Jan 312012



Still working on getting my house sale ready.  I wonder if I am going too far.  I’ve lived here since March of 2004, so almost 8 years.  How could I have thought I kept a clean house?  My bear collection was COVERED in dust.  They live on the mantle over my woodstove.  I never paid much attention to them, but I never heard ‘em squawk (or roar, whatever the heck they do), so I thought they were happy.  They acted like they didn’t even know me … they should … they’ve seen everything I have done in my living room for years … I sure hope they don’t have a hotline to the National Enquirer.  They were ecstatic to get their first baths ever today!  I wish da muttz were that happy to get a bath, but at least da bears don’t roll in … well, nevermind.

So, anyway, I can’t help but wonder what it is like to live in a house for 20+ years and think that a general dusting and vacuuming every week is good ‘nuff.  Cuz the stuff I have found after living here just close to 8 years is kinda disgusting.  I am probably jeopardizing the sale of my house revealing this stuff, but screw it … I am human and this is funny.  I found a couple dead bugs in my fridge, which I actually clean fairly often.  I found a pile of dried-up dog puke behind Sammie’s sofa.  I found dog poop on my back screened-in porch, and my patio furniture had bird poo on it.  This is only because I had to keep the door to the porch open and install a doggie door to the entrance to my kitchen off the porch due to working 12-hr shifts out of town, and I couldn’t come home and let Sammie Sad Eyes out, like I could when I worked in the county.  Follow that?  Not sure I did lol.

In my defense, here is how I know I’ve kept a cleaner house than most, but definitely not as clean as those in “Southern Living” magazine.  I worked as a law enforcement officer for a few years.  I saw some absolutely beautiful homes, but I also saw some nasty stuff.  The worst I saw was when I was serving a warrant on a female.  It was a trailer or mobile home.  I wasn’t even sure I was at the right place cuz none of the houses were numbered.  The female that answered the door was whom I was looking for.  She was very friendly, even though I told her she was under arrest.  She, as a lot of peeps do, “forgot” her court date.  Ok, fine, doesn’t matter … judge issued a bench warrant so I gotta take her in.  She invited me in, and I obliged her.  She had to get something before I took her to the magistrate … I don’t remember what.

Sorry for the stereotyping, but it was creepy in there.  I had some tattooed dude come up to me and say, “I know you.”  Ever since I got into LE, I hated hearing that.  It’s easy for peeps to remember cops, but cops deal with so many peeps, it is hard to remember them all.  The good thing is, I treated everyone with respect, ‘til they disrespected me, and the “bad guys” appreciated that.  Most of the people that say they “know” me also say I arrested them and they appreciated the respect I gave them.

So anyway, when someone is under arrest, an officer must follow them around the house as they get “ready” to go to jail.  I did same and saw a few kids on the floor, barely dressed, and eating ice cream out of bowls.  The nasty part was there was dog poo all over the floor around them.  Who does that?  Seriously … I have no kids so perhaps no understanding, but who lets kids eat while sitting next to dog poo?

Bottom line is, my house is not dirty, but there are a few things that need cleaning up.  I have a nice house, and I really hope someone will buy it or rent it for a few months so I can take my beloved muttz ‘cross country.

Jan 302012



Well, I told y’all LAST week that I was gonna get my house cleaned up and ready to sell (or rent if that opportunity presents itself).  I need to do one or the other in order to go on my Unleash da Beast U.S. Tour.  For some reason, hmmm, I got ABSOLUTely nothing done last week … oh wait I did clean the fridge inside and out … how could I forget that joyous event?

I finally got my arse in gear today.  My vacuum cleaner has sucked lately .. well actually has NOT sucked very well as of late.  The last time I vacuumed, I realized the bag was overstuffed, so I thought the problem was solved by changing the bag.  Not so.  This afternoon, it would not suck up ANYTHING.  I flipped it over and saw a couple clumps of crud.  I also saw where I could take 4 screws out and thought it might be interesting to dissect the li’l sucker and see if I could fix it

As I took a couple pieces off, there was suddenly a puff of what appeared to be smoke.  Nope … upon digging further, I found enough fur to make a whole new ZekeyBoy!  I immediately ran into the living room to make sure ZB was intact … thought maybe he walked by while I was trying to vacuum and got sucked in.  He was fine so I cleaned up the machine and put it back together.

