Therapy

One day shortly after returning from that trip, I got Marisa, Matt and myself into family therapy. I think many professionals would agree that was a very wise choice.
I called a local woman who specialized in addiction in the family, or so she said.

It was a MISTAKE. I'm not sure if it's because she was in Malibu, and believe me I have spoken to more than one professional in the field who have told me that many doctors would not consider setting up a practice here because of the calibre of help given by the local doctors, etc.

Well, I hadn't realized that at the time, I just wanted to heal the family the only way I knew how. I went alone and several times I took the two kids.
The advice that I was given was the beginning of the end of my happy marriage.

This woman who was my first therapist, was telling me what to do. Something I later learned is not done. I was so desperate to "fix" the situation at home that I listened to everything she told me to do. Including leaving Bob at home and going on our planned vacation to Hawaii without him.

At the time, she told me it was the only way to assert myself and it would be a lesson for him that he could no longer rage against me verbally, which was happening a lot since his relapse. Bottom line is all roads were leading to the end of the marriage.

Looking back it seemed ridiculous because neither one of us were planning on ending the marriage at that time. We loved each other, but couldn't tolerate the behaviour.
Quite a conundrum to put it mildly. It was almost like my therapist wanted to break up the marriage. She did nothing that I can recall to help me save it.

After a few short visits Matt refused to go back to see her and so did Marisa. We never did get any help as a family, or help as individuals for that matter. It just made things harder at home.

I just terminated the sessions and was left to try and pick up the pieces myself.

What does a family do when there are addiction problems? Everyone agrees that it is not easy to be married or in a relationship with a practicing addict, but here we were once more, Bob wasn't drinking, he was just so angry all the time.

It was the year that Bob and I started fighting more and more about his daughter, which had become a really hot topic of conversation from this point up until the end.

He would go on and on about her and how he felt used. He could say whatever and all I could do was just listen, because if I said one thing he didn't like, he would turn the fight on me. I wasn't used to fighting about his daughter, we always got along great. For all the years she didn't want to come to our house I could always manage something to say to put the fire out in his head. I could no longer do that.
The truth was starring him in the face.

She would not speak to him, the family condoned it, and he was still giving her money through his father. The resentments were mounting, and I can't say I didn't agree.

I must say, if my child did to me what she did to him I would have stopped paying her tuition and let her mother deal with it. But once again Bob was always filled with guilt. He didn't know how to stick up for what was right because of it.
She simply got her cake and she got to eat it too.

That year was the ultimate slap in his face, he was never comfortable with confronting Marisa or her mother, who actually was quite happy to encourage the bad behavior of Marisa, that was until just about one year into the silence that Marisa had a car fire after installing a new radio in her car.

Now she finally needed something from her father bad enough to finally give him a call. Bob was so happy to talk to her he welcomed the fact that she was only calling because she needed something from him.

Her car was totaled and he was the registered owner. The insurance money was going to be sent to him. I guess she didn't hate him enough not to need the money for a new car. Her mom would put in half for the new car and if he agreed to give her back the insurance money that would buy her a new Jeep. As usual he told her of course. What he told me was a totally different story.

Once again I got the brunt of his true feelings. He was pretty disgusted with her and her mom hitting him up for the money. After all, didn't Marisa tell us all that her Mom was going to take care of everything for her and she didn't need him any longer? And on and on and on. He was always treated that way. Once she even told us that we got her all the cool stuff and her Mom would buy her the basics, pajama's underwear stuff like that.
I have a feeling that year was hard for her without that credit card of his soon after that she got the use of it back. Some things never change.
She was speaking to him again and using his money again. Funny how that worked out.
A pattern that never ended.

Birthday Lunch

To say that coming home was a very difficult time would be an understatement.
I was simply devestated by all that had gone on between Bob and Marisa and Bob and I.

I felt so sad that Marisa and Bob were totally estranged from one another. I decided that I did not want to celbrate my birthday that year. It didn't feel like anything that I wanted to do. It was a very sad time for us all. I guess I never really understood the resentment that Marisa had for her father. I really thought she loved him so much. I remembered her as a loving little girl who just adored her Daddy.

Of course time had gone by and things do change, but never did his love, adoration or support for her ever faulter, so I didn't see this coming.

Getting together with our family was always the best of times. This year would be more than difficult so I just told the family I wasn't going to celebrate and I didn't.

I did go to lunch with Marisa alone to celebrate my birthday. I really wanted to remain close to her inspite of everything that was going on. At this point I had no harsh feeling toward her I sympathized with her. Loosing the love of your parent is a very big deal in one's life and to actually bring this upon yourself is an entirely different matter. He still loved her and would have gotten over everything in a heartbeat, she would be the one who would be difficult to sway. I was hoping beyond hope that I could be the Peacemaker between them. I would learn that wasn't going to happen at least not at this lunch.

At that lunch we talked about everything that had happened in Paris of course, but the one thing that stands out in my mind just as clear as the day she uttered it were the following words.

In the middle of discussing everything Marisa uttered "I'm cold like Bonnie".
I managed to keep my mouth shut but inside I was shocked. I never forgot that because I went back home and told Bob.
I was literally crying because that was the most tragic statement I had ever heard come out of a brilliant young girl.

Here was a girl I admired more than anyone. I actually looked up to her. I admired how she worked hard at School got into Stanford, even if it wasn't her first choice, I was impressed. I had always been so proud of her and was willing to overlook the entire episode of wanting to leave her dad in Paris because emotions were running high and I thought we would all heal sooner than later.

But the sad reality was that she had no intention of ever speaking to him, at least not for a long time. I thought it would blow over, but I knew it wasn't going too.

Something always happened to me when anyone was upset with Bob, I always defended him because I believed in him so much.
I had no influence over his daughter. It was never more clear that from the point of her return home all her decisions were going to be talked over with her Mom and probably her other family members. There wasn't going to be forgivness going on.
Her Mom wasn't going to pay for everything as Marisa had imagined, but she did contact Bob's father for his half and now Marisa had no reason to talk to him at all.
Bob's dad would give her mom a check every month and Bob would reimburse him.
I guess it was always about the money.
Even though Marisa was over 18 and he legally didn't have to support her at all, especially if she didn't want to deal with him. He couldn't not support her as he had always done.
His father was trying to make things better by pretending that the money was coming from him, but it only made the distance between Bob and his daughter broader.

I went home and really felt very sorry for Bob, I started to cry as I told him about my conversation with Marisa at lunch. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we all better get into therapy and fast. This was not good. Marisa was being incouraged to ingore her dad, but take the money.

I called the pyscologist.

Shattered Delusions

For years I had clung to the delusion that as long as Bob didn't pick up a drink we would be fine. No matter what, I would be able to forgive and forget. Acutally that worked for many many years. It worked so well that little by little I started to loose the respect of Bob and I think Matt. I never wanted to "Rock the Sobriety Boat"
But like the "butterfly effect" one day a harsh word from his father changed our reality forever. I didn't have anything to do with the changes that were about to happen. I was caught in the eye of his storm and I didn't have a life raft I had a veil of delusion. I guess it's really called denial.

Mind you, my delusions of our peaceful harmonious life where thinly veiled. I wanted to have the perfect little family and for many years everyone who knew us thought that was exactly what we were. Even a few years before Bob had gone crazy when a Pain Management Doctor had taken him off of Valium "Cold Turkey" no less, he wasn't drinking, even though he was totally crazy coming off of it.
He was tipping over the kitchen table acting insane and many hours into a fight, he started taunting me with unacceptable insults. I had hauled off and whacked him in the face.

I had no idea I was so strong. I had been taking self defense classes privately from one of the women at our karate studio and I guess I had learned well. I scarred myself. I vowed I would never raise hand to anyone again. After all, I had be slapped around enough by Bob in the early years. I was ashamed of myself and totally baffled how strong emotions can make a person loose all sense of control. I knew where he had come from back them.
But Bob was not drinking. All was forgiven.

Covered by a now thread bear cover of hope more than reality one day after we returned home from Europe I woke up and our lives were altered forever.

I'm always speaking of having a mirror put up in front of a person and that morning my mirror was 10 feet tall. I could not change the facts of what had happened nor the reality that I wasn't ever going to get over it.

First of all I was totally jet lagged we arrived back from London and it was around noon our time. I went directly to Bed when I got home, I didn't go to our room because Bob was in there smoking and pacing.
I needed some rest and escapism more than anything. Matt also went to sleep so Bob was on his own.

I got up the next morning went down to the kitchen as usual and made myself a cup of cappuccino with really hot steamed milk. Bob was up early which was a sign that he had probably not slept much or at all. His insomnia was raging.
I had become very comfortable with having at least an hour or so to myself every morning without the drama of Bob which recently had become an art to deal with.
I did keep in mind that he was also devestated by drinking after all those years and I tried to keep his feelings in perspective. I wanted to believe he could get over this slip and get back to another fourteen years without a drink. I really wanted to believe that he could do it. After Europe I really wasn't sure about anything. I had seen the Bob I had run from many years ago "reborn". It scarred me beyond belief. In my life the only thing that really terrified me was Bob actively drinking or on a dry drunk just about to take that drink.

That's were I found myself that morning. In the Twilight Zone. My past was shattered and my future hanging by a thread.

The first words out of Bob's mouth were derogatory and accusing. He started to blame everything that happened in Paris on me. He started talking about Meagan and how beautiful she was. How she could have been another Sharon Stone. I literally saw red.
Much like the night I hit him, I do not remember what he was still yelling at me, all I remember is not wanting to go back to place of violence and before I knew what I was doing I launched my steaming hot coffee in his face.
He was stunned quiet. He didn't have a shirt on so it also hit his chest. I was in big trouble, or so I thought.
What happened was the opposite. He calmed down, went up to our room and literally took a cold shower.
When he was finished he called his Dad. One of the worst moments in my life was getting on the phone and telling his Dad what I just did to him. I have the feeling that Marisa had called him also so he was really compassionate with me as usual.
He told me to apologize and everything would be OK not to worry. I put Bob back on the phone. His father knew as well as anyone that Bob could be difficult, he also wanted more than anything to have me help Bob not pick up another drink. His dad knew that for some reason if anyone could or would help Bob to try and stay sober it could be me. I would not let his Dad, Matt, Bob or myself down. I loved him and I wasn't ready to throw in the towel on our marriage.
As hurt as I was I was willing to try or so I thought until I threw hot coffee on him. Now I didn't even know who I had become.

