Whenever I move I inevitably reflect about previous moves. Nicole and I are moving in together come next week so I'm gathering boxes, throwing stuff out, and packing things away. It got me thinking about my worst move which was also the most piecemeal. I moved from Chicago back to Rockford over the course of about two months. I would come into Chicago for iO class and pick up another car load of stuff each week.
Winter of 2007 I was living in Humboldt Park(in Chicago) and working as a server at this bar and grill in the basement of Macy's formally Marshall Fields. It wasn't a great job and I wasn't very good at it. I never talked to my tables just took their orders and brought them their food as quickly and quietly as I could. I never, justly, got good tips. My personal life was a mess. I was borrowing money from my folks, drinking whenever I wasn't at work(and sometimes when I was), had few friends that were, justly, reluctant to interact with me, and had ballooned up to a solid 250 lbs. I also had some legal trouble hanging over my head for denting my neighbors '97 GMC Jimmy.
It was bad. It got worse.
I started dry heaving in the mornings. I'd be walking to the train to get to work and be driven to my knees in the stinking, garbage filled alley next to a dead rat with nausea and wretch for 15-20 minutes. DTs. That went on for about three weeks. One evening I grabbed a backpack full of clothes got in my car and left. Went back to my parents in Rockford with my tail between my legs. Totally defeated. Desperate, confused, alone. I told them I had a problem with alcohol. I told them I wanted to quit drinking. I told them I wanted to get better. They took care of me and got me back on my feet.
That was my first bottom.
It took me five more years to get sober.
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