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When your brain turns to squash

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 Bad decisions, even worse repercussions
 

Hi.

I screwed up this time. I had too much to drink Wednesday night, got stopped for a DUI, and spent the night in jail. I don't give a damn about the money, but I'm scared of my desire(craving) to run away and yes, drink.

I went to my 1st AA meeing in 12 years, 11 of those having not drank. It didn't seem like a consious decision to go drinking, because I had a mental list of things that I needed to pick up for our new cat, I wanted to get a small stand for the cat to lay on in front of the bedroom window, some new shirts for me since they were 75% off----and I did only 2 of them. I turned left(literally) coming out of the animal hospital instead of right which took me towrd downdown. Even when I got there I kept looking at my watch at telling myself that I should go. But No.

I am going to talk to a lawyer, but there isn't much that I can do. 90 day suspension, $200-$300 fine, and alcohol course in order to get my license.

I expect to get beat up about this, but so far I'm doing a pretty damned good job of it myself. I spoke with my doctor about some new medications that are available now to help with the "mental" cravings. My anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds don't seem to help this longing to RUN AWAY. I've talked to my Mom about this, and she doesn't want me to go anywhere by myself. I told her that right now I just don't trust myself, so I don't blame her for her lack of trust.

If anyone can relate to any of this, PLEASE let me know. PM's are OK. I just need to meke it until tomorrow's meeting at noon. At least I felt safe there.
Ed.
Posted by Squash4brains at 3:59 PM - 16 Comments   Add a Comment  
 

 Forty-Five Minutes
 

For forty-five minutes---
I searched;
something, anything,
a means to the end.

That extension cord?
No, secured to the post;
looking, more desperate,
mind in a fog.

Something MUST be here,
I've got to find it;
pressure building,
as immediacy aproaches.

In this drawer---
this will do,
looks strong enough
it'll have to do.

Where now?
Someplace I won't be seen;
images of some
who would try to be heroes.

Can't have that---
upstairs, the electrical room,
it could be days;
I look around one last time,
sorry that they would find me.

Part way up---
a note,
I forgot to write something;
paper and pen
shake out a brief request,
'Please tell Mom I'm sorry"
and I lay it on the desk.

Up those stairs once more,
cement stairs sounding hollow,
echoing the emptiness in my soul;
the top looking imposing,
but a place to do the rest.

A solid brace---
I don't know of it's use,
but it'll work for this,
they'll probably take it down.

The rope---
smooth and cool,
as I tied around my neck;
one tug, not enough,
so I tied another knot.

Over to the brace,
the height was too much;
I couldn't fix the other end,
where is something to stand on?

Across the room---
a pail, probably old paint,
but it would be the right base;
walking toword the pail
it now seemed like a dream,
no sense of any emotion felt.

Something---
the pail? the quiet?;
I became afraid,
grabbing that tie
from around my neck,
balling it up in my fist---
un down the stairs,
terrified now, seized the note
but didn't know what to do.

A Manager---
known for a long time,
I ran to him trembling,
words stammered, foreign,
"Please help me Please"

Staying with me,
no respite from his vigil;
a call to 911 brought rescue to me.

Questions---
no shape to really answer,
an arduous, interminable ride
to hospital emergency
elevated my panic and shame.

Unadored walls
topped by incessant glare,
a single bed, an empty chair;
and the everpresent nurse
with her dilligent stare.

Story repeated---
to more than a few,
crazy though I felt,
they called it
"a depressive event";
still anxiety raced
through my body and mind
until medicine coursed,
finally a calm arrived
peace for a time.

Doctors, nurses
all seem to care,
social workers
came out of thin air
to offer solutions
to stem my despair.

A plan---
needed by me but ignored,
now reinforced
with desire from fear;
develop the means to a beginning,
may the forty-five minutes be a start,
not a time for an end. 
   

Posted by Squash4brains at 1:08 AM - 9 Comments   Add a Comment  
 
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