And, yes, in case you are curious … there is a table knife and fork in the picture.  They are part of my vacuum cleaner repair kit that I just HAPPEN to keep in the silverware drawer!  Smile with tongue out


Well, I didn’t put Zekeyboy in his cage, but we had a blast.  Next time I will have to put him up because I have a lot to learn as far as doing the poses properly.  I kept finding myself in the completely wrong position cuz I couldn’t see around da goofy mutt.  The only one I did quite well on was the corpse pose … figures lol.  Here’s a li’l slideshow for your viewing pleasure. Your best bet to view it is to enlarge it by clicking on the bottom right corner:






Alcohol is a depressant, duh … so why do so many people like me who periodically suffer from depression use alcohol?  That’s a darn good question.  I’ve read that “cutters” cut to cause physical pain, which in turn will make them forget about their emotional pain, but why do depressed people drink?  Does alcohol cause depression or do people with depression use alcohol to drown their sorrows?  I just read that the consensus is about 50/50.  One sure commonality between alcoholism and depression is how difficult it is for those who do not suffer with either to understand people who do.

The bottom line is nothing good comes from drinking alcohol … nothing … and I need to stop, which is much easier said than done.  I took the first step this morning by pouring out every ounce of booze in my house, as evidenced by the pics above.

Here are some excerpts from the AA Big Book, which I hope will bring a better understanding of alcoholism to peeps:

  • “The fact is that most alcoholics, for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called will power becomes practically nonexistent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink.”
  • “We know that while the alcoholic keeps away from drink, as he may do for months or years, he reacts much like other men. We are equally positive that once he takes any alcohol whatever into his system, something happens, both in the bodily and mental sense, which makes it virtually impossible for him to stop.  The experience of any alcoholic will abundantly confirm this.”
  • “At a certain point in the drinking of every alcoholic, he passes into a state where the most powerful desire to stop drinking is of absolutely no avail. This tragic situation has already arrived in practically every case long before it is suspected.”
  • “Heaven knows, we have tried hard enough and long enough to drink like other people.  Here are some of the methods we have tried:  Drinking beer only, limiting the number of drinks, never drinking alone, never drinking in the morning, drinking only at home, never having it in the house, never drinking during business hours, drinking only at parties, switching from scotch to brandy, drinking only natural wines, agreeing to resign if ever drunk on the job, taking a trip, not taking a trip, swearing off forever (with and without a solemn oath), taking more physical exercise, reading inspirational books, going to health farms and sanitariums, accepting voluntary commitment to asylums–we could increase the list ad infinitum.”
  • “It (alcoholism) engulfs all whose lives touch the sufferer’s. It brings misunderstanding, fierce resentment, financial insecurity, disgusted friends and employers, warped lives of blameless children, sad wives and parents–anyone can increase the list.”

So here I go again … I’ve tried several times of late … I must quit.




Ok, I gotta admit … perhaps because of my very limited flexibility, klutzy coordination, and utter lack of balance, I have just never been interested in yoga.  I started P90X Monday and have been digging it thus far.  Yesterday’s workout was supposed to be 90, that’s not a typo, NINETY minutes of yoga.  I skipped it, doh!  I feel guilty about it now.  Coincidentally, I got an e-mail from my Aunt yesterday, and she was talking about how yoga has been very beneficial to my cousin.

So I made a deal with myself.  I will get back on the normal schedule today, and I will do the yoga video on Sunday, which would normally be a day off.  I found some interesting quotes on yoga … I might actually end up digging it, and it is obviously something my noisy mind needs!

  • “The yoga mat is a good place to turn when talk therapy and antidepressants aren’t enough.”  — Amy Weintraub
  • “Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured.”  — B.K.S. Iyengar
  • “Yoga is a way to freedom.  By its constant practice, we can free ourselves from fear, anguish, and loneliness.”  — Indra Devi
  • “Concentrating on poses clears the mind, while focusing on the breath helps the body shift from fight or flight mode.”  — Melanie Haiken
  • “You cannot always control what goes on outside, but you can always control what goes on inside.”  — Mr Yoga.

Looking forward to Sunday … I think.  I will hafta lock Zekeyboy in his cage for the 90 minutes cuz I don’t wanna fall out of a pose, landing on him and squishing his sweet fuzzy frame.  He likes to be right with me when I am exercising.

Happy Friday, y’all!




