My ex-girlfriend ended up spending that weekend in jail - she went in Friday and couldn't see a judge until Monday - and although I didn't regret calling the police on her, I was mad at how our relationship had ended. We had been together for about a year, and I respected the fact that she was there for me during one of the hardest times of my life. She was one of my few friends that was walking in when everyone else was walking out. I had no intention of trying to hook back up with her but I did wonder how she was holding up. I would have called, but based on her personality and some of the things she was saying while being arrested, I thought it was a good chance that I might get cussed out. I figured if and when she wanted to talk, she would call me, which she did over a year later.
I made some money by helping to move some of the medical equipment.
I did end up doing a little work with my step-father to put a little money in my pocket. He worked for a rehabilitation physicians company and I helped him move some of their supplies from location to location. I also helped clean up one of their parking lots that was full of weeds, shrubs and debris. I probably ended up spending the money on drug testing or paying off the State or the court, but I do remember at this time of my life also having enough money to continue to support my drinking habit. I wouldn't drink in the house out of respect for my parents - seeing that I wouldn't even be living there if it wasn't for my drinking. So I would drink on the streets while I was walking around the neighborhood. One time, I remember buying some alcohol off of E. Warren and taking a couple of shots in the liquor store alley where no one could see me. This had to be one of the worst times of my alcoholism. I was spending some of my last dollars on my addiction and had stooped so low as to hiding and drinking in a liquor story alley. I was becoming that image of what I thought constituted for an alcoholic at the beginning of this book. After that I would continue to walk the neighborhood and take shots when I thought no one was looking. Sometimes, I would drink on the porch or front steps of squat houses. I wouldn't get too drunk because I still had to walk back home and be able to face by parents. My routine was to sit on the steps of different squat houses and try not to think about the hole I had dug for myself. At the time, I didn't even realize I was digging myself into a deeper hole by continuing to do the same things that got me in the hole in the first place.
My sisters' place eventually became my getaway.
My sister had her own place in Belleville and would have me house-sit for her from time to time when she went out of town. I was about 35-40 minutes away from my parents house. She had two cats and a dog and I would make sure they were fed and the dog was taken out three times a day. On average, she would be out of town for three or four days, and during those days I would drink heavy. There was a liquor store within walking distance and I would make the same runs to it daily as I did when I had my own apartment. There was also a bar in between my sisters' and the liquor store and I would go there and drink sometimes too. I would also invite my drinking friends over to drink with me. We would put our money together and buy fifths or gallons, drink and sit around my sisters' and just talk about random stuff. My sister had about three different video game systems and a nice collection of DVDs so when people came over they had entertainment. Sometimes I would have girls come over and stay as long as they wanted simply because I didn't have that privilege at my parents' house. My sisters' place eventually became my getaway. Some of my friends even looked forward to me coming out to my sisters' because they could come by and party a little.
I had fallen into a state of depression.
This continued for about six months until I started to really get out of control. I had really slipped into a state of depression and as you can probably guess, I used alcohol to cope with it. My depression stemmed from the fact that I had been jobless and out of school for almost a year, I was running very low on funds, I was drinking everyday and knew deep down inside I had a problem but was unwilling to face it, etc. I felt like a total failure. It was one of the only times in my life where I felt hopeless. Even staying at my sisters' made me feel bad deep down inside because she was younger than me and up until a year ago, I was always in a position where I was setting a good example. But all of that had changed now. My sister could no longer look up to her older brother because he was a drunk, broke, jobless, college dropout who was currently on probation because of multiple D.U.Is. I was even beginning to get envious of some of my friends because they had everything I had lost: the car, the place, the job, the girlfriend. Deep down inside I knew I couldn't continue to live my life like this but I just couldn't seem to figure out a way to begin to turn things around.
I got the money and went straight to the bar.
When I wasn't drinking, most of my time at my sisters' consisted of throwing up, not being able to eat because my stomach was so messed up from drinking, and sleeping abnormally long hours. This was also the first time in my drinking career that I would get the shakes. It was pretty scary. At any given time my arms and hands would start to twitch and shake a little until I drank some alcohol and it would go away. I would also get the chills. It's a little hard to explain but I remember at one time taking long hot showers to try to cope with it. If that's not bad enough, I'm almost ashamed to admit that one time my grandmother gave me 20-30 dollars because she knew my financial situation and wanted to help. She would tell me, "You can't do anything if you don't have no money." I'm sure she wouldn't have gave it to me if she knew the first thing I was going to do with it was go to the bar down the street from my sisters' and get drunk. I didn't spend it all but I remember only having about five dollars in my pocket after leaving the bar.
If my sister hadn't come home when she did, the scene may have looked like this.
I got another wake up call when I almost started a fire at my sister's place. I knew she was on her way back and I guess I was trying to drink as much as I could before she got there. I didn't like to be drunk in front of my sister because I didn't like her seeing me like that (I still called myself trying to set a good example), but I figured if I drank-up before she came back home, my buzz would be going down throughout the rest of the day. I was hungry too, so I decided to cook myself something. Unfortunately, I blacked out while I was cooking and the next thing I remember is my sister standing in front of me saying that I almost burned down her apartment and that my mom was on her way to pick me up. She had called her and told her that she didn't want me there anymore and she needed to come get me. On top of that, I had a big cut on my forehead that was bleeding. I must have ran into a wall or something when I was blacked out. My sister was very upset. She told me I had to go. She told me I had almost started a fire and could have burned her apartment down. She told me she couldn't believe what I had done and that I couldn't stay at her place anymore. Soon after my mom picked me up and took me back to her house. I felt so bad. I felt like a complete loser. This time, it was very obvious to me that I was hurting the people closest to me. My sister meant the world to me and I couldn't believe I had disrespected her and her place by almost starting a fire because I was so drunk. I called her the next day and gave her a sincere apology. Thank God she came back when she did because the scene could have ended a lot worse than what it did.It was around this time that I began to realize that my alcoholism had completely got out of control. Something deep down inside of me was telling me that change was coming, and it would come soon after.
