Cuz this might be a long one.  Don’t feel guilty about snackin’ while reading.  A one-day-a-week splurge is great for the metabolism.  That said, I’m munching on deep-fried slices of pepper jack cheese.  I’m talkin’ cheese dipped in egg then breaded with crushed pork rinds and assorted seasonings, fried for one minute to a crispy golden goodness, and dunked in salsa.  I cannot even begin to tell y’all how great these things taste.  I won’t bore ya with a picture of ‘em though.  You can see just how impressed Sammie Sad Eyes was:


Puppy porn at its finest … I should be arrested.

I’ve wondered a bit lately if I reveal too much in my blog about my personal life.  I’ve thought about closing up da BeastShop here and just keeping a personal journal cuz the writing is, without a doubt, extremely therapeutic for me so I don’t want to give it up entirely.  Then I realized how many times in just as many years’ past I’ve tried to keep a journal; most handwritten attempts were thrown by the wayside after just one incredibly messy entry.  So then I downloaded a diary software program, thinking that being able to type my thoughts out would save me from my own illegible handwriting that I’d never be able to read again.  Also, typing would allow me to get my thoughts and ideas down much more quickly.  Again, just one entry into my “desktop diary” and I never went back.  Sharing my thoughts, however, just feels right.


While I can’t proclaim to know with any certainty why I was born, I still believe I was born for a very specific reason and that I am being led by a higher power.  Things have not, by any means, gone as I had planned or even hoped since I left my job last November and embarked on this Unleash da Beast kick.  While I realize some of the stuff I share might make me appear unstable and certainly does not always shed the best light on me, I just can’t shake the feeling that I am doing what I was called to do.  Hey, I’ve always said it was worth it if I was helping just one person.  Guess what?  I am helping one person … me!  Mission accomplished.

I got a message on my blog this week from someone I’m not terribly close to but who has been involved in my “recovery” from addiction in the past that said, “I know I”m Bipolar……..your blog really exposes your mood swings…just saying….”  I don’t disturb easily, but I was grateful for and at the same time disturbed by those words.


When I was treated at the Balsam Center in 2005, I was convinced I was bipolar and even managed to convince the doc I was too.  I don’t know if I am or not, but I do know one thing … like many who suffer from the disease, I stopped taking the meds once I felt better, which is absolutely NOT the right thing to do.  I reckon perhaps the same goes for depression, which is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain.  So why stop the antidepressant meds just cuz you feel better, when you only feel better cuz the meds helped bring the chemicals back into balance?!  I’m now realizing whatever meds I do need, I need to take them for the rest of my life.


Back in 2005, I committed myself to an institution to save my life … I had suicidal ideation with a clear-cut plan.  That is where my head was at.  The drinking was secondary and not a big a problem in my denying eyes.  My writings reveal that I had absolutely no desire to quit drinking alcohol. I just didn’t want to die.  I used to be a news junky, frequently visiting news websites throughout each day and always had a news channel on as background noise in the house.  I’d be damned if I was gonna off myself and miss out on what’s gonna happen in the world.  I needed HELP!


Things have really changed in da BeastHouse since 2005.  I don’t even have cable or satellite TV and can’t get the local channels here in the valley.  No live-streaming news on my supa-sized television.  One thing that hasn’t changed is my dependence on the drink.  But I have some good news and a ton of hope.  It’s a slow process, but I am finally realizing that if I don’t toss the sauce, it will be the end of me.  I say that I am realizing that and I am, slowly but surely, but this e-mail response from a friend to what I’m about to tell y’all caught me off guard.  She said, “So happy you are going to live.”


Live?!  That’s not what my e-mail to her said.  Hell, I’m a healthy, middle-aged woman who works out; of course I’m gonna live!  But she’s been around the addicted enough to know what she is talking about.  My e-mail to her simply said that I have been accepted into a 43-day inpatient rehabilitation program and that I believed it would provide the foundation I need on which to build a life of sobriety … ABSOLUTely no access to alcohol for 6 weeks as well as intensive counseling, group milieu, and more insight into the 12-step program, which is something that scares me but something I know I need to conquer.


Baby steps … the first step is hope … I got this.



Ok, there really is absolutely nothing funny about mental illness, but I have a sick sense of humor so if you think my making light of depression might offend you, I urge you to stop reading now and maybe go check the weather or something more benign.  There is some pretty serious stuff here as well.  If you need a chuckle but also want to learn a li’l about the illness, by all means please stick around and I’ll give you my best Jeff Foxworthy “You Might Be a Redneck” version of you might be suffering from depression IF:


You do irrational things with little-to-no foresight … now this one was progressive for me.  When I had a contract on da BeastHouse and thought it was sold, I starting paring down my inventory and selling a lot of stuff cuz my plan was to travel for as long as I possibly could, and the mo’ money I had, the mo’ gas I could afford, and the mo’ awesome places I could visit. Even though the house deal fell through and I had to cut phase 1 of my US UDB tour short, I continued to sell and get rid of stuff.  In fact, I sold Big Green (above) for WAY less than it was worth (I ran it through the blue book incorrectly), AND I forgot to take that smiley plate off (boo hoo).  Now my “grocery getters” are a choice between da BeastTrek (bicycle) and da BeastMobile.  Honestly, though, I love the way I feel behind the wheel of that gas-swillin’ Beast, but I am very close to running my bank account completely DRY!