I realized last night going through my “journal” that I kept while institutionalized at the Balsam Center, by choice, that I still maintained my sense of humor.  I love to laugh, and I love nothing more than to make others laugh.  I’m just gonna put some quotes here from my words …

  • I got up a little early in the hopes of scoring some Lucky Charms for breakfast.
  • Ya well no Lucky Charms and no Cocoa Puffs, sheesh, I was really gonna go all out today too.
  • I’m looking forward to dinner.  Ham sammich—they can’t screw that up too badly.
  • We just ate – kinda yucky.  Ham and cheese sammich – ham must have been canned cuz part of it still had a yucky gel on it.  Swiss cheese was cut wicked thick.
  • Had two cartons of milk cuz milk does a body good.
  • I don’t like to say too much about the patients here, BUT a man was admitted last night and he kinda creeps me out.  He has a wicked cough and coughs all over everything, he’s kinda dirty looking, and he paces the floor constantly.
  • It’s just me, Squeaky, and the nasty guy here, yet me and squeaky still have to share a room.  How goofy is that?  (Squeaky was a very masculine-looking woman with a squeaky, young girl’s voice).
  • Dinner was really bad tonight.  All I ate was a piece of cake.  They served these thin little overcooked pork chops that the plastic knives were no match for, something green (spinach perhaps), and some kidney beans.  Even the staff was a little pissed about it.
  • Ya know, I’ve heard people complain before of places that have really bad food, but I never imagined anyone would serve the shit they do here.
  • …the only two people left here besides me have some serious “people” issues.  I know I’m messed up, but these two are REALLY messed up.
  • Well, I just got my dental floss out of captivity so I could do a little dental hygiene.  I guess they keep it under lock and key so I don’t wrap it around my neck or something.
  • It’s still just the 3 of us and Squeaky and Pacer are taking a nap.  I’ll call him Pacer since he paces the hallway in super slow motion for HOURS.  I finally engaged him in conversation last night.  We had a pretty good talk, but of all the places to sit in the room, he chose right smack dab next to me on the love seat.  Nothing quite like invasion of my space.
  • Pacer slept through the AA meeting, even snored.
  • Doc asked me how the AA meeting made me feel … I told him it made me want to drink.  I’m not allowed to go to AA meetings anymore.  I was just being honest.
  • I think that they (the peer support counselors) are lying about not having internet.  Bastards!!  Smile
  • The new lady (patient) is cool.  At least she can carry on an intelligent conversation.
  • I’m hungry.  At least breakfast will be good.  Not as good as if bagels had nooks and crannies but good enough.  (We got bagels on the weekends thanks to some very caring staff members).
  • I just heard the computer in the peer support counselors’ office beep—like the Outlook indicating she’s got mail.  Jackasses must think I’m stupid.  (I was desperate to check my e-mail as well as find a 28-day program, but they kept telling me they didn’t have internet access.)

This stuff makes me laugh now.  More so because I sound like like my father in his letters home from WWII.

Take Time to Laugh!

 UDB US Tour  Comments Off
Jan 262012



Last night’s posts were a little intense, so I wanna take a more humorous approach in today’s post or posts, not sure if I will do one or two.

First off, I posted earlier in the week about how I was gonna work all week on getting my house “sale ready.”  Ha!  Is there such thing as situational attention deficit disorder?  Cuz I believe I have it.  I cannot stay focused on one task.  The first cleaning day I did the dishes and emptied the ashes outta the woodstove, the normal stuff … nothing new or special to make the house sale ready.  I didn’t eradicate one dust bunny.  I did accomplish something, though.  I ended up taking pictures of stuff I want to sell and putting them for sale online.  I mean, wouldn’t it be easier to empty out the house and then clean when there is less clutter?  Ok, well, I have a list of crap I gotta get done before the Unleash da Beast US Tour … what does it really matter in what order I accomplish everything?!

Of course it does matter cuz I know that in this economy, selling my house might be extremely difficult.  I need to get it on the market.  So what did I do today?  I cleaned the inside and outside of my refrigerator/freezer.  It looks amazing.  I even took off a piece from the bottom, and despite gagging over the nastiness I found, I cleaned it up.  I took all the magnets and mementos off the fridge and put them in a box.  I mean, really … how is THAT gonna help me sell the house?!  Who, while looking through a house with a realtor, looks in the refrigerator?  It would be just my damn luck, though … some obsessive-compulsive, germ-phobic, neat freak refusing to buy my house cuz there was a dead fly in the fridge.  Doesn’t everyone have a dead bug or two in their fridge?!  Hmmm.  Actually, I was a li’l mortified to see it, but I LMAO.

