Alcoholic Journal Entries

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• Who are you ?
  by Darren Sharp

  If you can start the day without caffeine, / If you can get going without pep pills, / If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pa…

  If you can start the day without caffeine, / If you can get going without pep pills, / If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains, / If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles, / If you can eat the same food everyday and be grateful for it, / If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time, / If you can take criticism and blame without resentment, / If you can ignore a friend’s limited education and never correct him, / If you can resist treating a rich friend better than a poor friend, / If you can conquer tension without medical help, / If you can relax without liquor, / If you can sleep without the aid of drugs, / Then you are probably the family dog!!!!!!

• A lesson this week....
  by Wendy Slee

  “ I think my Daddy’s going to die” she said. I had found her standing by herself staring out the glass door at the back of my house, m…

  “ I think my Daddy’s going to die” she said. I had found her standing by herself staring out the glass door at the back of my house, maybe watching the trees, maybe not really seeing anything. “I know, sweety” I said. “Your Daddy is very sick, and he might die, but they are trying to fix him at the hospital” / I did not know what else to say. Her big brown eyes fixed on mine, unblinking. / “It’s because of the alcohol, he drinks too much alcohol”. Stunned, I did not know what to say. For a child so young, she had seen too many things, and had worked out a lot for herself. “Two drinks is okay” she said, wisely nodding to herself “but more than that makes you sick. It’s not good to have more than that.” My heart broke for her. Yet she did not seem sad. Somehow, that was what made it worse. She was totally accepting of the situation, it was like it was an everyday experience to be taken on, worked though and discarded. For me, the whole situation had shocked me and filled me with grief. / I had followed the ambulance from town, on my way home from work. The sight of an ambulance, lights flashing, on its way along the highway towards my farm home, was an unusual one, and it filled me with dread. / “Please turn off. Please don’t be someone in my family” I silently prayed as I drove behind it. There were not many homes along that stretch of road, as it was mainly farmland. I felt ashamed for hoping it was someone other than my family. Then the ambulance turned into my neighbour’s driveway. / My heart thumped. A young couple with young kids – not a good sign; worse still, a man who had succumbed to depression after losing his mother, his grandmother and a friend in the past year, and more recently having lost his job and dealing with relationship troubles. I had felt his pain before and it was vast. These were people I cared about, I so desired to help, yet it seemed impossible to know where to begin. Sometimes friendship seems such a small and helpless thing against the demons that haunt people’s lives Neighbours were running across the paddock at the sight of the ambulance. The son stood at the door, white face, showing the ambos in and leading them to…… A man, OD’d on the bedroom floor. Purple… foaming at the mouth ………… dying. The fourteen year old boy, traumatized, quivering in shock, tells me had been at home with his little sister and the phone had rung. He had taken it up to his stepdad’s room to give him the call, and found him like that. His eyes were haunted, the tears quivered right there, he all but broke down and I prepared myself to hug him, but then something hauled him back and he blocked it. His Mum was home now, it would be all right. “Help me get your little sister’s clothes and school things” I said to him, “and she can come home with me for the night. I will take care of her and get her to school tomorrow. That will make it easier for your Mum”. The little girl was wandering around the house totally oblivious to the drama unfolding, telling everyone who would listen / “My daddy hurt himself. He had an accident.” The boy handed me a school bag and one pair of pants. He could not focus, could not think. He did not know what to do. I told him I would take care of it, give his sister my own daughter’s clothes….it would be okay. I asked if he would like to come with us, but he said no. He wanted to stay with his Mum. I wanted to hug him, but he had a barrier up that seemed to preclude anyone coming close to comfort him. I plucked up the courage and walked back up to the bedroom. I did not look down. I tried to block the sight of the ambulance officers, working on the body on the floor. I caught the eye of the woman, my friend and neighbour, and just said “I am taking your daughter home with me, to help you out…..” But she did not hear, her face white and distressed staring blankly across the room at me. So the little girl happily got in my car as if it was the greatest adventure ever. She was the same age as my daughter and they were school friends. All she could think about was staying with Maya. It was going to be fun. I was amazed at the resilience of small children, how they could seemingly shed the horror of things they had witnessed and just play. What a blessing it was that they could “just play”. I was holding back tears and shock at what had just taken place in that home, yet this little girl could only think about what fun she was going to have. But now, a few hours later, she had played for a while, the novelty was over, and reality had set in. She had wandered to a place by herself as her little mind tried to come to terms with what was happening. “I think my Daddy’s going to die”.