Of late, and particularly over the last few weeks, I have been packing up what’s left in my house and loading boxes and furniture into the garage.  I have given a ton of valuable stuff away and even trashed a bunch.  I even packed my drinking glasses … imagine my embarrassment when a friend stopped by and asked me for a glass of water!  Why did I do all this?!  Cuz I want to simplify, of course.  I’m gonna go back on the road!  I want to prove that I can live without all the clutter.  I gave away some stuff I may actually NEED if my house doesn’t sell, AND I took my house off the market … things that make ya go hmmm.  My bizarre plan was to just take off in da BM, let the house foreclose, and just say screw it all … with hardly any money!  Yea, I reckon I might’ve been in a slight state of depression.

Oh … this one’s pretty gross, but I’ve always strived to keep things real.  You also might be suffering from depression if:

fridge  020

Cleanliness falls to the wayside.  Click on the above pic on the left for a better view.  Those are dead bugs in the bottom of my fridge.  For real.  I have smelled something awful spoiling somewhere in my kitchen but didn’t take much time to search the fridge, didn’t really care quite frankly.  I just kept thinking it was the trash and kept wrapping it up and taking it out to the garage.  Well by golly it was 2 hardboiled eggs rotting in the back of the fridge.  Did the dead li’l flies not tip me off?  Nope.  The pic on the right shows remnants of a can of RipIt I put in the freezer to “chill,” making it a great mixer with Absolut, which leads to you might be suffering from depression if:


You engage in self-destructive behaviors such as drinking, using drugs, driving while impaired, BICYCLING while impaired … you know, like, stuff that you could go to jail for and/or stuff that is just flat BAD for you.  Remember, I had gone to the doc and gotten prescriptions for 2 drugs to help me quit the booze?  He told me that day he was certain I would eventually die from alcohol use just based alone on the amount I was imbibing on a daily basis, let alone all the dangerous crap I might do while under the influence.  The last thing he said to me was, “I’ve seen a lot of alcoholics die from the disease; don’t you be one of them.”  Yea, yea, whatever doc.  I stayed sober for 3 weeks and a day.  When I resumed my drinking, I stopped exercising and hardly ate anything.  You might be suffering from depression if you stop doing the things you were once passionate about.  I have, however, gone back on the meds and been sober for a few days now.  It’s gonna be a lifelong battle, baby, but I refuse to give up.


Well, darn, it was my hope to keep this post fairly light, but do y’all know much about self-cutting behaviors?  You might be and mostly assuredly so ARE suffering from depression if you cut yourself with a razor blade … on purpose!  I’ve only done it once, years ago, when I was very intoxicated.  I cut my belly with a razor blade.  Just a very, short superficial scratch that barely bled.  It led me to research why in the world people do that.  I’ve seen peeps with scars across their wrists like the pic above and thought, ignorantly, “Oh, jeez, there’s somebody just looking for attention … hey, if you wanna kill yourself you gotta cut down the street not across the road, ya goober!”  Not funny, I know.


As I thought about what I was going to write in this post, I remembered a letter I recently received from this young lady.  In it, she told me how sorry she was that I still suffer from bouts of depression and such, and then she casually wrote,”I still cut myself.”  It had been a long time since we had exchanged letters … many years in fact … but I don’t ever remember her mentioning being a cutter; I bet I just ignored it out of my own discomfort.  Anyway, what I learned is that people cut because physical pain is so much easier to bear than emotional pain so they try to mask their emotional pain much like a drinker or drug user.  In essence, cutting puts an immediate, albeit temporary, end to emotional pain.

Good news

Actually, it’s GREAT news … there IS help out there for all of us, and with the advent of the interwebz (thank you so much Al Gore), finding help is actually fairly simple.  The thing is, getting the help to the people who need it can be quite a challenge cuz some simply will never outright ask for it, but there will always be signs that they are in need of it.  And if you need help, trust me, I know how hopeless one can feel … I’ve been there, but I’ve been on the brighter side too!

Because I care,




. . . even if it lasted a li’l over 3 months?  Three months might not seem temporary considering the life of this blog, a mere 8 or 9 months’ young; however, over the span of my lifetime, I’m thinking it’s safe to say that temporary insanity is what I’ve been suffering from since the end of May.  It snuck up on me and has been slowly progressing, ever so gradually and discreetly that I did not even recognize the downward spiral I was carving until it was almost too late … or perhaps I was just ignoring it, knowing full well I was self-destructing.  It all came to a head over the past couple of days.  However, as a result, I started to feel an incredible sense of peace yesterday after what might even be considered a bit of a breakdown.

