American Drug Addict: a memoir

by Brett Douglas

  “No,” I gleefully responded.

  “What the hell you mean ‘no’?”

  “Coming to get you is not on my schedule.”

  “Just come up the street and jump me off. It’ll only take a second,” she yelled.

  “No way. If Becky comes by here and I’m gone, I’m going to prison.”

  “God, I’m so sick of hearing that bullshit.”

  I always had a problem saying ‘No’ to Paula. When she said ‘jump,’ I jumped. She manipulated me with ease, making life miserable until I capitulated. I did my best to make her happy, if for no other reason than to keep the peace. Paula enjoyed exerting her control and watching me flail about in a futile attempt to please her. For example…

  “Would you grab the salt for me,” Paula politely asked as we ate dinner.

  “Sure,” I retrieved the salt shaker from the kitchen.

  She waited until I sat down and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I need the pepper too.”

  I retrieved the pepper shaker and sat down to eat.

  “Oh, I need the ketchup also.”

  “Okay.” I went into the kitchen to get the ketchup. “While I’m in here, is there anything else you need?”

  “You don’t have to be a fucking asshole,” she yelled.

  This type of exchange occurred so often, I couldn’t believe it was unintentional. Thus, I enjoyed saying ‘No’ to her, a pathetic victory for sure.

  The Strip Mall

  As soon as my schedule allowed, I drove to the strip mall where I had rented a space. During the drive, a knot developed in my stomach. I imagined the mall being full of operating businesses with my spot being the only vacancy. Much to my surprise, all the stores were still empty, and my space was the only one with an illuminated sign mounted on the front. The name of my business was Hard Drive Computers.

  Six weeks after my release from jail, despite the restrictions imposed by community control and Paula’s hostility, Hard Drive Computers was open for business. The first month, I earned enough money to cover the shop’s expenses. By the second month, I made a small profit, which was remarkable. Small businesses typically don’t see a profit for at least three years.

  While working, I didn’t focus on money. I prayed every morning, “God, show me how to be of help to others.” Concentrating on solving my customer’s problems instead of how much money I could get out of them caused me to make more money. It’s rather counter-intuitive.

  The Change

  My customers trusted me, a position I was not accustomed to. And they were not the only ones. Becky observed how serious I was about sobriety and my community control obligation. I followed my schedule to the letter and could recite the exact number of days I had been sober whenever she asked. This amused her for some reason. Devin and Jordan were excited to have their father back. But Mom’s response touched me the most. Standing in front of my store, tears welling up, she said, “You don’t know how grateful I am you’re sober. I resigned myself to the fact I was going to have to bury my son.” At that moment, I realized how deeply my behavior had affected her. Although I was an adult, I was still her child.

  My friends in AA definitely noticed a difference in me. I was sober and, for the first time, doing everything the program suggested. I went to a meeting every day, worked all twelve steps with Mike and was sponsoring other men. I started an AA meeting at a newly opened rehab center. I took meetings to the Friary and to the same jail I was incarcerated in. Everyone seemed to approve of the change in me except two people: Paula and Robert.

  Robert refused to speak to me. If he needed computer work, he left his house before I got there. He also refused to see the business I had started and acknowledge I had done what he said I couldn’t. Jeffrey Dahmer’s father visited his son in prison once a month. So, according to my father’s actions, I was worse than a cannibal.

  Paula’s displeasure with me was even more disheartening. Since she was still using drugs, the disconnect between us was worse than ever. She regularly complained about the money I spent to open Hard Drive Computers and wanted me to close the business and get a nine-to-five job. But, once the shop started making money, she stopped complaining about the cost of startup and shifted her ire to the fact that her name wasn’t on the corporate charter or the business checking account. We fought bitterly over the ownership issue. Technically, since we were married, she owned half of the business anyway. I simply didn’t want to succumb to her demands. Plus, I enjoyed saying ‘No’ to her, something I was getting accustomed to.

  Another issue we fought about was her cavalier attitude concerning my probation stipulations. Paula outright refused to stop bringing alcohol into our house. To make matters worse, she insisted on drinking beer on our back porch, which was visible from the street. I asked her to pour the beer into a plastic cup, but her response was usually along the lines of, “You're just paranoid. I’m so sick of listening to your bullshit.”

  Which leads us to….