I had been so careful to walk on egg shells with Bob and Marisa to get them back home safe and in relatively not too damaged shape and now it was all turned on me again. But this time I was different. I was never going to be the same. I would never be that wishy washy wife as Matt used to call me so many times. That person disappeared that morning.

I had tried to get over Meagan, had taken the family on our first European vacation together with the hopes of healing and forgiveness and the truth was it was not going to ever be the same.
I had to face the fact that I was not a woman who was going to ever really trust him again. And with no trust we really had nothing. What was left was a family that was going to put up with each other for the sake of our son.
He begged me on many occasions not to get a divorce and I stayed because I didn't want to hurt him.
I would simply have to find a way to control my anger and hide my broken heart.

I had a broken heart. I loved Bob more than words could ever say, I was his defender always, maybe even his guardian angel and he threw it all away and rubbed Megan in my face when he was angry.

He could be so cruel at times. He was a Scorpio and his words were often cruel and targeted at doing damage. He looked for a weak spot and went for it.
I was now going to fight back and for the first time, I engaged him verbally like never before. I didn't care.

I had moved to Malibu with the hope that he would be far away from temptation, which he was at the time, I had walked on egg shells and people pleased him to death, but all that bought me was an illusion. Fact was he still picked up the drink and I had to let go of the idea that I had anything to do with his sobriety. He simply stayed sober because he wanted too and one day he didn't want to be sober any longer and he drank. End of story. That chapter of my life was over. I had better find a way and fast to learn to cope with our present situation.

I got up early the next morning and went to an Al anon meeting. I have never like this 12 step program and in fact always identified more with AA, at least there seemed to be a sense of hope and compassion there. I had experienced people reaching out to Bob and trying to help him stay sober. I prayed that I could find the same kind of support. I really needed help. I wasn't going to find it there. I poured my heart out when I shared and much to my shock, I was cut off and told not to talk about what had just happened in Paris. It was the last meeting I went too.

I called a friend and got the number of a psychologist in Malibu, I prayed that she could help us. Boy was I wrong.

The Flight Home

Even when you are having the time of your life on vacation the flight home from London can seem to take an eternity. The biggest problem usually is the fact that you are flying into the morning. No nighttime to get some sleep.

As you can imagine, Bob did not wake up smelling the roses that day. He was tired and in the middle of the mother of all dry drunks. I had to get Matt and Marisa and us checked out of our hotel and through security at Heathrow. In the best circumstances it's not pleasant, but Marisa had an excess of baggage and weight in her suitcases that we had prepared for but we never anticipated the mood that everyone would be in.

Imagine trying to act like a happily little family at that point. What a stretch.
Bob was already going into nicotine withdrawal and dealing with the baggage was the last thing that he had the patience for that morning. As I recall there was only one little glitch at checking everything in and we were on our way to our gate.
Everyone was on their best behavior, thank god.

We boarded our plane and Matt and Bob sat together and Marisa and I were together.
As fate would have it Bob was seated next to two little kids that were having a pillow fight for what seemed like an eternity. He finally snapped. He started pacing up and down the Aile of the plane taunting Marisa. I really can't remember what he was saying to her, but his remorse had turned to anger. That was not a good sign.
People were drinking all around him and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on in his head.
Marisa had informed him that her mother would be picking her up at the airport and taking her home there would be no need for us to bother.
He was not going to escape seeing her mom after this trauma, and don't forget Marisa was telling him that she no longer needed him for ANYTHING.

I had saved two of his Valium and brought them with me on this trip just in case something like this should happen. I gave one to Marisa and I took the other. We had to stay somewhat calm on the outside, we could not afford to get into a fight on an airplane. Bob was pacing like a caged animal now. It was too bad that he couldn't take any Valium he was the one that needed it most, but he had just almost died from Valium withdrawal two months before this. If he had any idea I had save a couple he would have taken them and been back in trouble.
I was awake through a real nightmare. I prayed for the strength to just be calm and be understanding and supportive of the two of them. I can't believe I gave Marisa a Valium but it was the only way I knew how to stop the insanity. I think she went to sleep and Bob no longer could antagonize her.
Things seemed fairly calm during the remainder of the flight.

We arrived at LAX and the first thing that Marisa did was call her Mom to let her know we were in customs. It was then that her Mom told her that she was going out that night, but that she would get her some food to eat when she got hungry.
Bob didn't say much to her, but to me on the way home he wouldn't stop.

He just called it. He said if Marisa thought that her Mom was going to let him off the hood financially she was just kidding herself. She couldn't even break her dinner plans when Marisa was in a total crisis. He couldn't get over it. Whatever he was he always put his kids first. It was shocking to him. So Marisa had to basically go home to an empty house after one of the most traumatic experiences of her life. Not to mention that she had been gone for the past four months while studying and traveling abroad.

Her Mom always put her needs first. It was the thing that Marisa seemed to turn a blind eye to. Always. No matter what her father did it was wrong or bad. Her Mom on the other hand could do no wrong. He was furious.

Bob certainly was flawed, at times unbearable, but there was never a time when he didn't put his kids needs before his own. Right up until the end.

A Family in Crisis

If there ever was a moment in my life where I had no control over the events that were about to unfold it was sitting in a cab with Bob trying desperately to get him to an AA Meeting without him just telling the driver to pull over to the nearest Pub.

I had to accept that the dream of getting over the slip was Shattered. I never took into consideration how much anger and rage Marisa had towards her father. I should not have been surprised but I was shocked at the level of her rage.

Coming from a family of Mob guys I was used to people being more than angry at family members but never did I experience it first hand. His daughter really wanted nothing to do with her father, she would have preferred to have left him in Paris and the three of us just get one with our little vacation.

I never loved Bob more than I did at this moment in his life and I really felt his heartbreak. It also broke my heart that the truth could no longer be brushed under the rug and forgotten with tons and tons of retail therapy. The jig was up so to speak and as crazy as it sounds for the first time in years I was also proud of Marisa for telling him that she wanted nothing from him ever again.

Now this is what she wanted and she would soon find out that even though she thought her Mom would cover all the expenses associated with her Stanford tuition and the free spending she had on her dad's credit card she would soon come to realize that her Mother would have nothing to do with that scenario. But at least for the time being she felt that her relationship with him was not worth the stuff.

She was convinced that her Mom would just take care of everything. It was not meant to be.

Of course our amazing Matt would stay neutral as usual. He comforted his dad and stayed with his sister to in his own way comfort her.

I may not have been born into a well educated or wealthy family, but the one thing we were oozing with was the importance of family and I was being torn in half. Matt was neutral he loved us all. I had to find a way to comfort both Bob and Marisa, They were both hurting on so many levels that I was not prepared to handle. My god we needed a full time shrink on board for the next few months and I was in no shape to upset the apple cart with either of them.
I had to literally handle both of them with kid gloves. Bob's life depended on having my support because he was looking for any excuse to throw in the towel and just drink himself into oblivion.
He never really knew how much his daughter was affected by his alcoholism but the truth revealed in this manner was not something either of us had been prepared for.

I was angry with myself for even agreeing to go on this trip in the first place. Had I just said NO none of this would have happened but there was no turning back.
I was now in my maternal protective mode. I had to protect then both. From themselves and each other. Not an easy task for anyone, but given the tight quarters we were facing flying home together was freaking me out. I had no idea how Bob could make that flight without a cigarette or a drink.
All these thoughts were going through my head while I was in that car and as we pulled up to the meeting place, I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. Bob had made it past hurdle number one.
He wanted to get into that meeting as much as I wanted him to be there.

There really is such a thing as a miricle and that evening Bob experienced another miricle of sorts.
We were the first people to arrive at the meeting and the man who was leading asked Bob if he would do the honor of leading the group. Bob accepted and by doing so he would have no excuse to leave early.

The man's name was Ray. I will never forget that he saved Bob's life that night. They had an instant bond. In England it is a bit different that over in the States.
The person leading the meeting has to tell his story. I felt that we were really being protected that night.

Bob poured his heart out that night and instead of many different stories everyone there rallied around Bob and his honesty. He actually begged for their help and told them how he didn't think he could make it without a drink that night.

Ray told his story and as bad as Bob was feeling at the moment his heart went out to Ray. Ray told the group how his beloved daughter had passed away a year ago and how his marriage had fallen apart behind it. It was probably the only story that could top the pain that Bob was feeling. He may have lost his daughter's affection on this trip, but she was still alive and he would have an opportunity pehaps in the future to make it up to her.

Ray on the other hand would never have another chance to tell his daughter how much he loved and adored her. She was truly lost forever. It was a glimmer of light at the end of a long painful two days.
Ray was so taken by Bob and he related to how much that Bob wanted to drink, that he actually drove us back to our hotel and spent two hours with Bob in the coffee shop talking and comforting him. While they were talking I went to check on Matt and Marisa to make sure that they were ok and to let them know that we were back at the hotel. Marisa took really good care of feeding and entertaining Matt so they were just fine. I was emotionally on pins and needles. I just prayed that I could keep it together for all our sakes.
What an amazing gift Ray was that night. By the time he left it was well over 2am and we had to be at the airport at 7am. No time for drinking fighting or anything but sleeping.
Bob's last words when he got back to the room were, "I don't know if I can make it without a drink (there was a mini bar in the room), but I will try. That was enough for me. I kissed him good night and thanked him for trying.

