Finding peace

Its been quite awhile since my last blog. I can gratefully blame my absence on my new job, my relationship with Keith and day-to-day life. As time is moving forward, things are coming together. Time has changed to move forward: the days are getting longer, the weather is getting warmer and I am excited to say that I am able to take my super long beach walks again. (Its time to battle off those 6 pounds gained this winter!) On those days where the turf beckons, I put in place my ear buds, hit the button for slacker radio on my cell phone, and trudge through the sand finding myself lost in the salt air and the sounds of the waves hitting the shore. It’s during those beach walks that life philosophy rushes through my mind. It is easy for my mind to stray and become consumed in any random thoughts of its chosing.My beaten walking path.

During my walk yesterday, it dawned on me, in just over 30 days I will be divorced. It’s hard to believe that it has been almost one year ago since that fateful day that my marriage ended. My mind began to return to memories that I would have rather forgotten at a certain point in my life: but ones that I am now at ease with and can gladly allow myself to return to from time to time. The randomness of my own internal conversation is one that I will not share with you, for fear that I might prove myself as crazy, but the topic is one that has lingered in my thoughts throughout the weekend.

I allowed my mind to roam over the 11 years that C. and I were married. For probably the 100th time since last April, I dotted from the first night we met, to the first few years filled with happiness, the years that I forced myself to believe it was acceptable to be unhappy because I was married, and the heartbreak of the last few years of our marriage as I watched it crumble out of my control. For the 101th time, I wondered why it took so long for freedom to find me and how I ever rationalized and convinced myself it was ok to be sad and lonely. For some reason I cannot explain, I began to think about an old co-worker. We had both been hired with the same company on the same day in 2005. We went through a lot of training together and we eventually came to know each other pretty well. He was an unattractive, ill-mannered, honorary sort of person, that made you wonder if there was ever anything in life that made him smile. His outlook was always pessimistic, his sarcasm flowed to the point of annoyance and his wife was exactly like him. They would go on vacations to exotic places and he would bring in photos filled with them on the beach, on cruises, at nice restaurants. etc. Not one of those pictures ever included a smile, hand holding, or their arms around each other. My manager and I would rudely talk about their relationship behind his back. The company moved him to our sister site ,just 15 miles down the road from us and the office rejoiced in knowing that his negativity and bad attitude were gone. For him, he welcomed the move. The place was a satellite office, he was the only person on staff and he welcomed not having to be around people. He and his wife shared the same mentality, they had no friends, partook in no social activities and lived in their own miserable isolation. Fate intervened, unfortunately, during St. Patty’s day weekend in 2008 when his wife died of a massive heart attack in her sleep. He was devastated. His world collapsed and many of us wondered if he would survive. As the months moved forward, we all took turns taking him out to lunch, bringing meals to his home, inviting him to social activities. At first, he refused our offers and appeared doomed to a life of isolation. As time moved forward, not only would you find his door open when you visited his home but we all began to notice his heart open as well. He began sharing his life story with us: from his mother dying when he was a very young age, to his father dying a year before his wife and his brother-in-law committing suicide just a few short months after his wife passed. He shared meeting his wife in NY at a very young age, not one of us ever knew that she was 15 years older than him. When they met, she was settled into her teaching career and he was just a lad not quite sure what he wanted to do with life. His wife convinced him to move in with her, she enrolled him into college without his permission or consent and slowly began to take control of his life. I have to assume, loosing his mother at such a young age, conjured up feelings of inadequacy in his heart and meeting an older woman, willing to take him in, guide him down the path of life and share her maternal instincts with him was very appealing at his young age. He was 17 and she was 32 when they married. At one point in his life, he had been happy, vibrant and full of life: he shared old photo albums with us and I almost fell out of my chair at the pictures of him smiling and having a good time. As we all became closer to him, we began to edge him on to go out to dinner, we put together on online dating profile for him, we convinced him to sell his fathers house and when he was ready, we all drove to his home and helped him box his wifes belongings. Over the last two years of my employment with our company, he became a very close friend of mine and my ex husbands. It was amazing to watch him transform into a man who I never imagined possible. As the years of our friendship moved forward, he shared stories of he and his wife’s life together, and we all began to realize just how controlling of a woman she had been. In the early years of their marriage, she had layed the groundwork for how they would lead their life, and she gave him the option of an early out if it was a life he did not feel he wanted. She did not like parties, church, festivals, basically any activity that involved having to be around people. She would work, pay half of the bills, clean and cook and in return, she expected him to work, pay half the bills and remain faithful. I was shocked to know, the last 10 years of their marriage, they slept in separate rooms. They were married 30+ years when she died.