  Shit I Know To Be True

  1. Don’t give tube socks to children for Christmas… EVER

  2. A preoccupation with external appearances is sometimes used to hide something unattractive on the inside

  3. The closest we come to immortality is the positive legacy we are remembered by

  4. Those things that make us different, make us better

  5. All good things go bad eventually

  6. Do not moon cars in your own neighborhood

  7. Never eat in a restaurant where the cooks are laughing hysterically

  8. No matter how small the detail, never compromise yourself for love’s sake

  9. Sometimes, what seems like an insignificant decision can become a life changing event

  10. Always fasten your seatbelt, even on short trips

  11. Properly motivated, everybody lies

  12. Never have a bachelor party the night before your wedding

  13. Always anticipate other people’s potential fuck-ups

  14. There is no such thing as a “Free Lunch”

  15. Alcohol is a drug, and alcoholics are drug addicts

  16. Not only should you stare at handicapped people, you should actually talk to them as well

  17. Never underestimate a motivated addict’s prowess

  18. When fear is genuine, paranoia become insightfulness

  The Mirror

  Some people don’t believe in Karma. Those people are simply not paying attention, or they’re stoned. The roles were now reversed; I was sober, and Paula was using drugs. Karma had turned the tables. When I looked at her, I was staring into a mirror. The only time she was kind and attentive was when she was high. If dinner was prepared when I got home, I knew Paula had shot some dope. On those evenings, she would place a plate of food in front of me with a smile and brought me anything I needed while I ate. But she never looked me in the eyes. I never realized how creepy that behavior was until Paula was doing it to me. The person I lived with was cheerful and considerate, but I knew her mood was induced. Knowing I had nothing to do with her happiness made her actions annoying. I also knew from personal experience that when the drugs were gone, her demeanor would change drastically. I begged her to stop using drugs but remembered her asking the same of me when she was sober. I asked her to go to AA meetings with me; her response was the same one I gave her before. Every day, I was forced to stare into this mirror at my past dysfunction but rendered mute. How could I denounce behavior I had once been guilty of?

  For many months, I came home to an overly happy and attentive wife, an angry and bitter wife, or a depressed and suicidal wife. I never knew which person would be waiting for me until I walked through the front door. I just accepted my new reality and focused on my business, probation, and recovery. At least, until I discovered the reason Paula was so adamant about having her name on the business.

  The Checking Account

  While at work, I placed an inventory order, but my debit card was declined. Panic rushed through me. I initially
thought I had made some colossal error balancing the checking account until I examined it online. Paula had taken several thousand dollars from the account, leaving me with a zero balance.

  Enraged, I raced home, but Paula was gone. Beer bottles littered the back porch, and a needle and spoon were lying under our bed. Simply accepting my new reality was no longer going to work. If I went to prison because of my own stupidity, I could live with that. But if I was locked up because of Paula’s actions, I might as well physically hurt her. I was going to prison anyway, right?

  Instead of resorting to violence, I made a bold and risky move. I told Becky what I had found and that I wanted to move out. She was stunned by my revelation. “To be honest, Brett, I have never had someone tell me what you just told me.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “It’s better than me finding that stuff in your house,” she said.

  “I’m not going to prison because of her.”

  Becky gave me permission to change residence. That evening, I packed my belongings and left a note for Paula informing her of my decision. She was not pleased.

  For the remainder of my probation, I lived alone in a small, mostly empty house, which came with only three amenities: an inflatable mattress, a refrigerator, and a microwave. The house had no cable, but I didn’t have a television. I did have a laptop but there was no internet. On its face, this arrangement would seem like a raw deal. All I had to do each morning was pray or say to myself, “God, thank you for this gift. Help me learn something from this opportunity.”

  The year I spent in that empty house was the most peaceful time of my life. Although I was alone and had very few possessions, I felt like I had everything. I also realized, whether at rehab, jail, or an empty house, I was at peace when Paula and Robert weren’t around.

  The Hypocrite

  After successfully completing my probation, I moved back home. Much to my consternation, everything was pretty much the same. The only difference being, I refused to accept Paula’s behavior. I confronted her every time I noticed she was high, causing some of our most vicious fights, all which Devin and Jordan endured. This time it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t matter. I took Paula to the Friary four separate times, each one ending with her leaving after a few days. On her last visit, she left in a cab the day after I dropped her off. I didn’t see her again for a week. The divide was widening between us. When I tried to reason with her, she said, “You’re complaining about me? You drove me crazy for eight years. You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

  According to her logic, my past mistakes were a viable excuse for her current conduct. I realized something…

  Shit I Know To Be True

  1. Don’t give tube socks to children for Christmas… EVER

  2. A preoccupation with external appearances is sometimes used to hide something unattractive on the inside

  3. The closest we come to immortality is the positive legacy we are remembered by

  4. Those things that make us different, make us better

  5. All good things go bad eventually

  6. Do not moon cars in your own neighborhood

  7. Never eat in a restaurant where the cooks are laughing hysterically

  8. No matter how small the detail, never compromise yourself for love’s sake

  9. Sometimes, what seems like an insignificant decision can become a life changing event

  10. Always fasten your seatbelt, even on short trips

  11. Properly motivated, everybody lies

  12. Never have a bachelor party the night before your wedding

  13. Always anticipate other people’s potential fuck-ups

  14. There is no such thing as a “Free Lunch”

  15. Alcohol is a drug, and alcoholics are drug addicts

  16. Not only should you stare at handicapped people, you should actually talk to them as well

  17. Never underestimate a motivated addict’s prowess

  18. When fear is genuine, paranoia become insightfulness

  19. Being a hypocrite doesn’t make you wrong

  Paula did tolerate my nonsense for a long time, managing to stay sober throughout. Her past dedication to clean living amazed me. I was three years sober and felt myself wavering. My home life was incredibly miserable, and I had no way of escaping. I brought up divorce, but she was quick to respond. “If you leave me, I’ll make you sell that fucking shop, and I’ll take half.”

