enjoy having them up there with us and it keeps "The Schmutz" out of trouble while we sleep. We had settled into bed with our canine companions and I went down stairs for something to drink.

My wife gets mad but usually not loud. As I sipped some Kool-Aid I heard some very bad words coming from upstairs and a teeth gritted command for Fiona to flee the area for her own safety and well being. I flew up the stairs and found Fiona, head down, knowing she had done something wrong and my wife bundling up the pretty bedding. Right between our two pillows was a wet spot. Schmutzy had peed the bed. I yelled at the puppy and took her outside. We do not believe in corporal punishment for our kids or animals. My tone let Fiona know she had made the pack leaders very unhappy. I am the Irish "Dog Whisperer."

At that instant I felt what my wife had felt so many times after dealing with me when I was doing the Fiona-act. She felt angry, violated, inconvenienced and pissed that her beautiful bed had been soiled. I quietly helped unmake and remake our bed and comforted my wife. I expressed to her that I now knew what it must have felt like dealing with that from a grown man. I told her I would do the laundry in the morning and relax. She put her head back down on her pillow and I stroked her hair. She really likes that. Today the sheets are clean and Fiona seems to have learned a lesson, but then again she is a puppy.

What I learned is that all the lying, manipulating, controlling and covering that I did when using, planning on using, or recovering from using is not exclusive to the drunk or addict. Our loved ones have their own hell to face and games to play. I am grateful that my wife didn't leave me. I see her strength and it makes me love her more. I know the I'm sorry's I spit out like sunflower seed shells while drunk won't cut it anymore. I show my sorrow by being a good husband, friend and father daily to the best of my ability. I won't do it perfectly but I will try my best. I drank for 20 years. I won't fix everything I broke in 2 years. It is a daily repair job, like staying sober a day at a time.

For those of you who suffer with an addict or alcoholic, thanks for all you do and endure. We don't mean to hurt you and the sickness of addiction doesn't afford us the ability to see the destruction we leave in our wake. There are lots of support groups out there. Find one for yourself and your sanity. I am not telling you to stay with or leave a person who is in the grips of addiction. That is a difficult decision each person must face. The one thing I want all spouses, loved ones and friends to know about addiction is that it's NOT YOUR FAULT WE ARE DRUNKS OR ADDICTS! Understanding that is your first step to recovering you.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the.........Chicago Code Premiere!

A funny thing happened on the way to the Chicago premiere of "The Chicago Code." The show starts Monday February 7, 2011, at 9pm on FOX. The first month of ratings will determine if there is a season two. I'm sure there will be because the show ROCKS! It has obvious appeal to Chicagoans, being shot entirely in the city and 'burbs. The story line, edgy feel, great writing and acting by Jennifer Beals, Jason Clarke, Delroy Lindo, Matt Lauria and the rest of the cast, create a dynamic that is attractive to any audience, in any market.

I pray for a second season, not only for the work, but because the cast and crew are amazing. We need your support for this show, every week, so we get picked up for a second season! I ended up on the editing floor in the pilot, but that's show biz. I am proud to have been a part of several episodes, starting with episode 2. From the first day I walked onto the set I could feel that I was a part of something special. All the cast and crew bonded immediately and working 14 hour days became fun, no matter how physically exhausting.

The premiere party was held at Hollywood Boulevard Theatre in Woodridge. The place was packed with cast and crew and local news crews were on hand to interview some of the VIP's. Hosted by the amazing Darlene Hunt and daughter Rachel, we were greeted with gifts and an air of excitement. It was my first official premiere as an actor and my head was bobbing like a kid in a candy store. I can't tell you much about the show but the shots of Chicago, great acting and fresh plot are sure to make the show a hit. I am truly grateful to be a part of such an amazing project. But that is not where the story begins or ends.

