I just got out of the hospital about a day ago and I find myself here at about 2:15 am sitting in the living room in a some what odd position in quite a significant amount of pain. 6 days ago, after having a rather unproductive and uneventful day, I ended up getting into an argument with my 17 and a half year old son over the fact that I hI have been sober for 3 years and about 5 months or so however back in February when I was tired of being accused of drinking when I wasn’t and being accused of being a piece of shit when I wasn’t and over all just looked down on because I didn’t feel that going to a place everyday where I was reminded that I was not “allowed” to do something that I enjoyed doing that everyone else could and that it was easier for me to not want to drink if it wasn’t something I thought about every second of the day, I decided that I wanted to know what Jack Daniels “Honey” tasted like.ad had a shot or two of Vodka and I was planning on having one or two more in the very near future. The trouble with that situation is the fact that I am an alcoholic. It sounded really good to me and it was something that came out after I quit drinking. My boyfriend and I had broken up and I didn’t think I would ever have him back in my life again so while I was down in the dumps about it, I wasn’t on the “Oh My God I’m gonna drink till I can’t drink anymore” kick. I just felt like having a drink. So I went out and bought a bottle. I was so “not” in the drink my sorrows away mood that I didn’t even open it that night. By the time I got home the thought had past and I forgot about it until later the next day. Then when I did finally crack it open, I think I had about 2 or 3 shots worth and put it down. Then, yet again, I forgot about it. That little bottle lasted me about 5 days and that was even with someone helping themselves to some of it without asking. I didn’t drink again after that for quiet some time again. It was a couple of weeks at least and a friend had bought the Jim Beam “Honey” flavored whiskey. He offered me some and I gladly obliged a drink here and there but nothing too major. Then the next day when I was having some pretty serious psychotic symptoms and I was asking my boyfriend to do me a favor that he really didn’t want to do or feel was necessary, he asked me to wait just 2 hours. So I agreed as long as he would let me finish what was left of the Jim Beam because when the two hours was up I was not going to have to opportunity to drink again for a little while. He agreed and so I finished the last quarter of the bottle. I drank one other time after that and it was when my boyfriend and I had broken up and I just knew we were DONE. There was no way that I was ever going to have what I had always dreamed of having with him and I was going to be lost forever without him. So again, my friend went and got the honey flavored whiskey and I drank. The thing about all of this is, I never got drunk. Not one of the 3 times that I have had a drink or the opportunity to get drunk in the last 3 and a half years did I get drunk. I did catch a buzz, that happened once. But thats it.
Back to what just happened last week, I get a bit confused because while I was completely coherent, I remember everything, and I was not high on meth or anything, they say that my alcohol level was 30. First of all, what the hell do they mean by 30? Do they mean .30? .030?.0030? Because even a 3.0 would mean your dead. Not only that, but I know what I drank and with only 2 shots of cheap ass Vodka there is no way that my blood alcohol level was anywhere near .030. I’ve been there before and let me just tell you, it isn’t pretty. Not with me, not at all.
So if my alcohol level was survivable and I was at home and all, how did an argument with my son land me in a hospital? Well, you see, my son has absolutely no tolerance for me drinking and I had kept the fact that I had had anything to drink at all hidden from everyone as much as possible because I knew that they would get upset. I had no idea however that my son would get as up set as he did when he saw me with the bottle of Sky in my hand. He started to yell at me and became irate and he then went ballistic.
Time line break
That was back in May, the whole incident happened on April 28, 2015. I am finally getting a chance now to have some free time to myself to actually write again for my own good. My cognitive self is still a little slow and I am typing a lot worse than I was before but the more I do it the better I get. I’ts really sad and honestly too hard fot me to tie in to the above paragraph with ease so I will just write it here bluntly…… My son saw, only saw, me carring a bottle of alcohol down the hall way and we got in to a physical fight. It became so heated and full of anger and hate that he beat and kicked me until I was unconconsious. When I came to, I started screaming he’s killing me! He’s killing me! Someome helpme! HE’s KILLING ME! And who called the police? My son did. When all was said and done, I eneded up needing 2 plates and 10 screws in my shattered ankle and had noteable bruises in other places all over my body. I have had my leg in a cast for 6 weeks with no weight baring, and now in a walking cast for 6 more weeks with limited, to some weight baring, then some to all weight baring with a PT once a week for the first four weeks and so on. I can see how eventually I will physically heal but mentally and emotionally, I think it will take a really long time.
This behavior with my son really concerns me and I worry that I raised a psychopath. Do I really want to stick around and see the damage he is gonna cause to others? What can I do at this point? What can I do now? I feel like I have ultimately failed him and myself.