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Crazy Train. Part Ten.


I was at the edge or maybe I had already gone off the track. The crazy train that is...


So, to say someone is going "crazy train" is a short and humorous way of saying they're "going off the rails". The adverb "full" here means "completely". So, someone going "full crazy train" means someone going completely off the rails.


My memory of the journey back to my Uncle Eugene's house is hazy. I went in and out of consciousness. After arriving, I quickly went to bed, my mind racing but my body exhausted. The combination of vodka and cannabis in my system caused me to pass out. When I woke up, I was consumed by fear - fear of embarrassment, withdrawal, guilt, and shame over my condition. Despite my struggles, my Uncle Eugene, a kind and gentle soul, welcomed me warmly as he always had. I will forever be grateful for his kindness and lack of judgment. He must have been surprised to see me in such a state, lost to addiction as I was.


Without delay, I sought out my vodka to find solace. Unable to confront my current state, I resorted to drinking again. As my anxiety lessened, I regained the ability to interact with my family without feeling the need to escape. However, it wasn't long before I slipped into a blackout once more. Soon after, my father arrived, and I accompanied him to his nearby house, as they were neighbors. There I was addictive and obsessed with my next drink. The first night, my daddy made me sleep in the same bed as him like a little child. I think he was scared I would run off, get drunk, or die. It was that bad. When we woke, I appeared "normal". My mind was not as hazy, and I could carry on a legitimate conversation without appearing completely bonkers. It did not last long.


While my daddy was away at his office, I secretly went into his liquor cabinet and took a bottle of vodka. After having a few shots, I stashed the bottle in the guest bathroom and surprisingly started to feel better. At first, he did not even notice. I was drinking to feel "normal" and to be able to function without having a complete meltdown. He took me to a nearby thrift store to purchase some clothes because I had none. Remember, I left my suitcase on the side of the road outside the treatment facility. As we walked around, I found some shorts, tops, and a bathing suit to purchase. I was so tiny, even a size zero was loose on my hips. I said it before, But I will say it again, I never felt good about myself at such a small size. It reinstated the fact that I was sick; both physically and mentally.


Upon returning home, I started consuming more alcohol. I vanished briefly, prompting my daddy to search for me. He discovered me in the guest bathroom guzzling vodka as if it were water. He shouted in confusion, unable to grasp the situation. He phoned my Uncle Eugene, and I went to his place. I felt annoyed by my daddy's response, but my greatest disappointment was in myself for being unable to control my actions. Alcohol overruled every logical thought in my brain and overturned all sanity left.


The following day, my father arrived to take me back to Montgomery, AL. He was unsure how to handle the situation, feeling anguish and desperation in such a delicate moment. I begged him to take me back to Atlanta. I was not taking no for an answer. At this point, I had exhausted his attempt to help me with treatment and I was a grown adult. He could not force me to get help nor change my ways. All I do know, he wanted me out of his hands! It was too much to watch his daughter destroy her own life and actively choose a drink over everything present in my life. I tried to state my case, "I had to get back to my kids and take care of them." I felt I could not function if I was not taking care of my duties as a mother. (obviously, I was barely functioning at all)


You know what I have learned from this experience? My identity is not in my role as a mother. I had to learn to love myself exactly as I was not by the roles I took on. I felt loved and needed taking care of my babies and while all that is great and wonderful, and I am so graciously blessed by motherhood, it cannot be my reason to live. I think I was hanging on to the only love existing as I knew it. My eyes were blind. There was love all around me. I could not see it and I think maybe I did not want to. It was easier to stay in the darkness, a part of me felt safe there.


Upon our arrival at the office, my daddy was finished dealing with me. He instructed his secretary to arrange for an Uber to drive me home. He refused to get involved. Eric had already started mentioning the possibility of obtaining a restraining order. My daddy believed that this was a lesson I needed to face on my own, and he hoped that I would come out of it unscathed.




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