At that point it was all about reverse phycology. I could not lecture him or tell him what would happen if he did drink. He already knew and as far as he was concerned there wasn't much left to live for that night. The words that had spilled from Marisa's mouth would haunt him forever. No matter how much in the years to come we would all try to pretend that they were never uttered they were always lurking in the back of our minds.

In all the years I knew him and all the fights we had experience neither of us had ever stooped to the level that she did. No one ever wanted anything but for him to be sober, she went beyond compassion with tough love into hatred. It forever altered my opinion of her and I really felt sorry for her. She obviously had some major major issues.

I had been kicked out of my house years before and it never occured to me to hate my parents, I simply was stunned. But I loved her and I needed to get her back home to her mom in one emotional piece also. I alwasy used to say no one gets to be like they are by themselves. We are shaped by our childhood and our parents and given the fact that she spent most of her time with her Mom and her family the damage was irreversable.
Whatever love she used to have for her father had been altered and it was heartbreaking to watch them both suffering like they were. I rose to the occassion and did my best to mother the two of them. Matt was just a dream, so loving to them both. He was always there for his Dad. And his Dad adored him for that love.

Becoming Stephanie

I woke up this morning with the lingering distaste of something that was told to me, hence I wrote the previous blog last night.

I must have had a very restless night and I woke up remembering another strange dream.
I have had several in the past week.
While in Las Vegas last week, I had one of the most vivid dreams of my life. It was so real I can still remember it. When Matt and his girlfriend got back to the room, I told him the following story:

I was watching TV in the room and all of a sudden walking towards me from in front of the Television was a little girl. She came and sat on the bed with me and I touched her and told her I was so surprised because I was sure that she must have been a dream and now I was touching a real girl. It was very comforting to not be alone in the hotel room and I was happy to have her with me.
I was touching her hair and talking to her.
The next thing I know is the door opened quite loudly and I was alone and awake.

I started to tell Matt about this and even he said it seemed strange that I was having a dream and talking about dreaming in it.
Whatever it was, either my imagination or someone in the spirit world visiting me I of course will never know, but I still feel the lingering presence of a very sweet little girl.

Maybe that little girl was the sweet girl I used to adore in Marisa. I treated her with so much love and kindness always. Even when I knew how much she was changing I tried to be kind to her. That didn't mean I agreed with her, but I simply allowed her to reveal her true self and saw less and less of her.
Perhaps I was missing those long lost wonderful days, filled with love and hope for the future. Maybe I was missing the sweet and kind child that has turned into a rather cold woman in so many ways so much like her father with a propensity for the same addictive relief.
They both love the Trancs to calm them down. She likes the Xanax and he loved the Valium. The only exception is that she isn't aware of the path she is on, no matter how I tried to tell her years ago to be careful of that. The apple does not fall far from the tree as they say.

Last night I dreamt of romance. That is certainly out of the question for me who seems to be at the top of her jaded ways. But there it was, in living color another bad boy, much like Bob.

Imagine dreaming of a handsome man with an edge, Sober no less in AA. I have vowed to myself I will never ever get involved with another alcoholic. There is just too much of a gamble to ever go there again.
How could I be dreaming of being attracted to someone with the same addiction issues. Am I just missing Bob? Who knows? It wasn't his face up there on a movie screen of my dreams.

That is enough to have me running to a shrink. What is it about me that would be so attracted to another problem relationship. That is the exact reason I refuse to date.
The fear of another terrible outcome just for the momentary pleasure of being in love or lust, who knows. I only know one thing for sure, If I like a man, he is going to be trouble. That is my type. Trouble with a capital T.

I look around and I have yet to see happiness in couples who are together. The initial joy is never sustained. Young or old, it always ends up the same.
I am convinced most people stay in a relationship because they need the company or they do not want the stigma of being alone.

I never feel alone and I certainly don't fear it. I think I am blessed by always having been a loner. My entire life I would rather sit in my room alone as a young girl even, listening to my music or simply being alone with my thoughts.
Sometimes I think it is because I did not grow up with my natural parents and though I was loved and adored, it was different. I child feels the difference to the core of their soul. I just didn't have a strong bond like I have with my son. I was always treated like the honored guest I think.

The pain of the last few years of my marriage were enough of a cure for me. Being Alone seemed like the prize not the punishment to me.
So today I would rather focus on the past good times in the end, when Bob had his girlfriend to take it out on and not me.

Which brings me to this point in the subject matter.

Why do people always hurt the ones they love? Is it because they think they won't loose them? Do they think it is part of the "relationship" I have no idea.
I do know that I never got along better with Bob than when I was not living with him and we were in the process of getting the divorce.
Our friendship was stronger than ever, we actually enjoyed our brief time together when we did manage to have dinner or see a movie. All of his demons were no longer my problem and I only saw the good side of him. I now had the luxury of removing myself from his presence if things got ugly. He would simply have to go home to his condo alone or he could go to the house he shared with Linda.
I felt sorry for them both. They had each found themselves in the other, it was a hell of a price to pay for romance.

Being Enlightened

So what has happened to me emotionally and intellectually during my lifetime? I have become more than enlightened in the ways of the world. Unfortunately life has forever altered me and some would say not in a good way.
I have had to go into survival mode on so many levels. I feel like a man who has the pleasure and the burden of protecting their loved ones.
I have gone into warrior mentality, not by choice but by necessity. All my senses are heightened and I am aware of perhaps more than I want to be aware of.
I no longer trust anyone to be what they appear on the outside to be.
My mind always reserves the right to disprove what they are saying. I know that most people have their own agenda, we no longer live in a kind world. It has become a survival of the fittest world.
The weak have always been run over by the strong. I choose not to ever be weak again.

In the past two years I have lost everything that was important to me except my son.
I have lost the ability to believe in people and kindness. I used to be so naive and Bob would get very upset with me and tell me how ridiculous I was to trust everyone. Unfortunately, he was so right.

He had the ability to see right through people. He could judge them in a second and know who they really were. It was a gift that held him in good standing while practicing law in his younger years.
He could see the lies in their eyes. If you recall earlier I told a story about how he knew his cousin would be killed by his former best friend. The court mediator thought he was crazy. Less than a week later, his cousin would indeed be murdered by his friend.

I did have the luxury of finally listening to Bob, the last couple of years of his life. He was relatively clean and sober and when you had a sober Bob you were in the presence of brilliance.

I have never known a more insightful or brilliant mind. It was one of the most attractive things about him, besides he good looks.

He called it every time. He humbled me in so many ways and in the end I took advantage of his tutoring me in the ways of life and the world.
He had overcome so many obstacles in his life with his battling his addiction.
He too had suffered the loss of so many things. None of them material. I think it started when he lost his mother. He was consumed by all the things he did to disappoint her. He was torchered by the loss of his daughter's love of him, and baffled how he offered her so much and got really nothing in return except her wanting more of his money and not his time.
He rarely spoke of his brother's lack of approval it was just too deep and painful to talk about. He loved him but they were never close in the 25 years that I had know them. Not close like I am with my brother, who I can call up and just talk and he will listen to what is going on in my life. I think it was probably the reason Bob and Richard were so close, Bob could talk to him and Richard would listen. He regarded Richard as a brother and in his way he rewarded that kindness by helping Richard get a house. Richard never judged him like so many did, he simply saw the good side and couldn't even conceive a the things that were going on when Bob was drinking.
Bob's father was one of the most generous people I have ever known,he too rewarded people who were loyal to him with great kindness. Don't get me wrong, they both could be very tough and I would hate to be on the bad side of either of them. But they both had a balance between tough and kind that balanced them out.

I loved being influenced by that kind of generosity. I really wanted to follow in their loving footsteps, BUT it is a different world now. People are different, there is a world full of opportunists even loved ones can become opportunists. I told Matt I think I went to sleep one night and work up as DAD.

I now tend to see the world totally different than many people who I used to be surrounded by. I no longer have the luxury of pretending and keeping my mouth shut and hope that all the uncomfortable things that life throws my way, will just vanish.
I no longer have a shoulder to lean on or the strength of a man. Actually the strengh I thought I was leaning on crumbled into a pile of dust anyway. The illusion of security, just vanished in a moment of truth one night a little over two years ago.

The woman I had been died that fateful night also, but I didn't realize it at the moment that my life would be altered in so many ways. That night I lost my other half, the half that kept the lid on outrageous thoughts for the most part.
The metamorphose has been complete. Sometimes welcomed and sometimes not.

I'm a woman, living in a man's world. Much like Jane Austin I don't want to play the part that society deems fit for a female. Where the hell is society when, I'm facing financial ruin at the hands of a man, who is in charge of a simple act like delivering a check on time.
In two years I watched my credit rating plummet at the hands of a man, and had to spend ten thousand dollars on an attorney just to get my checks delivered by the first of the month. I was not supposed to fight for anything, and believe me, the opinion that man has of me is probably not good. How dare I question a man? A professional old man at that. A man who can't really remember things as it was glaring out at me during the final phase of me finishing up my part of probate, my divorce. This man "thought" he had already paid me back my legal fees. Does anyone think that I would forget that? Whatever.

Tonight I was reminded of one very important thing. I would rather be respected than liked because no matter what I do someone always seems to be bothered.

Oh, I used to be liked, adored or possibly even loved. Who knows. Today as I sit here I would rather be a force to reckon with than the weak, meek or simple minded who seem to dominate the world today. Nothing gets past my eagle eyes or my perception. I have finally become more like a man in my thinking than a woman. I cringe at remembering my old subservient ways. It makes me ashamed that I allowed so many things to happen to me. Marisa said it best when she reminded me that I should have never even trusted her father by not reading certain documents pertaining to my divorce. TRUST NO ONE once again screams out loud.
It's like being trained as a warrior. Every sense is heightened. That's survival mode. You can't help it. It just is. Nothing gets past me of importance, it doesn't make people comfortable.

