The Beginning.

Today I woke up with a heavy heart. I am not too sure what transpired in my sleep last night, but I know I woke up feeling all the worry and doubt I’ve been trying so hard to overcome. All the questions that swirl in my head daily, all the worries of tomorrow, all the doubt that somehow, I’m just building myself up just for the result to be devastating.

For the last almost six months I’ve been on a new journey. Maybe not new, but certainly different. I made a choice to become sober, again, putting the miniature fireballs down, and making the decision to take control of my life. This wouldn’t be my first attempt to stop drinking, but I make the decision every day that this will be my last.

In 2015, in the early months of the year I had separated from my ex, moving into a new home with our son, I started a new job at The Gentlemen’s Gold Club as a cocktail waitress, beginning a new chapter of my life. Working at the club provided me a new sense of life, for the first time as an adult I felt like I was living. I was making more money than I had in my entire life, allowing me the ability to provide my son and self the necessities we needed, to venture and explore areas familiar and foreign to us. I had great friends, and even met some interestingly amazing people along the way; the sky truly was the limit.

But, on August 8th, 2015, I woke up, I exercised and got myself ready for my double shift at the club just as I did every Saturday morning. While getting ready I received a phone call from one of my father’s ex-girlfriends, asking me if I had talked to my dad and if I could try to contact him. She was outside where he lived, waiting for him to come out as she was picking him up to run errands, but he hadn’t answered any of the numerous calls she had made. She was beginning to worry. As I agreed to call him myself, I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking that he was probably with another woman therefore avoiding her phones calls. “He just doesn’t want her to go crazy again,” I said to myself as I called him, the ringing continuing until I would hear his voice sounding off in my ear from his voicemail, “Hey, you’ve reached Rick, I’m not here at the moment, leave a message at the beep, alright, thanks.” Several calls later from myself, but still no answer. I didn’t think much of it, “he was probably busy, I’ll catch up with him later” I thought to myself as I called her back to inform her that I, too, was unsuccessful reaching him.

Going about my day I walked up to Krauzer’s, a local convenience store in the area to get my red bulls for my shifts, calling a cab to meet me at the house to take me to work. My phone rings seconds later, and I notice it’s her, the ex-girlfriend, calling me again. I answer. I don’t remember the full conversation word for word, but I remember her asking me where I was. She stopped me and asked what store I was located at, urging me to cancel my cab and to stay where I was. She stated she was coming to meet me and that it was very important I stay there until she arrived. I agreed and waited, standing out front of the store watching the cars pass trying to recognize hers.

Still standing in my same position a policeman pulled his car in to the lot and parked on the side of the store. He sat in his car for a few minutes before finally getting out. He approached me and asked if my name was Lisa Saville. Confused, I told him I was Lisa, and asked him what this was all about. Thinking at the time, with my dad’s arrest history, that something had happened, and he has once again been arrested. Ready for the update, the officer stood there looking nervous. He then proceeded to apologize and informed me that my father had passed away. Taken back, processing this information, I remember covering my hands to my mouth, falling to my knees, as my world was crashing down. Denying this truth this random officer gave me, crying, I screamed to him, “no, this isn’t true, he’s not dead, you lie!” He continued to apologize and tried to console me, offering me a ride home which I originally denied, telling him that I would just walk. He hesitated, waiting for me to stand up, but I couldn’t. It was like I had no control and couldn’t move. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me to my legs, providing me support as he walked me over to his car. He opened the door and put me into the back seat. The ride back to the house was silent, I was numb. Pulling up to my home, I slowly got out of the car and walked into the house. I took one step into the doorway and stared at my roommate. I said to her, “my father was found dead.” She paused, immediately rushing over to hug me, seeing that I was still trying to process this information. “I have to call my mom” I told her, and immediately started calling my mother, also my father’s mother who at the age of 11 adopted me and my brother Eric. No answer. I call Pop, but still no answer several times over. A three-hour time difference, I didn’t expect an answer and knew they were likely sleeping. “Call Eric” I thought. I started calling Eric even though I didn’t expect an answer from him either since he also was in Arizona with a three-hour time difference. Calling and calling to my surprise he finally answered the phone. I can hear his voice and I force out the words, “dad’s dead.” Eric pausing for a moment, confused, he asks me to repeat myself. I say these words over again, shakily, only for my brother to think that I was making a cruel joke. Eric could hear my tone, and the sound of me sniffling from my cries, he quickly realized that I was not joking at all. I told him everything about that morning, asking him to inform the rest of the family. I had to get off the phone with him, I just couldn’t bare it. I hung up with Eric and immediately called my supervisor, telling him that I would be late to work and what was happening. He offered for me to stay home, that he would find someone to cover my shifts, but I refused. I told him I would be there, that I had to be, because the last time I missed work on my dad’s behalf, my dad lectured me, and told me to always focus on myself despite what’s going on because no matter what happens, only I have the power to change things.

