The Liars' Club by Mary Karr

The Liars' Club by Mary Karr

I often read two books at a time and I'm currently reading On Writing by Stephen King.  He raved about The Liars' Club.  Since I enjoy memoirs and the writing of them, I'm working on one of my own right now, I thought I'd give this one a spin.

I don't even know where to start to give this book a short recap.  Mary Marlene and her sister, Lecia have the misfortune or fortune, depending on how you look at it, of having been born to highly dysfunctional and alcoholic parents. While I believe that the stories within this book are true, many of them seemed so unbelievable based on my personal frame of reference, that I couldn't place them in any kind of reality.  This book contains tales of mental and physical abuse of every kind imaginable and then some.

No question, Mary Karr is a talented writer.  The story telling is mesmerizing most of the time, but some parts dragged on and others seemed disconnected from the rest. A large portion of the book is Mary as a seven or eight year old.  So much happened that I had the feeling more time should have passed and Mary has grown.  But no, she was still only eight.  For me, the timing was kind of off.

The one big mystery of The Liars' Club is how Mary and Lecia both found their way out with college educations and successful careers.  Or maybe that's the life lesson to be learned from someone else's misery, anything is possible. Be prepared however, if you decide to take the plunge on The Liars' Club.  It's one wild, disgusting and unbelievable ride.  

Blackout: Remembering the things I Drank to Forget by Sarah Hepola

Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank To Forget by Sarah Hepola

Although I haven't had a drink in almost 6 years, I still need to be reminded why I made that choice.  I knew from page one how painful this book would be for me to read.  The title alone told me what was ahead.

Blackouts.  I'm sure I've had few but I don't remember.  Sarah learned to like beer at a very young age.  I also grew up in a time if I asked my father for a sip of his beer, I'd get one.  I don't think my drinking started until college but maybe its roots run deeper than Thursday nights at the Brathaus.  Oh I forgot, it was high school when my friends and I would sit outside the 7 Eleven until someone would buy us a six pack.  See what alcohol can do.  It makes you forget.

Sarah is brutally honest in this memoir, from hiding a case of beer in her closet, to being the life of the party, and waking up in bed with men she didn't know.  On assignment in Paris, Sarah tells of coming to, in a hotel room with a strange man.  She dresses and leaves only to discover she doesn't have her purse.  Unable to remember her room number, she enlists help from the night concierge.  What happens next, Sarah has never forgotten.  Alcohol is the great manipulator.

Blackout is the story of an alcoholic woman and her road to recovery.  Under the fog of alcohol, life seemed easier, more free and uninhibited.  Giving it up meant Sarah had to be honest with all those things she wanted to forget that were hidden deep inside.  I get that.  The reason that this book was so painful for me, is that even in sobriety, I need to be reminded how far I have come.

Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank To Forget is not a story only for those of us who have walked down Sarah's same path.  Sarah paints a vivid picture of what it is like to be addicted and how hard it is to come out on the other side.  But with the support of many people in every facet of an alcoholic's life, a better life is waiting.  I can clearly remember what it was like to stop drinking and become sober.  Nothing about it was pleasant or fun.  It is that ability to remember that keeps me sober.  And I think Sarah would agree.

Dancing at the Shame Prom:Sharing the Stories that Kept Us Small by Amy Ferris and Holleye Dexter

Dancing at the Shame Prom: Sharing the Stories that Kept Us Small by Amy Ferris and Holleye Dexter

This anthology of stories came recommended by a very dear friend of mine.  She has helped me through many edits of my own stories written for and eventually sold to anthologies.   I happen to love real life stories.

Dancing at the Shame Prom is 27 different essays written by different women with different experiences all with dramatic impact in their lives.  All the stories dealt with shame and the effect of keeping the events hidden from the world.  The effort it took these women to keep such a secret is mind boggling.  The effort it took to reveal their shame to the world, even greater.

I have to admit I found this book very depressing, stories so sad and gut wrenching, I almost gave up on it for good.  And anyone who knows my love of books, knows it takes a lot for me to stop in the middle of a book and put it away forever.  I didn't do that here either and I'm pretty sure I came out the other side better for it.

There are stories of abuse at the hands of men, fathers, relatives, lovers.  Stories of the shame of growing up filthy and poor often occurs when alcohol is at the center of family life. Playmates can never come over for a visit for fear of the secret being uncovered.  The list goes on and on.  And while the stories were painful to read, they are stories we need to know.  The shame can only end when we stand up and help others keep their heads held high.  Let's all help break the cycle.