In the beginning, I watched him mourn. He flowed through the patterns like clock work. He lost weight, he cried at the drop of a hat, he felt sorry for himself, he hated going home, he would not move anything in the house: for the first year after her death, he refused to sleep in the bed, he would sleep on the couch where she died. He carried photos of her in his pocket, in his car, on his desk; photos that had not been there before her death. It broke my heart to watch him in those first stages, he genuinely was devastated. That first Christmas, we literally yanked him by his ear, tied him into the backseat of the car and forced him into a Christmas social at the local Catholic Church. That night, I saw a spark ignite. It was wonderful to watch him excitedly begin to relish in a new life he had never known. He became a whole new man. He began to date, his social calendar was NEVER empty. Heck, sometimes we would go a month and not hear from him, only to find he had been on vacation for a week in Bermuda, met a woman there and brought her back to the States. Eventually, he began to date a woman who had no traits or comparisons to his deceased wife. She was vivacious, full of life, laughed all the time and feel head over heels in love with him. They became engaged, he sold his house and the last time I talked to him, they were living in Virginia near her son and he was enjoying being called Granddad. (he never had children)

I began to wonder why his heart led him to lead a life of isolation for so many years, denying himself the life he longed for. What made him be accepting of existing and spending his days brimming with unhappiness and negativity? Why would you spend over ten years of your marriage, never touching each other, sleeping in separate rooms? Did he ever long for laughter, a soft touch from his wife, a tender hug or that look of passion that you share with someone who knows your soul? How many days did he spend, convincing himself it was ok and acceptable , just because he had found a life of daily routine and a comfort that he was afraid of losing? It took almost two years to convince him to break that comfort zone, but once he did, you cannot imagine the differences in him.

I look at the differences in myself since a year ago. I remember the loneliness, emptiness and just plain sadness that I carried in my heart for years. I remember feeling unloved when my husband would berate me, I remember feeling unworthy when he would aggressively insult me and I remember wondering what I had to do to make him love me. I changed everything about myself for him and he still never loved me like I needed him to. I changed my friends, my beliefs, my appearance, my daily activities, etc. By the time I realized the err of my ways, there was a comfort in the sadness. I could depend on being lonely, I was not let down anymore at the rejection it had become my crutch. I convinced myself because he did not physically hit me, cheat on me, do drugs or drink to excess that I would be a fool to leave. Because he could present himself in the public as such an upstanding person, he had a great job, and we could afford things I could never have on my own, I bowed my head and accepted my life. I accepted my fate and I learned to live with all of it.

As I was returning home, ironically, I passed a gentleman walking his dog that carried many resemblances to my old co-worker. I came in the condo, logged onto my Facebook and searched his name. As I was scrolling through hundreds of profiles looking for a familiar face, there he was. His face stretched in a “possum eating” grin, happiness radiated through the computer. His arms wrapped tightly around his new wife, hers around him and they looked happy.

I have no regrets. My life has led me to a great place of peace and I may not be here if I could go back in time and change anything. I am a work in progress but I have pride in myself. I know who I am and the things I want and I am willing to work hard and honestly to get them. I have made mistakes, I have made bad choices, but bottom line, I forgive myself. I have to. I am loveable, deserving and human and I will accept no more than what makes me happy.

I , by no means, am comparing myself to someone who has lost a loved on in death. Instead, I have revisited too many times the death of my marriage. I have mourned, I have cried, I have carried guilt and anger. Now its my time for happiness. I forgive myself and I open my heart to the many wonders of the world that I have yet to experience. In honor of my friend, whose radiance I envy, I trust myself enough to carry me through my future. I can do this!

The summer of 2012

Though I had obtained employment and was functioning in society as a human, nothing in my life felt human. I would awake every morning with the realization that I was in another life, one that I wasn’t sure was my own anymore.