A good friend of mine, and fellow "Chicago Code" actor, Edward Majka doesn't drive. He called me early in the afternoon to see if we could pick him up at the Downers Grove train station and get him to the premiere. I obliged and we set out early to gather up my friend. On the way I asked Squeaky if she wanted Starbucks - her liquid crack. She said no and we navigated the icy streets of Downers Grove to rendezvous at the train station. I have mentioned I have O.C.D. about being late and we arrived 30 minutes before Edward was due to arrive.

There is another Starbucks strategically located on Main Street, right across from the station. I told my wife I wanted a cup of Joe and that it was a great place to meet Edward. We purchased our coffees and I picked up the new Greg Allman CD "Low Country Blues." Four stars I might add. It is a must for Blues aficionado's. As I added sugar, cream and cinnamon to my steamy beverage, my wife spotted a flyer with a picture of a cute, wee puppy named Fiona. I was busy ripping the plastic off my Cd and stirring my coffee, running through our time table to make sure we would make the premiere on time.

Being the cynical, losing faith in humans, kinda guy I am, I thought the poster was for a missing dog. I remarked that "Some idiot probably stole the dog and has it up for sale on the Internet as we speak." My wife went on to tell me that the pup, named Fiona, was from a family that had an old dog that couldn't handle the rambunctious little Japanese Chin/Pekingese playmate. They also had a nephew who was allergic to her and it limited his ability to visit his auntie regularly. My wife looked at me. Her eyes spoke volumes. I had seen it before when we rescued Grace! I called the number and asked the owner to meet us back at the coffee shop at 8:30.

We grabbed Edward and shot to the premiere party. Squeaky was speaking in the present tense about Fiona, the 1 1/2 year old, 8 pound Pekingese/Chin. "Do you like her name?", "How do you think she WILL get along with Grace?" I played the straight man telling her to slow down and we would talk about it later. Inside, I am as squishy as wet sand between your toes when it comes to animals. It's humans that seem to rub me the wrong way. As we watched the premiere I could tell Squeaky was already picking out places to put her bed and how to configure the feeding stations in the kitchen.

After the premiere wrapped up Squeaky began the Ali, "rope-a-dope" on me. "Something called us to that Starbucks. You know that." "She is the same breed as Grace!" I knew that unless the pup was ridden with ticks and fleas, and hungry for the fingers of Italian women, Fiona would be coming home with us. Even if she had all those conditions, we probably would have taken her out of pity and nursed her back to health. When I met Kris, she didn't even care much for dogs. Now we have four. Stay tuned to Hoarders because I see myself in a guest shot soon. I am glad I passed on my love and kindness towards all of God's creatures to my wife and kids. They share the same passions for critters as I do.

At 8:30pm the deal went down in the vestibule of Starbucks. The owner handed my wife the tiny pup, who instantly licked her nose. A Hollywood director couldn't have written it any better. It was over. I had a new pup named Fiona. We got her home and our other female Pekingese/Chin, Grace, was dominating her right from the start. I officiated and introduced Fiona to the pack correctly. As the Alpha Dog I placed her between my legs and the butt sniffing parade began.

Just like when our kids were small, Squeaky passed out for the night and I was left to comfort our tiny guest. I think I got a total of about 2 hours sleep. Fiona slept between the couch and my back. My fear of squishing her miniature frame had me contorting my body to accommodate her comfort. I'm like butter when it comes to creatures big and small, except bats. We made it through the night with all troops alive and accounted for.

I really do not believe in coincidence. I had the call from Edward for a ride, the stop at Starbucks after my wife turned down my first offer earlier. I also did an episode of "Shameless" where the lead actress is named of course, Fiona. What a night, my first movie premiere gala, the pride of being a part of what is sure to be a hit series, and a new baby in the family. See ya on Animal Hoarders Chicago soon. Until then I would like to welcome, Fiona Apple Schmutzy Connolly!

We're Adopting a Baby!

This chapter will not hit much on my addiction but it does reinforce my recovery. This is the story of our 4 adopted children and what they went through before they got to us. Squeaky and I have no biological children together, so the four I talk about here are "our" children. One has passed on, and three remain.