  I couldn’t fathom that scenario. Hard Drive Computers was the only product of our marriage I could call my own. But the store had grown to a point where the amount of work was more than I could handle. My niece, Whitney, tried to help, but the stress was affecting me. I had a business which had grown beyond my capabilities, a wife who resented me, and a father who didn’t care. Could this convoluted situation get any more complicated? Of course, it could.

  The Jaguar

  As mentioned earlier, I started an AA meeting at a rehab center that recently opened. Maria, a friend in recovery, would frequently attend the meeting with me. She was a short, elderly woman who spoke and moved very slowly. Being her friend was a lesson in patience. Also, she insisted on driving in her Jaguar. Not only could she barely see over the steering wheel, she drove like a maniac. Our trips to the meeting were a lesson in gratitude. Every time I got out of her car, I was grateful to be alive.

  One evening, Maria came by the shop to pick me up and was accompanied by a familiar blonde: Barbie. She told me she had been sober for a year and suggested we forget about the past. I agreed.

  As the weeks passed, I discovered how fun Barbie was now that she was sober. We played off each other’s humor, something I had never experienced with Paula. I looked forward to our Thursday night trips together, an enjoyable oasis in a desert of stress and misery. Soon, we were spending time together outside of the meetings. As my fourth sobriety anniversary drew near, we professed our love for each other. I felt so detached from Paula and genuinely happy with Barbie, my transfer of affection was inevitable.

  When an AA member reaches an anniversary, they’re invited to tell their story to the group as a means of celebrating their achievement. I decided to divorce Paula, regardless of the financial consequences, and tell her of my decision on the evening of my sobriety anniversary.

  The Hospital Room

  I started having chest pains which continually got worse, so I checked myself into a hospital, the same one Paula worked at. I was subjected to a series of tests to gauge the health of my heart. Afterward, as I rested in the hospital room, Barbie called. “Hey, baby. How ya’ feeling?”

  “About the same. I’m waiting on the test results.”

  “Are you going to be able to tell your story tomorrow?”

  “Hopefully. I don’t want to stay here overnight.”

  “Well, I got you a funny card. You’re going to love it. Can I come by later?”

  “Sure. I’ll be here,”

  What happened next was like a scene straight out of a soap opera. Paula walked into my room. I was surprised. She had demonstrated little interest in my condition.

  “Have you seen the doctor?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I thought you were working.”

  “I am, but someone’s watching my patients. I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  Paula sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to stop using drugs.” Her eyes got misty.

  “Okay, and what brought this on?” I skeptically asked.

  “I miss you. I miss your love. I’ve been such a fool. Please forgive me. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I’ve been treating you like shit. You’re here trying to do the right thing, and I’m fighting you every step of the way. Can we start over?” Her declaration seemed genuine.

  “I was going to tell you tomorrow night I want a divorce,” I quietly stated.

  Paula clutched my hand. “Please don’t leave me. We can fix this. I promise, I’m ready to stop. I know you’ve heard that before, b
ut I’m serious. I don’t want our marriage to end, and our kids be the product of a broken home.” I continued to look down. Paula studied my expression. “Unless there’s some other reason you want to leave me.”

  At that very moment, Barbie walked through the door. She looked at Paula and said, “Oops, sorry. Wrong room.” She quickly turned and exited.

  Paula looked at me. “I’ve seen that woman before.”

  I looked up at her. “She’s the reason I want a divorce.”

  The seriousness of the situation suddenly dawned on Paula. She jumped to her feet, her hands shaking, her face distorted with grief. She begged me not to go through with the divorce, promising me she would change. My candor was supposed to relieve the stress I had been feeling the last few days. But now I felt worse.

  The test results indicated my heart was perfectly healthy.

  The Fellow Inmate

  I had told my story three times in the past. Being a glutton for attention, I always enjoyed talking about myself. And I always received positive feedback. But my fourth-anniversary story was different. Friends told me afterward my speech was unsettling, that an angry tone bled between each word.

  Paula did exactly what she had promised; she stopped using drugs and started attending meetings. I could tell she was sober. The woman I knew all those years ago had returned, a person I thought I would never see again. I should have been elated. But for some perverse reason, I wasn’t. My ultimate response was inexplicable.