• 20 Tell-tale Signs of a Drunk Woman
  by Jaybe

  Girls…....read this and be brutally honest with yourself…...I’m a ‘happy drunk’....I don’t drink that often but when I do I think I c…

  Girls…....read this and be brutally honest with yourself…...I’m a ‘happy drunk’....I don’t drink that often but when I do I think I can tick off most, if not all of these…...OOPS! / / 1. I have absolutely no idea where my purse is. 2. I believe that dancing with my arms overhead and wiggling my butt while yelling “WOO-HOO!” is truly the sexiest dance move around. / / 3. I’ve suddenly decided I want to kick someone’s ass and honestly believe I could do it too. 4. In my last trip to pee, I realise I don’t look anything like the ‘goddess’ I thought I was just four hours ago. 5. I drop my 3:00 a.m. ‘God I must be mortal kebab’ on the floor (which I’m / eating even though I’m not the least bit hungry), pick it up and carry on eating it. / / 6. I start crying and telling everyone I see that I love them sooooo much. / / 7. I get extremely excited and jump up and down every time a new song plays because “Oh my God! I love this song!” / / 8. I’ve found a deeper/spiritual side to the person sitting next to me. 9. I can’t resist the temptation to take just one traffic cone as a souvenir. 10. The urge to take off articles of clothing, stand on a table and sing or dance becomes strangely overwhelming. 11. My eyes just don’t seem to want to stay open on their own so I keep them half closed and think it looks exotically sexy. 12. I’ve suddenly taken up smoking and become really good at it. 13. I yell at the bartender, who (I think) cheated me by giving me just tonic water, but that’s just because I can no longer taste the vodka. 14. I think I’m in bed, but my pillow feels strangely like the bathroom floor. 15. I start every conversation with a booming, “DON’T take this the WRONG WAY but…” 16. I fail to notice that the toilet lid’s down when I sit on it. 17. My hugs begin to resemble wrestling take-down moves. 18. I’m tired so I just sit on the floor (wherever I happen to be standing) and take a quick nap. 19. I begin leaving the buttons open on my button fly jeans to cut down on the time I’m in the bathroom away from my drink. 20. I take my shoes off because I believe it’s their fault that I’m having problems walking straight.

• On how to vomit effectively
  by Michael Efford

  Prepare yourself the night before by drinking a mixture of beer and red wine along with copious amounts of Vietnamese food such as beef a…

  Prepare yourself the night before by drinking a mixture of beer and red wine along with copious amounts of Vietnamese food such as beef and black bean, spring rolls, chicken with cashews and vegetables, wontons, seafood stirfry, fried icecream. Follow this by visiting a pub afterwards and drinking even more beer and wine. Upon exiting pub, go directly home and to sleep. Do not attempt to drink any water as this may affect your vomiting ability altogether. Sleep the required number of hours. This will be soporific sleep. You will dream lucidly. You will sweat. You will shiver. The cat will drink out of the glass of water on your bedside table. Yes, the same glass of water that you didn’t drink. It might then decide to sleep on your head and half suffocate you, but in an affectionate way that doesn’t really bother you in your drunken slumber. The morning sun glares against the flimsy curtains. Filling your room with 7-11esque neon bright light that infuriates your sleep encrusted eyeballs. You turn over, burying your head in the pillow and feel your stomach groan and wobble. The hot sweat starts so you unburden yourself of your socks and long-johns. Drifting back to sleep the saliva drools onto your pillow, forming a wet patch that eventually soaks your ear and forces you to turn over the pillow, only to find that the other side is also drool/sweat soaked and makes your hair stick together, this is the start and cause of bed hair. Now you know. Your bladder bulges and reminds your brain that you’ve been drinking all night and forgotten to pee. It forces you giddily out of bed and you stumble down the hall to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Hazy memories of the night before coagulate in your brain. You recall that there’s a yellow bucket out on the front lawn. Gingerly you open the front door and tip-toe out into the crisp morning dew. Bucket retrieved and you’re back in bed quickly defrosting your toes. The waiting begins. You lie close to the edge of the bed. You hang your head over the edge and stare endlessly into the bucket. Drifting off to sleep as some preliminary drool siphons into the bucket. Waves of nausea wash over and you know that you’re close. Spitting into the bucket seems to help. Positioning your body, you prepare for the evacuation. A nervous dry reach and then finally — finally it comes. HUUUUUURRRRRRGHHHHH. Bright purple and gushing, slopping into the bucket. The acrid stench fills your nostrils and invokes the second coming. Splattering into the first comes the second wave. It’s thicker and stronger this time. Finally, relief. Wait. No — a third expulsion and your stomach is empty. Your brain instinctively wants to make sure and a few spitty dry reaches follow. Your quickly sobering brain soon realises there’s not much left and leaves you to wallow in your filth. It’s over. You’ve done it. You’ll be ok now. You peer into the bucket and identify some undigested broccoli. Damn that tasted good the first time. Now, swimming in the purpley frothing juice of beer and wine you think better than to taste it a second time. Or do you?

