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Today is...Published Version 8-11-11

Today is...Published Version 8-11-11

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Published by thetonyd
A Codependent story of two alcoholics and their family trials, set in a daily journal format.
A Codependent story of two alcoholics and their family trials, set in a daily journal format.

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Published by: thetonyd on Aug 11, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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PrefaceThis is a group of journal entries I made from 2003 to 2011, so that I could ventmy frustration with the woman I married, mainly during her period. Now youmight be thinking that’s unfair, all women have that and it’s nothing so unusualand very uncomfortable for the woman. Yes, well, this woman, when I met her had her vagina packed with post surgical gauze. I was to find out later that shehad surgery on her cervix due to cancer. This cancer, I was to find out evenlater, was due to her ex-husband’s giving her genital warts, which then turnedinto cancerous lesions. This in turn caused her to have a serious hormonalimbalance that would play out in nearly a full week of PMS. There would be alittle relief at the beginning of her period, then she would experience postmenstrual syndrome as well.This woman would later find her biological parents and it would be revealed thather father was a heroin addict at the time of conception, and her mother, 17 atthe time, would go on to have 2 other daughters and give them up as well. Therewas a biker bar stabbing incident in there as well which almost cost her mother her life. Her father died of alcoholic liver disease.Julie (her adoptive name) was adopted by 2 Jews. I think hence her name, butthey’d argue. She was to enter a family whose 2 biological sons wouldeventually die of muscular dystrophy-she was their replacement. They botheventually died of respiratory failure, so she eventually became a respiratorytherapist. Along the way she would encounter substance abuse at around age13-15, get sober in a program, get raped while hitch-hiking from the beach, andthen after marrying twice before, meet me, an alcoholic-addict.She invited me out to a Halloween party shortly after we met at work, took me toher friend’s house-a double wide trailer where she left me alone with a retardedAsian girl she promptly became jealous of. I was to later find out these were twoof her old meth-friends. Within a couple of months she was evicted from her apartment so I let her move in my apartment with her daughter from a previousmarriage, already 3. We partied like it was 1999, although it was only 1995. Iawoke one morning, I’m pretty sure on the floor, to her holding a pregnancy testover me saying “Aren’t you happy!!!?” I went along with it. She had amiscarriage, then we had our first son. We had the second about 2 years later and except for the pregnancies we pretty much drank the whole way through.I got addicted to and then busted for using Demerol (synthetic opium) on the job,and from the job, and subsequently lost my lucrative career and had to deal witha criminal record to boot, making it next to impossible to get another job.So here I am with 2 kids by a drug addict-alcoholic that I can’t stand but am tryingto get along with because I’ll be damned if I’ll 1) leave my own kids and 2)leave
them with this crazy broad who eventually, after telling me to butt-out, would lether daughter end up on the streets.My entire journey was from about October 1995 to present, August 2011. Shehas recently gone to her father for help with an attorney, so she can kick me outof the family home we’ve shared for the last 8 years, so she can continue usingdrugs and alcohol. She refuses to admit she has a problem. She told me, and Ihave it on tape, that if I want someone sober that I have to go find someone else.My decision to get sober was solely based on the need to take care of thechildren. Of course I need to take care of myself as well, but that’s how mysobriety started. It wasn’t because I got busted.I was going to write a book one day, based on my experiences, but I’m afraid mytime is coming to an end one way or another, and I might also be told I can’t sayor write anything about her by her lawyer. So here I’ll prematurely make this journal public.Please emailthetonyd7@live.comif you have any questions about the finishedproduct, which I believe I am going to incorporate into a book that is also asmany years in the making titled “The Hill”, describing my adventures where Igrew up, partied, and watched may family die in Palos Verdes, California.I didn’t do much editing, and I took out the last names. Most of the entries weremade ‘on the fly’ while I only had a few minutes to write before Julie came by.I’m now looking at a dent in the wall behind my desk where she smashed my lastcomputer monitor. Mind you I have never raised a hand to this woman, mine is aclassic case of addiction and co-dependency. All the gory details skimmed over here, will be in the book.