 

With Or Without You by Domenica Ruta

With or Without You by Domenica Ruta

Thank you to Random House and Netgalley for my Advance Reading Copy.  Release Date February 26, 2013

So many things in With or Without You struck a cord with me.  First off was Nikki's relationship with her mother.  Plain and simple her mother was nuts, aside from the fact she did drugs and alcohol with abandon, wanted her teenage daughter to get pregnant, and made an art of living off welfare. That is until she turned her husband's failing taxi service into a million dollar business. 

Her mother Kathy, loved her, but hated her in the same way.  Nikki was smart, wanted to follow the rules, needed to be accepted.  Kathy figured out how to get Nikki into private boarding school, and herself into a Harvard college extension program.  But eventually she dragged Nikki into her dark work of drugs, cheating and lies. Nikki is a child who is helpless to fight back.    

It is no surprise that Nikki can't keep herself above her mother's addiction.  Pills snorted and swallowed, alcohol consumed by the gallon, hangovers so miserable the only relief comes from more drugs become her way of life.  Yet something inside her longs to stop. One line in the story made me stop, and I'm quoting, " I wasn't an alcoholic.  I had a job, a boyfriend, and a college diploma."  This is the same lie I told myself for years until I found the courage to stop drinking.  Nikki's on again, off again struggle to stay sober resonated deeply.

I'm fascinated by memoirs of women who by some miracle overcome, the overbearing, controlling and addicted mother who has inflicted great pain on the child since birth.  They are stories of the mind overtaking the love that lives in every woman's heart. Self gratification taking the place of a mother's instinct to nurture is concept I want to understand.  Maybe it's the reason I find so much sympathy in this kind of novel.  The incredibly deep soul searching it took to write such a story, is what makes the tale so brilliant. It is also what allowed Nikki to overcome. I love success stories.

 

Chanel Bonfire by Wendy Lawless

Chanel Bonfire by Wendy Lawless

I can relate.  No, I didn't have a mother who wore designer clothes, or who got a condo at the Dakota in New York for a $1 as a divorce settlement.  She didn't drink all day or lock us in the bathroom.  But she could throw some pretty good fits that would leave us scared half out of our minds. And she could say some pretty mean things and play with our heads.  All this happened to me in the 1960's and 70's amid Beatles and Elton John, hiphuggers and bellbottoms, the same backdrop as that of Wendy Lawless and her mother in the blue peignoir.

The author captured her mother's jet-setting, booze filled life so perfectly because she lived it right along with her without a choice.  We watched Wendy grow up from an innocent child, to a mischievous teenager all without parental guidance and direction.  We watched her lose her way as she entered college without much of a plan.  And we watched her stand up to her mother's controlling behavior and blossom into strong and beautiful woman. 

Chanel Bonfire paints a true picture of mental illness and how it affects the family unit.  In Wendy's case "family unit" is a real stretch.  How she and her sister were even able to come out of such a childhood alive is a miracle.  Yet I understood Wendy's actions and reactions to everything that happened. 

This story is real.  The setting, the illness, the emotions, all real and true.  Ms. Lawless has written a powerful and engaging account of a life overshadowed by an addiction and illness we will never understand.   

Back To My Roots

Books are piling up on my shelf again. I'm back to feeling helpless when it comes to resisting them.  Is it that when I ordered a keyboard cover for my new laptop on Amazon, I had to order a few books in order to get free shipping? Or that while attending the Florida Writers Association conference a couple weeks ago, I couldn't resist shopping in the bookstore.  Or is it that I've felt a new surge in writing lately and when I go to the bookstore for some peace, I'm overwhelmed by all the new books out for Christmas.

All of the above.  I also snuck in a few new titles on my Kindle.  The other day while dusting in the dining room, I saw the books that grace the shelves there. I'd forgotten about them. We don't eat in the dining room very often, only when we have company.  Now I'm feeling overwhelmed by books again. 

That got me to thinking why I started writing this blog to begin with.  Addiction.  I seemed to think that hoarding books was harmless.  I loved to read, what harm could it be.  Yet I foolishly spent money on things I didn't use.  Armloads of books sat silently on my shelf.  As soon as the next intriguing best seller came out, I bought it, tossing aside all the perfectly good books I already had.  When I started writing this blog, I had 76 unread books waiting for my loving eyes to read their pages and warm hands to hold them.  For a long time I kept track of titles I read.  Probably half of that 76 has been read, a few more given away when I started them and couldn't stomach more that the first chapter.  At least another 76 have made their way into my reading mind without ever being logged onto the list. 

The path that initially had me examining my bookshelf also got me to examine my life.  For a long time after closing the book I read before bedtime, I prayed for the will to stop drinking.  And every day at dinner, I reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of wine.  From my drunken stupor, I prayed some more.  And then one day I fixed dinner and set a glass of water in front of my place.  That was almost three years ago.

