I'M YOUR DISEASE

I hate meetings. I hate Higher Power. I hate anyone who has a program. To all who come in contact with me, I wish you death and I wish you suffering.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am the disease of Alcoholism or Drug Addiction.

Cunning, baffling, and powerful. That's me. I have killed millions, and I am pleased. I love to catch you, with the element of surprise. I love pretending I am your friend and lover. I have given you comfort, have I not? Wasn't I there when you were lonely? when you wanted to die, didn't you call me? I was there.

I love to make you hurt. I love to make you cry. Better yet, I love when I make you so numb you can neither hurt nor cry. You can't feel anything at all. This is true glory. I will give you instant gratification and all I ask of you is long term suffering. I've been there for you always. When things were going right in your life, you invited me. You said you didn't deserve these good things and I was the only one who would agree with you.

Together we were able to destroy all things good in your life.

People don't take me seriously. They take strokes seriously, heart attacks, even diabetes they take seriously, fools that they are. They don't know that without my help, these things would not be made possible.

I am such a hated disease. And yet, I do not come uninvited. You choose to have me. So many have chosen me over reality and peace.

Mare than you hate me, I hate all of you, who have a 12 step program. Your Program, your meetings, your Higher Power. All weaken me and I can't function in the manner I am accustomed to.

Now I must lie here quietly. You don't see me, but I am growing, bigger than ever. When you only exist, I may live. When you live, I only exist, but I am here...And until we meet again.

When we meet again --- I wish death and suffering.

This is not my creation. I got it in group today. I see so much of me and my life in it.

Group Therapy

Sorry. No catchy music to run through your head as you read. No songs that I felt appropriate for this subject. No, Amy Winehouse, absolutely not!

Today was group therapy with ASAP. An hour and a half of sharing and learning from each other and the staff. It was definitely a positive experience for me. It's a small group setting so I didn't feel like I was part of a crowd. I'd bet there's a reason for that. We also get homework and if you know me you know how much I love homework (blechhh). But my motivation is stronger now than before so there is an obvious benefit to it all.

I have become concerned with all the others that are out there. It is said that Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) is the signature wound of this war. So many are living through what would have killed them in times past but the noggin is tough, the brain is soft and spongy (don't try reaching in and finding out please).

I'm no statistician but to me I see more Soldiers addicted to prescription medications than those with TBI. I thought I had TBI until I got off the meds. To me the signature 'wound' of this war will be drug addiction, alcohol abuse, eventually suicide for some. And all of these will be preventable. 100%

True, some will be more determined than others but here is where I make my case.

In the Army we PMCS everything. Preventive Maintenance, Checks, and Services. EVERYTHING! Why don't leaders at every level PMCS their Soldiers?

Until the stigma of mental health issues and substance abuse is wiped away, Soldiers will hide their problems. They will smile and say all is well because they don't want to be labeled a 'dirtbag' 'malcontent' 'malingerer' or a lot of other things I won't even write.

The higher the rank, the less likely they will seek help in any forum that may be perceived as weakness.

So we self-medicate. We distract ourselves with activity; extreme sports is the latest distraction. Adrenaline replaces the rush of combat. It also acts as a drug for those who are trying to avoid alcohol or other drugs.

Extreme sports are not the problem. The same could be said of alcohol or prescription meds. They are not the problem. Abuse is the problem. I don't have a drinking problem. I don't have drug problem. I have an addiction problem.

Some drink, others take meds, and there is no calamity in their life because of it. But so many do and I am one of millions.

Whether it is street drugs, prescription meds, or alcohol, the underlying problem is the same: Addiction. Something becomes so important to you that you are willing to throw everything else away to keep it. And I think to truly qualify, there needs to be some harm involved in continuing down the path it leads.

I'm no medical professional it's just how it seems to me after 40 years of being on, in, under, over, or around addiction. I frequently learn that I am wrong about things so check with a real doctor before you decide I'm right and chuck your meds out the window.

That reminds me. I had two appointments today. One with ASAP, the other with my Psychiatrist. The shrink says I have AD/HD. Ok, I can live with that but he said something that also came up at group. I am always down on myself.