• Frigging idiot
  by clarkey

  Well, I guess it was going to happen one day – my fucking idiot of a husband got breathalysed and was just enough over the limit, so he w…

  Well, I guess it was going to happen one day – my fucking idiot of a husband got breathalysed and was just enough over the limit, so he will lose his fucking license for 6 months, come the end of this month. There goes my time on RB – no more late nights, word games, enjoyment of this fabulous community; no more sitting in front of the computer playing around with pics in PS, commenting on other peoples’ wonderful creations and photographs. I’ll be getting up 0530 for six months – that time of the day doesn’t exist for me. Just as well my creative streak had already done just that – streaked off, for god only knows where, and left me high dry for the last month or so!! :-(( I’ve only ever been so angry that I shook once before, but, I’m still shaking with anger now, an hour after he rang me up, while I was on the way home from an interesting evening at the beach, I still haven’t looked at my pics to see what I got – no sunsets tonight, I think I’m too angry to look just yet.

• HISTORY OF MADNESS
  by pauldrobertson

  PART THREE. I should add before i paste MORE of my history rant, that my life is NOT like this any more. on december the 20th it will be …

  PART THREE. I should add before i paste MORE of my history rant, that my life is NOT like this any more. on december the 20th it will be the anniversary of 10 years without a drop of alcohol; though the bipolar got WORSE after i was straight. which i thought was just fucking UNFAIR. / Since then… well in the last year i have gone on dexamphetamine sulphate (known as dexadeine in the US;) and it has made an indescribable difference to my quality of life. I am still definitively, sometimes, mad. And the despair returns and it hurts so deep and hard when it does. The biggest difference is that it is mitigated by the dex – no psychosis because IT DOES NOT CONTINUE FOR EIGHT MONTHS OF EVERY YEAR. It lasts for at most a week before beling balanced out by a few days of respite. It is not the pain itself that makes 20 percent of those with bipolar kill themselves. it is the KNOWLEDGE that it will continue. The terror that this instills. This has been taken from me. Healed. / Here – read it. This is more of the story of my life before I even began to heal. / Hell. Lost six months or a year and a half I don’t know managed to stop taking the meds they were killing me faster than the alcohol. Had a mad and stupid psychiatrist on a power trip: here, take some more STELAZINE Paul I can see that you are still vaguely capable of constructing a sentence and your hair hasn’t ALL fallen out yet. Better up the fucking dose. / Came off them then withdrawals and hallucinations my best friend told her she was a an evil bitch as I finally saw it her black heart so putrefied it was pooling behind her eyes. But I had never looked outside myself pity ME I pity YOU bitch. I was too mad to fucking SEE that was the fucking POINT / Stayed as far from my family as I could I could not look at them the only way of course to keep their lives clean of me. / Tried to fix myself went further and more mad and more mad and further faster it was still better pain beats lifelessness pain beats brain-death. Starved till the weight fell off me, wasn’t hard couldn’t afford to eat anyway at least my FUCKING HAIR GREW BACK. / Rapid cycling, oh so real after the fugue and it all slid back to me so fast skeletally thin and quicker than the rest… doing stupid stupid things wandering alone and manic. Euphoric drunkenness a cool ocean a delusion of relief honey sweet. / Beaten up again and a few more times finally worked out that I could to run away. Did gymnastics drunk on the edge of a cliff; on the roof of someone’s house. / Took stupid crazy girls to the lifeguard tower at the end of the pier at the edge of the beach in the middle of the night whenever it stormed. I waited I knew I took them whoever whenever it rained and howled at night and I could smell ozone. They liked THAT, I told them it was a full moon each one I told them a fucking ritual they always said how can you see through the clouds? / I went to clubs broke with no cigarettes and talked women into buying me drinks or just stole them; would walk around the room asking for cigarettes until I had enough to last me till morning; waking up where? Slept in a bus shelter, at the train station, in a construction site, in the bush on the doorstep of display homes and once in an actual for real DITCH. / I remember a shared rental house where I painted a six-foot self-portrait on the wall in blue and RED. I painted crows for eyes. Four houses in six months ending on the street again. Drank everything I could find oh yeah cooking sherry vanilla essence and fucking AFTERSHAVE. Used to love writing NO FIXED ADDRESS at social security called it social obscurity antisocial insecurity told then I had a job interview at a leprosarium. / I went there wearing a trench coat in the middle of the day in the middle of summer blood saturating the wool right to the edges sopping wet with it and trying so hard so hard to fill in the forms without it running down out the sleeves with my hands shaking so much I kept knocking the page onto the floor. / Must have worked I woke