Day Eight

Well, a week has come and gone. And I want to thank all of you who commented. It really is nice to know that there are people out there like me, and it helps to keep me accountable. Anyway, last night I had my first craving. I only work Monday-Thursday, so Thursday night is really like a Friday night for me. And since I don't have to get up at 530 for PT, I really felt like having a drink, but I quickly quashed that desire and just popped in a movie and had a couple brownies and a cold glass of milk. Then I went to bed around 11, probably the earliest I have gone to bed on a Thursday in a long time, and when I woke up this morning I felt great.

So, I am off to my first AA meeting at noon, I still am a little nervous, but I'll get over it. On another note. I really enjoy working out. I go to the gym almost everyday, but I have always been a little overweight, and I never understood why I couldn't seem to get rid of my belly and small spare tire. So, I thought that if I switched to vodka and diet 7up then I am drinking almost zero calories. Never mind the fact that I was drinking half a bottle of vodka at one sitting, and converting all that alcohol into sugar. Just another way that I have been deluding myself. Then yesterday I got on the scale and I have lost nearly 10 pounds in just the last week, by only working out like I normally do, minus the alcohol. And just so you know, I work in the medical field as a laboratory technologist, so I tend to find changes to my body interesting. And, it might sound gross, but I have noticed that I am now having regular bowel movements and my stool is solid all the time, instead of every once in a while. Well after that little tidbit, it is time for me to hop in the shower and get ready to go. I live at a remote base so it is about an hour drive to the closest meeting, then I am off to spend the weekend with the girl that I am dating. So, I will let you know how my meeting went on Sunday. I hope anyone who reads this has a great and sober weekend. Take Care.

Day Seven

So, another day has past. It is amazing how I used to think that I needed a drink just to help me go to sleep. Now, around 10 I can hardly keep my eyes open, so I turn off the TV and get into bed and read my book and about 15 minutes later I am drifting off. And then the dreams!! I can't remember having such vivid dreams. It's great. Another interesting thing was I tried a cigarette yesterday, and it was disgusting. It's funny but without a drink in my hand the smoking has lost all its appeal.

Anyway, I am still waiting for word as to what my fate will be, as far as the Army is concerned. The waiting is the worst. I know that a career is probably out of the question for me, which is fine because I have never lived in one place for more than a few years my entire life, and I am ready to settle down. The only thing I hope for is that I am able to tell the Colonel about this new life that I have discovered and the fact that I have finally come to terms with my drinking problem, before she makes a decision. And hopefully, she will let me finish out my obligation with honor, and let me use the resources that the military has to help people like me. I can only hope. The military is all I have ever known, unfortunately it is not the same as when I was growing up, and the things that I have seen has caused me to lose faith. I can only hope that through this ordeal and the big shit sandwich that I am going to have to eat, that some of that faith can be restored. And that the Army can take care of, instead of abandon, one of its own. Anyway, no sense languishing over something that I cannot control.

Well, tomorrow I am going to my first AA meeting. I am excited and scared. I have a hard time opening up to people that I know, so having to talk to people about my most personal issues kind of scares the crap out of me. And then it is off to spend the weekend with a girl that I am dating. She really cares about me, and I am really beginning to care about her, but I don't know how she will react to what has happened to me, and I don't know how to tell her. She isn't a big drinker, which helps, and I told her that I was going to stop drinking for a while, but I didn't tell her why or that I planned on not drinking for the rest of my life. So, I guess I just need to grow a pair and tell her, and whatever happens happens. Anyway, I didn't continue about my story yesterday so I guess I will get back to it today. If you are reading this I just want you to know that I am recounting my life story, not for entertainment, but because I think that I have left so many memories buried and it is time for me to face them and put them out there in all their glory for everybody to see. And that maybe that will help me come to terms with who I truly am.

