You’ve Got To Be Kidding Right???


Random (and sometimes not so random) musings from a life that sometimes is but often times is NOT amusing….

Here We Go…

Although many people in recovery will tell you that it’s not a good sign not to able to discuss it freely I’ve found that for me, admitting or discussing that I am in recovery is very difficult.  In fact, it’s down right excruciating.  Think I’ve overreacting?  Try telling someone that you are/were an alcoholic and then look at their face.

This is especially true for women.  When I was first sober I looked around for blogs that discussed women and their sobriety yet dealt with it in a family centered fashion allowing me to see that it could be done, that it was being done, and gave me *something* to hold onto that eventually life would become ‘normal’ again (whatever that means).   I have yet to find it.

Thus, the purpose of this blog.

If there are specifics you wish to know go to the About page although be forewarned that my picture will not appear (mostly because right now I take horrible pictures but also for the sake of my children and my husband).  To get the cast of players I’ll outline them in the About section as well.

But to tell you ‘About Me’ in four easy sentences:

I am a wife.

I am a mom.

I am a professional working in a VERY conservative industry.

And…I am a very grateful recovering alcoholic.

If you think this is an isolated problem the think again.  Below are excerpts that show just how deep the problem permeates into society and how drinking changes due to age and time of life:

It is estimated that of the 15.1 million alcohol-abusing or alcohol-dependent individuals in the United States, approximately 4.6 million (nearly one-third) are women (1).

(1)    WILLIAMS, G.D.; Grant, B.F.; Harford, T.C.; and Noble, B.A. Population projections using DSM-III criteria: Alcohol abuse and dependence, 1990-2000. Alcohol Health & Research World 13(4):366-370, 1989.

Drinking behavior differs with the age, life role, and marital status of women. In general, a woman’s drinking resembles that of her husband, siblings, or close friends (3). Whereas younger women (aged 18-34) report higher rates of drinking-related problems than do older women (3,4), the incidence of alcohol dependence is greater among middle-aged women (aged 35-49) (5)

(2)    WILSNACK, R.W.; Wilsnack, S.C.; and Klassen, A.D., Jr. Women’s drinking and drinking problems: Patterns from a 1981 national survey. American Journal of Public Health 74(11):1231-1238, 1984. (4) HILTON, M.E. Drinking patterns and drinking problems in 1984: Results from a general population survey. Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research 11(2):167-175, 1987. (5) WILLIAMS, G.D.; Stinson, F.S.; Parker, D.A.; Harford; T.C.; and Noble, J. Demographic trends, alcohol abuse and alcoholism, 1985-1995. Alcohol Health & Research World 11(3):80-83, 91, 1987.

So, as Oprah says:  “Here We Go”  (and note:  I will not refer to Oprah again…except perhaps in a tacky fashion).


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I Feel Like A New Person Again

Man, have I been a tad TOO overly opinionated lately.

I’ve also been in a place that I haven’t been in for a long time.

I’ve been a place that has had my recovery hanging on by a thread.

Barely and by my fingernails at times.

Me thinks that there is a correlation between that place and no meds.

Now that I’m back to being med’ed up I’m also back to being overly opinionated …just not as snarky.

One of things that was an outcome of said snarkyness and lack of appreciation of sobriety was a outing of my …ahem… problem.

On Twitter no less.

I had a major case of the ‘oh shits’ when I wrote the offending tweet but since I work at the Fort Knox of fire walled interwebs I was unable to “dump that tweet”  (thank you @f_i_d_g_e_t) as I was instructed to do.  Interestingly even though they have fire walled Twitter, you can get onto web based Twitter clients – go figure.

After my twitfauxpas I took a step back and thought:  “You know, there are a lot of mommy blogs out there but not so many mommy recovery blogs”.  Never wanting to be considered part of a pack I have been struggling with my blogging because honestly, I’m just not that interesting.  At least not since I’ve been sober.  Drunk, I’m a barrel of fun, at least for the first three drinks or so, after that, I’m just mean.

With that in mind I’ve decided to alter the focus of this blog.  I’m sure that I will receive a great deal of ridicule from the mainstream recovery people but honestly, some of my ventures into sobriety have been pretty freakin’ funny.  Some have been heartbreakingly sad – hopefully this blog will be a mixture of both with some ‘real life that isn’t boring’ thrown in.

Scared, yes, I am.

Scared of out my mind that I’m going to be judged and that not nice people are going to say not nice things.

But, here goes…

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Hey – I’m important enough for Spam – And Other News..

Ah hah!  I’m found by SPAM.