So then I was like … man I am accomplishing miracles today!  That was my mother’s favorite saying.  Of course, I was kidding myself.  I didn’t get shit done.  But, as Jack Palance said in City Slickers, “day ain’t over yet.”  Sooooo, I took some trash and cardboard boxes off to the recycling center, otherwise known as the dump where I come from.  Then I hit the grocery store before meeting a lady to sell her a few things.  So I made $20 today.  I haven’t earned a penny since I left my job.  Woo wee!  AND, I stopped at my favorite Mexican restaurant for some salsa to take home, and they gave it to me for free!  Granted, when I worked in LE, I arrested a few of the employees, so who knows what kinda “special sauce” they gave me … I just know it tastes yummy!

In all fairness to myself, I did a li’l more work when I got home.  I cleaned up the kitchen cuz it was a greasy mess (low-carb diet–yum–but lotsa grease) AND I vacuumed.  I had to.  I let Zekeyboy chew up a basket just to keep him outta my hair for a few hours.  I didn’t take into consideration the awful mess that would leave.  Deep down I knew it would be messy … I guess I hoped he would swallow the evidence.  The ingredients in baskets have GOT to be better for him than the ingredients in horseshit, and he has no trouble swallowing that!

Tomorrow is another day … and I will accomplish more miracles.  Watch out …




This is a continuation of my last post … These excerpts are from letters I wrote.

“A bunch of us have been talking this morning w/ one of the guys that works here. The conversation got pretty deep about God and stuff. Gave me a headache + made me want a drink real bad. … I’m sorry to be so negative. As I told you, the reason for my writing is two-fold to be in touch with you, my friend, and to journal my thoughts and feelings … Today is such a weird day. I just don’t know what I want anymore. I truly do not know if I can give up alcohol. How fucked up is that? I’m so confused.”

The next day I wrote, “Jiminy Cricket what a long day. Some good, some bad. I’ve wanted a drink so badly. Everybody here smokes so I thought if I could get my hands on a menthol cigarette I might just take up smoking again. That’s how “hard up” I am for some sort of buzz. … GG has no clue or understanding of how I’m feeling and what I’m going through (not that I am completely sure either), BUT, he keeps saying he can’t wait for me to get home + today on the phone he said, ‘I’ll bet you can’t wait to get home,’ and I was just silent.”

I then said, “GG thinks I’ll just get outta here, start my new job, + all will be groovy. … Plus, I hate to say it, but I just don’t think I’ll stop drinking. I don’t want to.”


I wrote to my friend, “I need to call my brother. He doesn’t know I’m here. I’m getting sick of being here. I hate being such a mess. I came here looking for help, yet I still want to drink. It’s my suicidality that brought me here. I can’t say with 100% certainty whether or not I’d have killed myself, but I had it pretty well planned out, right down to what clothes I’d wear.”

I think this is the next day. I wrote, “Laundry done. GG’s visit over. Here comes some more bitching. I cannot talk to him w/o getting absolutely pissed. He doesn’t even know how frustrated I get. I was talking about my craving for a cigarette today. He said, “you don’t need that. Why in the world were you craving one?” I said, “I was just craving any kind of a buzz. I wanted a drink.” Then he said, “if you don’t get over your cravings, you’ll be here til 2010, and I need you at home.” How weird is that considering he died in 2010? Wow. I am grateful I was with him when he passed. It was an absolutely amazing experience.

Then I wrote, “It’s hard for people to understand how debilitating it (depression) can be. Whatever. I just got called up to the nurses’ station to take my Campral, which I’m prescribed to curb alcohol cravings. The nurse said she knows several people that take Campral and rave about how great it works. I wonder if it takes a while to kick in. Could you look it up on the internet?”

Jan 252012



I want to thank my Aunt Carol, as she gave me the title line for this blog post.  I promised y’all days ago that I would share my experience at the Balsam Center, where I admitted myself in 2005 due to an issue with alcohol (might not have mentioned that) as well as a strong desire to commit suicide, complete with a plan … I had even bought the T-shirt.  I apologize for taking so long to follow up.  Delving into these memories has been harder than I ever imagined and is quite possibly throwing me right back into depression, but I will try to remain strong and continue on because if I can help anyone, it will be well worth it.