I was at rock bottom, devastated, destroyed and aggressively looking for any rational reasoning that I had found myself in this situation. I over analyzed everything. I spent hours upon hours scanning every minute of my 10 year marriage: hours upon hours relieving the affair with R., the times together, the things that we said. I knew I deserved everything that was happening in my life, I had created this mess by making the wrong choices: I was lying in the bed that I made for myself. and that my friends, was a horrible feeling.

I waited every day for someone to save me from myself. I could not let either my husband or my lover go, my heart could not face that I was unloved and unimportant to either of these men. I felt used, nasty, disgusting and worthless.

I threw myself into my silly waitressing job, but it was just what I needed at that point in my life. Living in a tourist area, summer is the opportune time to be in a place as such. My worries over my bills were drifting to the way side, but I had no clue how to continue on. Nothing in my life was normal or functional. I began my job a week before Mothers Day weekend. My youngest son was settling into life in TX at basic training, my oldest son had just graduated basic and was stationed in MS for tech school, my daughter gave all appearances to be fine with our current situation and her life was continuing on, as normal. Mothers day came, my first ex husband was traveling with his family to Atlanta, GA to deliver my oldest sons car to him. My daughter wanted to travel with her Dad to see her brother that weekend and I gladly let her go. I needed that break, I needed those few days to just breathe.

Mothers Day I worked a double shift, I volunteered too. I knew the money would be worth it and my mind would be distracted from my life. That day, was one of the hardest in my memory. Families were coming in to treat the moms in their life a dinner out. Husbands were taking out wives, children were taking out their moms and I was surrounded with these “happy” families. I hated every one of them, I did not have that happy family, to be honest, I don’t think I ever did. I drove home around 8 p.m., my cell phone had not so much as vibrated or rang all day. I was forgotten, my kids did not call, my husband did not call, I was simply a woman alone in the world. I walked into the condo, in the dark, went into my medicine cabinet, removed every med I had known to man, and laid on the couch in the dark while my world crashed. It had been a few weeks coming, I had maintained my strength and my dignity for my children for so long, the emptiness in my home and my heart crashed around and I cried for hours for everything that I had lost, for everything that I never had. I made a decision, at that moment, to take my own life. I had hurt everyone around me, including myself, by my own hand: no one would miss me and the world would be better without me. I looked to ceiling and out loud commanded God to give me a reason to live, to stop me from what I was about to do. Two seconds later, my cell phone rang. It was my youngest son, calling from basic training. He had only been enlisted for two weeks and new trainees are not usually granted phone privileges for the first month. I answered the phone and proceeded to listen to my baby boy tell me happy mothers day, how proud he was of me, how much he loved me and how he was worried about me. He did not have long to talk but he will never realize what that ten minute phone call did for me that night. My son saved my life, he will never know that, but he stopped me from taking my life. I heard the words he was saying, I felt them in my heart and I knew I had to move forward, not only for myself, but for my children. I had to make our lives normal again and I needed to be the woman that he was describing to me in that conversation. I hung up the phone and again was crying, but for different reasons, I fell to my knees and thanked God for that phone call and for my three beautiful children. I promised God and myself that I would never consider suicide again, I placed the pills in the toilet and I pulled myself up by my boot strings.

The month lease on the condo was due to expire May 22, by May 15th, things were not looking well. I had phoned every real estate company in the area, searched every news paper, and was finding nothing available in my price range. I had no furniture, it was all in my husbands home still. All we owned were the clothes in our closet and the few items I had placed in the car the day I left my home. On May 16th I found an ad in the paper for a furnished condo in the units beside of us, I phoned, I was the first caller. That week, I met with the real estate agent three times. I passed the credit check and background check and though I had supplied great references, the landlord was hesitant on allowing a single mom of a 17 year old into his home. After the three meetings, the real estate agent reluctantly offered me a lease, she could find no reason not to. There was one issue, the lease did not begin until June 1, I needed to be out of the current condo by May 22. I phoned the real estate company that managed the current condo, again gave them my situation, to which they phoned the owners who were willing to allow me to stay until June 1. Times were tough, everything felt like a battle, but I was surviving.

June 1, I packed my daughters and my belongings into my car, drove to work, worked a double shift and at 10 p.m. that evening, my daughter and I were moving our things into our new home. The lease was signed for a year. It was a fully furnished condo with an ocean view, just what we needed.