It makes me so loverly feeling inside.

Unfortunately they were all for viagra – which my hubby doesn’t need.  I mean come on guys (they were all guys) can’t I get some ‘different spam’?


Comments That I Can Post – 3

Comments From Spam (which I am considering posting to make myself feel more popular) – 4

Onto other news:

We are on Day Bazillion of the MEDCO saga…

Better yet – is bazillion even a word?  I hope so because I’m usin’ it.

I know that bazillion isn’t even a word and I don’t care – I mean, I’ve been without my psych meds for so long now that when I take them it will be like starting over….

Only without that sick knowledge that I’m in the psych ward and without the Xanax to hold me over.  (Yep, you got it boys and girls that was a fragment – which this is not.)

By the way, Xanax is a really good drug – too bad it’s like alcohol in a pill and that stinky little issue of it being a schedule 3 narcotic is a downer.

PSA for the day:  Never, never take too many Xanax and wash them down with a bottle of chardonnay (no matter how ‘good’ the vintage is)  – for some reason people think you might be just *slightly* crazy.  Xanax + Alcohol = Drunk by Exponential Number – but if you are, in fact, looking to off yourself, well, it’s a pretty foolproof way to do it unless of course someone inadvertently finds you which then can create said detour to the psych ward.

PSA #2:  Make sure that the person (if you are not so serious about that dying thing and thus only using this as a ‘cry for help’) you choose to find you has at least a starter knowledge of psych wards because some of them are really bad and some of them are like, well, a spa.   Note that I did not get the spa option.

Oh, and reference here are the people you do NOT want:

1)      The ‘snarky’ relative discussed above.

2)      Anyone in your husband’s family.  (It would suck for this to be Thanksgiving conversational fodder)

I’m not adding people like kids, etc. because that’s just plain wrong and even while crazy that kind of wrong is just so not cool.

Good Times – Woo Hoo – glad I’ve held myself together though this nightmare.

Said drugs are ‘scheduled’ to arrive TODAY, April 21st….right.

I’ll hold my breath on that one because if I have one more phone call with anyone at MEDCO I might seriously combust which would be really disgusting and if I failed at it would create a really gross mess that I’m sure I would have to clean up.  (Whew, LOVE that run on sentence!)

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Lack Of Meds Makes A Snarky Mama



That was what someone said to me yesterday.  Someone who, I should add, I wasn’t even sure KNEW that word, much less USED it in everyday sentences. 


Of course, the person did have a point.  I mean, I have been snarky lately – what with all the problems I’ve been having obtaining my – I dunno – psychotropic meds.  You know, it would seem to reason that, when MEDCO (ARE YOU HEARING MEDCO?  YES THAT’S RIGHT  – I MEAN YOU!  I  HOPE THAT YOU ARE HAVING TWITS GOOGLE YOUR GODFORSAKEN NAME AND FIND THIS AND KNOW THAT I *HOPE* (MAKE THAT **WISH**) THAT SOMEDAY YOU NEED MEDS AND CAN’T GET THEM – AND THAT I AM THE CAUSE!) gets a renewal prescription for ZOLOFT AND LAMICTAL that they would FILL it or at least NOTIFY you if they could not.  But alas, apparently that is NOT the case with MEDCO because I haven’t had to go every two days for the last 2 weeks picking up pill after pill because they haven’t sent my 3 month supply YET.  Why? And here is a better question – why do I have to get the replacement pills 2 by 2 – I mean, it’s not like these are narcotics – and let’s face it – we aren’t thinking that Noah’s Ark is being built again right now. 



It sure as he** isn’t because of me. 


It is, apparently do to the following reasons:

  • My doctor (who apparently doesn’t understand that HELLO she provides a service ) not calling them back authorizing the renewal of the prescription for which I had already had renewed and faxed.


  • I had two prescriptions of the same medicine and they couldn’t figure out to just fill ONE of them – put the rest of them in a saved file – I DON’T CARE!!!


And this, this is the best reason of all:


They couldn’t figure it out.  *snort*


So here I sit – without my meds for the 14th day.  14 days that I’ve almost crawled out of my skin, screamed at the new people that I work with, and sob uncontrollably over the sad things that have been going on along with some things that aren’t quite up to the level of drama that I am taking them to. 


Case in point:  Twitter  Why in the hell can’t they get their act together and make the stupid application SCALE to the number of users that they have?  Frustrating yes, something to make you throw your blackberry down in disgust – not so much.

 Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a recovering alcoholic.

But that’s a story for another time.



