WRITING — ADDICTION, HOPE & HEALING
Just How Close Did I Come to Dying?
Too close… and the TRUE pain and cost of loving someone with an addiction

My hospital bed. Last day. Bags packed. Getting ready to go home.
Yessss!
Feeling very Rip Van Winkle right now… here I am, back from a long sleep… or that’s the way it seems. Amazing how mere weeks can feel like 20 years.
I do know it’s not the time of the American Revolution, but it is the time of my own personal life revolution.
May sound dramatic to you, but trust me, it’s a perfectly appropriate description.
Who knows how close I came to dying, for real. They told me when I got to the hospital, but it only truly sunk in when the needles started coming out, ya know — I mean the real needles, not the little ones. That was after the MRI.
Then, life slowly starts to return — drip by IV drip.
A terrible kidney infection and dangerously low white blood cell count masks something else — luckily not HIV or hepatitis. Clean bill of health there.
No, perhaps it was the culmination of years of draining myself dry. Years of bittersweet happiness slowly eating me hollow.
All the painful ups and downs… years of being placed upon a pedestal only to realize that I’m still only playing second fiddle to a bottle of booze.
Talk about a painful realization!
No matter how many times I was told I came first in my marriage, I know it was a lie.
Bottles and bottles and more bottles…
Why???? I don’t understand.
Why???? Why do all those stupid-ass bottles always get in the way?
Can’t you see they are ruining our lives and stealing away all the dreams we ever had?
Why can’t you see what they are doing to us???
Too late. You’ve made your choice and I’ve been forced to make mine. I love you so much, but I can’t be Jesus on the cross for you anymore.
I can’t be your pin cushion. I can’t stand seeing all those bottles… shining and glinting like your lover. For you, they are your lover. You barely even try to hide them — I find them everywhere and they are always fully consumed.
Stag beer and White Oak Rum… and why even bother with the small bottles. More is always better, right?
Go for grande! After a while, not even much of a chaser is needed anymore? After a while, I suppose it just all goes down like water almost.
The more you drink the less desire I have to. In fact, at the current moment, even thinking about alcohol is repulsive to me. Makes me feel like retching without drinking a single drop myself.
Rip Van Winkle no more though. Time for eyes wide open.
Blessings… so many blessings and people helping me… I had no idea how many people cared… how many would be here for me.
I don’t even have words for it.
Blessings, blessings and more blessings! Feels like such a sweet rain… the sweetest rain Trinidad has to offer…
Oh, and saying goodbye to Trinidad… it’s ripping my heart out even though I’m aching to go home as well… but that’s an entirely new post in the making… tomorrow is another day, isn’t it?




The sun will rise again, and it will be brilliant and blinding.
I survived it. I survived it all…
I’ve seen a glimpse of what lies ahead and it is beautiful! 🤩
So, looking forward to catching back up with everyone here, but I’m not the same as I was.
Looking forward to reconnecting very soon!