Today is a new day, and I cranked up this song just as soon as I crawled outta the bed …  ”I Musta Got Lost,” by the J. Geils band  …  come on, y’all, turn it up!

It is going to take me a few posts to get all this out out, so I’ll do one a day.  My writing has been very disorganized of late, so much so that I’ve deleted some blog posts.  Heck, my MIND has been very disorganized as well.  The bottom line is I haven’t been practicing what I’ve preached on my blog … I lost my focus and forgot the purpose of it … to promote the power of positive thinking despite how cruel life can be by sharing my own experiences and putting sort of a “fun” spin on it all.  It’s time to do this again:


I am guilty of this …


… and it’s time to end the nonsense (I would say stop the insanity, but the image of some loud-mouthed, spiky blonde-haired, fitness guru wearing heather gray spandex and yelling through the TV screen might come to mind and distract y’all).  Oh wait … well at least I didn’t post up a pic.  Really, though, time to walk the talk in regards to many things … most importantly the positive thinking, the daily affirmations, and the self-love (emotional self-love, not physical … ya pigs) that I’ve tried to promote and also the diet and exercise routine and just embracing a sense of well-being rather than one of self-pity, loathing, and excessive concern over holding grudges and fretting over people who don’t even know me judging me and speaking negatively about me.  Who the ‘frick cares who says what?  I know myself better than any of them do. They no longer matter to me.


So without going into TOO much detail about what has transpired over the last 3 months, I allowed myself to get back into a situation that ended very abruptly and painfully for me back in August of 2011, cuz, well, “This time will be different, right?!”  Famous last words.  Granted it was different … for a little while, but it certainly wasn’t ideal.  Don’t get me wrong, the situation brought me a lot of joy much of the time.  However, something was nagging at me; something just didn’t feel right.  In hindsight, I realize now that my brain was in a losing battle with my heart, and instead of dealing with it, I fell deeper into the drink and into the gauntlet of the depression monster.


Doh!  I beg to differ, Homer.  While it is the cause of many of life’s problems, it is without a doubt the solution to none.


Yea, this is kinda cliché, but oh so true.  I will talk more about friends tomorrow but just mention here that I never really thought I had any true friends (my own skewed perception).  I found out yesterday how wrong I was and how important it is to have peeps on your side.  The day got bunches better after a friend took me to breakfast and gave me a wonderful pep talk.  All I was hearing at the time was, “Blah, blah, blah” and thinking, “Will you just let me feel sorry for myself?!”  But her words spoke to my heart.  She suggested I start reading some of my older blog posts.

Later in the day, the publisher I have been working with called me to check on the progress of my writing.  I explained that I’d been dealing with some personal issues and hadn’t been terribly motivated.  She gave me another pep talk, so I dug out the “manuscript,” which is simply a printed version of all my blog posts:


I started marking it up and organizing it a bit, still uncertain exactly where I am gonna go with it.  I skimmed over several old posts, mostly the ones from before the UDB US Tour and during it.  Shazam!!!  I was one light-hearted and happy camper (no pun intended) on most of those days, which were just a few short months ago.  This might sound cocky, but reading some of my posts was infectious!  They made me feel silly and giggly all over, just like I had when I typed them.  They reminded me that I absolutely CAN be and HAVE been very a happy and confident woman.

As icing on the cake, I got an e-mail from the law student at Suffolk University Law School who is gonna help me put Monster Energy in their place with regard to the trademarking of my Unleash da Beast website and logo, at no cost to me save for court fees.  I’m looking forward to “meeting” him by telephone next week.

Gonna wrap this up for now … hope I still have some followers; I appreciate y’all.  Trying to link my blog to my new Facebook accounts has been a melluva hess … so much so that they think I am an imposter and have banned me for 30 days from posting … SHISH-KA-BOB!  I’m gonna try to fix that though.

Oh and I used to sign my blogs …

Because I care,

J (when and why did I stop saying that … did I stop caring?)  Ugh … til tomorrow!

Smile with tongue out



This is (from left to right), my mom’s sister, Carol, me, and Mimi (my mother) some time back in the long lost 90’s … 1990’s that is, hehe, like before we were viciously attacked on 9/11 … the towers were still standing, as majestic as ever!   We had no earthly idea what was to take place in the future or the impact it would have on us.  We were at South Street Seaport in NYC.  I reckon I’ve shared this before, but I’ve long packed away 99% of my pics so can’t bring in new ones right now.

