Perhaps it is paranoia or ego, perhaps it’s the way the stars are aligned right now or perhaps I’m not taking enough evening primrose oil to keep my hormones under control. Whatever it is, these days I seem to be unable to tolerate anything that’s irritating me and likewise there seems to be ALOT of people, places and things irritating me. I am not even sure what it is I am feeling. I don’t recognise it as anger as such, but maybe it is. All I know is, my tolerance for BS is zero. Yes I am an alcoholic and I have created BS in my own life and the lives of others during my 22 years of active addiction, but I have also been dumped on more than I care to admit to myself sometimes. I have owned up to all my wrongs and I am in the process of making and living my amends to the world.
Lately though, a comment that my sponsor made to me early in my recovery rings in my ears; He said “we are alcoholics, not doormats.” I understand exactly what he means by that. I got blamed for a whole lot of unhappiness during my drinking days, and rightly so. However, now that I’m being a good girl and keeping out of trouble, it’s harder for people to point fingers at me and blame me for their unhappiness. Equally, I find I am less likely to put up with being dumped on or accept disrespectful behaviour around me or towards me.
And so this leads me to my interaction on Sunday with the local drug dealer. To be honest, I didn’t even know he was a drug dealer, which is massively surprising to me as usually I could sniff one out in my sleep. When I say local I mean like, he lives two houses away from me, and still I was oblivious! I’m shaking my head in wonderment at myself right now! How come in my using days I never had a drug dealer live two houses away from me? Anyway, that is pretty irrelevant now and I realize that it’s a very good thing that there wasn’t one so close for obvious reasons.
So I’m asleep in my bed, only to be woken at 4.30am to the sound of a party going on in his back yard, which is echoing around the housing estate where I live. It’s not the first time it’s happened and because it doesn’t happen that often, I’ve let it go and gone into the front room to sleep with my daughter where the noise isn’t so bad. I figured really that if I objected I was being a total hypocrite and saw it as payback for the hundreds of parties I’ve held or attended when I didn’t give a shit who was disturbed by my revelling, and me, being full of program an all, practiced patience and tolerance towards this guy’s parties, and sucked up my punishment for past misdemeanours.
Yes I lay there with the sound of the dance music thumping, grinding my teeth with annoyance and calling him every curse word I could think of, but I eventually managed to drop off to sleep again. BUT THEN! I woke at 7.45am…..and the music was still going. I went down to my kitchen to crank up the coffee pot. I particularly like that easy Sunday morning feeling, no rush, no fuss. Then it happened. There was, what I can only describe as a small explosion inside my head, and before I knew it, I was out my front door, still in my pyjamas, no shoes on, marching down the road to this guys front door. (Just for the record, I do realise that in a lot of my blogs I seem to be in my pyjamas with no shoes on quite a lot. This is become a bad habit, and I intent to correct it instantly). My heart was pounding out of my chest with temper and rather than casually knocking on his front door, I practically beat it down. The 15 seconds or so it took the guy to answer was almost unbearable and he was greeted by a crazy person, which would be me, glaring at him with my teeth showing. The smell of alcohol hit me in the face like a sledge hammer and it triggered memories for me of 7.45am on mornings after a party, where I would be avoiding looking outside because it was daylight, and most people had left, but I would still be hanging on nursing my bottle and praying that there was more somewhere after I had consumed its contents. I knew by the look on his face that I was looking pretty psychotic and before he could even speak I was like……..”do you think you could turn that fucking music down now? Do you realise there are hundreds of people, many of them with small kids, living in this estate and that most likely you kept everyone awake. Do you know that people were probably afraid to come to your door because they were intimidated. DONT LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.” And off I went, leaving the guy standing still with his jaw on the ground. I got back to my kitchen and enjoyed my morning coffee in peace and quiet. It struck me then as I sipped my Italian roast, that I am actually not afraid of anyone anymore. This guy was about 6 foot tall, and built like a yeti and it didn’t faze me one bit. Drinking and using for years and subsequently coming into recovery has made me a pretty tough cookie, and if you mess with the safety and comfort of my family and I…..you better watch out.
One of the other neighbours knocked my door about an hour later. “Holy crap Nicky, I can’t believe you actually stood up to that guy, do you know he’s a drug dealer?” As I said before, I wasn’t aware of this fact, and really it didn’t matter to me. I’ve been around people like that all my life so I didn’t feel threatened at all. Yes I believe I owe him an amends for the forceful way I approached him but he won’t be getting one today; In fact, I may try 12 stepping him sometime HA!