~Sweet Honesty~

things I like, pictures I take, and nonsense I sincerely believe.

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IT’s been almost a YEAR

Do you think I stayed sober? 

During the past year, of COVID, being away from my family for over three years, dating, AA, a new sponsor, a new job...Oh yeah, the new job I got, right out of rehab, wasn’t a regular barista job. It also required bartending. Which started off as just like, LOL so fucking funny! I am a sober bartender! But on a trip with a friend, I ingested what I thought was CBD, but I felt the strong hold of the devil’s lettuce take over me within an hour, and I was stoned. I didn’t tell anyone, I just got back home and had my friend drive me straight to the dispensary. If you know anything about my history of relapse, you know once the weed comes into the picture, it’s only  a short while before I’m shit faced and projectile vomiting bile into the toilet every morning. 

 The cafe I worked at was a great place for a functional alcoholic to work. Most of my coworkers drank at work, but they didn't drink like I do. I showed them how it’s done. Twice in one week I left work in a paramedic. Once, I just got sent home. The last time I left via paramedic, I was kindly asked not to return. Fair, right?

I was jobless with my last check and a few potential leads on the way. You’d think I’d do all I could to make that money last, but I went quick from “I’ll have a half pint of tequila” to “i’ll take a full pint of tequila, and then I’ll come here blacked out later on and get some shooters”, always finding a way to have weed also. Found a way to even have Mushrooms at some point, expecting a spiritual experience to cure my alcoholism. 

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Nothin’ hits quite like AdCouncil PSA’s. Besides a fat hand rolled doob, of course. 

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San Francisco on expired Kodak Porta 400. 

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January 4th, 2021

     Today all of the parrots flew by our window. I thought Elisa was going to leave in the middle of the night. Her ankle monitor shut off, and we were all afraid the cops were going to come. Lizzie (resident advisor) told me not to worry about it; how  there’s “2 sides to every story”, how there’s “so much I don’t know”. I feel the same way though. As in there’s so much that SHE doesn’t know. How much Elisa has changed in 6 days. I’ve spent 24 hours a day with these women. I seen Elisa go from “I don’t want to stay here or stay sober”, to attending meetings, connecting with other addicts in NA, asking questions about sobriety/sponsorship, etc. Either way, the staff here is much nicer than the last rehab I was at. I wish I could go for a walk or a jog. I miss my whole family, Cooper, Ro, Kelly, Lu, Tara, Melissa, my neighbors who will never talk to me again. The last thing I remember from 12/15/2020, the last night I drank, is staring at Hess, turning my head up to gulp down the last of my cup of vodka. Who knows what else happened that night? How  much of an actual fucking utter waste I am when I take a drink. Or worse- when I don’t take a drink. The things I’ve stolen, the things I can’t remember. I refuse to drink again for as long as I live. I guess I can turn into one of those AA clowns who says “I’m a REAL alcoholic, a REAL drink-to-die drunk!” And it’s fucking true! PS- I don’t think I really like Stephanie, but I miss her, too. I love you James Rea Crawford. Also, I’m killing Elisa and Lauren at Monopoly. Oh, REHAB.  It is only in rehab where you’d simultaneously be: 1) Reading William S. Burroughs 2) Sewing “ACAB” onto a jacket 3) completing a treatment plan 4) playing Monopoly and 5) journaling furiously, thinking some how, some way, someone will read this and think - “Wow- it’s brilliant Let’s add her story to the Big Book since it’s so damn funny- and so truthfully relatable!” Anyway. It’ll be dark soon. 4:55 pm. What’s for dinner, and why is it so difficult to starve myself?

                               “America is not a young land: it is old and dirty and evil before the settlers, before the indians. The evil is there and waiting.”

        Whenever one of us has to move our light it looks like an awkward comedian on stage, gingerly shuffling their mic stand along the stage floor. Way to say stage twice, you fat, tired bitch. So much for working on that negative self-talk.