A few days later, my husband emailed me to tell me my personal belongings were in storage. Until that point, he had no contact with me, it wasn’t until I threatened a lawsuit that he willingly returned what was rightfully mine. The day I drove to the storage unit and saw my grandmothers china cabinet, my hope chest that was a gift for my 16th birthday and my dads antique sewing machine, I cried with relief. It was so nice to see something that was “mine”.

The days came and went, my life was still on autopilot. I was dropping weight, I could not get the hurt to stop, my heart was forever aching and broken. I maintained a daily schedule for my daughter and I but I put up barriers in my world. I did not look at men, go near men or even begin to think of dating again. I did not talk with my co-workers, I never told them a thing about myself and I spent hours on the phone with my best friends simply crying.

My friendships began to struggle. I have been blessed with a few of the very best friends in the world, but I could tell they were becoming increasingly frustrated with my lack of moving forward. I could never make them understand or realize how devastated my life and heart were.

At the end of June, I relied on a my dependable credit card to supply at trip to TX to watch my youngest son attain his dream and graduate into the United States Air Force. My daughter went with me and for the first time in months, for two short days, everything felt normal. We all spent time together celebrating my son. I returned home and again, locked myself into isolation. I was terrified of everything people, emotions, reality.

My husband never attempted to contact me again. He placed my items in storage, ignored my emails or calls and never looked back. Word around town was he was dating already, he had repainted the entire town house, was seen out on the town laughing and partying with friends, meanwhile, my life was spent hiding from everyone and everything!

In July, my best friend booked a trip to spend the week with me. She lived in Memphis and I was excited to spend some much-needed girl time with one of my greatest supporters. She came into town and was surprised at the woman that she found waiting for her. Expecting to find the old me, I think I broke her heart when she walked into the life of a distraught and devastated soul. It was hard for her to wrap her mind around the person I was. Though I could keep up the appearances on the outside, what was inside was not pretty. We had a few huge fights while she was in town, fights that were needed and opened my eyes to my life and what I was doing to myself. We had been friends for many years, through divorces and marriages and child raising, etc. She was surprised at how much damage R. had done to my heart and told me so. She was livid at the woman he had made me, at the woman I had allowed him to make me.

After she returned home, I began to analyze the truths that she had brought to the forefront and I realized one thing was right, I had allowed these men to decide my fate and who I would become, that power was no longer going to be theirs to have. Over the three months that R. and my husband had vanished from my life, I had convinced myself I was unlovable, undeserving of love and had made sure to place those barriers for no one to get in. The truth was, I deserved so much more than I have ever received, I deserved to believe in me again. My 11 years that had been spent with dedication and devotion to my husband were never real. He never loved me, never believed in me and had worked hard to make me believe I was nothing without him and the sad part was, I did believe that. The months that I had spent devoted to R. were also a sham. He was never in love with me, never had any intentions of leaving his wife or being a person in my life, I had sacrificed everything, for a fantasy. Neither of those men were going to have any say over my present or my future, I made that decision.

My job was bogging me down, my life was going nowhere and I knew what I needed to do. I quit the waitressing place, after battling for unemployment, I had received a back pay check for the time I had not been employed, this granted me the option of taking a few weeks off, gathering my thoughts and finally moving forward with me life.

My daughter went to spend the last weeks of summer with her Dad, she had worked all summer at a local pizza place and wanted a small vacation of her own. With the timing of all that was happening, I agreed. My home quiet, my bills paid, and the end of summer upon me, I spent the first week, alone, in my condo, not leaving my bed, but allowing my heart to begin to heal.

The begining of the end

In 2010, Chris and I had been married for 8 years and together for 9. I had graduated college in 2005 and was happily settled into a great career and had been employed with the same company for almost 5 years.

I mentioned in a previous post about my manager at my job, who had become my father figure. In August of 2009, he was fired from his position with our company. The company had found a candidate, who was well-known in the industry, that was moving to our area and they pushed my friend out of the door to make room for this new person. He was distraught, hurt and angry: and rightfully so. The absence of him in my daily work life was extreme, more than anyone can realize. Not having a father in my life for 35 years had taken its toll on my heart and until our friendship formed, I had never realized the benefits of having a patriarch role model. Our friendship continued, but was limited to a few phone calls a week to check in and catch up.