Has there ever been a President of any country that was loved and adored by Everyone?
Hell no. Do they seem to care? Just think of Clinton or Bush. It's part of the job description. Half the country or more will end up despising you, regardless if they voted for them or not. The price of power is walking a lonely road. There are no friends just faces who either need you or want something from you.
At least the Politicians can blame their unpopularity on Partisan Politics. I can only blame myself for the separatist I have become.


I feel like I mostly identify with Jane Austin of all people. God forbid a woman should point out the inequities of the sexes. Or not want to depend on a man. Because trust me, I know that the price I paid for that false security came at way too high a price. One that destroys the meek. I was heading down that road until I had a miraculous recovery in my mind. I just will not give in to popular opinion of me or anything. Whatever I think or do not think I still end up in the same position Alone with my thoughts.

I can only tell you that I would not change anything about my outspoken personality for anyone. What are the choices? I could go back to crying and whining about my fate, or I can take the higher ground and make things happen for myself. A very unpopular thing for woman to do. Society puts woman into little boxes.
One day I was speaking to an insurance agent about getting a life insurance policy for myself and he said he was surprised because it is not something that woman do.
It's 2007 for gods sake. It is still a man's world.
I fell like since I've had to deal with men on their playing field, lawyers accountants insurance brokers etc. they view woman like children, "We should be seen and not heard".
I played the game for years and where did it get me? It got me an accurate view of life and a family that really doesn't know what it means to be a family.

There is no point on being a people pleas er. It is a waste of my time. People end up having something to say anyway. In life, it seems people are damned if they do and damned if they don't. So if those are the odds what the hell, there is nothing to loose but truth itself. Tell it like it is.It's why I choose to remain a lone ranger. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tonight I had an interesting situation where something got back to me. It's funny how the human mind is quick to point the finger away from the truth. Hell I'm happy I threaten people enough to have them still talking about me, as I said earlier this evening,I must be getting back on top of my game.
A smart woman is a dangerous thing to handle. Especially when there is no reason left to sensor truth any longer. If you run with me, be prepared to hear it that way I see it. Mostly very, very truthful. I do have a tendency to hold the mirror up and make people look into it.

I had to learn the hard way that in the end the only thing that really matters is how a person views themselves. "To thine own self be true" someone once uttered.
It is my motto, can't live it any other way any more. I spent too many years trying to please the people that in the end turned their backs on me for greed or for the fear that I knew too much and would and could dare to speak the truth.

Well here it is, the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth as I have written several times in the past. The pen is so much mightier than the sword. Words cut deeper than a knife.

Is it a curse to see through the haze of polite society, perhaps. It certainly does separate the men from the boys. Truth has never been for the weak, it brings grown men to their knees others to criminal acts.
So imagine me, a petite little blond with the insight to see right past all the bull shit and niceties of polite society. It is not a welcomed trait to poses.

Most people would much rather talk about you behind your back and pretend to share your same feelings. Not me. I have lost the sensible ability to sensor myself.
Mostly when I have this overwhelming need to speak the unspeakable. Whether or not it is well received. I do make some people uncomfortable but there is only one person in my entire world that matters to me, Matt. The rest are just players in the play of life. In a couple of years I won't even remember most of their names.

At least when I check out of this life in my final golden years I will have done it without fear of what others think of me. I already know and have always known.
They either fear or hate me. You know that old saying, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful"? That has been my life with the exception of my former husband and my son.
I have walk a solitary road for so many years. I never tried to be popular even back in high school, I found the jealousy of being my self something that alienated my friend from me. People like to hang out with clones of themselves. That way they don't see the need to change.

It's a double whammy to look like I do and see through the bullshit and tell it like it is. I just don't care anymore what people think of me.
I wouldn't want to be a member of a club that wanted me anyway, as W C Fields said.
I want to listen to the beat of my own drums not someone else's.

PARIS

What can I say about Paris, Bob and I were thrilled to be going. I had booked first class seats on the Chunned from London to Paris. The three of us were excited, Marisa was being her moody self.

Once we got our seats in the first class coach we were excited about our trip under the English Channel to get to Paris. That was a remarkable experience especially for Matt. He was loving this trip, Marisa was just plain bored. She didn't enjoy the lunch that was served to begin with. Hell what was not to enjoy? We were served lunch with fine china, silver and table linens. She "Wasn't Hungry" again.

I will never understand how stupid I was to believe that Marisa would even begin to actually forgive her Dad for his relapse back into drinking.
I guess Matt and I were already sort of over the shock of it, and more than willing to try and regain our once extremely happy home life.
I failed to take into consideration that Marisa did not have much to get back to. She rarely came over and she was getting just what she wanted. Us to get her and her overweight suitcases back to the States.

I started to get that little knot in the pit of my stomach. Bob and his daughter, Oil and Water. The tension was mounting between them.

The Chunnel trip was over and now we had to get a taxi to our hotel. I booked two connecting rooms at the "Inter Continental Hotel". The location was perfect. Near the Louve to begin with and all the places we wanted to see.
Bob had not been back to France since he was studing there in collage. He was excited to go exploring.

But first we needed to get our Rooms. If you have ever been to France you know that the experience can be very bad. Our connecting rooms were not, connecting, and Bob really started to loose it. He did not want the kids down the hall from us and we had to argue with the check in clerk to get our pre-booked rooms.
Tempers were starting to fray and just when I thought Bob was going to really loose it, a miricle happened. Sitting in the lobby of the Hotel was a very good friend of his from AA and her mother.

I don't think I was ever happier to see anyone from the program as I was to see her that day. We went over and talked to her for a while and she told us where there was a meeting near the Hotel. Of course Bob had no intention of attending a meeting while on this trip. He didn't tell her that but I'm sure she knew by his lack of enthusiasm.
Before we went up to our rooms, she made sure that she let us know what room she was in, just in case Bob needed her for "anything to do with his program>"
She had heard him share about how devastated I was and his family was by his slip.
He had lost his fourteen years of not drinking and we were all still numb with fear and disbelief.

After unpacking Bob and I decided to let the two kids explore on their own. He needed to chill out from the bad vibes he was getting, and Marisa just wanted to avoid him at all costs.

I am grateful for those few hours. It was romantic and I was really happy. All seemed to be forgotten, almost like we were heading into a second honeymoon so to speak.
We walked all over town, went and had the most amazing pastries and coffee and window shopped. Just looking and not shopping was totally fun.
We went back to our Hotel to get ready for our first dinner in Paris.

Matt and Marisa had explored Paris their way. I think they went to "Tuillery" gardens. There was a carnival and they had fun together. They rarely spend any time alone ever, so this was really a good thing for them to bond.
Matt of course was as excited about the programs on French TV as he was with any of the historical monuments.
TV over in France is nothing like he had ever seen. We just let him watch whatever.
It was four in the afternoon, how bad could it be? Marisa was appalled that we would let him watch it.
She seemed to be uptight about it. Hell, our philosophy was, when in Rome. Matt was having a "Real" French experience. I saw no harm in that. After all, it is the culture.

We found a very nice restaurant that we could walk to for dinner, so we all dressed nicely and walked over and we were not disappointed.
I can still see the quaint two story restaurant in my mind. We all of course visited the second story restrooms not only because we needed to, but because it was a perfect chance to explore the place.

I don't remember dinner being tense, but looking back at the walk home, I should have sensed trouble was brewing.

When we got back to the Hotel, Matt and Marisa went into their room and we went to ours. Even though they were connected we didn't all hang out. Matt came in for a while to see what we were doing and then went back to his room to watch TV with his sister.
Bob and I were just really getting over our jet lag and I was so happy to just call it a day. I got under the covers and closed my eyes, Bob read his book.
There was nothing in the air that night that could have prepared me for what lay ahead.

I was abruptly awakened at nine am the next moring, by a very angry Bob. He was yelling at me to get up because he didn't bring us all the way to Europe to sleep the day away.

That was the first sign that we were really in deep emotional trouble. I was stunned, first of all in all the years that I knew him, he was the one who never liked to get up early and nine am isn't exactly wasting the day. I asked him what the hell was wrong.

It was then that he went to the mini bar, picked up two mini bottles of Vodka and started waving them at me, threatening to drink them. I guess we were loud enough that Marisa came in to the room and asked us what the hell was going on.
By this time, I was more than angry.
I told her that her father was threatening to take a drink.

In our world that was the equivalent of suiside. It was not an idle threat. It sent terror into every pour of my body. It must have affected Marisa the same way.

She wasn't preparred for his totally uncalled for reaction. He started to yell at her. I can't really remember what was going on. I wasn't even fully awake when it all started.

All I know is that before things could get worked out, Marisa started screaming at him at the top of her lungs.

She was telling him how much she hated him and that he was just a "sick alcoholic"
She then threatened to jump off the balconey and kill herself.

By this time Matt was in the room. We had never had a "Family" meltdown ever.
First of all I think we were all stunned by the words comming out of both of them.
It was pretty apparent to me, just how much resentment each of them had for each other.

I had to step in and do something to calm them both down. I begged Bob to calm down and call his friend at the hotel and to make a call to his sponsor back in LA.

He actually did both. By the time I got to see how Marisa was doing she informed me that she was in the process of booking a flight out of Paris for the Three of us.

The three of Us? I asked her what she was doing? Did she know that if we left Bob in Paris, we would never see him alive again? It was a death sentence for him.
The one thing I did know about him to the core of my soul was that when he calmed down he would be more than remorsefull.

We decided that I would just go to the Louve with Matt and her father so that she could calm down and perhaps we could just get over it.
That's what I always tried to do. Get over it.
Marisa was a different story. She wasn't used to walking around on egg-shells to calm him down, she didn't want anything to do with the situation.
Matt and I took Bob to the Museum. Of course I look back at this with a bit of humor.
Bob was so far gone at this point, there was no calming him down. He was pacing around the court yard of the Louve smoking and Matt was just taking pictures of him lost in the angry thoughts of his head.
Years later Matt and I would remember with humor how we had an amazing real French Experience and laugh.
Bob always told us about this French man in AA who would go to meetings and tell everyone how "He hated his life and how he hated AA and all of "You" as he referred to people in meetings.