January 5th, 2021

        Today the counselor in the room next to us said- “by the way- I can hear every word you say in here, so maybe clean up your language a bit- because I don’t really want to hear about eating assholes at 10 o’clock at night” and everyone looks at me. And I think to myself -wow- my father would be so proud. My counselor said I need to figure out why I drink and use. I guess “I like the effects produced by drugs and alcohol” is not a good enough answer. I thought that was the right answer. I just yelled at Elisa for looking at herself in the mirror instead of looking at the meeting. “Is it love, or am I an asshole? the Caitlin Crawford story”. Where’s my good pen god damn it all. Admitted that we were alcoholic- that our lives had become unmanageable. That’s step one of Alcoholics Anonymous. Have I ever even written that down? They say it’s the only step you have to work perfectly. But I feel like there must be some sort of saying like that for every step. I just asked the meeting leader and she said “yes”- but in quite a roundabout way. But, still, a yes. She also says her emotional bottom was worse than her drinking bottom. But for me I think my drinking bottom was my emotional bottom. Maybe I’m wrong- maybe I’ve not yet experienced an emotional bottom. A terrifying thought. My counselor says as alcoholics, we’re basically afraid of everything. I think my biggest fear, even when I was little, has always been the future.

           Good God I’m mean. I think it should be so obvious how I love Elisa, but I know she thinks I’m mean, mean old Caitlin, Lauren’s the nice one, always responds to the obvious attention seeking comments (”I love these pants, my butt looks so good, look how good my boobs look! My eyebrows look so good today, right?) and I just refuse to be manipulated into a complement. It’s not like I don’t give them. I’ve said so many times how proud I am and encourage her consistently. But I’m the mean one- who cant talk for at least an hour every morning or a half hour before bed. It’s always those types I remember and admire- not the ones who seep love and fake bullshit the second you meet them. Except my counselor- I guess she’s like that, and I love her already. She isn’t fake though. The other counselor seems fake and my instinct was to dislike her, but after a brief chat todayI felt myseld better able to understand her. Besides, it’s not like I’m not fake. I feel extremely guilty for showing everyone Cooper’s instagram. What the fuck is wrong with me? Besides crippling alcoholism. I hope Jen is able to work well with me and see through my bullshit.

January 6, 2021

    Okay yeah never having children is completely understandable. I think that’s why Lauren is so much better with Elisa. She lives with her nieces and nephews. I talked to my counselor about it and feel much better. I should’ve written more today but oh well.

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The (lacking) Beauty of Lake Elsinore, CA

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12/23/21 (Day one at Detox)

yesterday, my neighbor told me everything - about how I was drunk taking care of her children. Luana dropped off clothes to me yesterday. I don’t know what to do except sit on my phone. I’m plagued with guilt over the way I was around the babies. 

1/2/21 (Day 3 at Rehab) 

Happy Birthday Mom, I love you. Wait, I saw Christian- Brendan’s friend in AA- and John I worked with at Wholesale Warranties? Zoom is weird. I love Marlyn I’m so happy she’s my counselor.

1/3/21 (Day 4 at Rehab) 

           I wrote a letter to Mom and to Luana. I finished the book, “Ordinary People”, by Judith Guest. What is it about finishing a book that’s so god damn sad? It will be dark in two hours. And I’ll be okay. I’ll start another book and cry about a small furry animal, actually 3 small furry animals that I miss so much. The main thing is that I don’t want to die right now. I used this blueberry hair mask and I thought it smells like a baby prostitute (a line from the movie Mean Girls) which isn’t so funny anymore since my roommate is an 18 year old prostitute. 

         I started Naked Lunch- it isn’t easy to read for a brain dead drunk who can’t count the dice she rolls in Monopoly. Yes I am playing Monopoly now. We had to le`ave it out on the floor tonight because, like a drunk man with whiskey dick, we couldn’t finish. Elisa falls asleep reading every night so I just got up to turn out her light. She is still holding up her book. Lauren is reading, too, the same way my mom reads in bed: laying on her side with the book in her right hand. Yesterday was my mom’s birthday, and Elisa’s brother would’ve been 21 if he hadn’t died of an overdose on her kitchen floor. I still don’t know my COVID test results, but I say to Brandy I must have already had it since I was working all of this year. And Elisa chimes in she was homeless all this year, and I’m again one-upped by someone who was a minor up until last Monday. I’m going to keep reading until Lauren falls asleep so I can turn the fans off without guilt. Goodnight, red journal.

