booze – kelly hogaboom

painting [him] to the senses

March 15, 2013

by kellyhogaboom dailies

I’ve been sober almost two years and I’ve probably had a drinking dream a half dozen times. These episodes have a similar pattern; gradually I realize I’ve been drinking, having no idea how I started. I discover a glass in my hand and realize I’ve only had a little. I know I must stop, but I feel I’ve made a grave mistake. The sudden onset of hopelessness and shame is profound.

In last night’s dream, I was drinking some form of moonshine – undoubtably this was influenced by the episode of “Archer” we were watching last night. But in the dream this moonshine tasted far better than any liquor really tastes – it tasted of what we imagine these libations to taste like. Something out of this world, intoxicating yet poison, delicious poison. It’s the mouth-feel of that first drink, the one we chase. That first hit at the end of the day, before that moment when the futility strikes like a tuning fork in our heart. That sense, however slight, however we try to push our knowledge away: the sameness, the chase, the craving and the revulsion, that sense of drowning. The cycle of grasping and flight and gasping for air and succumbing.

Just because I don’t have to live that way doesn’t mean I don’t remember how it works.

But: it is, in this case, after all, just a dream. An illusion. I wake up and know I’m still clean and sober and I feel such a calm gratitude. I make an offering at my little shrine and get on my knees and thank the Universe and submit myself to its care, once again.

***

My son is getting fitted for braces on the 10th of next month. I have feels about this. I like his messed-up teeth and I think he looks wonderful with them. As a young person I didn’t receive orthodontia, nor my husband, so braces are a new territory for us. The bill, well all I can say is this first round of treatment will be paid off before he needs more. What else can I do? It is satisfying to have priorities. I simply care for the children as best I can, no matter what.

But: my son isn’t worried. While we wait for the technician to prepare the equipment to take a tooth mold, Nels looks at me. “So I need braces?” he asks in surprise. I nod and his eyes darken and his brows knit, and he says, “Bring it on.”

stuff we talked about and stuff

August 7, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

Me. Ten hours ago via email to Ralph: “I want that salad with fruit, garbanzo beans, and homemade bread rolls stuffed with ham and green beans”

Well while I was craft blogging and doing a bunch of other stuff, Ralph made dinner. Do you know what he made? He made all of it. Homemade rolls. This awesome salad. Roasted garbanzo beans. And fresh green beans sauteed with ham diced so fine it was like angels were in my kitchen.

It was the best meal I’ve had in forevvvvvveerrrrr

***

More stuff that got said today. On a long walk the kids and I and the dog, plus an extra kid, took.

Nels: “What you just said was so boring, a vulture squawked somewhere.”

Phoenix, later: “I’ll have a Virgin Mary because I’m a virgin. You have a Bloody Mary on the account of the miscarriage. Also your middle name.”*

I’m very tired. Insomnia quite a bit over the last week-plus. & last night just after falling asleep my neighbors got up to REAL rowdy and drunk at 2, 3, 5 AM. Going to the doctor tomorrow. About the insomnia stuff. About the neighbors, I may call the police since it’s happened like three times in the last ten days. Anyway, wish me luck with both!

Going to hit the shower and take some R&R.

* Marie.

my 2000th post, broseph

July 10, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

I’m pulling out of the driveway but only a little bit nervous, as Ralph still isn’t home. I forgot what I’ve known for some time now – this week he starts 4/10 shifts with Fridays off (yay!) and won’t be home quite yet. Nels runs outside. Nels never. And I mean never. Ever. Let’s me leave without giving me a hug and a kiss. “Hug and a kiss!”, every time. He’s hung off the car before. He’s chased me partway down the block in his underwear. These days, obviously, I stall in the driveway so we don’t have to go through any of that.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“A meeting.”

“But you’re going to throw up again,” he says.

“I’m better today,” I tell him.

“I hope so. I pray so nothing will happen to my Little Mama.”