I was more lonely than ever, my daughter just turned 16 and was giving us large amounts of grief. She was sneaking out at night, cutting the screen in her window: had made several attempts to run away, was having unprotected sex, and was a not so typical boy crazy teen-aged girl. Her grades began to drop and her school activities were no longer a part of her life. There was building a distance between she and I, no longer able to be her friend, I was pushed into being the parental hard ass in her life. Chris had no desire in helping me with disciplining her. He was full of negativity and would insult her and I with put downs and criticism. His belief was she was too old to change and would just be worthless her whole life.

2010 came in quiet and sad, I was drunk and passed out and my husband sat in the living room reading his bible.

The isolation in my heart became overwhelming around this time. In January of 2010, we had booked a “family” cruise to Mexico for he, myself and my kids. I can honestly say, this cruise was the true beginning of the end. The kids and I went on adventures together, he sat at the pool, reading his bible and ignoring my requests at us doing things together. There is no need to venture into details, but the last night of the cruise, a huge fight ensued between he and I. I had limited my drinking around my kids, I always did, but I was in full blow out mode that evening and had partaken in quiet a bit of bubbly when my hubby felt the need to call me out on my drinking in front of my kids and a group of random strangers. The night ended with him telling me the 9 years we had been together had been the worst of his life and his biggest regret was marrying trash like myself. I fell asleep, sobbing like a baby, unable to stop the tears or catch my breath, while he lay coldly, isolated beside me on the opposite side of the bed. It was after that trip, that I became numb to his presence and began to live on auto pilot. I no longer was concerned to have his house spotless, his dinner on the table, or making any attempt at being his wife. My heart broke that evening, more than I can ever explain, and his coldness had left me chilled to the bone.

My auto pilot life consisted of barracading any emotions from entering my heart, whether they were for my marriage, my children, friends, etc. My work was my distraction, alcohol my best friend and other than the twice weekly phone calls from my former manager, my life was void of any interaction with others.

In May of 2010, the company that I worked for hired a new manager. The man they choose was bi-polar, manic depressive and suffered from severe mental issues. (of course, they learned this AFTER they hired him.) For whatever reason, from the moment of introduction, he decided he did not like me and was going to find a way to terminate my position. This man harassed me verbally, physically and mentally. He would attempt everyday to find something I was doing wrong and when he could find no wrong he began to force situations in an attempt to make others believe I had committed some horrendous act so he could terminate me. The only person I spoke to about this situation was my former manager. (to refer to him by name, I will call my former manager John) He was livid and without my approval began to make phone calls to attempt to stop this situation from happening in my life. I never spoke to my husband about what was happening in my work, he would only come to the managers defense and tell me I must have done something to deserve that treatment. At the end of May, it all came to a head and human resources was phoned in. Their hands were tied, they had no proof of wrong doing on either of our parts, thought they knew there was something not right about the new manager, and they offered me a demotion or to resign. I submitted my official resignation, with a rehireable status, and a promise from human resources if the manager was relocated or left our company I would have my position back immediately. On the drive home, I phoned John and gave him the news. I was terrified of having to go home and tell my husband of what happened. John was encouraging and supportive and as I pulled in the drive, I knew the words he said were true and everything would be ok.

I sat my husband down at the dining room table and told him what had been happening over the few weeks and what the final outcome was. He was as I thought he would be. Non supportive, critical, demeaning and was in no way supportive. I was a piece of trash that had left my family financially strapped with only one income, there had to be more to the story since I had hidden it from him, and when he learned that I had been talking with John about the situation he was livid. He accused me of having an affair with John and informed me that he was to be out of my life immediately. On this one, I stood my ground. John was 64 and I was 38, he was happily married and I was married. He was a huge support in my life and a role model that I was not going to give up for anyone. My husband did not speak to me for weeks: but he was talking to everyone else. We worked in the same industry and not a week after I resigned my husband attended a trade show in Raleigh. Imagine my horror when I began to receive phone calls from former vendors or sales reps offering their condolences for my being fired from my position. Yes, my beloved, sweet, perfect husband was telling EVERYONE he saw that I had been fired. (remember that this is the same man who did not tell a soul when I was attending school because it was our private business. When I called him out it, he simply responded that they had forced my resignation, that was the same as being fired.

The next two months were horrible. Unemployed, my daughter at her dads for the summer, dealing with an unhappy marriage and no longer having distractions in my life took their toll. I drank everyday, not from dawn to dusk, but around 2 p.m. I would open the bottle and drown my sorrows. The only mainstay I had in my life was John. He and his wife would drive the hour drive to my home to take me to lunch or to bring me smiles. He would phone daily to check on me and made no bones about calling me out on my marriage and my drinking.