09-01-2012 04;25;12PM

The purpose of this post is … well … I realized yesterday I’ve been giving my sweet mother a bad rap here in my blog posts.  I’m fairly new to writing, but I’ve discovered that with writing a daily blog, I just write what’s on my mind that day.  Now that I’ve delved into a bigger project, I realize, I am leaving out so much in my blog.  A friend asked me yesterday, “So, there were some good times with your mom?” as he perused through pictures of a trip Mimi and I took to London.  Above is us on the plane leaving Boston in 1992.  Here is the meal we were served on the plane, complete with (gasp!) a steak knife:


I said, “Oh hell yes, my mother and I had many great times!”  And it came to me that I have not given her a fair shake.  Or my upbringing for that matter.  I had it pretty good.  So let me tell you a li’l about “Mimi,” and allow me to point out the devil that consumed her much of her life, the burden of her mother, suffering from breast cancer, committing suicide when Mimi was the tender age of 22, her sister even younger, complete with a search of a riverbank to find their mom.  With that, my mother became depressed:


And this didn’t help … of which both of my parents partook:


“Aged in Oak, For A Taste Worth The Wait.”  Ya, since most people drink cuz it tastes so good right? … NOT.  Ok I can’t speak for others.  I know I don’t drink for the taste … ick.  And I know to stay away from brown liquor … evil shit!  Please understand that I am simply telling y’all how it was.  I’m not complaining.  I was actually tasked with making my mother her “I’m home from work” drink.  I still have the stupid “jigger” I used to measure with.

I’m not better than ole Benji and Mimi, my parents.  It was an altogether different time then.  I’ve actually commended my parents while growing up, wondering how they were able to keep me and Jeff from getting hooked on “illegal” drugs, what with all the peer pressure we were warned would come once we reached high school, which for me amounted to zero.  I was warned I wouldn’t be able to pee in high school for fear of other kids pushing drugs on me.  Never happened.  And I peed A LOT, like between every single class … teeny weeny bladder syndrome.  Never once had anyone try to give or sell me drugs.


Virginia Slims … my mother’s nicotine delivery system of choice.  I was so proud to go into Don’s Market in Hampstead, NH, to get her a pack and come out with this awesome keychain, FREE with the purchase of a pack, the keychain that she used for years!  Slim and sexy …   Ya, my parents both smoked, although I vowed I never would.  Never say never.  I was paranoid as child and always worried that breathing in all the 2nd hand smoke would eventually kill me early in life.  I even worried about carbon monoxide (or is it dioxide?) from other vehicles; one of my brother Jeff’s friends, the boy who ended up being the best man at my 1st wedding, Michael Casey, told me I would die if I breathed in a milk carton full (like the little milk cartons in the school cafeteria).  Hell, I hardly breathed outside air after that!

I actually came to ENJOY sucking in the cigarette smoke wafting through the air intermixed with Maxwell House Coffee each morning along with fried eggs cooking and all the other morning scents.  I still don’t drink coffee, but I totally dug listening to Paul Harvey on WBZ radio outta Boston as well as Dave Maynard and all the other regulars.  As far as the ciggies, I picked the oddest time of my life to pick up that habit, shortly after my dad died of a smoking-related illness.  Here I am at the family cottage in Maine … with a guest surprise … Mona!  Whatcha think, Auntie Carol?!


Haha, a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights on the ground in front of me … wth was I thinking?!  But look at sweet Mona snoozing behind me.  Dogs rule. Oh, I quit smoking after 2 or so years.

Anyway, back to Mimi, as she is who inspired this post.  We had a freakin’ TON of laughs … nothing made me happier than making her laugh.  She thought I was crazy … she was right, and I always aimed to prove her so.  I’m thinking it was when I was in my late 20’s to early 30’s that we made a pact to have lunch together every Saturday.  We’d always go someplace different and enjoy a great meal, some shopping, and a few giggles.  One of our favorite places to go, which happened to be about half way from where we each lived, was Newburyport, MA.  An amazing waterside town with some great restaurants and awesome shops.  I’m not a big shopper, but I liked the li’l knick-knack-type shops.  I tolerated the clothing stores.  One thing I didn’’t share with my mother was her passion for fashion:


Not sure why, but these are the 3 outfits of hers I kept.  I realize they are all very similar, and I reckon I thought maybe someday they would look good on me (if I ever got the burning desire to wear a dress or skirt, which is quite doubtful, hehe).  My mother dressed impeccably, with an amazing style and sensibility.  Me?  “Hey don’t these blue jeans look pretty dang good with this old Coca Cola T-shirt?”  The t-shirt was free from my ex-father-in-law who worked many years for Coca-Cola!

So, this one time (in band camp … not really) I obliged the stylish side of Mimi.  She wanted us to have our “colors” done to find out what color clothes and makeup (what’s that?) complimented us best … it was called Beauty for All Seasons.  It was designed to let us know the best color makeup to wear (ya cuz I’m a clown) and what color clothing.  We both were diagnosed as “fall,” although our colors differed a bit.  Dunno why.  Maybe I was early fall and she was more so after the leaves had completely changed “fall.”  I’m not one to hoard and can throw things away fairly easily, but I can’t bring myself to throw away my “palate:”  I was trying to be a good daughter.  She always warned me I’d have a li’l girl just like me someday, which was enough for me to refrain from birthing another (thank you SO much, Mother!).  Well played, Mimi, VERY well played.


