Mail and a Mercedes

I really thought that when Liv left I could concentrate on getting better, and I would want to drink less… But I still want it every day, sooo yeah. Six months in and I’m not wanting it any less.

I pushed my shit under the rug, to look after her, and it has been good. It was a welcome distraction, and I think it has been good for her. I feel better knowing that she understands what is going on now, and makes her own choices. And I don’t have to live with the emotional ups and downs and constant worry. But I still want booze, all the time. I want to go to an AA meeting but I’m afraid, and I really wish I would stop getting triggered by things.

I can’t wait till I’m over him. I wish he had told me, he was so stressed out at Christmas time and now I know why. I kept asking what was wrong. He yelled and stormed off, he was about to go home and face some old demons.

Ending my relationship with him and asking Liv to get sober. What is my problem? Is it now I can only be around people who are sober? That’s not me… is it? I miss my friends, that drink and party, I miss being able to drink and party. This time around, I don’t think I’m able to be around it. Every other time I’ve quit I’ve been able to, maybe that’s why I always went back. 🙄 I don’t want to be some judgy bitch who has no tolerance, but maybe I am. I do notice I put up with a lot less shit now.

Struggling, struggling, struggling, I need to find an AA meeting. I look good because I’ve been walking for four hours every day. In the sun. The amount that I enjoy it, is not normal. I feel like Forrest Gump. It will get you in shape “tout suite” though, it must be the endorphins or something. The last time I got sober for any period of time, I won the Ontario Masters Powerlifting Championships. Talk about all or nothing with me, Christ almighty.

I would spend hours at the gym obsessing over how much weight I could lift. I loved that little gym. I moved to an apartment close to it and got new studio space across the street for my second salon. I have always liked my conveniences close by. When I was training for a competition I would be so sore every day and I thought about it all the time. I was obsessed with it. I have a whole Pinterest page on training from 2015, I was so strong, I actually deadlifted 405…that’s the back end of a small car. No girly wide leg stance either, floor to hips baby. I gave up smoking then too, on the regular..but as soon as I had a drink, I’d be smoking one or two a night, then right back to a pack a day. Nicotine, and caffeine …also completely addicted to those. Whatever, I love smoking, and cigarettes and coffee, and endorphins.

I just realized I’m going to have to actively manage my addiction I’ve been thinking about going up to AA for six months. My dad in his adorable accent said to me on the phone “look at it this way, you’re putting all feelings online, what’s the difference?” There really is no difference between being open in person or online. I don’t find it hard to be open anymore. At all. I think it’s harder for me to admit that I am a serious alcoholic and will never not be one. That hurts my heart.

Carole Leslie

Well, well, well, look who appeared in her bed at 5 am this morning. Rehab is still not an option for her. I told her she has to find somewhere else to stay until she gets sober. Her dad is coming to collect her tomorrow.

I don’t really blame her for not wanting to go. Being 23 and told to stop partying is a big fuckling wet blanket. That’s what I was doing at 23, probably a lot of us too. Some people get over it, some don’t. I wonder which one of her future therapy sessions this will be in down the road.

I’m glad I get the chance to talk to her again after Thursday, I understand why she keeps her lifestyle, I just know that I can’t live with it. How can she actually feel what she’s feeling while being fucked up all the time? You can’t process anything like that. Emotions like anger and sadness that come along with life are not as easy to process as the happy ones like being loved and experiencing happiness.

If we had to go through life processing our bad feelings at the moment of impact, we’d probably fucking die. Think of all the good memories, and how passionate we are about them, we must have the same passion in the bad ones…no wonder we all fuck off to the bar and drug scene. Being able to not process it, then and there is a natural defense mechanism. It’s only later we start to think about it and manifest some shit. . I guess Liv needs to recognize it’s affecting her daily life. And her ability to have healthy relationships. Kettle calling the pot black over here, I guess that’s what I will be working on too, creating healthy relationships.