Anyway, I left off in Hawaii, when I started smoking. I was in the 7th grade and after school, me and a kid from the neighborhood would go out skating. Well my friend's father smoked so sometimes we would steal some smokes. I didn't really enjoy it, nor did I do it that often, but I think that it sowed the seeds to my future addiction. During this time I also really got into to surfing and volleyball, but especially volleyball, which is extremely popular in Hawaii. Not to mention the fact that it is probably the one sport that I truly excelled at. Also, during this time my mother really wanted to foster a child. I don't think that my Dad really wanted to but he went along with it. So, my brother Steven, who is pretty much full-blooded Hawaiian moved in. He was only 8 years old, and had bounced around from home to home until he made it to ours. His real parents were junkies who made him and his 7 brothers and sisters live literally on the beach, until they were taken away from them. Me and Steven got along great, he was a natural athlete, and fearless. So, skating came real natural to him, along with just about every sport he played. Things were going so well that my Mom thought it would be a good idea to have Steven's real sister move in as well, Christina. Her and my real sister hit it off as well. Me and my real sister, Crystal, didn't really get along that well when we were young, so to have someone else of the same gender to play with was great. It was soon thereafter, when we were getting ready to move again, that my parents decided to adopt Steven and Christina. So after the adoption, we were off to Italy. Sounds kind of like a great childhood so far right? Yea well, I haven't gotten to the bad parts yet, which I will leave for another time. But just a little foreshadowing here, Italy doesn't really have a drinking age.

Day Six

I have completed yet another day of not drinking. I haven't had the cravings yet, but that could just be because it is still so soon after my DUI. Although, I just realized that this is probably the longest that I have gone without a drink since I went to Afghanistan over a year ago. But that is a story for another time. I also haven't had a cigarette since either. I am now sleeping through the night with no problem, the first few nights were really rough. I am also dreaming again, which is something that I don't remember doing when I would drink before bed. I used to think that a bottle of wine was just my form of Ambien. The first couple of days after the event I was so stressed about what was going to happen to me that I could hardly sleep at all. But then I realized that whatever the Army does to me couldn't compare to the destructive force that is alcohol and the potential that it has to destroy me.

It is an odd feeling to be completely disgusted with oneself, and yet totally overjoyed with the fact that you have finally admitted to yourself who you truly are. For the first time since I was a kid I feel alive and full of hope at what my life can be. Alcohol has devoured the last 13 years of my life and I refuse to let it have anymore!!

So now I am 30 years old and I feel like my adult life is just beginning. Which is fine, because at least now I will remember everything!!

Day Five

Well, day four of sobriety has come and gone. I wish that I could say that it is easy. I guess that I should elaborate. On April 18th I had my second DUI in two years. Talk about a wake up call! The thing that was different about this one was that I don't really remember what happened at all. And the stupid thing was that I could have walked home, if I wasn't so drunk that I thought, 'What are the chances of getting pulled over, when I live less than a mile away?', pretty freakin' dumb!! I guess during the first DUI, I didn't think that I was that drunk, I remember everything, so in my mind I didn't think that I had a problem. I just thought that I got caught! Oh well, what are the odds of it happening again? Complete and utter denial. This second one scared the crap out of me. Not to mention I am still waiting to see what the consequences are going to be. I can just pray that the Army doesn't kick me out and that I can have the opportunity to seek help because I don't think I can do it on my own. In fact, I am going to go to my first AA meeting on Fri. This will probably be one of the most difficult things that I will ever do. I am a proud man, and for me to admit to myself that I have a drinking problem is probably the most significant thing that has ever happened to me. And regardless of the consequences as far as the Army is concerned, I think that when the cop pulled me over he inadvertently saved my life. Maybe not that night, I probably would have made it home with no problem, but some other night when I would have crawled back behind the wheel and possibly killed myself and taken someone else's life with me. Anyway, I guess I should get back to what I was talking about previously. So, after my Dad returned from Korea, we were off to Hawaii.
I remember having to take a military "Hop" to get there, probably to save a bit of money. We were loaded onto a C5 military transport plane, there were what seemed to my child's eyes, cargo up to the ceiling, and the seats consisted of cargo netting attached to the sides of the plane, with all the cargo piled in front of us. There were no windows, which to a 10 year old is a little freaky, and the men's bathroom, ( I can't speak of the women's, but I imagine that it wasn't much better) had funnels attached by strings to the ceiling, and hoses attached to the funnels that went wherever they went. And that was what we used for urinals. I have no idea, nor do I want to know what the toilets were like. So, other than the horrible bathrooms, the inedible box lunches that they handed out, and the fact that it was so loud you couldn't possibly sleep, not to mention that the cargo netting seats were so uncomfortable that you couldn't sleep even if you wanted to, the flight was great. I mean how could it not have been? I was going to Hawaii!!
We flew into Barber's Point Naval Station, on the south, or leeward, side of Oahu. This was where my father's Chinook squadron was stationed. My day's in Hawaii were a blur really, we were there for three year's. At first we lived on the base and I went to Barber's Point Elementary school, which was a great school. I will always remember my PE teacher, Mr. Yokohama, who always told me to 'Follow your shot', during basketball, because I would almost always miss. I remember going to the principle's office for the first time because I asked a kid in my class to stand back to back with me to see who was taller, and then I pulled his pants down in front of everybody. I remember losing my best friend, and his family to person that was driving while high on weed. How ironic. I haven't thought about him in years. But mostly I remember sitting in Mr Cox's class and watching the Challenger taking off, and then seeing it explode. This was especially significant to me and our community, because one of the astronauts, Ellison Onizuka, was related in some way to one of the teachers at my school.
Shortly after my sixth grade year my parents bought a house just off base. And I started to attend a private christian school, because my mom didn't want me going to public school. During this time we were attending a local church, but my father did not. And I think the fact that I went to a private christian school irked my Dad a little. It was during this time that I began to notice the cracks in my parent's marriage. Also during this time I started skateboarding alot and hanging out with some of the wrong kids in the neighborhood. This was when I started my first addiction. Cigarettes. In the 7th grade!!

