By the time he had quit, it was too late for my parents’ relationship to be rekindled. My brother Jason always said, “The old man quit a day too late!” He kind of had wet brain but everyone liked sober Joe. He was a good guy without the alcohol. He just said things that didn’t make sense sometimes, but we got used to it.
Later in high school I worked a couple of jobs. One was pumping gas late at night and the other was in a machine shop after school. Getting my driver’s license was a big deal for me since I could escape the wars at home of my parents’ failing marriage.
My senior year of high school was bittersweet. I had a bunch of friends and developed a taste for cocaine. One afternoon, I came home from school to find that my mother had finally moved out. She was done with my dad’s bullshit. I should have been upset, but for once it was actually peaceful since the arguments stopped. My father was often out on dates with one of his girlfriends and I had the liberty to throw parties whenever I wanted.
I just scraped by in passing school. The girls I dated typically helped me with school work, which was probably why I was able to pass in the first place. No matter how much I ate, I was still stick-skinny. All the drinking and coke usage were having a physical and mental effect on me. Nosebleeds started happening at school and my teachers started to show concern.
My social studies teacher once pulled me out in the hallway in the middle of class and warned, “Sean, I know what you are doing. You need to stop or it’s going to end badly for you.”
Brushing him off and denying my brooding addiction, I thought to myself, “What does this guy know?”
I felt like I didn’t even deserve to attend my own graduation. Plus, who would come and watch me walk across the stage? I went to the graduation but couldn't get myself to go in, so I stayed and watched on closed circuit television in the hall with the parents who showed up late. I stayed long enough to hear my own name called and then left.
There were a lot of graduation parties to get wild at that summer. On the way home from a party in Plymouth, my friends and I got lost driving through a state forest. I was drunk, shirtless and shoeless when a state cop saw me swerving and pulled me over. He said, “Stay in the vehicle.” Not understanding, I jumped out and walked up to him. I asked for directions out of there. He replied, “Yeah, sure buddy. Right after a sobriety test.” After I agreed, he said, “Tilt your head back and touch your nose ten times.” So I leaned my head back and rapidly touched my nose. I accomplished the task successfully thanks to the lines of coke I had done before I left the party. I passed with flying colors.
The officer laughed, cleared his throat, pointed down the road and said, “When you see the split in the road, take a right and the highway is a quarter of a mile down.” I saluted the officer and said, “Thank you, sir!” and he laughed again and looked away.
When I got back in the car, one of my friends said, “I can’t believe you didn’t get arrested, Sean!”
I dodged a bullet on that one.
Drinking was a good way to keep my mind off my childhood trauma but it started to become more of a necessity.
Chapter 20
Hangover
The early years of my adult-life memories fall between hangovers and binge drinking. I hadn’t hit rock bottom yet but I felt in my gut it was going to happen sooner or later. After high school ended, I continued to work construction during the day and spent all of my nights getting wasted. As soon as the memories started seeping into my mind, I went on a drinking binge. When I was shitfaced, I did not have to deal with the anxiety and dread of facing what happened. I still believed in God, but not so much in religion. But hey, can you blame me?
Every day was an emotional battle. I tried to resist my reality and kill the memories, but they continued to haunt both my waking hours and my dreams. I tossed and turned at night from carrying such a heavy burden. Sleeping meant reliving nightmares of Father Paul and Ziggy. The murders Janie and I witnessed were embedded into my subconscious mind. Instead of facing the demons, I drank to numb the pain. I wasn’t partying for fun - I was self-medicating. Of course I didn’t realize I was becoming an alcoholic and a drug addict. Then again, an alcoholic never admits to having a problem. Some things become irreparable like that car you crashed or that tooth you lost.
At the bar, I used a fake ID. The name I used was Joe Lynn. One night just after I had gotten out of the service, my friends and I were at the bar when the bartender yelled, “Hey Joe, I found your ID!”
My friend said, “Hey, Sean, that’s you.”
I told the bartender, “Sean is my nickname.”
Puzzled, he handed the ID back to me. Kev (Mad-Dog) and I started our night by ordering one rum and coke after another.
“Another Bacardi and coke ovah-heah!” I said to the bartender.
After about fifteen drinks each, Mad-Dog and I were completely wasted and paid the tab to leave. On the way out we passed by a friend of mine, Dan.
Dan said, “Hey!” to Mad-Dog and me.
Mad-Dog replied with a drunk, “FU you.”
Puzzled, Dan looked at me as I made the smart ass-drunk decision to give him a “FU” as well.
We had no issues with Dan but the booze made us aggressive. Dan was not really your average guy. He was built like an ox and was covered in biker tattoos. I don’t know what business we had running our mouths off to a guy twice our size, who could also probably tear our heads off. Damn the liquid confidence. Dan was pissed off now and to make matters worse, our other buddy walked out of the bar towards us with Dan’s sister. I knew something was about to go down. Mad-Dog and I hopped in my truck and I started the ignition to leave when five massive men surrounded the vehicle.
Dan started yelling, “Mad-Dog, get out here and face me, asshole!”