I know what he means. I struggle with fear, because pain is so great when it comes. I am still trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be learning. I have learned a few things. Maybe if I write them out, I’ll feel better.

***

I was busy today. First a long walk-run with Hutch. Then a doctor’s appointment (by the way, my doctor recommended, as treatment for a kidney stone attack, slamming two beers in quick succession! I kid you not. And needless to say: ain’t gonna happen).

Then sewing some rad shit:

(more pics to come!)

Something I’d looked forward to: D. with Freedom Tails came and visited and we talked about Hutch – who is at least thirty pounds overweight, and is suffering from a mild (but could-get-worse) skin reaction, likely from his food. D. and I talked quite a bit about the dog, his past and present (you can see him here as a past graduate, under his previous name “Hootch”).

D. had some absolutely wonderful recommendations and daily I am just super-pleased with what I’m learning from our dog. He already can walk well-healed and without stopping or marking, travel with me off-leash, respond to a “heel” command off-leash, and will come when I want him back on leash. Considering I’ve had him only two weeks and by the time he came to live with us he was an escape artist and a dog who pulls on leash AND sniffs and marks when he felt like it – well, things are going well indeed.

Not to mention I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND WANT TO POST PICTURES OF HIM CONSTANTLY and sometimes do (on Twitter).

The pets rested after a busy day.

I shall not comment on the cats’ lifestyles. I shall not.

4th of July

July 4, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

I pen this as my neighbors are getting up and going with their loaded frolicking, involving explosives, many of which are likely not legal within the city limits. They’ve already fired more than one firework directly into our yard, on accident I think, because they are smashed. I came home from my mom’s to be with my dog who is hiding in the closet behind me, but much relieved I am here.

Earlier today: date with Ralph at the taco truck.

We finished cake balls – they will be for sale at my kids’ lemonade stand, First Thursday tomorrow in Hoquiam (5 PM to 8 PM, Gray’s General Store):

Hutch relaxed a bit, at my mom’s place:

By the way, Hutch knows who his “grandma” is. My mom has been talking him up all over town. I shit thee not. People I don’t know, know I have a dog and that my dog is awesome. I am totally in the “Hutch is awesome” camp, and I don’t know how it happened. I give him rub-downs every single day. I love him so much.

After dinner (which I was too hungry to take pictures of, alas – delicious tacos with tons of fresh veg and accoutrement) – strawberry shortcake, soooooo good (recipe in the July 2012 issue of Tumblehome!):

Fireworks, a few minutes before I started believing we might die tonight:

Nels is down with the pyrotechnics (as you know he’s totally cool with standing inside a firework):

One last spark before taking cover inside:

undefeatable; not by their nature, but by your approach

June 25, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

I haul my daughter out of the house full of kids, and one parent in the back room smoking pot. I’m pissed even though I know this person is just getting by. It’s nothing personal and has nothing whatsoever to do with me. That said, in my field I do with regularity hear about the kind of stuff that goes down in homes where the adults in charge are Lotus Eaters, and heck I lived a bit of it. Are my kids in danger? Probably not much. Possibly not at all. But you’ll excuse me if I’m not always entirely sanguine about it all, 24/7. Sometimes my tolerance is a bit low. My kids are still little, remember?

Just getting by. I get it. Today I got a text from another friend, relapsed/relapsing, out drinking and/or drugging as I type this, asking for a ride earlier – I suspect, to find more substances to put in his system. Lest you think this isn’t a big deal, it is my opinion this young man may very well die a young age. Or he may never drink again and live a long fruitful life. Anything could happen. I’m thinking of him as I lie on a cold slab getting a picture of my insides. The x-ray technician and/or radiologist and I talk a bit, and pretty soon we have a few laughs. She is sweet and kind. As per usual when I leave, she wishes for things to get better. This is a lovely thing. You’d think people would get bored or apathetic but usually medical staff are kind. Usually people are kind.