My mum told me when I was 13, that she was a war orphan and had been adopted. It didn’t affect me in any other way except being surprised, and a bit sad for her. I asked her lots of questions about it, but she never really said much. Over the years, she shared she had been found under a table, in a rubble pile, and that she had a brother. I never found out when she knew she was adopted. Did she find out when she was 13? She never talked about her family in a bad way. I’m sure they treated her well, in fact financially they gave her everything. But even as a kid, it was obvious to me, that she was treated differently than her brothers. Whenever her parents would visit from overseas, it was a big production. The house was deep cleaned, all the good silver and china was brought out, and formal linens. Weird things like the toast rack would come out…who uses a toast rack? It was so unreal of what our actual day-to-day life was like. We had to be on our best behavior at all times. and keep the house as orderly as it could possibly be, even organized playtime. She never said but I imagine she was told she was different and told often so it was clear that she wasn’t the same. She was sent off to boarding school, and then to “finishing school” in Switzerland. She said she had wanted to go to university, but that her parents wouldn’t allow it. It all felt very strained, and I remember being terrified of my “granny”.

Carole was a very creative and artistic human being, and I bet she was a handful. She was about 23 when she ran off to Paris to pursue her dream of being a dancer, Paris lead to Las Vegas. Somehow I don’t think that’s what her parents intended with all her formal ballet training. Las Vegas was just beginning to build up in the early ’60s. Beauty and talent. Unstoppable, except for mental illness and addiction. She even pushed through that for a while.
I wonder how her life and experience growing up affected her ability to have healthy relationships. I think of my mum and our relationship every time I have some drama come up with my girls. How she looked after me when I was a teenager, all-girls trips spent together, we were all really close with my mum. She gave us a lot of love. She made a lot of mistakes and she was amazing. It’s possible for people to do and be both.
Being human.


Lately, I’ve been thinking about just being a writer… what the fuck would I write about? When I’m very transparent and honest about my struggles people get it. But this feels different. What is it that feels that way? Not sure yet. I am gonna call it the Dry Drunk. Wait… how do I fit Cat Lady in there.

It feels guilty, not in the sense that I am telling all my dark secrets, in the sense that it is not what I went to school for, but I know that’s ridiculous. If I am, to be honest, my master’s degree is way too specialized to do me any good. I did that degree for two reasons, one, I was sick to death of hairdressing, and two I was so tired of Ontario. So really it was worth it, in that sense.

Hospitality and hairdressing are the same in that they are both a hard grind. And as anyone who works in those industries could tell you, to be good at it, you gotta love it. I do love both, but my nerves can’t take the pressure anymore. So I’m good with this as a creative outlet and keeping myself disciplined about it like a job. Of course, there is no money in it, and I spent a whack on my original business idea…so I’m gonna figure it out. My intention is to live a much lower-key lifestyle so I can live.

Storytelling has always come naturally for me, although I do worry I will run out of stories. If I do, I will stop, I guess. I doubt that will happen, I could write something every day it seems. I like writing, it’s something I’ve always done. I have no idea how fast blogs are supposed to grow, and mine is a bit darker than some. 😐 I am a numbers geek however so google analytics is fun for me. Like a video game, I like getting numbers and analyzing. Currently, I am building this ereader, with the hope that I can lend my Ebooks out. But what I really would like to happen is the website not be a vanity piece, but something a little more meaningful.

I keep thinking about that bus trip from Long and Mcquaid. I don’t know, and my most recent experience with Liv, and with me. I started looking up addiction, mental health, and all that dark shit. I want to know what it actually is. Do we actually know how to treat it? Not really, AA and abstinence treatment says the success rate is 20% to 30%. That’s shitty, and we have so many resources available. I think we should legalize it all. JUST SAYING. Stop half-assing it with cannabis.

Picture the cannabis government store model… but selling all heavy drugs. Essentially all government manufactured, approved, and regulated. The cannabis stores out here look like candy shops. The government stores are beautifully done, the staff is educated, they know what to recommend as far as dosage amounts, they know the effects, they know the risks. They are licensed. The stores themselves are discrete from the outside. So when I say candy shop I mean for adults. I picture an illicit drug store like a gentrified old west saloon.. Dark wood walls, raw tobacco smell, low lighting. Cleans lines and backlit glass display cases behind the heavy wooden counter. Think – Decriminalizing 2.0 – Take it 1000 steps further. Accept it as what it is and embrace it, maybe if we could take the criminal and the shame aspect out and make it safer. All around. I wonder where we would be in ten years from now.

Ontario st.