I do not shop by this palate though.  My shopping, which is quite rare, is based on price, but I was always proud of my mother for dressing so sharply.  She took great pride in that and always looked beautiful.  I am proud of her fashion sense.  I reckon she is disappointed my my lack thereof, but it is what it is!  I am a realist.

Anyway, I haven’t been inspired to write much lately, but there is something about the idea of going back on the road that excites me.  I’ve lost all sense of responsibility … I am trying to keep this politically correct so I will refrain for now about how I feel about the current world we live in.  All I can say is I am following something real.  I can’t say what that is yet.  Perhaps I will end up … well nevermind.  Let’s keep the possibilities open.  I promise I will keep y’all entertained, whether it be allowing  those wishing me to fall to watch with a gleam in their eye or those secretly fighting for me to be successful.


I bought this knick-knack a long time ago and still display it.  I used to look at this as a negative thing … not anymore.  I think my mother would be proud of me.  I want to continue her legacy, whatever that may be.  We are not at all the same, but she loved to travel and did so internationally.  My path will be traveling the good ole USA.  The cycle of suicide and depression in my family MUST stop.  I don’t think it’s what she truly wanted, as she derived great joy from her children and, especially, her grandsons.  She simply got to a point where her pain outweighed her ability to cope with it.  Maybe someday I will explain.  All I can do for now in that effort is promise y’all that I will end that cycle.  It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

Thank you who read this.  You all mean the world to me.


Cool (yet old) tune by Reo Speedwagon.  I liked them way back when, still do.  The song doesn’t fit here perfectly, word for word, but I do know it is time for me to fly.

Y’all know it was my intent to leave this area of the country when I embarked on my US UDB Tour but that my house deal fell through, so I’ve been sorta sucking it up here … trying to make a life til the house sells.  As it stands right this second, it is for sale by owner (ME), hehe!  But I am going to hire another realtor to put it on the market this week.  While I realize the market is quite bad right now, I maintain hope that I can get out from under this mortgage.  I will always believe that everything happens for a reason, and I am doing what I need to do.

I am trying to responsible here and get my house sold, but the truth is, I can’t stay someplace that isn’t working for me and someplace where I am clearly not welcome.  I’m sinking into a major depressive episode, and I don’t want that.  I need to move on.  Trust me, I’ve reached out for help, but I messed up.  I blame no one but me.  I had what I thought was a grand (albeit crazy) idea to just pack up and go.  Instead, I was persuaded to do the responsible thing … start my new job and put off moving til my house sells.


That didn’t work out.  I found it too hard to concentrate on my work; depression truly is a monster … my mind was wandering, my thoughts completely confused.  The company I went back to is amazing and has been very understanding, but I just can’t seem to function as a medical transcriptionist again.

So I’ve been packing up stuff to store in the garage til the house sells and stuff to take with me.  Tried to recruit some help … no luck lol.  Can’t fit a whole lot in da Beastmobile, but that’s ok.  I am at peace with this plan.

Lotsa people here in Franklin think things about me that simply aren’t true, but I can’t seem to convince anyone of that.  I’m certainly not perfect by any means, but I’m not fake, I don’t lie intentionally, and I do have a good heart.  I don’t use people … it’s just not in my nature.  While it would probably suit me to just give up like my mother and grandmother before me, I just can’t bring myself to do that.  I am going to give myself every chance I possibly can.  I believe that I deserve that.

Not sure where I’m headed.  I will keep in touch with my brother and may keep the blog going.  I really enjoy writing, even if that girl was right … I really don’t have many followers lol.  I do appreciate the few I have.  Thank y’all so much.

Hang tough everyone … I promise I will.




I’ve never read, “Fifty Shades of Grey,” but I reckon I could write “Fifty Shades of Batshit Crazy!”  Maybe someday I will write it as a play and perform a one-person show on Broadway, with bats flying overhead and me just being myself.  Would you come see it?!

already disturbed

I have, however, been taking many steps lately to better myself and my life … feels sorta like a last-ditch attempt.  I changed my Facebook personal profile into a Facebook page for Unleash da Beast.  I waste WAY too much time on Facebook, and for what?  At least as a page, I don’t have the stream (or news feed) of other peeps’ posts to read through.  If I want to see what peeps are posting, it will take some effort, and quite frankly, I know myself enough to know I won’t make the effort.  Nothing good comes of it.  Let’s face it, Facebook friendship is laughable to an extent.  Facebook is great for keeping in touch with TRUE friends and family and sharing pictures and promoting a blog or something, but for me for the most part, it’s a place where 80% of my FB friends aren’t my friends in “real” life, and we all just enjoy sticking our noses in other peoples’ lives.  It ain’t worth it.  To the 20% who ARE family and TRUE friends, I mean no offense.  It is what it is.

On a funny note, some time last year I was in a class with some fellow law enforcement officers.  If anyone knows LEO’s, they know that there isn’t much we won’t say.  Somebody clammed up about a certain subject, so I said, “Aw come on … we’re all FACEBOOK friends here!”