Later in the day at an appointment with my specialist he laughs handsomely and tells me the latest about my kidneys. It’s not great news, but it’s much better than it could be. For this I am grateful. While he taps on the laptop I notice a striking piece of jewelry; I ask if the feature setting is an opal. He tells me it’s an elk tooth – “elk ivory”, he corrects himself. “Oh, did you take the animal down yourself?” I ask. He tells me yes. “With your bare hands?” He laughs again. He probably thinks I’m being a jerk. But I am just irreverent at times. He looks like a stock photo picture of a handsome doctor, and I like the image of him grappling like a caveman.

Home, and in the afternoon four kids from other families streamed over at our house. Arts and crafts! One of Phee’s very off-hand dragons:

The children all did a lot of drawing (Each child is so expressive! It’s cool.), and then they played this game where they said existentially-silly sentences and then laughed with much gusto. Nels was in the forerunning with, “I don’t believe in soup.” I thought that one was pretty good. And let me tell you, the kids played this game for several minutes running. I’m folding laundry now and a bit later I hear my son regale the crowd with, “I forget to close my eyes when I run into walls, because I’m allergic to semen.” So at that point I think maybe we should have a walk, play a different game.

Nels, playing Terraria in his sister’s pink robe:

Today. A pretty good day.

riverfronts & parks

June 22, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

I meet E. about a year ago now. A highly intelligent young man, at one time gainfully employed but when I meet him, reduced to jobless couch-surfing. E. is polite and well-mannered. But he is also depressed, angry, private, and resentful. He calls me, drunk, a little time after we’d got to know one another. This is before I knew the whole, about ten percent of alcoholics get recovery business. This is back when I thought people would get sober and stay sober. Before I knew how common relapse was. Before I knew how many people could die pretty quick instead of kinda slow (average age of alcoholics, 52). If you didn’t know already, I come from that whole, “kinda slow” crowd of family and friends. Long lives of denial then pre-cognition and ugly, ugly alcoholic behavior into retirement age or older.

Anyway a year ago E. is talking and talking and telling me he’s sure no one in our program of Recovery gives a shit about him. I remember taking slight umbrage to that statement. I told him for one thing he never talked or shared in group (“I’ll just listen today”, day after day), so some people might be letting him be private, thinking that was his preference. I also told him it was unfair for any of us to hold others accountable to anything when we haven’t made ourselves vulnerable and shared what is bugging us, within a setting of accountability. Yeah, that’s right. Because here’s the thing most people don’t want to admit, no one is responsible to read your mind. And if you’re honest in sharing your thoughts and feelings, you run the risk of having some feedback. Maybe stuff your Ego doesn’t want to hear. Imagine that.

I’ve spent the last year being as kind as I could to this young man E., giving rides now and then, but mostly just the odd conversation or hug. He didn’t seem particularly interested in my friendship, and I respected that. And you know, a year ago I thought he was at the end of his rope, and ready to admit defeat. I was wrong. Because I’ve watched him deteriorate in a way I couldn’t have guessed at. The details are not ones I’ll go into here.

Today he calls while I’m on the way somewhere, and I can’t tell if he’s sober or not. He asks for gas money to pool so he can go to a new town and work. This request is kind of surprising as he’s never so much as directly asked for a ride but I figure maybe he’s taking advice, asking for help while sober, before drinking. Now this isn’t the kind of help I give everyone, but I have a nice little series of simple guidelines to go by when asked something like this. Don’t rob myself, don’t rob my family, then give help when asked, and whatever happens it’s none of my business. I tell him I’ll check in with my husband and I’ll call him after my appointment. He tells me he’s going to pay me back. I laugh and tell him to pay it forward. I think of how many people I’ve seen doing just that.