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Dear Booze & Drugs

It’s been a wild ride. To be honest, I used you. I needed you even though you never needed me back. You’re like that dude Ryan in a Thrasher shirt: cute, stimulating, feels so good, but at the end of the day, unreliable as fuck. Useless, belittling, and overall, really bad for my mental and physical health. I never saw a full and happy life without you. I still don’t, to be honest. What will I toast to at my fictional daughter’s wedding? What about when my Mom dies? How will I numb myself into comfort--the way I did when my dad died? Each of these scenarios leaves me with multiple excuses as to why I should use you again. That’s part of your hold on me that, frankly, I’m sure won’t ever go away. Not unlike the first boy who broke my heart, you’ve forever altered my thinking. I’ll consider you at least once a day for the rest of my life. Which, if given over to you, couldn’t possibly last much longer. That’s the scariest part about you, actually. Our only similarities are that- sometimes, we both want me to die. There’s other ways to overcome that without your dumb ass, though. I’m not about to give myself over to death with you in my system, because I find that so fucking pathetic, that just writing this makes my eyes roll into the back of my (48 day sober) head.Fuck you and your unique capability to romanticize the death of friends, lovers, and heroes. At the same time, I’ll always be able to understand those who choose you. You make so much sense, especially at the beginning. Like that time I chugged you on top of Nicole’s car while watching pavement. You seemed so sweet and adorable then, as I washed down my birth control with you, laughing at the sick irony of it all. After you killed Dave, though, I saw you for what you are- a monster. I don’t know how I was so blind to it for years- your hold is unlike any other. The paradoxical existence of humans is so hilarious, though, that I will continue to dream about you. My mouth will water when I consider the bong rip, the chug of tequila, the overwhelming warmth you give me when I get enough of you in my stomach to stop shaking in the morning. But god damn, you took away any bit of passion for everything in this beautiful world, except for you. You’re so selfish it’s ridiculous. And I don’t want a thing to do with you for as long as I live. But just for now, I’ll quote my best friend Jim Crawford, and say, “I’m just not drinking today”. 

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GATEWAY DRUG

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Flowers, 2017

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some time has passed now. I had some time sober. I went to Turning Point treatment home in Golden Hill San Diego. I got kicked out for sharing my medication with someone in the house. When I got home, I  immediately relapsed. I went to the Food Bowl down the street and bought two big beers. The days following resulted in me buying a pint of tequila every day, finishing it in two long pulls, then drinking a six pack at night. It’s easy to downplay whatever role Ryan has in my life. “Friends with benefits” is the closest terminology that describes us. As I began this downfall, I could see the way he looked at me change. I could see he didn’t like watching me slowly kill myself with alcohol. It reminded me of how I lost my friend Kandace to drinking. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t lose people because of this thing, which has a mere and simple solution: don’t fucking drink. How easy it seems, reading it in those three words. I calleda  crisis line for help three days ago. They sent an emergency Psych team out to my house. An emergency psych team that turned out to actually just be the police. They handcuffed me in my house and took me to some shitty hospital where I sat handcuffed to a chair for three hours. I was discharged. The next day I went back to a different ER, suicidal. 

That same lady I wrote about in a previous post who is pretty and doesn’t usually work here informed me I have group now. Because I’m back at Sharp Mesa Vista.

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me and my brother in 1991

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mental

this year has been a lot for a lot of reasons and a lot of things have happened to a lot of people. most of my friends are pregnant now and I am sitting on a communal computer in a mental health facility that I’ve been in twice now.

in the last month I lost two jobs due to my addiction. I was drunk at work and asked to leave twice. I can’t stop drinking, no matter what it does to me. I envy the people that live on the street, their only worry being where there next drink is coming from. Now I am on five days of detox, something my severely alcoholic father never had to do. 

life in the mental hospital moves slowly and quickly at the same time. this has to do with total sobriety as well. I miss and think about my rabbit the most. I am angry at myself for having to be separated from him. I wish he could be in here with me. 

A pretty lady who doesn’t usually work here just informed me we have a group now. I am no longer allowed to be on the computer. 

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i’ve been in sharp mesa vista psychiatric facility for four days now. I want to leave, but the option to drink has been removed from me. and I’m happy about that. I want to be better. 

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CHICANO PARK, San Diego