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Maybe if I sit here long enough…

a blog topic will come.

Or maybe not.

I’m still sitting here and it’s been 10 minutes.  No topic yet.  At least not one that I can write on.

Here are the topics that have randomly come into my mind:

1)  How much I’m annoyed about people at work scheduling meetings at 8:00 or even worse 4:30.  I mean, who in the hell does that?  SOME of us have a life – just because you don’t doesn’t mean that I can’t.   I feel like telling them that I will be happy to meet at those times but only if they are willing to come to my house and get my children ready for school or come home with me and make dinner and clean up after but I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be very nice.

2)  My annoyance about not having any disposable income.   Then I remember, oh yeah, that’s my fault.

3)  Sex – or lack thereof.  I want to ask my husband if it’s just too much to have sex more than 1 time a week – but everytime I think to ask he’s already asleep.

4)  The HCG diet – I’m totally into finding out if it works – a shot a day and I won’t be hungry?   I’m seriously thinking of just doing it and finding out.  Maybe if I do this #3 will be corrected?  Hummm…not sure but it can’t hurt.

So, there you go – lots of things running through my mind, nothing of which sounds remotely interesting enough to make more than a paragraph about.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.

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Madeline Spohr

Who, exactly, is Madeline Spohr?

That was the question that my husband asked me this morning when I told him I was upset about Madeline Spohr passing away late last night. I hesitated before responding that I didn’t really KNOW the family in real life but I that I have twittering with Heather since I ‘drank the kool-aid’ and joined Twitter (and he knows that I haven’t been ‘at’  Twitter long)  but that I have been reading The Spohrs Are Multiplying for a while (in a valiant attempt at showing….well, I don’t know what I was trying to show).   Hubby promptly looked at me like I was nuts (which is nothing strange I might add) and said that he just didn’t understand why I felt like I ‘knew’ people whom I only communicated with over the internet.

After much argument about the question: “How do you define ‘know’? I had to admit that I don’t really know Heather, Mike, or Maddie.

Or do I?

What is there to know about Heather other than her wit, her love for her family, and her frustration over the medical system that I need to KNOW before I can call her a friend?  I mean, as a fellow parent of a preemie, doesn’t that alone give us the right to bypass all of the superficial shit and go straight to commiserating? After receiving the tweet last night with Maddie’s status I had an uneasy feeling. At midnight or so I tweeted someone who I thought might have an update…no response. I was hoping beyond hope that when I woke up this morning I would see a tweet that was along the lines of “man that was a pain in the ass but Maddie is doing great now” but I didn’t.

Instead I saw this:


Tears began to stream down my face – they have continued to do so every so often throughout today.

So, to ask the question from this morning again: “Do I know Heather, Mike, and Maddie?”

Yes, yes I do, regardless of anyone who feels otherwise.  Know that today I am thinking of you all and *wishing* desperately that bad things didn’t happen.  I may not ‘know’ you in real life but as someone who had read your posts during and after your pregnancy I’ve grown to feel like I ‘know’ you – and I’m heartbroken.

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Dear Twitter – I’ve become addicted…

Where have you been all my life? The short, sweet, sarcastic tweets – how they make me laugh. During the day at work I feel the lure of the tweet – the IE icon summoning me to click and hit favorites – a short sweet two clicks directly to you. Alas, no. Locked out – turned down – blocked, locked, and noted in the ‘bad website request’ log my request is…

So, like the addictive personality that I am, I try with another tactic and SUCCESS! The big bad filter hasn’t discovered Tiny Twiiter – ahhahahahahah. Twitter is mine again. Giddy, I minimize the browser, smile happily, and get up to go to a meeting – all the time thinking about my directs, my retweets I wish to send, my tweeter friends that I want to check up on…

And then it happens.

I return to find Cruella D’ville standing over my machine glaring at me. The queen of all infrastructure, the mistress of access glaring, staring at my screen with her mouth open.

“Tiny Twitter?” She says with the venom of someone finding pictures of hard core porn looking back at them.
“Yes” I say…unsure what to say next so I am left to just stand there…
And stand there…
And stand there…

Finally, my fear could not be held back any longer.
“I guess I’ll be removing the application?” I say with a small stutter – feeling about 4 years old.
“Oh, of course you will”, says Cruella – “Right NOW – while I watch and you will promise me that you will NOT install such applications again.”
“Yes ma’am”, I say as she stomps out of my office.

Relief floods my being…
Tiny Twitter never fear – like any good lover I’ve found a way to get to you…

On my blackberry.
So take THAT Cruella!

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