Fucking amaz balls – she will go. It was not me, and I don’t think it was her Dad either. I think she has figured out she put herself in a pretty precarious situation. Forced to live with your mother and sister, sucks. And she had to deal with the toxic situation she had left on the mainland, which meant asking for help. She does agree that it takes time away from a situation, to see how it affects your life. I don’t think she can get sober here as an outpatient, not just in this house, but in this environment. The “pretty, hot girl” scene in victoria is a wee bit toxic. It seems like a lot of binge drinking, drugs, and creeps. I had another vomitous episode this morning after yesterday, and if Seroquel keeps my anxiety down so I don’t vomit, I am taking it again starting now.

I have just started to research and looking at rehab websites makes me wonder, is it just a marketing tactic, or what is going on… the websites are so gentle. I didn’t get a sense of urgency, or how they treat people who are addicted to everything. Why don’t they have up-to-date information? Do they not want to scare me? Weird and probably. I don’t even know, I just know I don’t trust a place that does not have current information on health issues. Recovery and self-awareness in 7 weeks. That’s ambitious and expensive. $31 000.00 we got quoted. That’s the cost of a degree – boo-ah-ygie.
They do make it sound like a picnic. Maybe that’s why all I wanted was an afternoon scotch and soda. That seems like a huge societal disconnect. What about the little people? A regular family, that doesn’t have $31 000 on hand. It just doesn’t seem realistic.

Besides that, I realized the whole situation has been hard on a dry drunk like me. It was me telling me to drink up and celebrate. Liv managed to organize her belongings from the mainland to here. Woop! She’s making steps! Relief.. (drink, drink, drink) then I saw sour beer and wanted them so bad, (drink, drink, drink) A nice little six-pack, chilling so innocently, deliciously in the fridge. Nice neat packaging, shiny silver, top with a matt black label. It’s so much work to keep it at bay. And really I just wanted to get numb. Sneaky, sneaky addict brain. Get behind me Satan, (Steel Pulse). I didn’t drink, and I don’t think if I went to a private treatment center it would change at this point.

I am looking for the right program vs cost ratio, I will take coffee, weed, and cigarettes over a box of wine any day, well no, I will always prefer to drink. But I know what happens when I do, and right now I’m not letting that happen.

Impaired again.

She’s a happiness goblin

Living with her is like living with a goblin, she gobbles up all my happy energy with her bullshit and constant partying. And it’s so teenager-ish, god help me. She is acting like a fucking child.

Was she always this much work? It’s exhausting. She gets drunk and high, sleeps in, misses job interviews, appointments, or we roll in with seconds to spare. When she’s not busy destroying herself with substances, she’s sulking and scolding Jackie and I. This last situation that she had got herself into, is just a long line in a pattern. Olivia destroys herself, mummy runs in to save her. I locked her out of the house last night.

I mean actually fuck off. Go find someone else to take down with you. What, she’s mad at her tinder date for canceling? Fuck off. She scolded me yesterday for buying her the wrong strain of weed. That “she knows her body, and the weed strain makes her anxiety peak”. Yes, it’s the government weed strain… not the booze, Ritalin, and mushrooms you have consumed over the last month. Or the lack of sleep. Must be the strain, Damn it mother how could you be so stupid? Fuck off. Yes, yes, the booze and the drugs are manifestations of all the mental health issues she has been trying to get addressed. But…you know what doesn’t help mental issues Liv? Drinking a bottle of OV malt liquor. Fuck me…diabetes in a bottle.

It’s this constant circle, she is not taking steps forward, only back. She doesn’t like it that I’m feeling better, more like myself, and happy that I walk outside for work a few hours every day.

I’m feeling frustrated. She is so unhappy, she needs to go today. I had this sneaking suspicion that when she agreed to go to rehab, she would change her mind. I told her right off this morning. Sorry…. After her nap, she was hungover this morning. She doesn’t see the irony in the fact that she was hungover for her Dr.s appointment? Then she called the Dr a quack and said no one listens to her (…we can’t stop listening to her). His opinion was rehab. I wonder what his first clue was. MIne was listening to her yell at her sister. Yelling at someone and telling them to respect you or you’ll slap them is an oxymoron IMO. I literally sent her to her room, like she was 15. This is the tenth time in a few months she has screamed at me from outside the house. Thanks but no.

How does she not want to go? She is so sad all the time, it’s detox and therapy. Maybe if she clears her head she will see clearly that I just am at my wit’s end (thanks Mum.) I would always wonder how parents could kick their children out of the house. Now I get it. They needed a fucking break. I feel stuck in this weird, co-dependent abuse relationship and it’s confusing and hard. She’s my daughter. But also an asshole