After I pick up some cash from Ralph I have a few minutes to think about it and I figure E. is probably drunk. A while later I meet him, with a “friend” up at the park. They’re ostensibly playing frisbee, but they’re really just waiting for money. I can tell they’ve been drinking and/or using. E.’s walk to my car is that of a doomed man. He doesn’t want to walk to my car and take money and put it in a bottle, but he has no choice. I know this. I get it. He gets to my car door. Now a few minutes before I’d been unhappy about meeting E. and a friend alone, even though we’re in a public place. I know he’s capable of assault while drinking, even if I’ve shown nothing but kindness I am not immune.

But when I see him up close every thought I had flies out my mind. His face is flushed but his whole body is too. I have never seen so much shame suffused in someone’s face. He takes the cash and he pauses and the kind of crying I’m seeing is like nothing I’ve ever seen. He looks at me and we look in one another’s eyes. I say, “Good luck.” Then, “take care.”

And I drive off.

Alcoholism is an ugly disease; also, water is wet.

***

Later in the day the kids and I take the car to get the brakes fixed. I hadn’t planned on dropping the vehicle off today, but my brake pad parts got in to the shop. I hadn’t planned, this means I hadn’t set up a ride home. The kids and I walk the two miles home. I feel okay about not bumming bus fare from their piggybanks, as they’re perfectly happy to walk, and it’s nice for me too.

Sumner Avenue is a drag to walk on, only because the highway traffic is loud and there are no significant trees to muffle the noise. The three of us pass overgrown lawns and step over mossy cracked sidewalks. Finally the riverbank, scotchbroom and dandelion and poppy and vetch.We see a harbor seal in the river, delighting the children. My kids take turns holding my hand and they put their arms around me. They’re so tall now I only have to bend a little to smell the sunshine in their hair.

Nels says, “When I get older I want my mom to buy me a housssse… with a million kitties and a baby alligator, and they all stay in different rooms and no one trespasses. And a bunch of trained wasps. And a WOLF!”

friday links: “But I’m a test pilot and you’re just a lady!”

June 8, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

Despite being ill and all, I had to get you some Friday links. Here’s hoping you kick back and waste some time!

Are You There, God? It’s Me: Period Stories by Tami at Clutch Magazine. (slight spoilers for the TV show “Mad Men”).

An illustration and discussion of “The Real Drinking World” at HuffPo. As a high-bottom functional, or “almost-alcoholic” (I just prefer the term – alcoholic), I think this is excellent, excellent reading. I’m grateful I had a doctor point out my [“almost-“] alcoholism, but I also support the dignity of those who’ve reached full-on alcoholic dependence in the ways, you know, the movies like to portray. Just heard a story the other day about a man who ended up in his bathroom on the toilet with constant diarrhea, and who made up a bed in his bathtub and stayed in there and drank. You don’t have to end up there to get help, and I’m glad articles like this are popping up here and there.

Sexist media: in media reports on women’s issues like abortion & birth control, men are quoted 5 times more than women.

“Behind the scenes at James Bond auditions”, a photo slide retrospective. I was raised on Bond films and despite all the things you could rightfully claim (sexist, racist, homophobic, campy, et cetera) I have a special place in my heart for that cheesiness (and yay Pussy Galore!). This little series was fun and cute, and gave me a newfound appreciation for Lazenby, whom I’d previously pish-poshed.

Cinemagraphs! A cute concept. We’ll be seeing them everywhere soon. Unless you already are, because I’m usually behind the times. Here’s a question. What movie, and what actor, and why do I like him?

cinemagraph

A little bit of animated fun: if you thought movie trailers cheapened Carmina Burana O Fortuna, check this out.

A million shades of grey; or, “Would you rather be right, or would you rather be happy?”, or – and this is my favorite – “Ken Wilber said, ‘Sometimes you need to allow things to hurt you more, but bother you less.'”. by Ingrid Mathieu.