up a few weeks later lost them all; all those weeks were they weeks? / Got a sinus infection; reminder of humanity and mortality had to go to the hospital said hi to the staff in casualty. Remembered the nurse I slept with she turned white when she saw me and would not look again. High as a kite I waved at her and grinned oh such smiles. The infection was in my upper sinuses and about to get to my brain all those long drunk walks in the rain I guess. / Was still high even through the pain and told them I liked their x-ray machine because it looked art deco’. They fucked it up and hit the vegus nerve (the spelling is correct and the pun is clear – did I find that funny subsequently oh what do you think???) and I went and died on the operating table full cardiac and respiratory arrest wish I could remember that but I guess it would have HURT. No light at the end of any tunnels no light anywhere too cynical for a religious experience. / Was so weak had to wait three days before I made it to the bar, was straight out in a fucking wheelchair to smoke still high flirting with my face all swollen from the surgery like a freak like a lunatic of course. / Went back to squalor and starvation. / My best friend finally had enough and hit me and tore the skin from one side of my nose, though I had provided him with so many women after they realized just how fucking crazy I was and turned to his arms even though, then, he was a speed freak and a pot head and an alcoholic just like me. He is a good man. It took so much to break him from the love and bonds and fierceness ferocity of our friendship. But I found enough. Wasn’t even LOOKING. / Wartime syndrome before that us fighting the world so hard of course no cause for us. I ended up staying at my other ex-girlfriend’s place. / Tried so hard and stayed straight for three weeks; I think it was subconscious – conscious I fucking KNEW that that was what I was doing – preparation for the biggest and ugliest and least sane that I ever was. / Sleeping with my x-girlfriend and my current girlfriend and my ex’s flat mate and some girl (girls? lost days before I found my way back still high and getting higher) I found at some club… drank everything in the house and this was the time when I decided actually picked; CHOSE to go as mad as I could. Push it and see what was on the far far side. / I bought a bottle of brandy and hung it upside down in the fish tank the fish’s name was Death he was left from my friend who jumped. Painted and drawn figures of me I had done all over her walls I know AT LEAST SHE WAS A FAN. She kept them all around her mirror twisted bitch she once talked me into cutting my wrists; fucked all five of the guys I knew. I sure as hell didn’t care. / What was that to me? / Moving UP the scale wild chattering flitting out of my mouth so many quotes inappropriate walked into a glass door and fell down hurt my damned nose again. Didn’t eat didn’t sleep. Sick by now of punching holes through windows doors and wardrobes drew a lion and a witch on one I wanted more wanted to find the other bits delusions and voices I KNEW were waiting in the back of my mind: Fuseli’s The Nightmare I thought he was a genius until I read his prose inadequate and nothing never should have become a part of history. / Spitting words snarls and more and more cuts appearing razors eaten. When everyone has hidden everything sharp in the house you can chew through a safety razor and there it is you have your sharpness in your hand; though you WILL cut the hell out of the inside of your mouth while you do it. That’s ok though huh? course it is blood covered teeth mean their words more and there are so MANY to say. / Going up and up. / Could feel it in the base of my spine. Could feel it in the back of my head and behind the redness of my retinas. / A black storm; black as coal black as pitch blacker than the blackest witch. Rapturous fascinating terrifying spinning with immensity and weight and clouding my vision with red. A nightmare of power that I could TASTE. / By the time I was halfway there I was speaking in riddles and rhymes… glossolalia. Told people about the tower of Babel – babble – about the storms in my mind told them again. Told them about how Poe died in the street how that was me how I was already dead how they were fever death dreams. Temporal distortion ooh I loved it soaking each moment into me feeding on the surreality breathing out mind sickness absurdity hell. Things would slow down for me and I could watch others in a different world in a different time. I could lace a sentence with jokes and references and then I would just wait to see who if anyone got what. Movement so free easy loose my hands shaking so much I could hardly hold the bottle slippery from the fucking fish tank but I was so STRONG. My skin burning hot to the touch could feel myself heating up. / I was careful I drank only enough and not more I wanted to see where it would take me not pass out. I was never as mad when truly drunk it was the day after for me and I held to that state some part of my mind relentless and deliberate. Nursed and cajoled it intoxicating; tempted and caressed felt it shattering over me a glass club smashing inside my head. / And it worked. / All the things blood-mean and suppurating inside all coming in concert, allegro evaporating like the ground beneath me.