Why is it that if I say something perceived as negative by most, I am being too hard on myself? I have been through a lot. My perception is different. I am grateful for adversity. I do not glory in what I have accomplished because I've been carried my whole life. Sometimes by friends, sometimes by family, sometimes by strangers, sometimes by angels. I do not meet all that I have alone. Ever. Does that mean I am mentally ill?

Any accomplishment is not mine. The mistakes, now that's me in action on my own. The doc would get on me about this but does my faith make me depressed? Can't I be grateful to a higher power. Does lack of pride signal mental illness? Is humility a disease? I believe that science and religion can coexist as I have said before. Why can't I just be the means through which God answers someones prayer? Why can't my going through these things and smiling give another strength?

Why can't there be a God who loves us but works through us not for us or against us?



p.s. I found a song to go with my group therapy theme of distracting ourselves. It's by the Violent Femmes and I include it below.


I know it's true, but I'm sorry to say

I know it's true, but I'm sorry to say
yesterdays a day away.
Nothing I can do to make it stay like that.
Ain't that a fact.

I know it's true, but I'm sorry to say
I just can't handle things this way.
I know it's late, but I'd like to stay a while, see you smile.

Will you meet me in the morning, with sun fresh on the dew?
Will you meet me in the afternoon, made just for me and you?
Will you meet me in the evening, when the nighttime starts to crawl?
Will you meet me in the hall?
Will you meet me on the wall?
Will you meet me at all?

One more time, one more time.
Shaking up and down my spine.
Jump a rope or skip a line or two.
What can I do?

One more time, one more time.
Color flashing neon signs.
Advertising a friend of mine's distraction, latest attraction.

Oh my body has been punished.
Lord, I think I've had enough.
Oh my body has been punished
with too much and not enough.
Oh my body has been punished
and my mind can no longer bluff.
My mind is so unkind, my mind is so unkind.
It keeps me crying all the time.

I know it's true, but I'm sorry to say
yesterdays a day away.


Gordon Gano: Guitar, Lead Vocal
Brian Ritchie: Bass ,Celeste
Victor Delorenzo: Drums,Vocals
Mark Van Hecke: organ

Boy's don't cry

Ok, thank you Robert Smith and the Cure (or is The Cure? Seems we could use one) for tonights title. This really is me just reflecting on the week past. Don't look over your shoulder. Something might be gaining on you. Nahhhh!

So I got out of the psych ward about 10 days ago and it's been two weeks since I had any Prozac. I also have taken very few Klonopin since being released for sleep. The fluoxetine levels in my blood should be down to about 20mg from the 80mg that I was at when I last took a dose. That does it for the science for now.

I cannot believe how differently things look now compared to the 18th when Cari and I fought.

I really cannot believe how different they are from the 19th when I started eating benzodiazepine party mix on the 19th. Life seemed to be just too hard that night. I wanted to anesthetize myself without a license (or the proper substance, setting, or reason) and wake up to a different reality.

If only life were like that. Sleep and wake up to a reset. That won't happen with or without chemicals.

I feel like I have lost a year and a half and I have lost so much more with my family that I have to try to rebuild. I also feel like a new man. Much like I did in 1988 when I quit doing street drugs. Perhaps even more so because now I see my problem was more than what I was taking, it was why.

It wasn't how much I was taking (which then was considerable), but that I felt a need to find something to fill that void, to soothe that pain. In reality, it only added to the pain and made the void that much larger.

So for 21 years I have had what I call "slips", "hiccups", or "I stumbled" in my recovery when in reality I hadn't recovered at all. I only controlled it very well (most of the time).

I could usually point to some stressor to explain why I did it. Sometimes I didn't bother and I always promised "never again" would I let myself get into a position of...

It took a lot to break me down to this point and I am not even at the start line yet. I just got issued my bib number. So I am reflecting on what I have done this week since I started this blog as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings as I go through the process of becoming a recovering substance abuser (I can't limit it to alcohol even though the drugs were as prescribed for the most part.)