No one budged so Dan started throwing punches, breaking the passenger side window. Glass shattered everywhere. After a couple of hard hits, Mad-Dog started screaming and bleeding horrifically. Then Dan opened the door to drag him out and I pulled Mad-Dog’s left arm in an attempt to save him. Thinking we were screwed if we didn’t get out of there, I put the car into gear and started to drive. Then Mad-Dog got dragged out of the truck and plummeted onto the pavement. For protection I grabbed the club from under my seat and got out to help Mad-Dog. One of the massive men pulled it out of my hand, wrestled me to the ground and started kicking.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw two cops on the guardrail. They were eating and watching us like this were a movie. They were hesitant to help, since it was not worth putting their own lives at risk. Dan’s brother came out of the woodwork and pulled off me the three men beating me and helped Mad-Dog and me get back into my vehicle.
I looked over to see Mad-Dog covered in blood, with a chain in his hand. I said to him, “Hey, at least you still have your gold chain!”
He said, “It’s not mine. It is his. We exchanged.”
The next day I went to the dentist since I had lost my back tooth. The dentist said that I got kicked so hard that the teeth on the opposite side of my mouth broke. At work my head was still throbbing in pain from a concussion. Mad-Dog couldn't even remember what happened. After that night we really didn't hang out together that much for a while. Between the two of us, our demons were too strong.
Since I was using coke so often it made sense for me to start selling. At first I only sold to friends but once word got around, I ended up making more money through drug dealing than at my day and night jobs combined. It was normal for me to get calls and head out in the middle of the night for deliveries.
It was as if when I blacked out, I had an alter ego that made all these bizarre business deals. Strangers showed up at my house and told me I had made a deal to sell something. Girls also showed up for dates I had planned when I was drunk. While high, I started making best friends and enemies and I was too messed up to know the difference. Most of the time I just played along like I knew what the hell they were talking about. Blacko
ut Sean and sober Sean were meshing together. Which one was I really? Since I was spiraling out of control, I started getting less and less calls from friends. Generally people stopped bothering me, knowing that I was too much to handle and the night probably wouldn't end well if I went along.
A normal schedule for me was to party until five am and then come home and crash until four pm. One night I was partying a little extra-hard on cocaine. I fell asleep for a couple of hours and woke up abruptly in the middle of the night. My eyes opened but I could barely move or speak. I lay there for hours, paralyzed. I could breathe and that was about it. That feeling terrified me as it dragged on and on. When I came to, I realized that that might have been the start of an overdose. Scared shitless, I decided it was time to cut back on the using, but I still continued to sell.
One night I was out at a bar with friends and I met a girl. She wasn't really my type but after drinking a few, she looked pretty good. She told me she was Mea Mea’s nurse and that she was near death and I should go see her immediately. So I went to see her the next day. Due to her Alzheimer’s disease, she usually didn’t remember my name, but today was special. She said, “Come sit by my side, Sean.” Then she sang a beautiful song to me as I sat by her bedside. She was ninety-six and she passed away the next day. I found out the news and went to work without grieving. My boss was being especially hard on me and I had a nervous breakdown crying. I’m not sure if it was the side effect of coming down from all the drugs or if it was just plain sadness because I really loved my grandma. On the day of her funeral, I drank heavily again and the Murphys tapped a keg. It was a classic Irish funeral.
A week later I left the bar at closing time with my friends and I was completely trashed. I slammed the car into a light pole, going sixty miles an hour. In that condition, I had forgotten to turn on my headlights. Kevin went right into the windshield while the guys in the back hit the seat, folding them forward. I banged my head on the steering wheel and windshield. After impact, I saw the hood wrinkled up but luckily the car still started. Witnesses came over to call the police, but since I couldn’t afford another night in jail, I drove my beat-up car out of there.
As soon as we got the smashed-up car to my parents’ house, we explained the situation to Janie and her boyfriend Joe Lynn. Janie was upset but Joe knew what to do so we wouldn’t get arrested for smashing up that pole while intoxicated.
“Drive your car into the tall rhubarb and remove the license plate. Then hide upstairs in case any cops show up,” Joe instructed us.
My friends and I went upstairs and hid in the bedroom where I began to puke on the floor. Janie came upstairs crying, “Sean, why do you always have to get so messed up!? I know you are trying to forget what happened and the memories always come back when you are sober. But this isn’t the way to handle your problems, Sean.”
“And you know how to handle your problems? I haven’t seen you in months...” I laughed, wiping puke off my shirt. “Don’t be so judgmental,” I said.
“I’m not. I’m just worried about you. You haven’t been yourself. Marilyn told me she’s worried too,” Janie said.
Then the doorbell rang. It was the police. When Joe opened the door, one cop said, “Hello, we are looking for Sean Murphy.” Joe replied, “Sean’s not home. He went to New Hampshire for the weekend.” I rolled over on the bedroom floor as Janie shook her head in pity, but also in disgust. What had I become?
I dodged another bullet as they bought the fake story. After this incident, even less people wanted to hang around with me. It was far too dangerous. On top of everything else, I was becoming increasingly paranoid. I’m not sure if that was the drugs or the fact I was regularly breaking the law and just skimming by without getting caught in major busts. Either way, I was willing to blame the world and everyone else for my actions, instead of admitting that I was the problem. I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t been exposed to so much early on, if my life would have been different.
