“My name is Autumn. I have been sober for 0 days. My drug of choice is Alcohol/Benzodiazepines (“Benzos”). I have had thoughts and urges about my drug of choice today. And today I feel — sarcastic.” Is “sarcastic” even a feeling? I keep getting told so many contrasting ideas in this place it seems unimportant now to make such a declaration about the word.
If you sign up voluntarily to a Rehab Center similar to the one where I gave myself away, you’ll get used to that daily mantra. At Alcoholics Anonymous (“AA”), those who attend don’t really have to commit to their drug of choice —- not too much variety in the AA Program, particularly since Narcotics Anonymous arrived (“NA”) on the scene to weed out any straggler Addicts who don’t happen to use alcohol to numb their pain like me and all the other Alcoholics.
While in Rehab — the Rehab Center Counselors (“Counselors”) expect that number of “sober days” to climb. They also expect relapses and that number to go back to 1 day because relapses are expected at best and hoped for by all parties involved at the Rehab Center at worst — (except the patients — whose opinion matters least in the end it seems anyway). And, at the Rehab Center I went to, after 4 years battling Addiction (a relatively low number of years to be considered Addicted compared to others in my Program — our ages ranged from mid-twenties to early sixties) — I believed that this Rehab Center could, in fact, help me become — and stay — sober. I was so ready to stop being “sick and tired of being sick and tired,” as they say.
I am hyper observant by nature. I think I got that from both of my parents.
My Mom is great at learning things quickly and listening to people to gather information. She is the perfect Librarian and a wonderful person — but I would never say that to her face. That’s a quote from something I think; but I don’t know what because I cannot think of what kind of asshole would say such a thing except for me. Anyway, she is an incredible and passive listener and I am a much more in your face type of observer. While she allows people to go about their conversations uninterrupted — I am aggressive and like to interfere whenever possible. Blame it on my being a middle child or don’t — I don’t care as long as you’re still paying attention.
I think I am a psychopath. I tell my Mom this often. She doesn’t react when I say the words to her. I think she knows I am not a “destructive to other people on purpose” type of psychopath — but there’s still time to achieve many things in my life. I know that my Mom understands why I would call myself a psychopath. It IS one reason that my most recent ex-boyfriend, and I got along so well — we both had a propensity toward destruction. I miss that guy.
I do not make “appropriate” jokes and have been told I have a sick sense of humor. I’ve always felt that comments like that — ones that should probably be perceived as insults — the ones directed toward me in an effort to make me feel bad — say so much more about the person saying them than they do about me. For lack of a better pun, the joke is on them anyway, because if you’re not outraged by the information I’m sharing with you then you’re just not paying attention. And that’s just rude.
My Dad was a different type of observer. He somehow saw people beyond what most people intentionally showed the world of themselves. I like to think that I get my intuition from him. He had this way about him that drew people in, often confiding in him, even if they had just met. My Dad was the type of person who listened to these people, with an open heart and mind. He really cared about knowing anyone who was willing to let him. People tell me I am just like him in this way. I tend to think I’m [at the very least] a little more selfish. He served in the Air Force, and although he told me that he was quite a trouble maker, but I am convinced that after his time in the Service, he calmed down, and as I got older I became more of a Hellraiser.
Both of my parents have always been clever, but I’m pretty sure I am as pranky as I am because of my Dad. I have pulled some pranks that I am incredibly proud of completing, and I’m not planning on giving that part of myself up anytime soon. The pranks are all basically harmless.
However, it should be noted — when I prank institutions — I do it because I have a message I think they should pay attention to — and I think they are lucky to have had me shove such important information in the faces of those people who need it the most. Honestly? I deserve a damn plaque on the wall of that place for the cans of worms I jerked open.
When I am pranking — it is with the goal of either teaching someone a lesson — or just to make the person(s) I have pranked laugh as hard as possible. The seriousness that I originally arrived at Rehab with was not immune to my pranking ways once I realized I was living in a joke.
JustCallMeTaco 