So at the Balsam Center, and I reckon other of the same type of facilities, I was given lots of Ativan.  I was a freakn’  mess, practically unconscious, for the 1st day or two.  Ativan is an anti-anxiety med.  I guess they pumped me full of it because I hardly remember the 1st few days there, but I have some records of it.  I still have the “Personal Recovery Plan” I was asked to fill out during my first few days there.  I don’t remember filling it out, but I remember a wonderful woman named Helen who worked there and tried to help me.  Her writing is all over this plan cuz I messed it all up lol.  The first question on the recovery plan was, “How would I like to feel when I have recovered from this crisis?”  I wrote, “worthy of living/wanting to live.”

I wrote a letter to good friend on this day.  In that, I said, “My biggest problem is wanting to live.  To put it simply, I don’t want to live.  I started thinking of ways I could kill myself in here.  There aren’t a lot of options, but there are some.  Something inside me is stopping me from acting on my wish though  …  I am entirely sick of life.  Nothing brings me joy  …  I think I’ve really gone off the deep end this time.  …  I may have to lie to the doc just to get outta here.  It’s either that or they will send me someplace else.”  I signed it, not sincerely yours, but “sorry I turned into such a fuck up.”

I gotta stop for now.  Reading these letters is disturbing.  No, I will keep going for a bit.  I think it was the next day that I wrote, “Today was the best day yet.  …  We’ve watched a few videos on depression and bipolar.  They’ve helped me to understand more about how my mother was when I was growing up.”  At 10:20 p.m. on the same night I wrote, “I found out I was getting a roommate.  I asked for something to help me sleep.  She gave me trazodone, which is one of the pills my mother O.D.’d on.  At least I know it works … in large doses … sick joke I know.”

The next morning I wrote, “The trazodone wasn’t terribly effective, gave me a bit of a headache, but I got enough sleep.  The nurse on last night and the nurse on this morning both asked me if I still have suicidal thoughts.  Cripe, I have had suicidal thoughts for at least a year and a half – they won’t go away in a week.  They are concerned about how I’d handle going back home.  I really don’t want to start my new job right when I get home.  I want some time off.  I don’t care if we have to piss through the CD in the bank.  I don’t know how to tell GG (nickname for my late hubby) though.”

Back to the “recovery plan,” one question was, “What have I learned from this crisis?”  I wrote, “Dunno if it can overcome it.”  I reckon I mean “I” and not “it.”  It then said, “I’m just like my mother was.”  Needless to say, I was not discharged until I worked on a better recovery plan.

I have a lot more to share.  I just don’t want people to lose interest because my posts are too long.  I know I am not alone here, although depression feels terribly lonely.  Please e-mail me anytime, if you want, at jleandro@unleashdabeast.com if you have any questions or just want to talk about shit.  It would help me just as much as it would help you.

Because I care,


Jan 242012



Oh boy, I used to think I kept a pretty clean house; that is until I decided to sell it.  My original plan was to contact a realtor this week to put it on the market.  However, yesterday, I was looking under my bed for something … and shazam!!!  I was attacked by a ferocious herd or nest or colony or trace or drove or warren of DUST BUNNIES!  Upon research, there is no one set word for a group of rabbits … (I learn something new every day).

Later, I was looking out a living room window to see what da muttz were yapping at, and I noticed how filthy the “sill” (dunno what else to call it) is between the window and the screen … yuck!  I reckon all the windows are like that.  All day long, It seemed like dirt and grime were jumping out at me from every direction!  The stove, the refrigerator (no MAJOR science experiments thankfully), the floors, the cabinets , etc.  You know it’s time to shampoo the carpet when your socks turn red from the Georgia red clay that gets tracked in.  It’s not visible to the naked eye until I look at the bottom of my socks after tromping around in ‘em for awhile.  And what is Georgia red clay doing up here in North Carolina anyway?  Well, I am close to the Georgia border.

So I’m gonna spend this week getting the house super clean.  It really isn’t too bad, but I don’t want a potential buyer subjected to a dust bunny assault.  I don’t need the lawsuit.  Then I will hafta think about the yard … there are enough leaves on the ground to make an army of scarecrows.  Ah, the joys of home ownership!  Looking forward to getting the “Love Shack” up to par.

Y’all have fun, ya hear?!

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