• Disclaimer
  by klezedawg

  I have added a few links here and there to Gothica Absinthe at Alandia and wanted to take a minute to discuss alcohol and drug use. Ab…

  I have added a few links here and there to Gothica Absinthe at Alandia and wanted to take a minute to discuss alcohol and drug use. Absinthe is a very special drink, used by artists, writers, and many others for well over 100 years. It is known for it’s clarifing effects and high alcohol content, but it is not something that should be taken for granted. It is potent, and I my self never take it past three glasses, any more then that and the alcohol starts to diminish the “Absinthe effect”. If your looking to get plastered, a bottle of whiskey will suit your needs just fine. There are many of you bouncing around the bubble that aren’t the legal drinking age of your respective countries, due yourself a favor and finnish being a kid before delving into drugs and alcohol. Before your body has reached maturity, drugs and alcohol can activate opiate receptors in your brain giving you a dispostion for an addiction. So yes, marijuanna can be a gateway drug! I lived in Las Vegas during the Crystal Meth boom, and that shit scares me to death. Hitler was a fan, enough said. I also have an affinity for my teeth. Drugs have been used by Shamans in religous rituals for thousands of years, and can be helpful when searching for your inner self, but that doesn’t mean they help you escape from your problems. If anything they just make them even worse. So please, use responsibly.

• Another Feature for "Tie-One-On"!!!
  by Sandra Sigfusson

  Just a quick note to say a big THANK YOU to the mediators Karon & Sharon at Cocktails & Dreams...

  Just a quick note to say a big THANK YOU to the mediators Karon & Sharon at Cocktails & Dreams for featuring my Tie-One-On image today!!! Cheers, Sandra. /

• Family trouble...random thoughts
  by angelfyre

  This is the second Christmas my family will have without my Aunt. Last Christmas we didn’t have one. No decorations, no gifts, and no big…

  This is the second Christmas my family will have without my Aunt. Last Christmas we didn’t have one. No decorations, no gifts, and no big dinner. This year my family feels a little more festive, so we’re doing the usual. However, my Aunt was the one who loved Christmas. She always went nuts with decorations, had music playing since about Dec.2nd and always had great leftovers from the huge Christmas dinner she’d have. But she ruined it for the rest of my family. She committed suicide two years ago. I’ll never forget that day. My Aunt had fallen into a deep depression and we noticed something was amiss about her. I was calling her that day from work, to give her a verbal kick in the butt. That was me, the mediator. So I called that day and my Uncle answered. He was crying told me in a rush that he had found my Aunt dead when he woke up. He had slept next to her corpse all night without even knowing it. / She had overdosed on morphine. That nearly killed my Uncle but what was worse was when he found out how she left the finances. She had developed a gambling problem and gambled away all their savings, their money to pay the mortgage, and maxxed out all the credit cards. She put them so badly in debt before she killed herself that my uncle is just now starting to get everything back together. He had to lose the house and go into renting again. And had to report everything to IRS just avoid penalties. But in the end, she couldn’t totally break him. I mean, he still had his dog. The most loving and loyal dog in the world. He developed a cough six months ago, and I mentioned it to my Uncle. He took bear to the vet, and they discovered he was riddled with lung cancer. My uncle and my aunt were smokers and smoked in their house. Which the dog got the brunt of the second hand smoke and died from it. They had to put him down about a month ago. That really did my Uncle in. He spent a month solid, everyday after work, at the bar. He was shitfaced all the time. I thought he had outgrown that part though when he suddenly stopped going to the bar. I thought he was finally getting over it, and then just last night I had to go pick him up and take him home because he was too drunk to drive home. / I really feel badly for my Uncle, but I can’t excuse his behavior. He was the one that taught me to never let anything control me. Which is why to this day, that I very rarely drink. But he’s fallen prey to the one thing he warned me about. I don’t know what to do. If I cut him off from our family, he’ll spiral down even farther into depression and then will probably kill himself with alcohol. And I’ve already lost another family member to alcohol I don’t need to lose my uncle. Sighs, I definitely love the holidays.

