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We went trick-or-treating last night with my 8-year-old. My two older kids are too cool for Halloween now, so that’s kind of a bummer. But my second-grade buddy had a blast going as a snow leopard.
By the end of the night, she was exhausted and overdosing on KitKats and ring pops, as usual. But eventually she went to bed, and I repeated my Halloween ritual of trying to figure out the maximum amount of candy that I could eat that she wouldn’t notice in the morning. A lot, it turns out!
It reminded me of my last drunk Halloween, which was one of the lowest points of my life. It was October 31, 2008. I went to work all day and promised I would be home a little early so we could have dinner and go out trick-or-treating as a family. My kids were very little (I think my oldest was 4 and my youngest at the time was 2), but very excited. It was the first Halloween where they were old enough to go out together on Halloween.
Yeah, sure. I hustled all day rounding up and consuming painkillers and was absolutely annihilated by lunchtime. I came down a bit in the afternoon when I started pestering a friend who had recently had surgery, begging for whatever pills she might have. I was never above board about my addiction, so I leveraged my chronic pain and Halloween (“How will I be able to take my kids out trick-or-treating if my feet hurt?” I would say) as the reason why she should maybe throw me a few pills. I really used to lay it on thick to guilt trip people into caving in and saying, “Well, okay, I guess you can have a couple of these but be really careful, ok?”
Remember, I was asking for controlled substances from people who had prescriptions. What if I was allergic to that medication? If I drove home from work high and got into an accident, they might have gotten in trouble, too. It was not cool. I cringe when I think back on it.
So she eventually felt bad and gave in and said she only had muscle relaxers. I had never taken muscle relaxers before, but I figured they were worth a try. I needed something to enhance my Halloween experience. I couldn’t just go and enjoy it with my kids, could I? And really… on Halloween, is it essential first and foremost that I have a great time? Or that my kids have a great night?
Anyway, I get home a half-hour late and the kids were already dressed and pacing the house, ready to go. I snuck into the bathroom and popped 4 muscle relaxers (that’s twice what you were supposed to take, for the record). I was already coming down from taking somewhere around 50 Vicodin earlier in the day. I washed down the muscle relaxers with a beer, too. Yet another very healthy day.
Well, I woke up two hours later. My wife was gone. My kids were gone. I must have just passed out on the couch, and missed pretty much the whole night. By the time I darted out the front door, they were rounding the corner for home.
At first, my wife was really irritated with me but I eventually spun it around. I blamed my feet and an exhausting work day “busting my ass for this family.” Besides, she didn’t wake me up. How rude was that? By the end, I had gaslit her into apologizing to me. Just despicable behavior.
The worst part of the night, though, was my kids’ reaction. They were nonchalant about the whole thing. They had barely noticed I wasn’t there. I had gotten to be less like a caring dad and more like an uncle who popped in and out once in a while. They didn’t even really know I was missing, because I was always missing. That hurt. A lot.
A week-and-a-half later, I went to rehab and I have been sober ever since. This was my 14th sober Halloween, and I loved every second of it. This year, I dressed as a schlubby middle-aged dork… but it was a sober schlubby middle-aged dork.
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
Heard at meetings:
“I always wanted to control everything. But as an alcoholic, I realize I’m uniquely UNqualified to rule the world.”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, June 2000, Dan S. from New York, NY)
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