Open Thread: Erykah Badu & The Flaming Lips Team Up for a NSFW Vid – Are You Feeling It? at Clutch Magazine.
I have my thoughts about this video. I’ll share them. I think this is a beautiful song. Audio-wise, I like the cover. I like the video, too. I think it’s pretty neat. However I’m a li’l tired of the same naked bodies being used in the same ways. Call me when we see a nude dude – not being portrayed as silly – and yeah, full cock-n-balls, for one. Update: apparently the whole thing is a big mess between the artists. I have some thoughts on that too, but I’m sick, so I’m done.

[s]he who aspires to paradise

March 24, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

Yesterday I was feeling insecure. The details matter little, but I laid awake a bit last night and felt that old, old – OLDE – Impending Sense of Doom. I used to live with it all the time. I would smash it flat with all kinds of Ego exercises. I had enough of these exercises to write thousands of words describing them (but I won’t, right now). These activities worked until they didn’t. And then I suffered a lot.

Today I do occasionally hurt, and sometimes I don’t know why. Usually I can get to the bottom of it, but other times – like yesterday – I don’t understand why I suffer. I have learned to be patient. I won’t always feel this way, I can remind myself. Sometimes I can set the self-critical thoughts aside. Other times they run rampant and punish me a bit.

Today I received an email from someone who wrote some very nice things, telling me that reading my words made quite a difference in her life. This was wonderful to hear, and I look forward to writing her back and getting to know her better. And tonight after a meeting a woman told me she thought I was “awesome”… and that after listening to me over the last few months she thought I was “the kindest person [she’d] met”. She told me when she hears me speak, that she – and at this juncture she let loose a deep sigh of contentment. “Because I’m not kind,” she said.

I have to be very, very kind to myself. I have to exercise this as rigorously as someone who has to take medicine daily – or die. Not surprisingly, kindness towards others flows from kindness to myself.

I will have to practice this until the day I die. It is a practice, not a feeling, nor a permanent attribute. I will never be perfect at the practice of kindness. But I hope to practice it every day.

Tonight while out with a friend, I saw someone from my Recovery community, a lovely young man I care for a great deal. He was buying a tall can and I know a bit about what that means for him. Another relapse of increasing depths. More self-harm. I worry about the extent of self-harm this particular person may commit. I love this man and I care about him. And yet I’m powerless to do anything except tell him, I miss you.

I hope to see him again.

Please make sure to tell people if you love them, or appreciate them, or admire them. Bold words, spoken in truth and love, are never wasted.

Made me pine / For the lamplight / Where you lie

January 10, 2012

by kellyhogaboom Uncategorized

Sometimes I wonder if those reading here, this last year’s open self-identification as a recovered alcoholic, guess at the nature of my previous drinking. Like how much secret guzzling did I do, quantaties. I’m going to get to that in a minute but first I wanted to say some things about my day.

Today I got myself up early after a very poor sleep in order to make the commitments I said I would.

Today I cared for my son and daughter by putting away laundry and getting breakfast ready and pareparing the house for a calm and nurturing environment, and by driving my son the special place he wanted to go.

Today I texted a sick friend and offered to bring her something if she needed it.

Today I drove in the car and smoked a cigarette and sang along quite joyfully and felt so happy to have a car and gas money.

Today I made time to meet with and talk to another friend about something that was troubling her, because I care and I hoped she trusted me enough to talk, and I hope she didn’t later regret that in any way.

Today I asked after a man’s health and heard he’d been having a hard time with a rather scary event. I listened and we talked a while about his physical ailments and his perceived dangers of semi-longterm prescribed narcotic medication.

Today on two separate occasions I gave a man a cigarette. In one case, the fellow needed one. In the second case, I’d remembered the young man likes the kind I smoke. Directly after this transaction he asked for a hug and I gave him one, and today it was a loving and completely comfortable and genuine hug, because today that’s what I really truly deeply have to offer.

Today I talked with a practitioner who felt compelled to come out to me, although she told me she hadn’t yet done publicly or to her employer.