Well, here we were in Paris, his father and sister were behaving just like the "Comedy Improv" skits that Bob would perform for Matt. It was more than surreal.

I'm sure that Bob never remembered one thing about the "Louve" he was busy talking to himself and chain smoking.
I was busy wondering how I was going to get out of Paris without Bob picking up a drink. He was on a terrible "Dry Drunk". The fight with his daughter almost sealed the deal.

That's the first thing he always did before picking up that first drink. Start a big fight. The only thing I was grateful for was that he was more angry at his daughter than me and I was able to try and calm him down.

When we got back to the Hotel Marisa told me to pack because the three of us had a flight back to England.

I was stunned. I couldn't imagine how cruel that would have been. I told her she better rethink her plans, because if she went ahead with her plan, she would never see him again.
I asked her to reconsider and calm down. We were supposed to leave for Spain the next morning. I told her we either all go to Spain or we all go back home but we were not leaving her dad behind.

She looked at me and said the trip was over, she wanted to go home.

I don't even remember if she booked the flights and a hotel room at the airport in England or if I did.
My only concern was to not let her father out of my sight for one minute. He never needed a friend more than he did at that moment. His sobriety was hanging by a thread.
That may sound so dramatic, but it wasn't. All he wanted to do was pick up a drink and die.

If you believe in a higher power than the rest of this story should not surprize you.

We arrived at Heathrow got a room and I immediatley went down to the front desk and asked if there was an AA meeting anyplace near by.
They could not have been kinder to me. Not only did they tell us where there was a meeting, they booked us a car to get there.

I was so grateful that Bob was even willing at this point. Matt and Marisa were in a room by themselves all the better at this point.
I went to their room and explained to Matt and Marisa that I had to take their dad to a meeting and that they should just get anything they wanted from room service or whatever. I had no idea how long we would be gone.

They were both happy that there would be no more drama that day.

We left the hotel and went to seek help because I don't think in many years Bob had ever needed help more than he did at that moment.
He told me he just didn't know how he had managed to make it that far and he told me he did not think he could make it home without a drink.
I was very kind to him and I told him to just do it a minute at a time like they say in those meetings. He said he couldn't even promise me that but he was willing to get in the car and be driven to a meeting out in the middle of nowhere.
We were both desperate for a miricle.

Tonight I write with only healing on my mind

As my beloved brother Mark once said and I quote, "Family, who needs it"? At the time he murmured those now etched words into my mind, he had probably had enough of the drama that he was being pulled into by our beloved Bob in his active addiction phase.
Although I seemed to be the only one foolish enough to actually believe that Bob would achieve long term sobriety again, I never did loose hope, Mark on the other hand was much more realistic and quite frankly was done participating in uncomfortable family holiday dinners with so much tension in the air. Who can blame him? If given a chance, neither Bob or myself would have wanted the drama either.

As I look back and take that painful walk down memory lane I am reminded by the lyrics of one of my favorite "Counting Crows" songs, that the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow that it brings.

So I started my last ten days. I have the once in a lifetime opportunity to wipe the slate clean of a past life filled with so many moments of ups and downs that have transpired these past several years in my world.

I am facing one of the cross roads of a life that one must make and pray that the gamble will pay off. I can no longer stay in my home of 21 years because of the circumstances of Bob's sudden death and as my Mother in Law made sure to remind me, that Bob did not provide for me as my "Father" did for her. I am going to lease our home out hopefully for several years, with the hope that I will be able to save it for my son. I thank god for the fact that Saul did include me in a Trust, everyday.
Had it not been for that, I would have been forced out of my home two years ago.
The past two years have given me the time to start to heal. There is a post traumatic trigger ever present replaying the final moments of Bob's life here every time I drive down the PCH past Rambla Vista. I hope that time will ease that memory. "Pick me up Steph, please pick me up", Bob's final words are branded in my brain, unfortunatley along with his once beautiful face.
There really is no telling when the grief will end,if ever.

Last week my son and I had to go through every article of clothing, books, personal items and other things that he had at home for his entire life left "Home" for all these years. We also started to watch marked and unmarked video tapes so that we can copy them to DVD's to preserve them.
It was an un-explainable experience. So gut wrenching that I could not bear to ask him to go thru the remaining things we have stored here of his father's. For the second time, I had to do it. I couldn't stop myself from putting a shirt to my face, hoping to catch just a slight scent of Bob. A few times I actually convinced myself that I could smell him here with me again. Wishful thinking or delusion. There really is not much difference at this point.


I unexplainably broke out into a sweat while watching the tapes, got sick to my stomach and had to go and throw up. At first I thought I ate something bad at dinner, but as I leaned over the toilet bowl, nothing came up. I was simply involuntarily taken over by years of emotion. Bottled up, repressed or simply forgotten memories in a flash forward synopsises of the past 20 years of my life.

Unfortunately the first home video we watched just happened to be the beginning of the end of the good times. I looked at the stress on my face, saw the pain in my eyes and actually did a sense memory of how miserable our lives had become. Each day was hanging with the dark cloud of another relapse looming in the near future.

I was trying my best to keep my family together, to preserve what was once a family that was the envy of an entire community. "The Picks" the happy three-some, out and about town, going to the market, the movies, dinner, karate or whatever.
I had to leave the room during that video and run to the bathroom.

The next tape was just by a random selection two weeks before the birth of my son.
My life at that time was like a fairy tale. Two people talking to their unborn son, telling him it was OK to be born any moment now.
We were so funny.

Then the next part was Matt being held by his sister and his grandfather. It was like being all together again. We were all so new to the home video filming that we were all so self conscious of the camera. Funny stuff, looking at our teeth, our chins, especially me because I had gained so much weight. Looking at the sweet child that Marisa once was and looking at myself kissing her head. Realizing that I have lost so much more than I can bear to think about. Everything that mattered to me back then, has been ripped from my world. It has nothing to do with money, but with family.

But the unexpected knife through my gut was Bob doing his comedy improv stuff to the camera,He had just started acting at the Lee Strasbourg's School and any chance he had to be in front of a camera was a golden moment for him. Matt and I had not laughed so hard for over two years now. We laughed so hard until it hit us.
Those days are gone forever, never to be given back, ripped from our lives leaving the hole as big as a crater from space. We both started to cry.

Maybe that is what we needed to shake us out of this just pretending that things will get back to normal someday, hopefully sooner than later. "Where have I been for two Years? Matt whispered. I couldn't explain survival or grief or the road it takes you down.
There will never be another moment listening to Saul, tell a story that happened to him a few days ago, or Bob at one of the happiest moments in his life, filled with unadulterated joy of having his two children with him or Mark so relaxed and happy to see the Baby.
The only uncomfortable moment was watching Bob ever so mindful to make sure that Marisa was not the least bit jealous of our new addition. You could see how hard he tried. It was the motto around our house, never make her feel less important that Matt. We did our best, right up to the end.

Those memories you get walking down memory lane come at a price. Both Matt and I have Saul's funny story etched in our brain, Bob's totally hysterical, rather risque comedy bit, that really rivals anything that John Belushi could have come up with. Just off the top of that brilliant mind of his. It still lingers as I write this.
Oh how I loved that man. That kind, loving handsome, brilliant man who came back for a period of almost twelve years, was talking to us and making Matt laugh like only he could do. The laugh that would make Matt run for his inhaler was present again and he did get the inhaler. The Bob that no one outside of the three of us really got to experience. A relaxed Bob not feeling guilty or remorseful about anything. Just happy to be sober and alive.

Those were the best days of our lives.

As Matt and I stayed up well into the morning talking again about life and death and his feelings and perhaps his fear of what will happen someday when I am no longer here, I reminded myself and him that life goes in cycles and he, much like I am doing now, will have to dig down, really deep and keep it together for the sake of his children, because their emotional stability will depend on how well he will be able to cope with a loss, get through the pain, but just keep going for their sake. It is the cycle of life. When you think you can't take any more, that's when your children will need you the most to help them try to cope with their loss also.

I need to remind myself of that on a regular basis when I feel abandoned by my once beloved family because they chose not deal with me talking to them about what was happening to me in the process finalizing my divorce in the Probate system under the direction of my step daughter. Gone without a word, just vanished into thin air, like I don't exist and perhaps listening to me, reminded them too much of their own thoughts and demons. I will never know because silence is golden to some people.

I wish them all well and I hope that I never treat anyone so heartless in their time of grieving and despair. Because much like I had to do with Bob, I have to forgive two of the three because I know it was not intended to wound me, but to protect themselves from the mirror I seem to hold up to all. It is a tragic flaw of mine. Not everyone thinks like I do. So militant and times and so boldly honest almost without thinking of the effect it has on others. I just say what's on my mind, and let the chips fall where they may.
Mine fell on the same table Bob's did, a family that would rather run than fight. Too civilized to speak what was on their minds, just ignore the problem and in time it will just go away I guess. It drove him crazy talking for hours about stuff, so frustrated by the lack of communication.

So be careful what you ask for is a great mantra. I leave a void in the family voluntarily and hold my head up high. Because in spite of everything no one can ever say that I did not defend Bob right up until the bitter end of our divorce two years after his death, because anything he did to hurt anyone he at least was sorry for his behavior and accepted the consequences. I hope we all learn that lesson from him.
Maybe that is his final legacy. Taking a hard look at ourselves in a mirror when only we are looking back at ourselves. You can't fool yourself for too long, it comes back to haunt you. I never abandoned him and had he been the Bob I married and not the other Bob, things would have turned out much different.

I went to an interesting event several months ago, featuring a world famous radio clairivoent and two different people described Saul, Bob and my real birth mother to me in detail. I was simply stunned into tears. I never knew my mother and at first I thought the man was talking about the woman who I called my mother, not my birth mother, that was until he told me that I look just like her. I knew this man was the real deal.
Among the most healing thing that happened that day was that two times from two different people, the first thing that was said to me was that someone keeps saying that they are sorry, so sorry. I know it was Bob and you can stop asking me for my forgiveness Bernie, I was never mad at you.
The second thing I was asked was if I was writing something, I said I was writing the story of my life with Bob, I was told to keep writing. I will.