I arrived to work maybe an hour after I was due. Working my shifts with emotional breakdowns throughout the day and night, crying while delivering beers to customers, co-workers hugging me, I pushed through, not realizing at the time that my mind, and especially my heart, hadn’t truly accepted that this was a new reality.

On that day I surprised myself though and because of that I thought I could hold the weight of this news. Knowing that I was the closest person to my father, I knew it was up to me to appear strong for my family, especially his mom, she just lost her oldest son. But it wasn’t long after August 8th, the very next day I believe, I faltered. Having access to alcohol at work, more than enough money to buy it from the stores, means of transportation to take me where I wanted, friends trying to help but not realizing they were enabling, my life slowly started spiraling.

6 years, 5 months, and 4 days my life had been on this toxic roller coaster ride. Destroying myself, destroying my relationships with the people that mattered most to me, putting not only myself in jeopardy but neglecting to be the best mother I could be for my son, Camron. I was not a good person, not anymore, and though I knew right from wrong, when it came down to the pain, everything that had ever hurt me and every person that ever hurt me, my father passing away was the breaking point, I broke. I was shattered. What was right didn’t seem to matter anymore, Camron mattered, but I was ignorant to my own self sabotage that I didn’t notice it was hurting him too, not until he became vocal about it also. But, still this continued, until someone I once cared greatly about was yelling at me in mid argument, telling me harsh truths about myself and the affects my drinking had on my son, saying, “you always say you would die for Camron, but when are you going to start living for him?” I can’t express to you how those words hit me in a way that nothing else said to me ever had. This was the moment that everything changed, the moment that I changed.

160 days as of today, no alcohol, a few weeks out from reaching the milestone of 6 months sober. What an accomplishment I remind myself every day. Even more so, when I decided to turn over this new leaf, I decided that all I want to do is work. To work for the life that I have always wanted to provide to Camron and myself, to work for the level of peace that I mentally cannot be deterred, at least not by anyone but myself. To work on evolving myself, as a woman, a mother, a human being into the very best versions of myself that I could only hope to be. To lead my life by the example, to be the example, of the kind of person I could only hope my son to grow to be.

The last several months, I’ve been acknowledging my traumas. I’ve been acknowledging the way they have altered the way I feel and think. I recognize my patterns of being less of the person I want to be, and I’ve worked tremendously hard on training myself mentally that I am in control of every thought I have, every feeling I feel, every word I say, and every action I do. I have disciplined myself to focus on the things that I can change, and to evolve with the things that I cannot. Acknowledging, and working to heal from broken relationships, the abandonment of one parent, the death of another, sexual abuse as a child and as an adult, abandonment by family members I spent my entire life with when a delicate truth was told, alcoholism, child loss, child custody battles, verbal and physical abuse. Working to heal, working to grow, working to prosper in every sense of the word.

But today I woke up with a heavy heart. I am not too sure what transpired in my sleep last night, but I woke up feeling all the worry and the doubt I’ve been trying so hard to overcome.

I’ve recently opened myself back up to someone from the past and the reconnection has been chilling in all the best ways. To say that this person is a mirror image of myself, but unique in their own edges is an understatement. Our similar journeys, our short comings, our strengths, and our wills, for the first time in what feels like a lifetime makes me feel recognized, makes me feel understood. This person reminds me why I believe in magic, because to me, everything about him feels like magic and it absolutely terrifies me. To be honest, I’m not sure what to make of these feelings; I’ve been on this road of self-reliance, just staying focused that this person makes me feel shook to my core. It overwhelms me, and as I take deep breaths, I question what the universe’s plans for this person are being back in my life. Feeling this in full force this morning, my chest feeling tight with my heart hurting, the only person I want to pick up my phone and call to talk about this with is no longer here on Earth with me, and it hits me again, my dad is dead.

Feeling the overwhelming, immense feeling of my heart breaking all over again I lose control and cry. I cry so hard that I feel like I am convulsing. Tears streaming down my face, sniffling, trying to keep my nose from running, I clench my blanket close to my chest, rocking myself just as I did when I was child. I realize, as I am letting it all out, that this is the first real hard cry I’ve let out since my father passed away, without alcohol influencing my emotions. I cry for hours, and once finished I fall back to sleep, exhausted from the pure emotion that my body could no longer hold.

I know this is a step to grieving finally, in a healthy way and though I no longer remember the sound of my father’s voice, I can always feel his strong arms squeezing me tightly, hearing him say, “cry it out if you have to baby girl, but then you fix your face and figure it out” and I feel comforted that though he isn’t here with me, that while he was alive, he provided me with all the love, support and tools to be successful as a strong woman. I am comforted in the friendship I had with my father, the love and support I had from him as my dad and am grateful for his truth about people, and above all, I am forever proud to be his daughter. For the things that I have yet to figure out, I’ll always follow my favorite advice he gave me, follow your heart but take your brain with you.

I love you always Papa Bear.