Moving clockwise from the top is our first baby, Fabian, a black lab. He was adopted at 6 months and is now almost 12. He was a stray. Cooter, the yellow lab, was an adoption from my in-laws, and we gratefully took over her care after they decided she was too much for them. She is almost 12. Gracie, or as I call her, Lyndsay Lohan, is the newest addition to the family and is 3. Her story is below.



Ruby, our black pug, was adopted by us in 2005. She was 4 when we got her. She was from a suburban puppy mill where she was locked in a cage for 23 hours a day. She was let out 1 hour a day to breed, eat and go to the bathroom. When we got her my wife said she couldn't tell her front from her back. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She passed away 7-27-10. We were lucky enough to have her for 5 years. She passed at 9. The strain of multiple births took its' toll on her. She was my best friend ever and her ashes sit with her dog collar a few feet from where I write this.



Gracie is our newest addition She is a Pekingese/Shiatsu and was adopted 5/10. She  was found in an abandoned home. She was discovered during a "well being check" of the cute suburban house that doubled as a puppy mill. After delivering her valuable puppies, the owners sewed her up roughly and left her to die.




I have often called our home "the island of misfit toys." It is a reference to the "special" toys left unwanted in the Rudolph claymation classic film that I saw over and over as a boy. We take these animals in because they have been neglected, forgotten, abused or a burden for the owner. Being a little off myself, I felt closer to these misfits.

Because I felt as though I was a misfit, I feel for them. My dream is to own a sanctuary somewhere out west with lots of land where all the animals I can handle can live their lives out in peace and love on my ranch. It will, in fact, be called "The Island of Misfit Toys Ranch." This will happen. These are not ramblings and mushy dreams. I have a great passion for these unwanted companions.

Next time you drive through the suburbs take a look at all the signs for designer dogs. There's pocket Yorkies and Frenchies, Pekapoos and ding dong dingers. The signs fill the streets of our tiny neighborhood. They easily equal the number of garage sale signs that are staked out in yards left and right. These designer dogs bring big money to the inexperienced breeder. Do you really think that all those breeders are certified and associated with a veterinarian? Is their dedication for the well being of the animals or how much money they can make?

Common sense will answer the question for you. I am not trying to create guilt if you have gotten your pet from a reputable breeder but I am referring to the online "Do-It-Yourself, Breeding For Dummies" type. In all honesty, I bought a pure bred Poodle puppy from one of these neatly disguised puppy factories and had to give her up to a no-kill shelter. She had some mental defects that made it impossible for us to keep her. A seller tries to move product. A reputable breeder would have seen that the pup was not well and taken proper actions in the interest of the animal, not the profits.

Before you run out and buy from these people check your local shelters first. Fabian is a loyal obedient Lab we got from the Downers Grove Humane Society. Ruby came directly from a puppy factory where she shot out litter after litter of Puggles. Gracie's story broke our heart and we got her from PAWS in Tinley Park. Buying a dog or cat is not like picking a shirt out of a window at a local boutique.

If there is a specific type of dog you are looking for, from Pugs to Yorkies, there are foster groups who take in specific breeds, and adopt them out properly. Remember, these animals are going to sleep next to you and your children. Go online and check it out. You can google these fostering groups and you will be be amazed at the amount of information and resources you find. It may take a little extra time, but you are doing yourself and the animal a favor by going this route.

Before you run to "Dogs-R-Us" check out your local shelter and humane society. These animals are usually house broken and well trained. They are just hungry for love. There are also a variety of special needs animals and older animals that require special people to take them home. To those of you who do, thank you for doing a good thing.

I love animals, except bats, and their love for us is unconditional. You can scold them in the morning for chewing up the newspaper and they have forgotten it by the time you return home from work. Try yelling at the wife, and see if she is wiggling her tail when you get home that evening. Take some time in getting your pet, like buying a house or car. There are a lot of sad stories like the one's I have told about Ruby and Grace. Some of the stories are much worse. Ruby and Grace's story has a happy ending for both them and us. Take some time and think about it when you are looking for your next family companion.