Dissapointments in the Air

As we planned our trip to Europe the tension between us seemed to subside for a while. This was going to be our first trip abroad together and I was really happy that Matt would have a chance to see England, France and Spain and a pretty early age.
At least early in my opinion. He was ten or eleven, I don't remember but I didn't get to see those countries until I was in my twenties.
I started doing a little research into inexpensive Hotels with American amenities. We needed things like a TV, air conditioning, and if possible connecting rooms.
I also was thrilled to be able to get first class seating on the Chunnel.

I was excited about taking a train underwater from England to Paris. It all seemed so thrilling. As the time came closer to going I had the chance to speak with his daughter several times. She seemed comfortable that we were coming, even though she hadn't wanted to ever travel with her father again.
She reminded us that we should pack light. One of the main reasons she wanted us to come and get her home was because it would have cost her so much to get all her stuff back home. I guess her luggage was way over the weight limit.
Looking back at it now, I can't believe her Mom would be so concerned about the cost of extra luggage.
We had to pay to have something else sent home before hand. It was always those little weird things that confused me. Her mom dressed to kill all the time, once she even spent ten thousand dollars on a dress, but when it came to spending $300 to ship a backpack home, that was too expensive, ask your Dad or Steph to do it.
Given the state of mind her dad was in, nothing was denied.

He was going to eat crow for a long time in order to redeem himself to me and the family.

Well the day arrived and the three of us were off to England. We flew Virgin Air and Matt was in heaven. I think he played the on board Nintendo came the entire trip without ever napping. Bob did remarkably well without a cigarette. I couldn't believe how well behaved he was. The plane ride went off without a glitch.

We arrived in London on a damp drizzly day. Never happier to be anywhere. We had a sense of adventure like never before. Even though I had been to England once before, I had never been to the Museums, the Tower of London or even Harrods for that matter.
His daughter had arranged for us to see Three plays while we were there and we had made dinner reservations at a couple of really expensive restaurants based on recommendations from my brother in law.

Every thing was planned to perfection except for one thing. No one was prepared for Jet Lag.
We arrived in the morning London time, got our hotel room, wandered around the city a little and then Matt and I just collapsed in one room. Bob waited anxiously for his daughter to join us. She didn't get to the hotel until around midnight I think.
By the time she did arrive not one of us had enough energy left to do anything but say hi, Bob's daughter had bought us all some really cool soccer jackets,I also got a great sweatshirt that said Oxford on it, really great gifts.. They were perfect because none of us had anything to really wear in the rain. We must have seemed ungrateful but we were all so tired. I went to my room and went right back to sleep her Dad finally crashed also. Full of high expectations for the following day, we all got a good nights sleep, finally.

We were clueless to how exhausted we would be. His daughter had been there for an entire semester so she was used to the time change and wanted to cram everything she was unable to do into a few short days. We had three plays to see. One every night.
We did the usual sight seeing during the day, but something was wrong. It wasn't blatantly obvious at first, but that same old tension between father and daughter started to raise it's ugly little head.
We went to the Museum of London like three little excited tourists. She was annoyed and left us there. Said that she had been there before and wanted to go shopping someplace. She would meet us later for the play and dinner. The first day that was just fine. The three of us were happy to be tourists. It was really hard to sit through the theater that night. I was dozing off during the play, which is pretty hard to do in a musical. Then we had a very late dinner and we had to wait because it was a really trendy place. The three of us really couldn't do all that. But we were all on our best behaviour because Bob didn't rock the boat with his temper. He did get upset because Matt was exhausted and starving and the wait seemed endless.
By the time the dinner arrived, it really wasn't anything all that special. Maybe for England, but certainly not by our LA standards. So day two ended up with stored up tension between the two of them.
The next day, we wanted to see the Tower of London, she didn't want to go, so we went without her. More shopping I guess. Another play and dinner again. Can't even remember what it was that's how Jet Lagged I was.
The next day we all went to Harrods for high tea. Now the tempers were starting to show a little. Matt wanted to know where the food was, because to tell you the truth, little cucumber sandwiches are not exactly ten year old boy food for lunch. He also hated tea. Instead of having a sense of humor about this, Bob's daughter took it personally, and after tea, she left us again, and we went downstairs to Harrods most amazing food court. I am so happy Matt was hungry or none of the three of us would have experienced it. It really is like being a kid in a candy store. Matt had the most delicious chicken for lunch and of course after that we just had to do some shopping at Harrods. We bought him the most beautiful Bear, all dressed up like a castle guard or maybe it was Paddington, but he walked out of Harrods with some really cool toys.
Now Matt was happy. We took a double decker bus back to our hotel and I will never forget the look on Matt's face when this beautiful blond girl got off the bus. We all just starred at her. She had the most beautiful skin. Matt said he could live in London if all the girls looked like that. We three were really having a wonderful time. What was his daughter doing, shopping.

We went to see "Tommy" on the fourth of July. It was in a very cool, small theater and it was in the afternoon, so I was awake. I had always loved the "Who" and I never dreamed I would be seeing "Tommy" in London. We walked around Carnaby street, bought some cool little things and got ready to leave the next day for Paris.

Looking back, I really do wish, that his daughter had just told us not to go on that trip. It was so obvious that we were not on a family vacation, we were simply getting her and her stuff back home and making sure that she got to eat at the expensive restaurants and see the plays that she hadn't been able to see or get to as a student. Bob was starting to feel used by her again. It wasn't subtle, she spent as little time as possible with us in London as she thought she could get away with. Her father was not stupid. All the little excuses that a young girl uses and thinks her parents will believe simply didn't fly with him. He was just tolerating her because he promised me that he would behave. It never occurred to me, that the one I should have been worried about was his daughter. He was trying really hard, and she really was just avoiding him as much as possible, but using his credit card to get whatever she needed. The only time she really perked up is when she took us to Neils Garden, I think it's called. She loved shopping there so she was happy that afternoon.

She was happy and he was smoking more. I as usual tried to be my cheerful self and not acknowledge the fact that I sensed trouble brewing. After all, the three of us were just now starting to get over our Jet Lag, I thought maybe we were all just tired. I could justify most anything back in those days. The little peace maker.

Well the little peace maker was about to get a serious wake up call.

Dejavu

I thought that once I got Bob on the medication he would simply calm down, but as usual. Bob's body never reacted to things the way I thought they would.

I don't know if it was the patch they put on his arm to calm him down or the trazadone, but something either set off his desire to just rip and run or he was coming out of his skin. Valium withdrawal was unpredictable.

I took him to another AA meeting the next night, but this time instead of being grateful to be there he came out angry. I was not in any way ready to deal with this. I must have said something to really make him mad and he opened the car door and jumped out. I know he just wanted to get drunk.

That's what he always did before getting drunk when I was around. Pick a fight about nothing and use it as an excuse to blame me for picking up a drink.
He was screaming at me calling me terrible names and I was just sobbing. I had no idea what to do but I did know what not to do. I did not just drive off and leave him alone like he wanted me to.

Now if you recall, I'm the first one to say that I am one hell of an enabler. I was not about to leave him wandering around alone on the Pacific Coast Highway. Maybe a saner person would have just let him do what he was going to do, but I never could do that. I followed him slowly and begged him to get back in the car. He finally got in and we drove home. Well we dodged a bullit that night, but it would not be the last time he would jump out of the car.
I called one of his friends from the program and begged him to come over and talk to Bob. Don't forget, I didn't want to ever deal with this insanity again, I couldn't do it. Plus I had just about gotten comfortable with the fact that the marriage was OVER. This was a terrible place for the two of us to be in.

Bob knew how miserable I was. Even though I was trying to help him, it was almost like he resented me for it or maybe he realized he should have never called me to let him come home. Because at that moment all he wanted to do was drink and now he couldn't. I was there watching him. I don't even remember if he had his car back home. The night he left for good he drove it into town and probably left it at the studio. He was taken to rehab in a limo. If I remember right, I think that's why I had to drive him. He must have felt like I was watching his every move and I was.

It seemed like an eternity but Dustyfinally got to the house and told me to leave and go spend some time with his wife at their house. I was so happy to get out of Bob's presence. This night I remember Matt stayed at their house. The reason I remember is poor Matt was so allergic to dogs, and they had a huge Great Dane who of course jumped on Matt's bed when he was sleeping. Dogs just love following Matt around, they love him Poor kid just what he didn't need a one hundred pound dog licking his face in the middle of the night.

It's amazing how those little things just stick out in a person's mind. I remember so clearly being at their house and his wife being so kind to Me and Matt. They had dinner for us and really tried to make us feel better. Matt of course didn't even want to take a drink from one of their glasses. He just didn't like being there.

It was so bitter sweet because we had been a model family in the community.
I had always been a bit judgemental of this woman because her husband was in and out of sobriety while Bob had been sober and I couldn't understand why she just didn't leave him, but here I was tyring to find a way to stay in a marriage myself, in spite of all the insanity that was going on.
Dusty spent several hours with Bob and calmed him down. He called me and said it was OK to come back home. I really didn't want to leave, but I had to.
Little did he know that Bob was going to hold that against me for a very long time. He was raised to, as he would put it "We don't wash our dirty laundry in public". In his mind I had committed a cardinal sin. I had shared our deepest darkest secret with someone else.
It was one of the reasons' I believe he had so much trouble with the twelve step programs. He wanted to hide all those demons and secrets, not really share them with the locals. Especially in Malibu, where people in this community just seemed to thrive on other people's misery.
Bob had now fallen from his pedestal. After years of being the man who flew Angel Flight missions, and built the local Karate Studio, he was now just another Alcoholic
who had no sobriety. A Newcomer. God how he hated that term. He was normally a very humble guy but that hit him where he lived. It took away all his self esteem and I guess his dignity. Something he had worked so hard to try and regain in those fourteen years of abstinence.