Chapter 21
Sober Vision
After smashing that pole while drunk, I slowed down on my drinking and drug use for a while. I found time to go to my four-year-old niece's birthday party on the weekend with my family. Marilyn and her friends wanted us all to meet at the local pub, so ten of us headed over there after the birthday party. My sister and her friends got rowdy in the bar and threw popcorn. The bartender threatened to call the cops.
My sister’s friend sarcastically said to the bartender, “Okay, we'll wait right here to be arrested.”
Then the whole group ran out and escaped in their vehicles, without incident. Except me. Unfortunately, I had to wait for my old truck to warm up to drive. I made it a good ten feet before the police pulled up in front of me, pulled me out of my truck and cuffed me. I was thrown into a squad car with two cops. One cop drove while the other sat and watched me as if I were going to become violent or escape.
Once I arrived at the police station, one of the cops asked my address and said, “Ohhhh... You’re a Murphy, huh?? Lots of traffic out of that place. Your brother is Jason, right?”
“Yea,” I replied.
“I see drinking runs in the family.”
“You crazy Murphys,” another cop laughed.
The thing was that that wasn’t funny to me. We had been through a life of hell that they could never understand. It was just getting harder to hide. I thought to myself, “Someday I’m going to move to a town where my family is not known by the police.”
I was released a couple of hours later, but had a court appearance on Monday and my license revoked as they read off the list of charges. I couldn't remember doing half that stuff, but I nodded and pleaded not guilty and was released on bail.
When court finally ended, I was mandated to participate in an alcohol and drug program. Not taking it seriously, I still drank, smoked and snorted anyway. I showed up to an AA meeting drunk and was tossed out for being visibly intoxicated. I joked with the people in charge, “Hey, no one told me I couldn't go drunk! I thought it was a meeting for alcoholics.” It's safe to say they were not amused.
That night, I fell asleep and had a strange experience. Knowing I was screwing up my life and continuing to relapse, I questioned if I ever got better. In my dream I saw a vision of an angel telling me, “It will be okay. God is with you.”
This comforted me in a sense as I hoped there was a bigger and better plan out there for me.
After my DUI, my nose was in a constant bleeding state from all the coke usage. The doctor warned me to kick the drug habit or I would die soon. Terrified, I quit cold turkey and cleaned up my act during the next couple of weeks. Withdrawing was hell. It was a really bad rollercoaster of pain, hallucinations, depression and just an overall sick feeling. Eventually my body and mind got better and better. I became calm and somehow free. The feeling became euphoric after experiencing the extreme downs from the heavy withdrawals.
After thirty days, my spirit was reborn and I felt much lighter. My good friends forgave me and I even met a new girl. She occupied my time in a good way. This time I somehow managed to keep a relationship for a while. I realized I didn't need drugs and alcohol to be happy. My drinking was limited to a few beers on the weekends for social events.
Unfortunately this didn’t last long and I was off the wagon again. My girlfriend dumped me and I lost my job. I was ready to quit drinking again when my friends showed up to do some Friday night partying. We all went to a local night club. That night I did not want to go overboard. I walked into the bar and faced the dance floor when I felt a tug at my shirt. When I turned around I was awestruck by most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
She said, “You had a string on your back so I took it off.”
I responded, “Do you always go around taking strings off men you don't know?” She smiled, so I bought her a drink.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Jody,” she answered.
After flirting all night,
when the bar closed I walked her to her car and asked for a kiss. At first she said, “No,” but I insisted. We stood kissing in the rain for about five minutes.
Then my friends, whom I had forgotten had come with me, honked the horn. “Let's go, Sean. Just get her number!” Mad-Dog yelled. At first she didn’t want to give it to me. Then she wrote it on a map book I had in my truck.
I asked, “Wait, is this your real number?” I guess I didn't believe someone like her could be interested in me. Because of my years of abuse, I didn’t think I deserved a good life with a beautiful girl. I immediately knew she was different and I felt something incredible.
After that night I made a decision to quit the drugs again and I started to act like a man. I was fed up with my own excuses. I feared that Jody would find out about my past and I couldn’t afford for her to meet the old me. I needed to rewrite my story. I hadn’t had a lot of luck so far and I was only making things worse for myself with my self-destructive patterns. This could possibly be the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with and I had no intentions of messing that up. I finally cleaned up my act and fell head over heels in love. This was my motivation to move forward.
Finally clean and sober, I thought it was a good time to reconnect with Janie and tell her all about Jody. She would be proud of me for getting my life together after all. I hadn’t seen her around the house for quite some time. One afternoon in the kitchen, I asked Peggy and Marilyn, “Hey, have either of you talked to Janie in a while?”
“Sean,” Peggy said, “no one has heard from her in months. We don’t know where she is. Mom is really upset.”
“What? Is she still with Joe Lynn?” I asked. “Have you seen her friends?”
“We have tried everything,” Peggy said.
I guess as I was going through my own drinking binges, I hadn’t noticed her absence and asked if she were okay. But I knew what she was doing.
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