- Joined
- Jul 30, 2004
- Messages
- 3,833
If I make it through today 
it will be exactly two years since I've had any alcohol.
When my wife & I lost most of our home in a hurricane in 2004, our world kind of came apart. We lost tens of thousands of dollars in uninsured losses and through the stress of the event wound up separated- me living in a cursed FEMA trailer and her living with a friend.
After the never-ending hard work of clearing the destruction of our lives, the plan was to rebuild our dream home- sell it- and get a divorce. The dream, and ten years of marriage, was over.
Someday I will write about the experience of living in a FEMA trailer next to wreckage, but at the time I insulated myself against the new reality with a lot of alcohol. A horrible fall turned into a cold winter, and wind would rock the FEMA trailer; run out of propane and be cold- very.
Life consisted of working at my mind-numbing job and coming home to a solitary life that just couldn't be. Everything good in my life was gone all at once with the storm. Our neighbors with whom we were very close moved away from their mold-infested wrecked home and then I was truly alone. No one came around; I'd sit in the dark drinking and sharpening khukuries. Listening to Opie & Anthony on XM 202 and laughing manically at some very dark comedy. Each day was an 18 pack of beer; it was like a briefcase that suits take to their jobs. I remember having a shouting match with my supervisor at work; what was he going to do, fire me? My world was already gone.
But I had internet at work and the good people of the Cantina were there. You know who you are and I appreciate the support during those dark days.
The rebuilding occurred slowly; a beautiful new house was being built. Dully, I didn't care- it would be my home no longer. After the divorce I planned to put what I had left in storage and possibly travel in a trailer; look for a new start- somewhere.
My wife would come on the weekend and check on the progress. We worked together with the nightmare of contractors and fighting for insurance money. Finally, towards the last days of May 2005, the house was finished. And then a miracle occurred.
I gave up the shiraz and 18-packs of beer- and we gave it a try.
The house was new again and we were two new people. Slowly, even more slowly than the house, we put our relationship back together.
So today it has been two years. People congratulate me on the new beginning- especially those that know the history of alcoholism in my family. But really it was a simple decision, to live or to die.
It's good to have a choice. As the Jews say, "L'Chaim!" here's a toast- to life.
Thanks for listening- and for many of you, thanks for being there.
Mike
___
Postscript- "What's this have to do with khukuries?" Well, I treated myself to a new khuk, a Hanuman from one of the best guys here.
You see, when you give up booze, you have a bunch of cash left over to buy toys with...
it will be exactly two years since I've had any alcohol. When my wife & I lost most of our home in a hurricane in 2004, our world kind of came apart. We lost tens of thousands of dollars in uninsured losses and through the stress of the event wound up separated- me living in a cursed FEMA trailer and her living with a friend.
After the never-ending hard work of clearing the destruction of our lives, the plan was to rebuild our dream home- sell it- and get a divorce. The dream, and ten years of marriage, was over.
Someday I will write about the experience of living in a FEMA trailer next to wreckage, but at the time I insulated myself against the new reality with a lot of alcohol. A horrible fall turned into a cold winter, and wind would rock the FEMA trailer; run out of propane and be cold- very.
Life consisted of working at my mind-numbing job and coming home to a solitary life that just couldn't be. Everything good in my life was gone all at once with the storm. Our neighbors with whom we were very close moved away from their mold-infested wrecked home and then I was truly alone. No one came around; I'd sit in the dark drinking and sharpening khukuries. Listening to Opie & Anthony on XM 202 and laughing manically at some very dark comedy. Each day was an 18 pack of beer; it was like a briefcase that suits take to their jobs. I remember having a shouting match with my supervisor at work; what was he going to do, fire me? My world was already gone.
But I had internet at work and the good people of the Cantina were there. You know who you are and I appreciate the support during those dark days.
The rebuilding occurred slowly; a beautiful new house was being built. Dully, I didn't care- it would be my home no longer. After the divorce I planned to put what I had left in storage and possibly travel in a trailer; look for a new start- somewhere.
My wife would come on the weekend and check on the progress. We worked together with the nightmare of contractors and fighting for insurance money. Finally, towards the last days of May 2005, the house was finished. And then a miracle occurred.
I gave up the shiraz and 18-packs of beer- and we gave it a try.
The house was new again and we were two new people. Slowly, even more slowly than the house, we put our relationship back together.
So today it has been two years. People congratulate me on the new beginning- especially those that know the history of alcoholism in my family. But really it was a simple decision, to live or to die.
It's good to have a choice. As the Jews say, "L'Chaim!" here's a toast- to life.
Thanks for listening- and for many of you, thanks for being there.
Mike
___
Postscript- "What's this have to do with khukuries?" Well, I treated myself to a new khuk, a Hanuman from one of the best guys here.
You see, when you give up booze, you have a bunch of cash left over to buy toys with...
:thumbup:
