 |
| "NOLA girl"...sold |
My life ended that morning around 7:30 a.m. It began as usual. Early rise, husband and granddaughter ready for school and office, out the door. Ambled down to my studio (I am an artist) with coffee in hand. Ten minutes passed until I heard footsteps upstairs and then my husband (Pat) appeared on the basement stairs. At first thought he had forgotten his briefcase or cell phone but when I looked at his face, my heart fell to the floor. Immediately thinking something happened to one of our kids, I blurted out “what happened?” I must add that I am not one of those mothers who with a sweet, consoling voice say “oh honey, what happened?”…my fear always kicked in in the form of “OMG what happened, after hearing a child scream or cry. Now when the realization hit me they were OK or they had broken a vase or other chatski, I could handle the situation, maybe not in the way Dr. Phil or Mother Theresa would handle it, but in “my” way. Being a mother for me was constantly worrying about them. It always seemed that the mothers who let their children run wild and the ones who didn’t know the whereabouts of their offspring were the ones God watched over. In my case God put me in the “worry” position.
On this Monday morning it was different. Being that husbands are your oldest children, my gut reaction was the same, although there was something in his eyes that told me to hold off on reacting. First easing my mind, he told me the children were fine but he had to “talk” to me. Then my heart sank. When a conversation begins with “I don’t know how to tell you this”, your whole world starts spinning like a roulette wheel and where it stops, nobody knows. “I resigned from the firm”. Silence from both parties. Now I am looking at a small boy instead of a prominent labor attorney. In that moment I didn’t care about anything…my heart took over.
After a detailed journey into the events that led up to this resignation, the real journey through uncharted waters began. His next words were “I am an alcoholic and I need help”. (Now these were words I knew to be true, albeit, a functioning #alcoholic is what I always said.) As the silence hovered over the room, my hand automatically picked up the phone and dialed. Now this is where my Higher Power took over. I dialed the office of our Psychologist (he was also a friend and I might add his wife is one of my best friends to this day) and he answered the phone. Yes, a doctor in his office and he, personally picked up the phone, (God was watching) before office hours! Briefly informed of the situation, he responded with kind words and said “come in NOW”. We left the house and took the 15-minute ride in silence. As we walked into his office, I felt a sense of relief. Little did I know the battle was just beginning. A room had already been reserved in a rehab facility near Birmingham. I told the doctor that we would go by the house on our way and pick up an overnight bag and he said “NO, go straight to rehab”. Now those words frightened me. The 30-minute drive was the longest ride I had taken, sans the 10-minute ride we had taken several years before when we had to “dump” our middle child in a teen rehab facility for drug use. That is another story.
This trip was with my husband, my rock, the best father, my friend, my confidant, my lover, my heart. I made it (with no tears) but with weak knees (literally, because the year prior to this I had been diagnosed with #Rheumatoid Arthritis…MORE to come on this topic later), to the registration office. We filled out the necessary documents and wrote the establishment a $2500.00 check (which was one of many and we had insurance). The next step was the most difficult. Dumping my heart and soul, along with my husband at the door of Detox where he would be alone but surrounded by “undesirable” people…people who weren’t “like us”. The only solace I took away from that moment was knowing that after Detox, he would check in to the “professional” facility, the “country club” section of rehab. As my car glided down the wooded, winding road, through the rolling hills of central Alabama, I lost it. Tears flowed like the mighty Mississippi unleashed…my chest heaving and my heart broken.
Again, tears are flowing...must continue later.
 |
| "Lobster" sold |