So the cat was out of the bag and now most of the people that we knew had now heard about Bob and my situation. Small towns are not the place to live when something this terrible happens. Word spread like wild fire.

After all those years of not going to any meetings here we both were back at AA and Al anon. God I hated Al anon so much that I would go to more open AA meetings than any non alcoholic I ever met. At least I felt hope there. I never understood why someone would go to Alanon meetings and complain about their lives, when I felt that all they had to do was leave a horrible relationship. I know, I was as addicted to Bob as he was to drinking, but I had given this marriage a time limit. I did not marry him "until death do we part", I only married him through Sobriety. Now I was totally conflicted.
I never dreamed that our son would beg us to not get a divorce. I never wanted to be one of those people who stay in a horrible marriage for the sake of the children, but that was exactly the path I was going on.

I simply did not have the courage to walk out at that time. I think I was scared of what would happen to all three of us. I kept trying to convince myself that it was the right thing to do by giving Bob another chance, after all, it was only one slip, and one little affair. How much did my son's emotional well being mean to me?
It meant everything. I would stay with Bob for the sake of our Son. He was more important to me than my own feelings about the betrayal. After all, I was a pretty good actress around the family, I knew if I had to I could just get through it somehow.

During Bob's stay in the Hospital I had started to make plans for Matt and I to go to England with his sister. We thought it would be really great for the three of us to go around England, France and Spain together. Well when Bob found out that he was supposed to pay for this trip and he wasn't invited along he went crazy.
Looking back I really couldn't blame him. We had never been to Europe together in all the years we were together, and now his daughter wanted me to leave her father home. I couldn't do it. I totally understood how he felt. I never used him for money, we were always a team before this. Now things were changing so rapidly neither one of us knew the rules of the relationship any longer.
I called his daughter and told her that if she didn't want her father to come along that Matt and I would not be going either. I gave her permission to tell me she didn't want to deal with him because she had stopped traveling with us several years before this and they just didn't get along as I have mentioned many times.
Well, I'm not really sure why she made the decision to let us all go. I do know that she needed us to help her get her extra luggage back home without having to pay the extra cost, but that couldn't have been the only reason, at least I hope not.
Any way the decision was made. The three us of would meet her in London.

As crazy as it seemed, at the time it was just that little ray of sunshine we needed. It gave us something to look forward to. Something positive. I started going to Therapy to get help for dealing with Bob cheating on me and his slip. Bob had started to get a little saner and was going to a lot of AA meetings and he even got an AA sponsor. I felt that I had made the right decision, I would try to put this behind us. We had a lot at stake and many many reasons to try and work it out.

The only question was, COULD I EVER REALLY FORGIVE HIM? Only time would tell. Now I was the one living One Day at a Time. How Ironic.

I get two phone calls

I will never forget the day the counselor called me for the last time.
He told me he had thrown Bob out of the Hospital and if he called or came over here that I should not let him in.

I was stunned. The first thought I had was for Bob's sobriety. I knew how he had always reacted when pushed up against a wall like that. The problem was twofold.

One, I didn't want Bob to go back out and get drunk, he almost didn't live through this hospitalization and he wasn't fully detoxed from the Valium yet.
Second, I knew that he had no money or credit cards on him. They were at home.

That could only mean one thing. Once again Bob was going to be my problem to deal with.
Sure enough, not more than ten minutes later Bob called and begged me not to hang up on him. something I did quite often rather than listen to him scream at me.
What he didn't know was that I had already been told what had happened and also told not to let him back in the house.
No matter how upset I was at what had happened during his slip, I could never turn him out, if I did, he would not come back alive is how I always looked at it.
In the past whenever Bob had left treatment before he was really sane and sober, it would be only a matter of hours or days sometimes before he would be right back where he started.

I had no idea what would happen. My only point of reference was the past. He had not picked up a drink in fourteen years and as far as I was concerned anything was possible.
I told Bob that I would not hang up the phone and I just listened to what had happened.

He was doing his laundry and his councilor started talking to him about something, can't really remember what, but I do recall Bob telling me that he told him to in his words, "Get the Fuck Away From Me."
At that point I guess the guy just said to himself Bob was hopeless and he didn't want to deal with him. So he excerpted what little power he had and threw him out. What compassion for a fellow addict who was still suffering. I guess a little power went to this guys head. He couldn't bear to listen to Bob telling him the truth about his bad attitude. You don't just disregard someone who didn't pick up a drink for fourteen years. Yes he had a slip, but it didn't erase what Bob knew about how to stay clean and sober. In his case he just said "Fuck It" and picked up the drink, knowing well in advance what would happen. That's the true insanity of this disease.

Bob had nothing but change in his pocket which he was using for the pay phone and his laundry. I'm not really sure why they didn't allow him to have his wallet on him or money at that time, but he had nothing, So he walked to a phone Boothe with his suitcase and called me. He was lucky he even had enough change on him to call me with.

I told him to get in a cab and come home. I never regretted doing that even though the next week would be hell on earth. He was in full blown psychosis from the Valium cold turkey withdrawal. Looking back he had one hell of a law suit against that hospital, they almost killed him out of sheer neglect. It's a miracle he survived the brutal withdrawal he was put through.

I was going to need a lot of help on this one and I had to cry out to his AA friends for help. He was going crazy to put it mildly. I thank God that I never had to go through a Valium withdrawal myself. I had been told so many years before that what a terrible thing it was by a patient in St. Johns hospital years before that. He did not even begin to describe the living hell Bob was about to go through.

When he finally arrived home he was really agitated, but who wouldn't be? It started out pretty OK and then started to get tense. Whatever medication they had given him that day to prevent him from going into seizure and probably to calm him down were starting to wear off.
He was talking and pacing like a caged animal. He was hot and then he was cold. He was really trying to get a handle on his emotions, but he was loosing the ability to have any part in the way he was behaving. His body was screaming out for his medications. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

I asked him what he wanted to do. He asked me to take him to an AA meeting up near our house. I guess he thought maybe that would calm him down, and prove to me how serious he was about getting sober and making things right with us.

As I write this, for the life of me, I cannot remember where Matt was. He never really went to other kids houses much, but I think I sent him to our friends house who's husband was also in the program. I knew I would never want him to see his father like this so I'm sure he was somewhere other than here that night. I remember so many things to the detail and I can't even remember where my son was during all this, how weird. I do know that Bob came home before Matt got out of school that day, so I must have called one of his friends Mom's to help me out.

I dropped Bob off at the meeting but I did not go in with him. When it was over I picked him up. At first he was telling me that he had met a really nice man who had had a terrible accident on his last slip and he was raising his son all by himself. He was grateful that nothing that terrible had happened to him on this last slip. It was a very sad story and it always stuck in Bob's head. For years when he saw this man at other meetings he always would talk to him and then tell me how kind and
un-judgemental he had been that night.

But when we got home, his mood was starting to change. I tried to get him to eat but he was so agitated by the withdrawal that all he wanted to do was sleep on the floor. It was like he was crawling out of his skin. I felt helpless. The hospital just threw him out, didn't bother to give him any medication to take with him or anything. They treated him like a dog, just because the counselor had an ego problem and couldn't handle someone still detoxing. I had no idea what kind of medication he was being given. But I did know that he was being given anti convalescents and maybe something for his heart after they did the EKG on him.

That was one long night. Bob was never a great sleeper, but that night neither one of us slept. He was going crazy. The first thing in the morning I got him to our local doctor, the one who had given him all the pills in the first place.
To my surprise he laid a Hugh guilt trip of Bob, never once taking responsibility for getting him hooked in the first place. He did not help him but he referred us to another doctor in the same office who we happened to know quite well because he was also in AA. He was now specializing in Addiction recovery. I was lucky to just be able to have Bob see him immediately, He probably saved Bob from picking up a drink that day, because I know he was just hanging on by the skin of his teeth to what little sobriety he had. Actually it wasn't sobriety at all, he was being given a lot of stuff to take. He was just alcohol free.

The Doctor put him back on anti convalescents and gave him some Trazadone. It did help Bob somewhat, but what I didn't know at the time, was that he didn't respect this guy at all because he had been taking all kinds of medication and claiming to be sober. In those days, there was a real rift going on in AA about anti depressants and actually being sober. Half the people in the program were really against it and the other half felt you had to do what you had to do to not pick up that drink, Bob was one of the guys that felt you were not sober if you took any kind of anti depressants at that time. Bob was always judging others sobriety when he was clean and sober, funny how when he was taking all those pills for his bad back he didn't put himself in that category,and now when he should have been happy to have someone help him, he was commenting on this guys sobriety. Wow.

Guess he didn't see the irony in that. He just was crazy or in serious denial at the moment. It really didn't matter because in a few hours all hell was going to break loose again.

Bob and his Counselor

Bob was calling me everyday with the blow by blow daily accounts of just how terrible it was there.
His brother had found the place. It was famous because of Kurt Cobain having left there and then went home and killed himself.
They had an open door policy. Imagine giving someone that doesn't want to be locked up permission to come and go as they please, especially when all they want to do is get a drink or a drug of their choice. In my humble opinion, what kind of moron thinks that is going to work. Might and well just take their money and never let them in to stay. Same things.

For some reason, it gave Bob a legitimate reason to have a resentment. I agreed with him. What kind of program was it that lets the patients walk out when they want to. I met a woman who was there. An athlete who had been on a show on TV. She was given permission to get a pass to go to a party.