Day Four

OK, so this is the first time that I have ever blogged or written about my life, but I am hoping that it will be cathartic in some way. My writing skills may not be what they once were but I will try my best. As for the title of this post being 'Day Four', that is because this is officially my fourth day of being sober. It may not sound like much, but to me, it means everything. However, I feel like I should probably start from the beginning.

I was born into the military, in San Jose, back in 1977. My mother is a beautiful half- European/half-Mexican woman, born in Utah but raised in San Jose, and she is also an extremely religious woman. My father, on the other hand, was born and raised in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and is mostly Irish(which some would say contributes to my drinking problem) with a little English sprinkled in. My father was, and still is, very not religious, but I'll get to that later. Most people would probably expect me to say now how my parents were abusive, but that just was not the case. My parents loved and still do love me and my sister very much, and except for the occasional spanking with the leather belt, we were not abused in any way. Even though my father always did threaten to get the belt with the meat hooks in them, which of course, he never did produce. And my mother liked to spank me with a wooden spoon, until I learned that if I flexed my butt at just the right time I could break the spoon in half. I thought it was hilarious, my mother, not so much.
My parents met when my father was working as a mechanic for the Army, stationed at Ft Ord. I don't really know much about their early days or their romance that led up to the marriage, I have a feeling that it wouldn't be a very good subject to bring up. All I know is that less than a year later I was born. Shortly thereafter, we were stationed at Ft Bliss in El Paso, Texas. Or maybe I should just say we were living in Mexico. I don't really remember much from those times, although my sister was born there, I learned to ride a bike, and I was bit badly by a neighbor's dog. I also remember seeing my first solar eclipse and I saw the hatching of the cicadas, which only hatch once every 17 years. For some reason those are the memories that stuck with me from my time there. Maybe the rest has been erased by all my years of partying. Who knows? Maybe through the course of writing this I will regain some of those lost memories.
Anyway, while we were in Texas, my father applied for and was accepted to the Army's Warrant Officer Candidate School. We then moved to Ft. Rucker, Alabama. By this time I was in first grade, I don't really remember much about this time either, because we were only there for a year while my father completed flight school. Although, I do remember how red the dirt was and how it stained everything, and how I was made to sing 'All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth', in the school Christmas play. Which I think has made me nervous in front of large groups ever since.
After this brief time in Alabama my father got stationed in Korea, which is a one year tour but you cannot bring your family with you, so, we moved in with my Nonie, my father's mother in Cambridge. Again, this was another brief stay, only a year, and my memories from this time include living in the snow for the first time and having to walk what seemed like miles to get to school, but when you are in the second and third grade how much can you remember? After my father's tour in Korea, we were off to Hawaii. This is probably the best part of my childhood that I can remember. But, I will leave that for tomorrow.