There's a show called Intervention which covers all varieties of drug addiction. Mostly these are addicts with serious enablers, those who have already hit what's known as rock bottom. High functioning addicts are rarely shown.

After all, where is the drama of someone that holds a job, lives in their own apartment, pays their bills, deals with life on a dysfunctional level but survives and makes the addiction "work"?

Despite being one of the functional ones, I crossed the line with cirrhosis. And that threw me into a tailspin.

I fucked up and that's causing the angst which has been going on for weeks. For months. For total failings with not drinking and keeping me on the edge of needing to go through detox. Again. I'm getting sicker again and scared because I know where this leads and it's not pretty.

My next appointment is coming up in about a week to measure my lack of progress. I tried to reach out to my nurse practitioner since seeing a hepatologist is not an option unless I'm literally on the transplant list. No reply.

There is a reason I see urgent care or go to the ER instead; I get a response. I know how screwed up that is, especially since my job tracks exactly these things. Today I just slept. And shook when I wasn't sleeping. The combination is something that will land me in the ER sooner rather than later.

If anything I should have posted about Tom Petty's death before this. This blog is named after the second track from the Highway Companion album, and it's a song that marked a very transitional time in my life. I'd recently moved to New York City, was with my RNR in a completely dysfunctional relationship, changing jobs, and still trying to find any sort of stability at 27 years old.

I'd erased my old blog, which I started in 2002 and continued through part of 2006, and this was a clearing of the slate. A new URL that very few people knew about as I'd gone through some very serious changes of who I wanted to know the truth about the chaos I was enduring. And that encapsulated it perfectly.

Square one, my slate is clear
Rest your head on me, my dear.
It took a world of trouble, it took a world of tears.
It took a long time to get back here.

I went to Amsterjam that year on Randall's Island, and saw Tom Petty and Dave Grohl rock out together as it was raining on the crowd. No umbrella; no need at a concert. Just revel in the feeling and throw away any restraint to move to the music. Petty was amazing, and I was so glad that I went even though my RNR cancelled last minute, since it was an experience I still remember with a thrill.

And now, for him to die so suddenly after finishing what he had said would be his last major tour was just heartbreaking (pun intended). The Traveling Wilburys, the Heartbreakers, his solo works, the way that his music has become legend even before his death make it even more tragic. He lived to work and loved performing, you could tell it was something he never would have completely given up, and all those who have been touched by his lyrics or cherished seeing him live will miss him.

He was gone too soon, but his legacy will remain, even here at the top of this blog.

Today was better. I still have a lot to deal with, but the paperwork is signed to officially reallocate my portfolio, and I was much more comfortable with my financial advisor now that the "secret" is out as to my condition. I missed the SMART meeting since I could barely walk yesterday, but I'm slowly healing, although still in pain.

My default reactions to life are still anger and fear, but I feel a little more confident that I can do this. I have time left to correct some wrongs, and am working on them; most importantly I haven't given up and that, I think, is the thing to hold on to.

There is a world where every move I made wouldn't involve a backlash ten times worse. I wish I was in that one. I was finally recovering from the cold/bacteria/whatever, and then severely pulled a muscle in my left leg trying to take a bath to ease the pain of a mild strain.

I also know me. I have delayed reactions, and the past week can cause an explosion of anger, even postponed anger. How in the hell could this have happened? Why should I have to explain myself (although I understand why someone would ask, I would in their place)?

It's been worse but the options seem to be either completely repressing the anger that is omnipresent or letting it out. I snapped at my coworker last Friday; I never do that. I'm sarcastic, explanatory, patient, and generally pleasant on a normal day. I was PMSing, but I don't want to break again through the pain my temporary muscle pull is causing. I'll rest as best I can and hope it will be enough.

I feel like I'm slowly coming back to life. I finally caved in and started the just-in-case antibiotics I'd been given at urgent care, and am almost better from that horrible cold/cough I've had for almost a month. Working a whole week when I wasn't used to it caused my sciatica to flare up and the left side of my back to go out, but at least I made it to all of my appointments and physically made it to work every day.  It's progress.

I also finally started on the list I wrote about last time. I met with my financial planner, explained my situation, and basically said pretend that I'm 70 years old. What would you recommend as a portfolio? Now instead of the growth portfolio I had of about 20% bonds, 80% stock, it's 65% bonds, 30% equity, 5% cash. I also reallocated my 401k to around the same for future contributions so financially I'm at set as I can be.

On Monday I went to the same SMART meeting and even went out for coffee afterward. I still find "recovery activities" unnatural and awkward, but I guess it's progress, and still better than AA. Simply for that reason I'll probably at least keep going on Mondays. The slew of doctor appointments start next week and continue through December.

Aside from all of this depressing stuff, the cruise is booked, and I'll actually be in Germany on my birthday which should be nice instead of sitting home alone crying :p. But seriously, it's something to really look forward to and I'll get to experience foreign cultures for the first time since 2003! We're going from Basel to Amsterdam and it should definitely be workable with the days I'll have available off from work.

The will, power of attorney, etc are the only major things left that I haven't even started on, mostly because I still haven't found any recommendations for a lawyer, but that's next. After that, I'll be mostly caught up with everything that I've just put off for too long.

Avoidance? Denial? Who knows. I still barely have answers for me about how I should plan for this, how long I have, and what's the best way to approach the state of my current life. I certainly don't really know what to tell others. But I'm finally starting to face this in some material way, so I can be proud of that at least.

I met for coffee with my ex-sponsor and she is as awesome as always. Energetic, positive, and non-judgmental. She didn't even ask me to come back to AA; I think she knows that door is closed as well as I do. With her medical background it makes it easier to discuss my results and prognosis, and she was as disgusted as I am with the hepatology department's actions to shunt my case to an NP since I'm not actively on the liver transplant list.

It was some validation about how things are without pie in the sky promises of magical medical advances or denial of the situation.  How absolutely refreshing, and needed!

Small steps are in order.  Short term: focus on making it to work but not overworking myself, since I am immuno-compromised as well as suffering from fatigue as a side effect of the cirrhosis.

Medium term: work on recovery by making it to SMART meetings and my shrink's appointments, as well as other medical follow-ups.

Longer term: continue planning for the Rhine river cruise next May (and get travel insurance in case I'm too sick to go), and start thinking of other bucket list items that I can fit around my current life. 

Necessary: Talk to my financial advisor and update my non-retirement timeline with my investments. Find a reputable lawyer and get my affairs in order for real, not just talking about it, but doing it. Include in said will notification of friends in and out of NYC who should know if I die.

I think that's enough to start with for now. Most of all I can't let the daily pressure get to me, which has caused crises, and can't allow family to stress me out. I need to look out for me unless there's a true crisis elsewhere. Me as a topic is off limits for the near future. I think these things will help. I hope they will, that I will get perspective and stand up again knowing that there is a future, brief though it may be. That's the smartest way to live now.

I didn't make it in person to work today but thank god I can work from home. I survived the week, something I wasn't sure I was going to do and realized yet again how much and how often work depends on me. So for both of us something is better than nothing.

I know patience is not infinite, particularly when dealing with a giant corporation, but realistically I needed this. I needed to not be directly needed, having bankers stand over me or have a panic attack and have nowhere to go. I've had my fill of that for now.

So I start again, I suppose. Somehow it always comes back to that because the alternative is not pretty. Starting again is the most graceful response to the situation.

The daily routine is wearing thinner and thinner. Tonight I had a better time hanging out with two homeless guys on a stoop for an hour and a half than I would have had working or doing anything else post-work. It's not that I want to leave what I have, I just need more human interaction and fulfillment. Hell, I was thrilled that one of the guys who I've known for about a month now hugged me goodbye. It could have also been the $20 I gave him but I'm a cheap date. Nonetheless it was positive reinforcement and actual human connection which I'm missing more and more.

I don't have a positive outlook.  I've slid backward in a lot of ways. I don't have the emotional or mental reserves to take many more blows to my psyche, and while I understand that I'm putting a lot of pressure on my family I cannot have it reflected back on me, just to absorb it and continue on.

So what to do? Try to pick myself up tomorrow, hold the memory of that hug and others that have meant so much to me over the years, and go forward. Put on makeup and not cry it off during the day. Go to work. Try not to dwell on the reality of the situation. Smile through the pain and remember there are far worse things. Try to be positive. I guess that's a goal that's good enough.

*sigh* You know what doesn't help at all when dealing with alcoholism? Guilt trips! You know what else doesn't? Lectures! Guess what I received this weekend? Both!

I get it. I'm jeopardizing my health even more than I already have, and my parents are worried and feel helpless but the truth is that they are helpless. They can't just swoop in and save the day or make  my decisions for me, something I've made abundantly clear to them. I'm doing the best I can, which some days isn't so great. Same situation with their reactions I guess, the best they can, but a lot of days not great, and getting worse over time.

I don't have the energy to deal with their angst. I have enough to work with on my own, so I'll just chalk this weekend up as the mild disaster it was and move on. Maybe someday I'll get things as right as they can be.

I've been arguing with my shrink again about how recovery is going vs how it's supposed to go. You're told all sorts of things, particularly slogans which make me want to punch the person reciting them since I just don't relate to most of the routine. Or the people. And they can't relate to my particular situation of dying.

It makes me angry and so anxious that I suffer panic attacks. Even when I'm at work, it's a niggling presence in the back of my mind that I can't completely block out, and when I'm home alone it's worse. Yet the presence of others in recovery meetings just makes it worse to know that they can indeed physically recover. And the more structured the environment the more I resent the situation.

They haven't crossed that invisible line of truly permanent damage. I'm only making gradual progress in wrapping my head around that and still have no idea how to do this. How do I live with a terminal diagnosis, knowing that it's my fault?

I'm not denying that I need support, sympathy, empathy, understanding, and all other human emotions that ease our passing. Yet I've managed an emotional defense system for years that closes all of this off, while nurturing the need to protect all who I care about from the reality they aren't willing to face. I just don't know how to integrate my need for comfort with my oppositional need to protect them if things truly go sideways, medically and generally.

To be honest, the groups, AA, SMART, etc, seem to be pushing me apart from life. I find no solace in them, and pressure from my shrink and others to just keep going makes me more uncomfortable. I see no answer, even researching cirrhosis groups. Key: they're all for non-alcoholics since, even though we are the largest reasons for liver transplants, we are the bottom of the transplant list.

I'm desperate and alone, and entering into the period of birthdays and holidays requiring my presence. I'm not ready but will do what I can and know that this too shall pass. I'll bury myself in denial for now and tackle the rest when I won't cause most of my family to cry or, god forbid, allow what's really going on to be apparent.

The show must go on.

Working from home is a privilege that I greatly appreciate, and considering I'm still sick and had an appointment today near where I live, it was perfect. The appointment went extremely well, although within the first hour of logging in to work I had three different people ask for assistance in addition to two of my own requests, but it was still more relaxing than being in the office.

It's a strange trend in corporations today. Minimize space by returning to the bench/typing pool model of the 1950's in the name of "encouraging collaboration" while removing any privacy or quiet that could allow more productivity. Even cubes were better than that. In Brooklyn, I'm in a giant fishbowl (glass enclosure) due to compliance issues (which the glass kind of negates, but whatever, it was only lip service and we all knew it), so it's a challenge to train offshore or call vendors. But overall, librarians are quiet; not surprisingly I'm one of the loudest in the fishbowl.

Manhattan is a whole other can of worms, however. When the summer interns arrived they moved me from a normal cubicle near a few VPs I knew, to a bench desk next to IT. Who are always on the phone doing support work so it's distracting to say the least. It's been almost five months and I was just getting used to it, sort of.

I found out today I'm being moved to an actual cube near an admin who is kind, capable, and not too chatty, so will be a pleasure to sit next to. Maybe the work situation is actually improving instead of steadily declining! No new privileges in five years takes its toll, but finally things are looking up.

I've had better weekends.  Even though the weather was gorgeous I'm still fighting off a cough and even after only three days of work last week I was exhausted, so it was minimal effort only. I'm still stressed and anxious and need to really focus on my life and what will work and help me understand my reactions and how to manage them better. Therapy sessions have been rough, but at least I feel like there is some progress.

And there had better be! I can't believe it's already October, time to enroll in my benefits again, and knowing my company we'll be more screwed than last year so I'd better get in as many doctor visits as possible. A few more things to add to my mental to-do list, although my memory's been so spotty lately I should make it a written to-do list. Maybe then I'd get more done, lol.