Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

November

Yesterday marked the second anniversary of my dad’s death—and in three weeks we will mark the second anniversary of my mother’s passing away. It still seems so unreal that I am existing in a world without them. You know how people always say, “Home is where the heart is”? But how can you find your home when your heart is broken into a million tiny pieces?

Before I say more, I want you to know I worry that you might think I’m just feeling sorry for myself and want some sympathy. I understand that we all suffer loss and we all go through difficult times. And that’s why I want to share my story with you. If I am feeling a little sorry for myself—well, that’s okay too. As long as I acknowledge it and don’t get stuck in it, it is okay. I have never been one to give up. I survive, I strive, I move forward. But dealing with this loss has been extremely difficult for me.

Some of the difficulty for me is because my parents were my home—my heart. My sisters both got married, had children, and formed families and holiday traditions of their own. They have their spouses and kids, and can travel and take family vacations with them. I always had mom and dad. We traveled together; I spent most of my holidays with them, and that was my tradition.

I wish I could begin to put into words the way I always felt pulling into their driveway; the peace that would pour through my heart was something I could actually feel happening as I drove down the dirt drive toward the house. Even if my parents and I were not getting along extremely well, just pulling into the drive was good for my soul.

I think a lot of those feelings came from being on that piece of property we called Spread Oak Farm. I spent most of my life there; we moved there when I was just 4 or 5. My heart and my soul feel at home on that property. The property and the animals I loved there held me close in my childhood, dried my tears, listened to my heart, and gave me the love I needed.

I loved my parents beyond measure. Did we get along all the time? No. Did we have times of estrangement? Yes. Was my mom easy to get along with? No. Was my dad perfect? No. Did they love me? Yes, the very best that they knew how. Did they give me everything I needed? Yes and no. I never lacked for food, shelter, clothing, or any material item. Then what the hell was missing? Emotional support. I will share more stories with you in the future. Today I am just trying to put the pieces of my heart back together.

This time of year is difficult anyway. All the family gatherings and all the romanticizing we see on TV and in the movies about the joys of families being together during the holidays makes things painful if you are alone. It was always good to know I was going home to see my family. Even if it was not always pleasant, at least I had a home, a family, a place.

Now that my parents are gone, I am struggling to establish my own holiday traditions. I mainly just want to pretend nothing special is going on—that it’s just another day. But the never-ending questions from friends and coworkers continually remind me that I am alone. “What you doing for Thanksgiving?” “What did you get for Christmas?” “What did you do for New Years?” Not a damn thing, is the response to all of the above. But I don’t say it. It makes people uncomfortable and the moment awkward. So I mumble some kind of lie and walk away thinking, Wow. I need to get a life.

What am I going to do to get a life? I have no idea. First, I need to get out of bed. Staying there is just another way to hide from the world. I go home, take care of the animals, go to the bedroom, close my door, and crawl into bed. I hang out with the pups or play a computer game, and my world does not seem so empty. But this is too much like alcohol for me, just another way to escape my reality.

Second—I don’t know. Try to put my heart back together so that I can find my home.

Friendship

This morning when I opened my eyes, a memory ran through my mind that started me thinking about friendship. As I reflected on this memory, I realized that to share it with you I would also need to share a little about my relationship with alcohol. I think this memory really hit home with me because of all the recent news about fraternity/sorority hazing, even though this was not a hazing incident, but occurred at the apartment of some “friends” over 30 years ago.

I did not start drinking until I was in my early 20’s and my drinking career lasted until I was 26. I did not drink long, but I drank hard. I never really thought I would drink, because I had seen what alcoholism looks like. There were people on both sides of my family who had struggled with alcohol and alcoholism. Alcohol was always a part of my life when I was growing up, and I hated it. I swore I would never drink.

However, all that changed the first time I got drunk and it made the world go away. What joy! The sadness, the depression, the feeling of never being good enough, the sense of loneliness – all gone at the bottom of a glass. That night I found my friend, my savior, my remedy. After that, I don’t remember ever just having a drink. If I drank, I was getting drunk – escaping to my other world.

Needless to say, this did not go well for me for very long. I had friends now, people to party and drink with. But in the pit of my soul I was still so alone, and so lonely. I cannot even begin to explain some of my behavior during this time. Some of it I can’t even remember. I started blacking out and in many cases I only have the stories my friends told me later – and believe me, those stories were not pretty. I would wake up some mornings, look outside, and see my car in the parking lot, without any memory of driving home or getting in bed.

One morning I woke up with the covers over my head, and panicked. I thought, Where the hell am I? Who the hell am I with? I slowly pulled back the covers and there I was, in my own room, alone in my bed. But I never thought about those scary moments when I started drinking again the next day.

I am sure I will share more of these stories as I begin to share more of my life with you. This is just to give you an idea of how I lost myself to alcohol – and how grateful I am to have survived this time in my life and started on a path of recovery.

So now, about that memory I wanted to share. I have always tried to be a good person; this has always been my goal in life. And I’ve always assumed people would treat me the way I treated them.

I had started hanging out with a group of girls I considered to be friends. I would have done anything for them. I was spending time with them at their apartment and, of course, I was drinking. Mainly beer at first, although my favorite drink was tequila. I usually had a bottle in the car and one day, one of them asked me to go get it. We were going to do some shots.

They poured the shots and we drank them, then they decided we would play a game and take shots each time someone did some crazy thing (who knows what). The thing is, I was the only one really drinking the tequila. They just pretended to drink. So over the course of the night I got wasted. I have no idea what happened, but they thought it was funny as hell. They took pictures of me drunk off my ass. They fed me and took photos of me trying to eat, and did other, similar things.

I have thought of this event often in my life, recognizing how cruel and heartless it was on their part. I also realize that I could have died that night. Even during that period of my life, I would never have done that to anyone.

That is the memory I awoke to first thing this morning, and immediately my heart said, That is not friendship. That is cruel and careless behavior. None of those women had the alcohol problem I did. They drank, but not to the extent I did. My first true friend was the woman who said to me, “Melissa, they tell us in AA if we black out we might have a problem with alcohol.” She was the first person who loved me enough to tell me the truth. That is what friendship is about.

True friends tell you the truth even when it hurts. That simple sentence, spoken by my sweet friend Barbara (RIP), stuck in my mind. After hearing that, every time I blacked out I would think, “I might be an alcoholic.” I am so grateful Barbara had the courage to be honest, and that she was there for me when I was ready to stop drinking.

Over the years, I have seen the demonstration of true friendship over and over. True friends love you even when you cannot love yourself. True friends take you to chemotherapy and care for you when you are sick afterwards. True friends make sure you are not alone when your parents are ill or when they pass away. True friends help you walk through your grief when it’s so blinding you can’t even see the path in front of you. True friends listen with kindness and caring. True friends do not exploit your weaknesses – true friends rejoice in your strengths.

Thank you to all the true friends who have carried me through some of the darkest parts of my journey. Life is difficult, but it would be unbearable without each of you.