Neither Bob or myself had ever heard of that. In the fourteen years since he had been in a rehab, I guess things had really changed.
Recovery had become Big Business. Doctors were making a lot of money from the insurance companies. Actually it was hard to find an empty bed. Business was booming. Only problem was, it wasn't like the old days. It had become somewhat sheik to be in rehab. What a sick world.
When I first met Bob, AA was the last place in the world anyone wanted to go to, or admit they needed to go to. Now the program was littered with celebrities in every field.
I recently watched a TV show about recovery and AA. There are no sure methods for recovery. Over fifty percent of addicts relapse with or without a program. All those thirty day hospitalizations only helped line the pockets of the doctors. Not even they could figure out how to keep people from going back to the bottle or the drug of their choice.

I must say at the time I did think that Bob was right. They would find bottles of alcohol stashed in the bushes after someone "Went for a walk". It was simply unacceptable to him. He was there to save his life and people were drinking.
When he got into it with his counselor it was basically just a matter of time before the shit hit the fan between them.

They didn't like each other. Bob thought he was a punk who thought he knew it all, and his councilor thought Bob was a no it all with no sobriety.
A recipe for disaster was brewing in there.

His counselor would call me and complain about Bob. What did he expect me to do. I tried to be supportive of Bob, but I knew how he was. When he was mad, there was no reasoning with him. I tried to listen to him, but I was conditioned to think that the hospital staff would know what was best.
This time I was wrong and Bob was right. I just assumed that Bob was going through yet another horrible withdrawal. I knew from years past that Valium was the worst drug to get out of your system.
It has what is known as an "After Life". That means that it lodges into the bones and tissues and the withdrawal for Bob took almost a year. He would be crazy and then calm, hot then freezing, and he was still having occasional seizures. His eyes were dilated for weeks, he could not sleep which added to the strange behaviour. He was in drug withdrawal with severe sleep deprivation.
I got calls several times a week from his counselor. I told him that Bob had announced to me and the family that he was getting a divorce and there really was no reason to keep calling me.
I told him flat out to call Meagan.
That's when he told me she had been banned from the hospital.
I guess they figured it out soon enough that she was trying to bring him "Whatever".
I never did get the story straight.
All I know is that when I brought him a suitcase with some clothes for the month, not only did they go through all his stuff, but they went through my bag as well.
That never happened before and I'm not sure if it was because it was normal or because they banned Meagan.

Things in our marriage could not have been worse really, where I used to visit him everyday in the past now I had our son and his activities to put before the rehab visits. Actually without Bob knowing it, the best thing I could have done for him at the time was not visit him every day. I was too hurt and angry.
It did not do him or me any good to fight about what we could not change. I just backed away more than I ever had.

It truly was self preservation for me at the time. I had no support group what so ever. There were so many feelings in me that I couldn't even begin to understand what had happened.
I was really grateful for the two kids at the time. Even his daughter was really in my corner the entire time.

One Sunday she took me and Matt along with her other brother to the House of Blues gospel brunch. Bob was really upset. What the hell was he mad about? It was always like that with him. He would look for anything to turn it around on me.
He shacked up with a woman he met and he was upset that I went to the House of Blues with his children.
That was crazy. He was still blaming me for the kids knowing about her. He threw that in my face for years. Talk about misplaced anger.
I would not lie for him ever again. He broke the bond and as far as I was concerned it would never be the same and it really wasn't.

Life without Trust

As much as I wanted to be there for him this time, I could not forgive this other woman, to make matters worse, the Monday I went to visit him in the hospital I had to figure out in my own mind, what I was going to do.

I looked at his bedside table and there was a card from "Meagan". Talk about throwing salt on the wound, it hurt physically and my head was spinning. I couldn't storm out of the hospital, but I was a scorned wife, just like a scene from one of my beloved English novels. I was seething on the inside, but the male nurse asked me if I could get into the shower with him and help bathe him. What would anyone say? Of course. I loved this man and loath him at this very moment.

Nothing prepared me for this. I could handle the slip, looking back it was inevitable. But to leave me and our son for three days to be with some woman he met in a bar, well that was the last straw. Now I was the one who was supposed to nurse him back to health again. What a joke. It was moments like this, that I should have really taken a good look at the lack of support our family had. Of course, once Bob was back in the hospital, there was a collective sigh of relief on all fronts. But did anyone other than me and his kids bother to go visit him? NO!!
Imagine that? After fourteen years without a drink, he didn't deserve a visit from his brother, dad or his dad's wife. I was so busy dealing with my own issues, and so used to doing this all alone it never occured to me that this time really was different from any of the past episodes. He had a family, and a son who had never known his father like this. Why couldn't they be there for him or us this time? I will never know. I guess I had just assumed it was because of the fight he had had with his father that lead up to this moment. But I think it was just the same excuse. He didn't warrent a visit from them. Plain and simple.

It all seemed so natural at the time, but as the years have passed and life has revealed itself like an onion, I know to the core of my soul how much that hurt him.
Was he so terrible that he didn't deserve a visit? He was on his death bed, the first couple of days. He was not important enough for a visit. This was part of the root of his problem. He felt he was never respected, only tolerated and I guess the family really did just sit back and wait for this moment to happen. Well, when it did happen he once again felt the cold chill of rejection.

I wanted to run out of there and never look back myself, trust me. The fact that He had announced he wanted a divorce to his family, but didn't bother to inform me would have been enough to end it right then and there, but, he was sick and weak,not to mention alone, I guess I was supposed to take it and just be the dutiful wife once again to keep a vigil and keep the family informed of his progress. A role I had willingly accepted.

Talk about conflicted, I was more than confused. I had to talk to his brother, father, daughter, our son and really try to keep it together as best as I could.
If I had ever had the disease myself I would have drown myself in a bottle for sure. I really never experienced anything like this.
The betrayal warranted drastic measures, but he was on a 24 hour watch for his seizure's.
I couldn't just leave him alone, I stuck around as the most unhappy, unwilling spouse ever.

I refused to go to Daniel Freeman's counseling program for the family, I wanted to know what they thought they could possibly do to help this situation.

It would take a miracle for me to get over this final blow. Maybe it was my ego, but it didn't feel like ego. My heart was broken, along with our vows and my trust.

If you have ever loved and trusted someone you know how wonderful it is to never question what they are doing when they are not with you. It's sheer bliss. Trust will set you free. And free was how we had always felt with one another. There was never another man or woman I had thought, that could break our bond.

I had really believed that ours was a blessed union, God had answered Bob's prayers.
What happened? I keep asking myself.
Not only was I shocked, so was everyone who knew us. Bob had brought a strange woman into our lives. Without any sign the eye of the storm must have been what life was before this. Calm, but hell was about to break loose.
The best I could do at the time was count my blessings that he would be in the hospital for at least a month. I had some time to figure out what to do. I had no idea. I just needed my son to feel safe and OK.
It's like lying, you tell yourself and your family that everything will be OK, but the entire time you know it's a lie you can't figure out how to get out of.

The more he recovered, the less remorseful in the beginning he was. This only added to my anger. But I had not yet found the inner strength to do something openly about it.
One day his daughter called the pay phone and asked to speak to him. The person who answered the phone thought she said her name was Meagan. She called me and wanted to know who Meagan was. I told her. I saw no reason to keep it to myself. Bob was furious with me. Of course he was. He wanted me to lie for him to his daughter because he knew that she would tell her mom. That made him really angry with me.
I couldn't believe my ears. I was expected to lie for him. I felt he was lucky I was even speaking to him. There was no way I would do that for him. I told him he should have thought about the consequences before he hooked up with her, then I found out that she was coming to visit him.
He was having a little romance. I didn't even know how to react. It was a habit he had learned being a lawyer. Turn it around on the other guy. He was mad at Me? I was not going to take this sitting down.

My anger was festering under the surface. I have always felt free to tell the truth, but I always managed to be somewhat "wishy washy" up until this point. I had become a yes wife, never wanting to be right were I was now. Looking at the face of someone who had just blown fourteen years without a drink, and who had also broken our marriage vows.
On both fronts I was devastated, but I felt sorry for him relapsing, and all I wanted to do was leave him for cheating on me. But of course that emotion was still being kept inside, like a time bomb just ticking away. I wanted him to get better so that I could leave him when he was better. I couldn't bring myself to do anything before. He always had an expression. "You don't kick a man when he's down". Those words kept ringing in my ears. I had to wait.
On the outside I had learned how to hide my feelings from the family, always trying to be stoic, always trying to give him the benefit of a doubt.
It would take more than old behaviour to make myself believe some of the nice words that were coming out of my mouth.
I wanted to bury myself and cry forever. I couldn't. I had to help our son through this.
He had never known the insanity of the disease, only sobriety, all though at times it wasn't a peaceful time, at least his dad wasn't drinking.
I needed to help him understand what had just happened. His dad was a sick man, not a bad man.
I could not bring my rage into it, at least not at the moment.
Bob was really in very serious physical condition. The seizure's continued over the weeks. One night they rushed him up to the cardiac unit to monitor his heart with an EKG. He was not doing well those first couple of weeks.

The real problem was that the Doctor had taken him cold turkey off all the medication that he had been taking for the past couple of years. How could a hospital not realize that was putting his life in danger? They were punishing him for taking a drink and totally ignoring the real problem, He was in major Valium withdrawal and that was the cause of all the seizures and the heart problems.
Today if that happened I could sue the doctor and the hospital for the lack of medical attention Bob had been given.
This is the problem with any rehab program, no matter what they say there is a certain amount of guilt tripping attached to it.
Bob was made to start going to therapy as soon as he could. This is such a joke. His counselor had three years of sobriety from heroine, he had never had the amount of sobriety that Bob had and this guy was a typical example of power corrupts. He treated Bob like he had suddenly forgotten every thing he had ever learned in his fourteen years.
It the thing I had about AA. The new comer philosophy. Shut up and listen. I wouldn't listen to this guy either.
It only made me feel even more empathy for what Bob was going through. No one bothered to stop and think about what it must be like to walk a mile in his shoes and then have to listen to some young punk. I would never have done it either. This guy had no credibility. So what was three years in the scheme of things. He had no idea of the devastation that had happened in our lives. It all fell apart and the best they could do was focus on his being a "New Comer".