Today is May 9
Today is May 9
th, 2003
. I’m starting a journal. Why not? What day would havebeen better? It’s 12:55PM and Julie is with Jake. She’ll be taking him toMcDonald’s later-we figured he’d be disappointed after they canceled play-in-the-water day today. Julie’s parents are here for mother’s day and they’re downstairs playing with Joel. Joel is playing with the water-I set it on mist so he won’twaste the water-I’ve been watering it by hand to save the water so he’seffectively helping out. Well, last night was a bad night. As a matter of fact thewhole day was really bad. After Julie grounded me from my job search again soshe could take our only car without planning, I happened across a web sight thathas left me feeling like, well, I need to start a journal and finish my book. Not thatanything matters any more, but let’s face it; you can’t go on with your life if you
really think that tomorrow you’ll be gone; especially with children. But thingshave changed. Julie is just too different to communicate with. It’s been a decadeand I’m just finally coming to the understanding that I have to live life as best Ican because she never will. She’s a walking stiff. I feel sorry for her; she’smissing out on so much. The only thing that really matters to her is her respiratory career and she doesn’t even know why. I do. But the God factor doesn’t allow her to hear me. It’s like living out a bad movie or nightmare whereno matter what you do or say, nobody can hear or see you. My big irony is thatthe only thing that really ever mattered to her in my life’s forum is money, and Idon’t have any. This family has put up with me through thick & thin and let metell you, talk about ‘born to fail’, I’ve never felt like a bigger fuck-up than myself.All I need is a decent income to fit in really well with my family but it seems thatno matter what I do, I can’t get a job. I’ll never give up, though. And I know thatI’ll eventually succeed. The day I get the best job ever, or get my higher degree,I’ll be told I have terminal cancer. It’s a family tradition of failure. Anyway, theother day I thought of wringing Julie’s neck and at the instant I thought, “God, Ireally care about this woman.” I was thinking of how sad I would be if anythingever happened to her. I actually started crying in the car while I was thinking this.This poor girl has never seen any happiness. All the other men in her life havebeen complete jerks or dead. I really never thought of myself as a jerk but since Imet her, I feel like I have been a complete asshole. As angry as I have been withher, I want for nothing but her happiness. If I lived out the rest of my life only tomake her and the kids happy it would be worth it. Let’s face it, who remembersthe person who designed the world trade centers (less the fire proofing)-I mean, Icould do something great like that but it’s what people do for people that they’reremembered for? So I’m sitting here wishing I could buy a house, give it to Julieand the kids along with a hefty bank account & some credit cards so Julie couldshop ‘till she drops-present her with a huge diamond just because she’s earnedit-but, I can’t even get a job at Denny’s. (They were going to hire me for management) That’s the real bitch of it, I know I’m smart, and I can do manythings masterfully. But how do I get a chance? There’s such a differencebetween taking and giving a chance. I want a chance (to do a good job for agood wage) but I can’t just go out and
it. See, that would be
a chance.I have to have someone
it to me. How do you make someone
you achance? You can’t. You have to ask for it & they have to want to give it to you.Right now the response I’m getting is: “Sorry, we can’t
that chance.” I’mreally fed-up.Another surreal evening…it’s 5/12/03 @ 9:47 P.M. Julie’s been on the phone for over an hour & ½ talking about the hospital. She’s been talking about thehospital since she left it at about 6:30 p.m. Sometimes I think that one day she’llbe killed in a head-on collision with a truck carrying books to respiratory therapyschool. Geritol pales in irony comparison. Mr. & Mrs. B left today after Mr. B.nearly had a stroke putting Joel’s basketball hoop together. All that & he made ita foot lower than his old hoop…”He’ll start at this level & progress to a higher level.” When he left, I had to raise the hoop over a foot. The re-assembly took

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