• The Green Fairy
  by SpiceTree

  I did this article a while back when I created my design of the Green Fairy (or Absinthe). It is perhaps a bit long for here, but I hope …

  I did this article a while back when I created my design of the Green Fairy (or Absinthe). It is perhaps a bit long for here, but I hope you enjoy it. I have been enjoying the intriguing history of this little fairy and she has inspired me to create my own version of her. She was the muse said to represent the potent liquor known as Absinthe. A naughty and mischievous lady, but very seductive. She is also referred to as La Fee Verte or Green Fairy. She was part of La Belle Époque, or “beautiful era”. A period in France’s history that began during the late 19th century and lasted until World War I. It was a golden time of beauty, innovation, and peace between France and its European neighbors. A time of cabaret, and cancan, and art flourished with Impressionism and Art Nouveau. She inspired famous artists and writers of that time, and was a favorite of the bohemian culture. Some of the more famous imbibers she inspired were… Verlaine, Rimbaud, Poe, Wilde, Mary Shelly, Hemingway, Somerset Maugham and Jack London. Absinthe often has a dazzling green color (depending on the brand). The color usually came from the chlorophyll content of the herbs used in the distillation process. The main ingredient being Wormwood. But it not only inspired, it also drove some mad. It is said to be a contributing factor when Van Gogh cut off part of his ear. Below a quote from Wilde. Oscar Wilde / “After the first glass you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.” Absinthe also enjoyed great popularity in New Orleans at that time but was banned in the U.S. around 1912. One place of great renown was “The Old Absinthe House” in the heart of the French Quarter, at the corner of Bourbon Street and Bienville. Many celebrities passed through their doors as well … including P.T. Barnum, Mark Twain, Jenny Lind, Enrico Caruso, General Robert E Lee, Franklin Roosevelt, Liza Minelli and Frank Sinatra. / / This is just a taste of the rich history that follows the Green Fairy. There is so much more and only a search away if you would like to delve deeper. I hope you enjoy my illustration of this fascinating Green Fairy and her intoxicating past. I offer my rendition of her here on T-shirts, wall art and cards.

• Featured Art: Crystal Booze Persuasion
  by AndShesGone

  Thanks to the “Cocktails and Dreams” group for featuring my work! !http://images-1.redbubble.net/img/art/mattecolor:black/product:matt…

  Thanks to the “Cocktails and Dreams” group for featuring my work! Cheers!

• Finding out who I am
  by Jessica Williams

  Sometimes I feel like for the past ten years I’ve been in a coma, and this hell I’ve lived has been nothing but one long bad dream. I wa…

  Sometimes I feel like for the past ten years I’ve been in a coma, and this hell I’ve lived has been nothing but one long bad dream. I was in the coma so long, that now that I’ve woken up, I have amnesia and have no idea who I am. Looking at the picture ID and seeing nothing more than a name and a face. I feel like someone else’s memories have been planted in me, and I’ve been living someone else’s life. This isn’t me, and this isn’t really my life. More and more I am having flashes of who I really am… A high priced attorney or a hotshot executive, with a husband and kids, and a real family. Nice home, white picket fence.. and don’t forget the family dog! This fake memory of a woman who got trapped in a struggle with addiction to alcohol, got stuck in one abusive relationship after another.. the longer the nightmare dragged on the worse it got, till I finally ended up in prison and then on parole… none of this can truly be real.. can it? The nightmare must be ending now, because I’ve completed my parole and have graduated from my outpatient program. I am having more and longer visions of the highly successful woman I’ve known deep down has been there all along. I’m seeing more and more of her lately, and I’m finding out that I’m not the only one that’s been seeing her, so it must be real.. right??