January 20th in Posso's Prompts

What’s something you’re still thinking about that you did wrong in 2018?

I won’t lie to you: 2018 ended up being one of the shittiest years to date in my life. In case you need a brief history, I’ve had testicular cancer. I spent two weeks in a hospital with a severe infection in my face and jaw that made me lose teeth and chewing ability. I got kicked out of college for a semester for academic integrity because I let a girl cheat off me that I didn’t even know then turned myself in basically (another prompt for another day) and you’d think those would be comparable? Hell no.

2018 started with an epic meltdown of stupid drunk proportions. I had worked a close Saturday night at the piano bar and had to be to work at 7am to handle breakfast before having the piano bar Christmas party. Well, let’s just say I did not sleep for at least 24 hours while having drinks through the afternoon, night, day and afternoon to the point where I met my girlfriend at my house and I did not know what I was figuratively or literally doing. I passed out for a brief moment until Kylie woke me up to go downtown and I composed myself to the best of my abilities, fully knowing leaving my place was an absolute mistake. I was on autopilot before dinner was over and don’t remember getting my jacket to leave the steakhouse. An irate, drunk, and stupid manchild unleashed hellfire upon the blocks of downtown Madison and it ended with someone getting behind the wheel of his car after calling his now ex-girlfriend some pretty terrible and vile things. At one point in that week, my friend and boss was so disgusted with me that she had taken me off the schedule. It was well deserved - I was a fucking dick.

After slowly eating humble pie and apologizing and letting time do its whole healing thing (that I don’t ever fucking buy into; I don’t have that filter where I get better with time, I want to fix it immediately or it is forever broken for me,) I got my piano bar shifts back slowly, and my ex was gracious enough to talk to me again. Things weren’t great but they could have been worse.

Shortly after that I had someone that was crucial in my life for the past half dozen or so years take her own life. She had attempted a few times, reached out for help, blamed it on me and my unwillingness to think we could ever salvage a relationship. That was hard for me only because I thought a lot about how I treated Heather and how she treated me - we were levels beyond toxic. We supported each others’ terrible habits. I ran to her when I needed safety. There was some odd synapse in my head that if I was ever in trouble that she could be the bandaid to stop the bleeding and close the cut. I never truly thought we would be out of the other’s life. There was always the flair for dramatics in our convoluted relationship. She ended up ‘calling my bluff’ as she put it in her note to me and now she’s not here. And that sucked. It took months to digest it, and I still don’t think to this day I’ve fully accepted what happened, but one thing is clear thanks to therapy, self reflection and friends; I’m not responsible for her actions.

Then they found a mass on my prostate. I was like, “oh, wonderful. Cancer’s back. It apparently doesn’t like that whole ‘things heal with time’ vibe either.” I found out this time and handled it a little bit better than the time I lost a ball. (Let’s just say until I get to that story that I walked by a liquor store on the way home and spent $130 on bomber bottles of Southern Tier Creme Brulee beer.) I had known for a couple weeks and was at a bachelor party (won’t lie, I was in Cruisin’ Chubby’s, a Wisconsin Dells strip club, being sober cause of treatment having an in depth conversation with a best friend, Hiram and completely ignoring the talent) when my most recent ex called me crying. We started talking again, and met up and cried and apologized and somehow I got her to give me another chance (there had already been a few)
With Kylie’s support on top of all of my friends and family and I’m assuming a lot of people reading this, I got through all the treatment I had to. I sure did shit and puke my brains out from Spring into the heat of Summer, but I was happy. Loved the woman taking care of me, laying in bed knowing that I hurt every day. I thought that I could actually get through my struggles without being a wreck.

Nope. I went and decided that I had to make my life complicated when I didn’t need to.

Flash to August. I had a check up to see if I was basically done with treatment. I don’t remember why at the moment, (I’m sure if I read texts back or dug into it I’d find out) but I was in a shitty irritable mood. What should have been a good day, finding out that I could be done with treatment ended in me day drinking and celebrating turned into me completely melting down and torching my relationship with Kylie again. I am a fool when it came to that girl, through and through.

OH. WAIT.

We’ll save Kylie, and my emotional insecurities and stupidity for many more times I’m sure. I just remembered something I omitted before the last break up. It had a lot to attribute to why I was in such an emotional rollercoaster of a mood. It’s also a strange tie in to why I was inspired to write this.

I got fired from the Ivory Room for theft.

