The road after trauma for me was a self-induced tequila festival. I could walk into any bar with five bucks, buy my first beer and drink for free the rest of the night. Oh what a GOAL. I may have gone from a really cute shade of this:
To a dark twisted version of this:
It was a dark few months. There was a lot of tequila. A lot of blacking out. A lot of days that ran together into an oblivion of self loathing. Hailey and Faith stood patiently waiting for their mother to snap the hell out of it, and I wish that it would have been easy for me to do. In fact it wasn’t until one morning one of them ran into my bedroom and called the guy I was with by the wrong name… that I hit rock bottom.
I looked into the little face of my two-year old daughter and realized that things had to change. There had to be a cleaning out of closets so to speak. It started immediately. It started with the most difficult part, me looking myself in the eye in the mirror and admitting that I was a mess. I was extremely disappointed in who I was, because it wasn’t me. I missed “The Boy Next Door” terribly and had been filling the void of him in my life… with alcohol and people who could never take his place.
I searched for a way to contact him. Only to find that after everything had happened, he had gone down a similar path to mine and was serving two years in jail. He was a good one. I felt responsible for all the pain he had endured and was enduring. I shut down again, at least on that subject.
I had a great job to focus on and two beautiful daughters. I put all of my time and effort into those things. I worked any overtime I could get my hands on because I was struggling so hard financially. It had been 9 months since I had seen The Boy Next Door. My life was slowly becoming normal again. You know, as normal as life can be when you come home to a house with no water or power every other month.