Wow! Just that statement causes me to think of the abuse my wife and children have been subjected to just in witnessing me all these years. I would venture to say that there is more than Caitlin's health issues behind the stress they feel each day.

Ok, I shouldn't add to my woe. Focus! Focus! One guilt trip at a time.

So what have I done this week to change? How am I better than two weeks ago?

Monday: Went to Psychology appointment and discussed how I was feeling after the weekend following my discharge. Felt great (Feeling even beter now) and discussed the follw-up plan for the short term future.

Tuesday: A.M. Went to my intake appointment for the Army Substance Abuse Program (ASAP). Learned a lot and got LOT'S of homework. Also needed to schedule a 'part 2' since I talk a lot (ok it was really because there were so many questions to answer). Really like the counselor I am working with. Very thorough and aware of a great many things to help in recovery that I would have never thought of asking about.

P.M Marriage Counseling through LDS Social services. Next week, I keep my mouth shut unless asked for something and let Cari talk. I didn't mean to control the conversation, I was just filling in the setting.

Wednesday: Went to Psychiatry to discuss same as above and begin assessing what, if any, meds I should be taking. Also discussed how fluoxetine is eliminated from my body and that I was fine not taking another pill unless we felt I needed to get back to a certain blood level. Also decided to be seen by the Psychiatrist that worked with me during my trip to the Ward.

Thursday: Went to Tacoma Human Services for a program that seems like an incentive to stick with treatment. It helps with everyday things other than treatment to support your efforts.

Friday: It was a beautiful day that threw me off track as I look back. I was feeling so good that I didn't check the schedule for AA meetings. I'm gonna catch it for that. I "self-medicated" with date night that I previously wrote about. Have to watch out for the dangers of feeling good. Wouldn't have thought a great day would sabotage my recovery.

Saturday: Didn't do a thing productive in any regard. A day wasted is a day well-spent!

Sunday: This day is my day of rest usually but of course, to me it belongs to the Lord. Today was spent in those pursuits. I file this under journaling so that my posterity (and the rest of the world) can read it.

All things considered, a week of activity but I have much to make up for as well. I need to get into the habit of setting goals for the week ahead and what I need to do to obtain them. Being a bit of a nut job all my life, I always made it up as I went along. No wonder I'm not a General yet (that and I'm not a college grad...yet)!

Ok, enough babble.

My week has been the best one I have had in a long time. I feel better than I have in two years at least as far as day to day is considered. Wonder what life will be like completely without anti-depressants and anxyiolitics? I truly hope to find out here in a couple of weeks.

So, as to the title. I picked that one because since being released I have felt phenomenal...except for a few exceptions. One glaring memory is that of just being overcome with everything as my mind started to clear and some horrible memories came back. I had been online writing I think and I was reminded of that Kenny Chesney song/video I posted "The Good Stuff" and I stopped and watched it.

That wiped out a streak for me. You see, I truly do seldom cry. I feel pain, sadness, remorse, guilt, anguish and any other feeling associated with crying you can think of. I mean I do have feelings contrary to popular opinion. But I seldom cry.

I call my Mom a duck. She doesn't show much emotion but I know she is feeling it. She takes it to the Lord I'm sure from advice she has given me, but I call her a duck for this reason; a duck is calm and serene on the top of the water, but kickin' like crazy beneath the surface.

That's me too.

So back to 'the good stuff'. As I watched that it brought back a flood of memories. Like my life flashing before my eyes in a sense of every horrible thing I have said or did to my wife particularly. I went over to her and gave her a hug and before I knew it I was bawling like the maternity ward.

The tears of years of emotion shoved aside to deal with the never ending stream of emergencies and situations, oh and combat, came out all at once. I couldn't stop wailing and sobbing for 15-20 minutes it seemed.

In the midst of this I let go of Cari and got down on my knees to pray and it just kept coming. A fountain of pent up guilt, frustration, and just plain blues, came flying out of me. Probably soaked the couch cushion!

So, Bob, I beg to differ. Maybe Boy's don't cry, but men do.