You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve gotten done this morning because of this change.  Me likey!  As my mom used to say, “I’m accomplishing miracles!”


My dream is to get back in da Beastmobile, travel around the country, and write, as you all know.  Something has been stopping me from making it happen … fear I reckon.  So while I should be writing a book or doing whatever it takes to get my house sold, I spend hours upon hours surfin’ the web, 90% of that time on Facebook, which is not healthy for my soul.  It has to stop.  I need to focus better.  I’ve wasted too much time already.  That said, I still feel as though everything happens for a reason and I am doing precisely what I am supposed to be doing. Maybe that’s just an excuse.


I haven’t been shy or secretive about my struggle with alcohol addiction.  Alcohol – cunning, baffling, and powerful.  Some say I’m weak.  Yea I guess.  Anyway, spending time drinking is definitely not conducive to achieving my goals and fulfilling my dreams.  Not to mention the disastrous things that I do when I drink – I am my own worst enemy!  This is the truth right here for alcoholics:


So I gave it up (again).  I enlisted the help of my doctor, who prescribed Antabuse and Campral – Campral to reduce the cravings and Antabuse to make me violently ill if I drink.  If that isn’t enough to stop me then … hmmm I dunno.  Been sober for 10 days.  Here’s to hoping for:

Freedom From Addiction

This blog post is a bit of test.  I want to see if it shows up on the FB page like it’s supposed to or if I need to do some tweaking.  I want to name the FB page Unleash da Beast as opposed to what it is now … my name, but I had to ask permission from the Facebook Gods.  Still waiting for an answer.  An e-mail from them indicated it could take three days.  They must be busy accomplishing miracles.

Well … time to carry on and build some foundations:


Y’all take care!


Since I’ve posted in the Addiction and Depression section … I’ve even considered deleting it and adding a “love” section or something a little more cheery.  But here’s the real deal:


After all, I’m big into that power of positive thinking stuff, right?!


Truth is, I really was believing in the power of positive thinking.  Heck, I wanted, no needed, to believe in it.  It gave me hope.  I thought the tides had turned in my life, and I was gonna live my dream.  I started this blog and even hoped to help folks suffering from depression.  Instead, one of my friends, who used to read my posts, committed suicide … blew her dang brains out (brave girl).  Yikes … that was hard.  What was even harder was the ignorance shown to me by some of my former coworkers at the funeral home, but I was there to worship her memory, not play office politics.


No, I’m not looking for sympathy.  Writing just helps.  Like the first image says, I’m both happy and sad.  Unfortunately, the sadness usually wins out … that bastard!  Hehe.


Isn’t she so pretty?  WARNING!  Language … if the “F” word offends you, stop reading now.  I need to get this out.  That is my mom.  I always knew she would eventually kill herself.  I don’t think I could have prevented it.  That said, I left her when she needed me most.  Here’s what happened:

I got a phone call that Mimi (my mom) was found in a catatonic state.  She was supposed to be a hostess at some event and didn’t show up, so one of her friends went to check on her.  This person found her sitting in a chair in the living room just staring straight ahead.  I reckon the lady called for an ambulance … I dunno.

I just know she ended up at a local hospital, where multiple medical tests were run.  It was determined that whatever was wrong was psychological and not physical.  So she was transferred to a psychiatric hospital.  If I recall correctly, late hubby and I drove up to NH right away with our dog, Crystal.  We brought my ‘puter so I could still work, as I was doing medical transcription at the time.


Ain’t she precious?!  Fast forward to our first visit with Mom. It was bizarre. She thought she’d been in a car accident and that her house had burned down and all kindsa crazy stuff. Nothing she said made sense, and my brother had to spoon feed her.  After a few days of being medicated, she seemed quite “normal” again. After just a week in the psychiatric ward, the doc let her go home and prescribed her a shit-ton of psychiatric medications.

OK fine.  I take her to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions, and it turns out they are gonna cost her hundreds of dollars a month.  Naturally, she freaked out and worried about how she would pay for them.  I, being the selfish person that I am, just wanted to come back to NC.  Doing the transcription from her kitchen table rather than my $800 ergonomic chair was wreaking havoc on my body, wah wah wah.  So after she was home a day or two, we left.  I will never forget her watching us leave out her bedroom window.  I knew something wasn’t right, but I left anyway.


I’m sorry, Mama … I never meant to hurt you … I never meant to make you cry.  I messed up.

We drove part way back to NC and stayed in a hotel that night, in Maryland I think.  Soon as we got settled, I called my mom to check in.  She was upset with me cuz I had cable TV hooked up at her house, so we argued.  Heck, I was married to a man … men like their TV.  Not to mention there wasn’t much else for Don to do while I worked!  I told her I would pay the monthly bill.  Didn’t matter.  She hung up pissed at me.  That was the last time we spoke.  Awesome memory, huh?!