In July of 2010, unable to find a job, the manager at my former work still employed, and savings dwindling, the hubby made the decision for us to place our home for rent and return to his hometown, where we had moved from 5 years before. There was no happiness in this news, it was his home where his family lived and his friends were, that meant that I would be even more isolated in everyone would be near and watching my every move. I was helpless and distraught and simply prayed to God for something to happen to change our circumstances. On July 18, we packed two U-hauls trucks full of our belongings and began the two hour journey back to his hometown. On July 17, I had made a four hour road trip to pick up my nieces from the airport. That four hour trip had been spent on the phone with John, crying uncontrollably and contemplating suicide. In his usual fatherly way, John brought his zany sense of humor into the conversation, along with his supportive words and brought me back from the edge. In route to our new home, on July 18, I received one of the most horrifying phone calls of my life, John had suffered a sudden brain aneurism, was being life flighted to another state and was non-reponsive. My mental walls crashed and I lost control of everything. John was on life support and in a coma for two weeks after they aneurism. I waited daily for that phone call that never came. Those two weeks are a blur of half heartedly attempting to put our new home together and sleeping 18 hours a day. I wasn’t drinking, I wanted to be completely sober when he called to tell me things were ok.

On August 4 , 2010, at 6:48 p.m., John died. A close friend of mine phoned to give me the news, I dropped the phone, began screaming, and turned to punch the kitchen cabinet before fainting onto the kitchen floor. When I came to, my husband was standing over me, phone in hand hearing the news himself, examining the kitchen cabinet. He thanked my friend for calling, looked at me on the floor crying uncontrollably and cursed me for damaging “our new home” (it was actually the same townhouse he had lived in when we met) and walked out, leaving me in a heap on the floor. How could God have done this to me? On the very day we were moving, the very day that I was so stressed over, God took the only support I had. I was hurt, in grief, alone, destroyed devastated and hated everyone and everything around me. At 7 a.m. on August 5, I opened a fifth of vodka and never stopped. I would awake from one drunken stupor to begin on the next. I don’t remember much over the next couple of weeks other than having quiet a bit of hangovers. Just before my 38th birthday in August, I decided to drink myself to death. I opened a gallon of vodka at 7 a.m. and by 2 p.m. had drank over half. The next thing I remember, my husband was home at 6 p.m., dragging me down the stairs by my shirt. In a black out, I had ripped the refrigerator door off the hinges, smashed the duck decoys his dad had made, broke any and all pictures that his family were present in and had passed out in my vomit on the bathroom floor. He was livid, I was still drunk and only wanted to sleep. He threw me into the parking lot of our town home, locked the door and left me with no keys, money, and only half dressed. I somehow crawled to the backyard and passed out again. A few hours later, he awoke me again, dragged me to his car, and informed me he was driving me to a rehab center to get help. This was not stated in a supportive I am worried about you manner. It was more like “You have humiliated me and disgusted me beyond belief, I am taking you where they can fix you, don’t call me or come back until you are sober, if I am even here waiting for you then”. By this time it was 2 a.m., I am vomiting everywhere, fighting a horrid headache and wondering why I didn’t die. We live in a small community where there is no rehabilitation facilities located, after several phone calls and failed attempts to find someone to “Fix me”, he goes in the house locks the door, this time he does leave me in the car. The next morning, I awake to the horrific memory of the day before. The house is unlocked and I stumble in to find he has packed his items, taken my car, and left a note that he was moving to his mothers house. I ventured up stairs, looked at the damage I had created the night before, walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Since our marriage, I had gained almost 70 pounds, the sight looking back at me was half dressed, covered in her own vomit, eyes swollen, hair everywhere….she was a sad sad sight.

Maybe my husband was right, I was a piece of shit after all. Why had I left myself get to this extreme? Was I willing to die a tragic death and leave my kids with that memory? Was it worth it to try to be the person I knew I was in my heart? At that moment, I decided I was worth it, not the piece of trash he said I was and I made a commitment to prove him wrong. I walked to the phone, called our local AA hotline and within an hour I had a sponsor sitting in my home, holding me tight, while I cried my eyes out.