Date Night

100_4918
Originally uploaded by zaedah

Every friday night we have date night. We try to do this no matter the circumstances even if all we do is get out of the house and go somewhere; the library, a burger stand, a walk, something to remember why we got married.

This Friday was therapeutic as well as fun. We went for a ride on the bike. About 100 miles through backroads. No destination in mind just a ride. We used Mount Ranier as a point of reference and the marvelous sunshine we had as a watch. When we came to an intersection I'd ask "left or right?" and away we'd go.

I'll not rave about all the scenery and greenery this time for those jealous souls who don't have such things but I will say that it was just an incredible time getting lost with my wife.

She was a real sport as the passenger seat is not a very comfortable perch. It's narrow and fairly rigid and unyielding. We keep meaning to find something more Butt-friendly.

This way and that across the countryside until we stopped for a snack at a gas station to stretch our legs and give Cari's glutes a chance to decompress! We decided to keep riding and go out to dinner. So we got our bearings and headed west. The plan was to end up in Olympia for dinner and hit the Oyster House restaraunt.

The shear joy of just the two of us motoring about was my favorite part but I like to ride. We did finally end up in Olympia in a round-about manner. It's said if you don't care where you are going you might not like where you end up. In this case though, it was quite a suprise. We ended up at Anthony's in Olympia. It's right on the water and we still had a good amount of sunshine left so we decided that Anthony's it would be.

When we walked in I thought, geez, that hostess looks real familiar. When she smiled it was a dead giveaway; it was my 'niece'. I say it like that because we are so close in age so it feels kind of strange to say that I am her uncle. When she introduced me as such to her coworkers, I thought it sounded so strange. I mean cousin seems more appropriate as my wife commented. But Uncle Jack it is. Or is it Uncle Butch?

I'll have to ask her.

Anway, after dinner it was back on the bike for the ride home and quick it was. You see, I had to make it home before Cari got cold! Not to mention how much fun it is to blast up the interstate!

Yep, date night rocks always. This one was exceptional for many reasons.

Hmmm, kind of leaves me in a pinch for next week. I mean now the expectations will be so high...

Lillian Campground Aug '07

100_5629
Originally uploaded by zaedah

It's hard to believe that it's been so long since Dillon and I were on this trip on the Olympic pennisula. This pic just takes me back to just how beautiful it is up here. So much to do in a short space. I can deal with the rain when I think of all that's here.

Good picture for a rainy day like today.

Communication Breakdown

Ok, first of all. Yes, I am driven by music. Of all types. So when I borrow from songs you know why. Led Zeppelin gets the props for my current topic.

Communication. What does that word mean to you? How you define it says a lot about how you speak and, maybe more importantly, how you listen. I'm sure to some extent we all speak and listen differently. Words that leave your mouth can't be taken back in. No matter how you try, they fly until they hit their target. Or do they? I mean they fly but what they affect, or whom, depends upon the ears listening.

If a tree falls in the forest does it make any noise? I say it makes sound, but it doesn't make noise. Sound is a fact of science. Noise is something interpreted and with no one around to interpret it, it does not make noise. You may feel different.

You may not care but you've read this far so what the heck, stick it out.

As I grew up I noticed how words could do a great many things, good and bad. To my Mother, I became a "master manipulator" and I do not deny that with many of my questions and observations I have been able to skew things my way a time or two. But as I grow older I learn more and more that so many of us do not communicate well.

We talk. We chat. Now we text and I'm not even getting into that mess. But do I hear what you say? I have learned the hard way that what comes out of my mouth becomes something completely different when it gets into my wife's ears. Once they are in there I spend considerable time and effort trying to explain what I meant. Often times all I do is dig a deeper hole.

I don't think I'm the only husband that has tried climbing out of this one. It's a slippery slope to say the least.