The next day, we were almost home, (we were renting the house above and LOVED it) like 45 minutes away, when Crystal decided it would be a wonderful idea to shit all over the backseat of my Toyota Tercel.  We stopped at the Waynesville rest area, where after cleaning up the mess, I tried to call my mom.  No answer.  I knew right then something was wrong.  I can’t drive by that rest area anymore without unpleasant memories.

We got home around 6ish in the evening.  I tried again to call my mom … and again no answer.  I called my brother and asked him to check on her.  I didn’t hear anything back from him, so I called her house again.  A female voice on the other end said, “Hampstead Police Department.”  OMG.  The female officer told me I need to call my brother.  I did and he said, “She did it.”  I felt awful that he had to find her like that.  Frickin’ surreal.

So I guess at that point, shock settled in.  I dunno.  I called some airline and secured an airplane ticket for me and da mutt to leave the next morning.  Don and I loaded up the Jeep Cherokee with my ‘puter so I could work up in NH.  I found some semblance of peace by going outside in the middle of the night and filling up the bird feeders, knowing full well they’d be long empty by the time we got back.

The next morning, I flew up to NH with my li’l dog Crystal, which was a freakin’ nightmare.  She took a dump in the middle of the Charlotte airport, and some guy yelled at me cuz he thought I was walking away when I was going to the bathroom to get some paper towels to clean it up.  He just kept yelling at me.  I wanted to say, “MOTHERFUCKER my mother committed suicide, give me a fucking break!”  But I couldn’t even get that out.  I simply said I was going to the bathroom for paper towels.

Then when we got to the airport in Manchester, NH, I let Crystal out of her carry-on bag as soon as we got outside.  Some really handsome airport security dude got on my ass saying she is not allowed outta the bag til we get to the parking lot.  He became ugly to me very quickly.  I really wasn’t trying to break the rules, but my curly-haired K-9 had “shat” all over the inside of the dang bag.  Late hubby arrived a day later with my computer and whatnot so I could still work.

I’m pretty sure it was the same day I got up there that we had a meeting at the funeral home.  The funeral dude gave us the death certificate and then left the room for some reason.  I read the certificate.  All I knew was that she had OD’d on all those expensive psychiatric meds, three bottles of them, but the death cert said she died of asphyxiation.  I looked at my brother and said, “So OD’ing causes asphyxiation?”  He said, “No, I didn’t want to tell you, but she also put a plastic bag over her head.”  Nice.  Well, she got what she truly wanted.  No cry for attention here.

Going through her house was hard.  She had pictures of my brother’s boys propped up on the kitchen table.  She also had apparently left a note, but I never got to see it.  From what I was told, all it said was, “I’m sorry.”  She was found in her bed.  On the nightstand next to her was a crumpled up tissue.  That made me sad, thinking she was crying into it before she passed.  It really sucked.

I know this post is a huge bummer as well, but I needed to get it out.  I don’t really care what anybody thinks about me for posting this.  Hell, I don’t have many followers anyway.  I think a total of 5 of my “Facebook Friends” have signed my petition.  How funny is that?!

If you or anyone you know is thinking of suicide, please check out this website:  Suicide … read this first. It has saved me numerous times … well worth the read.

So now y’all know the truth.  I have a dark side.  Muh ha ha ha!  I still think life is good … just not MY life all the time, lol!

Send me a private message if you wish:



But I’ll never lose my sense of humor.  During me and Sambone’s morning walk today, the heel part of my sneaker sole starting flapping around.  I thought, “So that’s why I haven’t worn these in awhile … why didn’t I just trash ‘em?”  When I got home, I supa glued the heel back on, but I could only glue about half way around cuz I ran outta the sticky substance.  It seemed to be holding quite well til I took a bike ride to the grocery store, fully intending to buy some more supa glue to tack down the rest of the rubber heel.


I parked da BeastTrek to a chain link fence post sorta behind the store, as there was nothing to lock my ride to by the front door.  Is there no such thing as a bike rack anymore?!  Hell, they’ve got parking for pregnant women right by the handicapped spots.  I guess pregnancy is a handicap, but riding a bike 6 hilly miles isn’t?!  Anyway, as I rounded the corner to the front of the store, the toe part of my sole started flappity flapping … really badly; there was no hiding it!  I was walking by a few store employees who were outside on break, and a lady yelled, “You lost your soul!”  I cracked up cuz I heard soul when she was clearly saying sole.  I knew my next stop after the grocery store.  Oh, the guy in the pic above?  No where to be found.  He’s a myth, I reckon.  I yanked the whole sole off and put it in my purse.  Now … about souls … mine in particular:


I lost the “silence the mind” challenge today.  I’m not going to go into a whole lotta detail because I want to remain positive; I do not want to discourage my fellow soldiers who are fighting the same battle as me but winning.  I just wanna say that my failure certainly wasn’t due to a lack of support … the folks I’ve met in AA have been incredible.  I’ve also had a ton of support from people I know from my hometown as well as here in Franklin, and I thank all of y’all.  I consider myself extremely antisocial.  No matter, it’s been amazing to meet such genuine peeps.