That first night, I went to bed and said thank you.  The next night, I asked for help me.  Unbeknownst to me, that first night was only the beginning of a long and painful journey.  But I made it down the road.  Oh sure, on days like today, when it's cold out, for some reason I crave a drink.  But I don't have one.  So many things are clearer in my mind.  It's so much more pleasant not driving through life in the fog.

I'll make it through my pile of books.  I'll read them, keeping the ones I love and passing along those I don't like quite so much. My love of books and the written word helped me to understand other shortcomings in my life.  Every book comes into my life for a reason and I promise I'm going to read them.  I know I can do it.  My books showed me the way. 

An Anniversary of Sorts

I'm not big on celebrating birthdays or anniversaries.  They come around every year like clockwork and the older I get the less exciting they become.  Richard and I got married on  Valentine's Day so we'd have one less date to remember. The stores get all decked out for Valentine's day to remind us it's coming up.  One trip to the grocery store and we're prepared by buying a card and a box of candy hearts.  Plus the date falls in between Christmas and our summer birthdays so our schedule doesn't get cramped or rushed. For twenty four years we've celebrated our wedding anniversary with no muss, no fuss.  Just the way we like it.

This is the month of May.  I have no idea what day in May but last year sometime in May, I stopped drinking.  Cold turkey.  After months of praying, God said 'You're ready' and took away my desire to reach for a glass of wine every night before dinner.  He took away my need to keep drinking until it was time for bed.  I tossed back a bottle of wine every night.  I was sick and tired of being sick and tired until the day my prayers were answered.

Little did I know how rough the road ahead of me would be.  I remember so clearly the months of headaches and nausea and general malaise that came next.  I stopped the alcohol, changed my diet to help with my vertigo and migraine headaches and lost 30 pounds.  I struggled with my weight for years convincing myself I could diet and drink loads of empty calories each day.  The minute I stopped, the pounds literally fell off.

Oh, there are still days I'd like to sit on the patio enjoying the cool spring breeze with a glass of wine, but I don't.  With each passing day, that desire became less and less.  Now I only joke about it when I've had a bad day at work.  There are a couple bad habits, I've yet to overcome, like lounging in front of the television every night when I could be reading or writing or otherwise being more productive.  At least I'm not damaging my mind and body in a destructive manner.  So I can take my time breaking that one.

For one full year I've been alcohol free.  That also means free to live a happy, productive, loving life.  Free from the chain that was holding me back.  Free to be me again.  Happy anniversary!

In The Here and Now

I'm freaking out!!  I went to the computer to log in my most recent book review.  It brings me alot of pleasure to see one more title crossed of that list.  Usually.  This time I clicked on the file and got a message.

"Excel cannot open this file.  It may have been damaged."

What?  I tried to open it again.  Same message.  I tried to open it from the back up.  At first I couldn't find it and when I did, same message.  My hands started to shake and I thought I would be sick.

I'd put my heart and soul in that list.  I put all 76 unread books along with the authors on that list.  As I read a book, I'd log the date, the number of stars I gave it and who I sent the book to.  When I found more books around the house, I add them.  When I lost my willpower buying new books I'd add them.  The list kept me honest.  It was my sanctuary where I could see how far I'd come and how far I had yet to go.  And now it was gone.

I searched and scoured the computer trying to revive the file.  I'm pretty savvy when it comes to computers and the loss of my precious file is a mystery.  I clicked and scrolled until my fingers turned blue.  Nothing I did made it come back to life.  I slapped the keyboard.  Now I was mad as a hornet.

A thought came to my mind.  A thought I had a lot lately.  I need a glass of wine.  That will calm my nerves and I'll find the lost file easily.  It took all my energy to push that thought aside.  You see, I've been sober, alcohol free for the past six weeks.

Wine had taken over my life.  I didn't do anything without thinking about when I could pour myself a glass and then another and another.  Learning to exercise restraint over my piles of unread books helped me to see another addiction in my life.  For this I'm grateful.

So I took a deep breath, did a few deep knee bends and created a new list.  I didn't say to myself, 'I'll worry about that tomorrow'.  I didn't put it off so I could get drunk instead.  I dealt with it in the here and now.

I've recreated the list as best I could.  It got much longer I fear so I haven't been as steadfast as I thought I'd been.  Right now I'm at 83 and I just remembered another shelf I didn't log yet.  Yikes!!  And I'm still looking for those 2 books that have been missing for over a year.  I really want to read those.  I always look at them while in the bookstore but I'm able to resist buying them because I really believe they'll show up sometime soon.  I think I'll put them on the list this time.  Now that I'm finally in the here and now, I bet they are too.