As a grown kid, I'm the youngest of eight from my mom and I don't think we really ever learned to communicate with each other. We learned small talk. Remember, perspective of the baby brother who is technically a step-brother (although I never remember being referred to as such!). I mean we spoke of a great many things but don't remember communicating much. We still seem to have a hard time saying I love you on a consistent basis. It's awkward to me to say this to my siblings unless I say it without thinking about it too much. It's hard to say it to my MOTHER! Do I love these people? Of course. We went through the 70's man! And we have pictures! We won't talk about the 80's it was bad time for the country stylistically.

Muscle shirts and parachute pants. Any questions?

So why can't we communicate. I'm so far usually I seldom even speak to anyone but my Mom. When I got out of the hospital, my brother Jeff called me and knew it must be bad. That was the first time in our lives that he has called me! I don't think it was as bad as he thought it was going to be. I know he went in thinking "how do I check up on my little brother who just went nuts and ate benzos like pez without sounding like I am checking up on him?" All he had to say was who it was and I knew why he was calling. Luckily for both of us I handle awkward with all the grace of a hippo in a tutu.

Let me open up more of why Jack is a little bit off. I went through part of the Special Forces Medical Sergeant course. You learn A LOT. In the interest of time and national security I will keep it to this one vignette.

When you are standing in a room with seventy other DUDES learning how to do Digital Rectal Exams (DREs) it makes you a humble man. For those who are stuck in computers, no, digital is not some piece of tech equipment, it's your digits - FINGERS! ok, 'nuff said.

So, Jeff is fumbling with a hello and I kind of took over (as I am prone to do in a conversation. I know I'm working on that!) to save him. It's a lot easier to talk to someone about a difficult subject when they just blurt everything out. All the tact of a hippo in a tutu, remember? We talked for about 45 minutes before I had to go but it was cool to just talk to family. And Merrie called the next day but that's not as rare. I know the backstage workings of the family and I'm sure someone was directing days to call and all. I love 'em!

So. Communication. What's that mean to you? Do you read body language and non-verbal cues? Does what people say versus what they do affect how you interpret what they say to you the next time? Are past scars blocking lines of communication within you? Are they skewing what you say to others or how they are interpreted?

Too much talk about talking! What's the message in the pic below. I think it emphatically states "Stop and don't move!"

How about you?

Influ-wha?

Today was just one of those days. The weather is beautiful so finding people at work was difficult at best. And Friday?! For some reason it seemed that everyone had 'an appointment' they had to be at and wouldn't be in.

It seemed like the last day of school for those who were in. Watching the clock, just waiting...

When it came time to leave I felt like I was 10 again and rushing out the door to 3 months of freedom (ok, it was technically 2.5 but in my day we got out in June and went back in September...didn't we? Ok, this is messing with me. Someone help. Placer County CA it seemed that Memorial day weekend was the first day of summer and labor day was the last. Did school follow that? This has become a long parenthetical statement.). Ok, so I have to be back to work on monday but two days? I'll take it!

Remember being a kid? I know I had worries but oh to have those worries again? Now I have those worries for my kids and all the worries that come from having kids!

Oh the freedom of youth! And Where I lived I remember as being the best place to live. All of the places I lived. The were country towns then but the adventures we had! Lush pastures with irrigation canals and sprinklers to keep the livestock fed. And the blackberries! Anyone remember Flumes? Placer County Water Agency (PCWA) or what some called NID ditches (Except that was Nevada Irrigation District). Playing in the water. Ditches, ponds, lakes, rivers, and the occassional swimming pool.

Dirt bikes along the train tracks. BB Gun wars. Throwing water bombs at passing cars from the Newcastle tunnel over Taylor road. Man, no wonder I got in so much trouble! All of us just thinking up stuff to do. Launching our bikes off jumps, breaking bones, yeah summer was awesome.

As I think back I want to be on vacation sooooo bad. But there's work, bills, in the words of Bob Seger "deadlines and commitments" and the whole H1N1 Influenza thing...

Yeah, summertime and 10 years old. I could fudge the age either way, maybe a little older but not much. Too much drama being a teenager for my likes.

Way too much at 40 for sure.

Influ-wha? I'm out for the summer.

100B5561
Originally uploaded by zaedah

Bob Seger quote from "Against the Wind"