Under “How it Works” in the Big Book, it says, “Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.”  Ouch!  Simple?  I am one of the most painfully honest persons I know … but I realize now I haven’t been honest with the most important person in my life … ME!  That’s all I can figure anyway.

So, no worries … life goes on.  As my dad used to say, “We’re gonna make it.”  Thank you to each and every one of you.



… since I’ve posted anything in this category (Tackling Addiction and Depression).  I’ve got the depression under control and have had so for quite a long time now … years.  Last time I “talked” online about my fondness for alcohol, I was on day 9 of sobriety.  On day 10, I got a very upsetting phone call informing me that a friend had taken her own life.  I started drinking again that day.  I was shocked she had done this.  She had actually offered to help ME if I needed anything after she had read some of my postings in this section about my past struggles with depression and alcohol; she even left a message or two on my blog.  You are missed, Suzanne, and I pray you are at peace:


I’ve always known drinking was no good for me.  It’s a freakin’ depressant, fer crying out loud!  I also knew, despite trying to convince myself otherwise, that I couldn’t stop after just one, or two, or three, or even five for that matter.  As a law enforcement officer, I would often try to counsel people about how nothing good comes from alcohol use … I would even admit that I knew that firsthand.  Most of the folks in jail ended up there as a result of something they did under the influence of drugs and/or booze.  I tried to convince myself that I could handle it, though, and that drinking was in my blood.  ”I’m a drunk; it’s who I am.”  That was:


I told a friend recently I would quit if I found someone worth quitting for.  Well how stupid is that?  It dawned on me that I’ve probably chased a few dudes away with my crazy, erratic, drunken behavior.  It was at that point my friend said and I realized that I had to quit for one person and one person only … ME!

I met a lady a few months back, and we somehow got on the topic of drinking.  She asked if she could pick me up the following Friday for an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, said she’d been sober for several years thanks to AA.  I never really answered her, and I hadn’t seen her in months.  I’d done the AA thing five or six years ago and quite frankly didn’t wanna do it again.  I didn’t want to quit.  Shortly after I got back from my UDB US Tour, I decided that I need to quit.  I e-mailed my lady friend and asked her to pick me up Friday for the meeting (yesterday), and she did; she was thrilled.


As most of us know, AA is a 12-step program and also a way of life for many recovering alcoholics.  I’ve had the AA Big Book downloaded on my Kindle for quite some time now, and I think I even own a hard copy from my last attempt at rehabilitation.

I’ve FINALLY accepted the 1st and 2nd steps.

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

I am, unfortunately, terribly powerless over alcohol … that’s just a cold, hard fact.  I do believe a Power greater than myself can restore me to sanity (or sobriety … I’ll never be completely sane, hehe).  Seriously, though, I have mentioned many times that I feel led to do all I have been doing of late, like quitting my job, selling my belongings, traveling, and writing this blog.  All of this is part of a higher being’s plan, so it just makes sense that another piece of the puzzle is for me to stop drinking; only then will I be able to achieve my goals. 

The meeting yesterday was great; the people in AA are the most sincere, honest, and caring folks you could ever meet.  I expressed that I ABSOLUTely (pun intended) hate the thought of never taking another drink of alcohol again.  They all identified with me, and the bottom line is to not think of it like that … one day at a time.  I picked up my white chip at the end of the meeting, which signifies my desire to stop drinking.  The desire to stop drinking is the only requirement to join AA.


God grant me the SERENITY to
accept the things I cannot change;
COURAGE to change the things I can;
and WISDOM to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it:
Trusting that He will make all things
right if I surrender to His Will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. Amen


Feb 252012



Ha ha, just kidding.  I didn’t drink vodka for the taste.  Just a quick update … no booze in over a week now.  Yesterday wasn’t too bad, this afternoon was really hard, and the liquor store is closed tomorrow, yay!  I am thankful for a very special friend who calls or visits when I text expressing my deep desire for a drink.  Those calls and visits help me put things back into perspective and remind me why I quit drinking in the first place.  I hope and pray that my cravings subside soon.  They are strong and tough to deal with.

On a positive note, I feel great and finished up the first week of the Insanity program.  It’s a helluva lot easier doing that workout in the morning without the aftereffects of drinking the night before.  I am saving a ton of money … I’d estimate about $60 or more a week, and I’m taking in fewer calories … I bet I was drinking 700 to 1000 calories a night in vodka, no exaggeration.  I guess it’s a good thing my metabolism is fast, but my poor liver must have been hatin’ me!  Hopefully I have not done irreversible damage, as the liver has a remarkable capacity to heal itself.  I watched my husband die of liver failure … ya think that would-a learned me!

Anyway, life is good and I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for me and da muttz.  Love to y’all!

© 2011 Unleash da Beast Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha