Friday, May 27, 2011

Desolation Row

Continuing the saga, my life from 26 to 39 wasn't very pretty. While it's sometimes painful to look back on it, it's also instructive and provides a wonderful opportunity for gratitude. The past 20 years have been pretty fabulous, all in all. But we have to slog through the middle of my life first. Sigh.

I met the man who would become my second husband when I was 26. I was introduced to a completely different kind of life through him, a dark life, and one neither of us are living in now.

Twenty-seven. See four. And six. Some things are better left unsaid.

At 28, in a moment of clarity, I broke up with the man who would become my second husband. The fact that I eventually married him should tell you a lot about my state of mind in my late 20s.

My doctor hospitalized me for a long weekend when I was 29. I was clinically depressed, suicidal, and he was concerned for my safety. I remember my parents couldn't even visit without checking in at the nurse's station first. There was a "NO VISITORS" sign on my door. The bright note from this time period is that I started taking flying lessons.

Thirty. When I was growing up we were told "Don't trust anyone over 30." And here I was, hitting that wall, grown up all over again. I became a licensed pilot, single-engine, land. And I married my second husband, a completely misguided decision.

He moved out when I was 31.

I was twice-divorced when I was 32.

My children decided to go live with their father when I was 33.

At 35 I met husband number three and stopped drinking. For a while.

From 36 to 39 I was up and down a lot. If I was not drinking, I was crazy, for by this time I was an alcoholic, and an alcoholic off booze and not in AA is not a pretty thing. I was fat and started going to Overeaters Anonymous, and then Al-Anon, eventually finding the right rooms.

Tomorrow, life starts getting better. If you're still reading, thanks.

2 comments:

  1. Congratulations for getting through this part of your life.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You're making this stuff up, right? :) Licensed pilot, how cool is that.

    I'm glad you got through the bad years, Debbi. "Congratulations" doesn't seem like an adequate expression, but I don't know how else to say it.

    ReplyDelete

We LOVE comments! Your turn!