Today I took a phone call and laid aside plans to listen to and discuss someone with a long-standing serious health issue that had recently come to a head.

Today I asked my mother about her day and took a few minutes to give her attention.

Today when I came across my husband during our various activities, I asked him, “How are you?” or “How was work?” and I genuinely wanted to hear, and I listened as best I could.

Today I assisted another woman in Recovery in the way I understood that woman wanted my help.

Today I answered an email from across the country about a parenting/family issue that was giving the author some grief.

Today I coped with my physical pain by expressing gratitude for those who help me (the practitioners, family, and friends) and accepting that Ouch, It Hurts.

Today instead of the sewing I’d longed to do, I recognized my pain level and instead watched an old B-movie while I rested.

Today I apologized to a friend for a careless mistake I’d made.

Today I treated my children well.

I do not write these items out to try to look good for others. I write them because they are directly related to the quality and experience of my sobriety. To respond to my inferences earlier, I used to drink, mostly starting around dinner dime, for medicinal effect. If you ever came over you’d see how I drank, I didn’t get too sloppy. Maybe I even looked “normal”. I certainly had many people express surprise when I came out as alcoholic and needing help.

But man, it had nothing to do with how many glasses of wine or how many fingers of Jack. See the days I worked hardest to be a “good” mom (warning on that link, ranty), or deal with the latest setback, or my anger at my husband. The days I tried to do things to make my friends happy. You know, I had less quality friends then and fewer friends, than I do now. But anyway back then I had to wonder about how those friends felt about me. I felt I should “fix” them if they were in trouble. I felt I had to perform as a “good friend” just like my “good mom” stuff. If I made a mistake I felt humiliated, too much show to make a good amends. The friends who behaved toward me in ways that hurt, I ended up avoiding them, effectually cutting them out of my life.

None of that is how I live today. The difference may not be something that loud and evident but is experienced so deeply it is truly a revelation to write.

I don’t give the list of the things I did today to brag. Or to try that Sisyphean effort of being “good”. It’s to remind myself of the woman I am today, of what my actions evidence. That’s not who I used to be.

it’s just a question

January 6, 2012

by kellyhogaboom dailies

A blood drive out at, of all places, Westport Winery. I gave blood almost exactly a year ago in the same bus (and interestingly when I checked just now, I see last year’s phone photo shows the same American Red Cross worker; he had longer hair then). Today I practiced the meditative breathing I always find helpful before being poked, swabbed, and stabbed. Ugh.

Meanwhile the kids raided the bus’ fridge of juice and granola bars.

Probably my favorite moment today was about four minutes after the above photo, inside the Winery restaurant where I was talking to a perfectly nice young man, and Nels, who was wearing his “tuxedo” jacket and looking quite formal in demeanor, politely walked up and asked this man and I, “Are you going to cheat on my dad?”

SERIOUSLY I am rarely at a loss for words but I had just given blood without hydrating first. Before I untangled myself (because, Conversation Over at that point) Nels had informed this man how he had the Best Dad Ever and he didn’t want anyone getting in the way of that. Holy god.

I drank tomato juice, water, coffee, and had a half a sandwich. It was a nice lunch.

I love Phoenie’s little emo-mullet.

Lately:

Nels lost his first top tooth on New Year’s Day. Yes, I am just about dying because his smile is so cute. Yes, I no longer have babies if all their baby teeth are falling out everywhere. Can you believe Nels’ smile? It reminds me of someone.

Skating at the Harborena, where they are keeping costs trim by not heating the place, and I had to go home early. Ralph pretend-grew a beard for two days and got my hopes up.

I got a little bit of sewing done today, but frankly I was a bit tired out. I don’t think it’s that normal to be tired after donating blood, but I might just be down after a lot of work lately. I’ve been low energy. I would like to get back to sewing a few things, as I have a special deadline on February 1st. We’ll just have to see how it goes.

“Try to think of a more boring sentence”, yes I know.