I must apologize to my readers. Please forgive the fact that I started my last post with one scenario of the restoration of my relationship with my mother in September 2007 then ended it up telling you about Robert stranding me on Elton Road in February 2007. My long term memory is well intact, however my short term memory is getting seriously worse. That is one reason it took me nearly a week to get my last post written. I'll get all this tied up in a bow before too much longer.
So let's go back to February 2007, shall we? This was after jail but before treatment occurred. I so badly wanted to go home. I wanted my mama and I wanted my baby. More than anything else I wanted to be forgiven for all the horrible things I had done. Looking back on that, it seemed pretty darn selfish of me to want to be forgiven when I had made absolutely no changes in my life.
I won't repeat the being kicked out part from the last post but there I was walking in the 30 degree weather towards Terry Road. There was a convenience store there and a pay phone. I didn't have a penny on me but I picked up enough change in the parking lot to make one phone call to Blake. I recounted my story to him and told him I was on foot on Terry Road and had no where to go. He hung up on me. It's funny but I couldn't cry. I was too scared to cry I suppose.
Certainly the way I looked couldn't have made anyone want to help me. My hair was long and stringy, crack hair, as I like to call it. I hadn't bathed in days. Of course, no make up. Carrying around a duffel bag I am sure I was the last person anyone would want to try to help. This is just another example of how drugs can completely ruin a person's life. When there is only 1 person you can call when you are stranded on foot in a bad part of town and that person refuses to help you, you can pretty much bet you have hit bottom.
Within a few minutes a truck pulled up driven by Blake's sister and her girlfriend. They told me Blake had called them and was worried I would get raped or killed and asked them to come pick me up and take me home with them. The feeling of relief I felt when I sat down in that warm truck is indescribable. Ann and her girlfriend were my saviors. And they already had a tall cocktail waiting for me in the truck. Going without alcohol for even 24 hours when you are an alcoholic can give you the shakes, hallucinations, etc.
We got to their house and they put me up in their spare bedroom with the stipulation that it was only for a couple of days and that if I had not found a place to go by then they would have to take me to a shelter. I had enough forethought during my brief period at my mom's that night to go through my mail and pick up my W-2 forms from the couple of different jobs I had worked the previous year. Ann agreed to take me to Jackson-Hewitt the next day to file my taxes and get a refund anticipation loan.
Robert was not yet 18 so I filed head of household and was very pleasantly surprised to get almost $4,000 back. This allowed me to get a motel room so I could get out of Ann and her girlfriend's hair. Ann took me to the grocery store for some food and to the place where I bought my appliances so that I could stock up.
At the time I wasn't sure what motel I should go to. I wanted to be relatively safe but knew my money would not go very far in a more expensive place. Why did I choose E.Com? I have no earthly idea! But I did. It was close to Ann so I thought maybe if I needed more food or liquor she could help me with that. And, oh, yes, the most important stop we made was the liquor store where I bought 3 gallons of vodka and enough orange juice to sink a battle ship. I figured that would last me a few days.
We said our goodbyes as Ann left and I thanked her for saving me from Terry Road and taking me in when no one else would. As soon as she was gone I mixed myself a large screwdriver, kicked back on the bed and started channel surfing. I felt like I was in my own place and not depending on the kindness of others just to eat and have a roof over my head. For just a little while I was able to forget what I had done, that I had hurt my family and that I was homeless, because, in fact, a motel is not a home. But I hadn't drunk so much that I couldn't hear a distinct scratching noise behind my bed. What could it be, I wondered? I turned down the television and listed more closely. The scratching sounds was growing louder. That's when I saw it! It poked its snout out from behind the headboard, ran out, ACROSS MY FOOT, and back under the bed! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was a RAT! You guys are probably thinking it was just a mouse but believe me I know the difference. I lived in Belhaven and Fondren long enough to know a mouse from a rat! I literally ran screaming from the room with my cocktail clutched tightly in my hand. I ran to the office and insisted they move me to another, preferably rat free, room. It scared the buzz right out of me so I had to start all the way back over again! Dang it!
There was always about a 2 hour window that I truly enjoyed drinking. You know that point where your lips start getting a little numb and for the next couple of hours I had a great time even alone! The only thing I enjoyed that I couldn't do was drunk dial. I had left my dead cell phone at my friend's place in Ridgeland so no drunk dialing for me. Probably for the best because I wouldn't have had anything very nice to say to anyone anyway. After that two hour window out popped the pity party! I would think of all the horrible things I had done to my family and my friends, the jobs I'd lost because of using, why I hadn't finished college the first time around, why I hadn't married a good Christian man, you name it, I cried and cried over it!
For those of you who know, and I'm sure many of you do not, once you start drinking daily for a long period of time, instead of being able to pass out and sleep 7 or 8 hours, you start sleeping for only an hour or 2. Then I'd have to start drinking again for those next 2 hours of sleep. I felt as if I was about to have some sort of psychotic break because I was not getting the proper sleep and trying to pickle my brain at the same time.
I was slowly trying my best to commit suicide.
I was slowly trying my best to commit suicide.
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