Warm Saturday night in July. I’m working with a couple of new girls and it’s hot but I am in my full garb - floral tie, button up, vest - what came to be expected of me to wear every time I worked. I’m worked up. Nervous. 36 hours before this shift, I did something utterly stupid. I was also drunk. This seems to be a common theme in good and terrible stories, I know. (Why we’re not drinking now) So to shorten a long story that may be hashed out at another time, I had a friend who needed money to get out of a sticky situation at 4am. I was drunk and shouldn’t have been driving and I knew if I headed all the way back to my house to get money that there was a great chance I would not remember the return trip back to my friends place. I decided the closest place I knew I could get a couple hundred dollars in cash would be the Ivory Room. To spare details, I used my key, went in and took what I needed, left a note, (it was a common thing to have change missing at this place and then having others replenish it and tell management they forgot, needed it, etc. so drunkenly I rationalized this as being an okay idea. Oops) and figured I’d hear from my boss because I wasn’t exactly stealthy in my execution.
I never noticed my boss called me the next day and I just figured I’d hear about it at work.

Ha. I went to work, and I knew something was up when my boss was dodging me. I waited; it was busy, the beginnings of Saturday nights in the summer usually are, so I went to work making drinks, running the server station. Finally after about an hour my boss comes up and asks me to come outside, he wanted to talk. Great, I thought. I had the money in my pocket and I was sure a short simple explanation and apology would be enough. Would I be in trouble? Sure, I figured I would be but I imagined the friendship my boss and I had would be something that I could savagely take advantage of.

Walking out the door is when I saw two Madison PD cruisers. Fuck. This is not going where I thought it would. I got cuffed in front of the windows of the bar. Five minutes before, I was making the lemon drop martini that the lady was sipping on while looking oddly content watching the drama unfold on the other side of the windows she was standing in.
I got questioned, I got cuffed, it was an ordeal. I was given a ticket, and they confiscated all of the money I had on me, which was what I owed PLUS a lot of extra money from the morning shift I had just worked at my other job. One officer ended up driving me to the parking lot I had my car at, I was released and given a ticket with a court date on it.
I was so confused. I mean, I admitted I definitely broke laws I guess; it wasn’t my building, I entered after hours when I didn’t need to be there or wasn’t supposed to be there for that matter. I just hadn’t entered the day with the end result being the cops as a viable option.

I drove home, called Kylie, she was going to come see me with friends, and told her what happened.
“I can’t believe that he would do that to you”
That night was kind of what started my free fall of 2018 into one of shame, hate, despair and definitely depression.

I stopped eating. Drank a lot. I self destructed. Pushed Kylie away again to the point where she just gave up on me and I was mad but I don’t blame her to this day. I pushed a lot of people away the last year. I’m thankful there’s ones that stuck it out with me and knew that I needed help and reached out

Then I come to find out that I wasn’t completely done with cancer treatments. That rounded out my 2018. Along with 2 OWIs in three months between August and November. Like I said, I was in a total free fall. In 4 months I went from a clean record to a fucking paperwork hurricane. How was I supposed to salvage my reputation? How would I combat this gossip? If I just drank a stupid amount more often so I didn’t have to deal with real life problems, it would eventually move on, right? ALL YOU FUCKERS THAT SAY TIME HEALS WOUNDS WOULD BE RIGHT, RIGHT??? I think in all honestly that I wasn’t done until New Years Eve when I knew I was wandering downtown in a total blackout state knowing I didn’t want to be doing it anymore until I could be responsible. I started drinking the emotions away, and consistently, and that’s when you have problems.

To bring the story full circle, I think being fired from Ivory Room for being stupid and drunk caused a lot of grief in my life that I could have easily avoided if I would have used the somewhat advanced brain I contain. That was until 48 hours ago, when my old boss showed up at my apartment room door, with my roommate, asking me if I wanted to come back to work.

I enjoy alcohol but I let it make my life ridiculously difficult and sometimes I just need to switch my game to easy mode and turn the hints on. Blow off the Game Genie and enter that code that gives me invincibility. That’s the whole idea of this for me this year. I can rehash all the times I’ve been drunk and funny, belligerent and sad. Writing gives me that fix that I need to do what I do without having to draw the ire of everyone.

I was so concerned at one point about what people would think. I’m 33 and it’s clearly time to see that I don’t have to fucking impress anyone I don’t want to. Think I’m a thief? Fine. I had my intentions and if I needed to do that for anyone I know, I’d do it again. I’d just make sure to come to my house. Sober.