DAY 67 Sober: Middle School Years of Tears and Fears

Hello friends, today is day 67 sober. This post is the extension from my childhood post I wrote Earlier this week . These middle school years are fresher and more complex. I believe I was an addict before I even had my first substance, I was an addict for numbing myself so I did not have to deal with reality, I was an addict in needing approval from others, I was an addict for doing whatever it takes to be accepted. Again I am not trying to blame my parents or others for my Addiction but I do believe we all have pasts that mold us and are minds that creates the perfect mold for an addict, this is my story. Going through my addiction brings me a clearer understanding on my parent Addictions. I hope my story can help others who suffer from a treatable disorder that seems at times untreatable.


At the end of fifth grade my mother picked up my brother and I from my great grandmas. We grabbed what few things we had and put them in a black trash bag, walked to the nearest bus stop. She got a place in palm desert were I started middle school. We lived in 4 different places in those three years. My mother was still with Bert and the first apartment we lived in was a two bedroom, my brother and I shared a room. That year I started middle school, I was excited also nervous my first day of school. A I asked to be put in drama because film and acting was and still is a passion.  In 7th grade I wrote a poem  my teacher loved.  She had me read it in front of the class, than it was published but I never thought my writing skills can turn into something great. The poem was called “ I am short 7th grader that’s meant to be on stage”. In middle school I never had nice clothing. I felt embarrassed and ashamed most of the time. I was ashamed for being on the free lunch program, so I wouldn’t eat. I would be out from morning to night; I did not want to be home. In school I was a bit of loner.  In sixth grade I would sit under trees by myself and eat French fries. Looking back at old self brings on a feeling of wanting to go back and Whisper words of encouragement in my ear.  I had a couple of great friends, one life long friend . I was to embarrassed to let anyone in my life and that carried into high school.


We eventually got kicked out from that apartment and moved to another apartment a few blocks away. I don’t remember my mom or stepfather ever being home. When she was home fear was always over taking me. I was playing in a park once and a gate slammed on my hand and a chunk of skin ripped off of my hand. Strangers ran over when they heard my scream. They were asking for my parents but of course they weren’t there. I was 11 at the time. The stranger drove me home. When he knocked at the door and my mom scream for us to use the back door, for some reason she hated us using the front door. She opened the door in a rage only to turn it off in seconds when she seen it was another adult carrying me with blood everywhere. This stranger drove my mother and I to the hospital, I had to get stitches. We never had reliable cars. Growing up we never seen a dentist or doctors. One time in my middle school I had a really bad fever and at one point I told my mother and my step father my head was in great pain and it was getting worse but they sent me back to bed. When you have a fever it can cause you to hallucinate if you get to hot. So I was lying in bed counting sheep and all of a sudden I felt my head explode, I ran into the living room and started climbing the walls thinking I was spider man, screaming the house was on fire. My step father grab me and took me outside where it was cold and my temp went down, they felt I didn’t need to see a doctor.


I just knew if I ever wanted anything in life I would have to do it on my own so around 12 I started working at a local street fair because I needed money. My anxiety came out in full force around this time, I didn’t know what anxiety was. Fear was instilled in me at such a young vital time in my life. You have to be careful with very young kids because you mold their self-esteem and mind. Fear came out in form of food, I was afraid of choking, so for 2 years I didn’t eat. It all started when I swallowed a gum and I thought it got stuck in my throat. After that I chewed my food into liquid and even then I had to concentrate so I can swallow. It was horrible. Even now when I chew my food sometimes my mind takes me back to that place and I find myself chewing my food the same way and force swallowing. (Its kind of crazy what trauma can do to a small child)? It got to the point were I was really skinny like feed the hungry commercials. I do remember my mom crying and telling me that they would put a tube in me if I continue not eating.


I always knew my mom did drugs, the first memory was when I was very young, I believe in 2 grade my brother and I found a small bag of white powder we opened it and it spilled all over us. My mother freaked out, she thought we ate some, so she rushed us to the kitchen and made us drink a cup of milk instead of heading to the doctor. At a young age I knew drugs were the reason my mother was the way she was. Besides my stepfather blowing weed in are face, I walked in my mom in middle school with a huge pile of what powder on a mirror, I believe it was cocaine. She rushed me out of the room and she said it was the neighbors. My mother lying to me must have been the guilt.


My mom let me have my own dog name snuggles in 6th grade. Snuggles gave me that unconditional love and kisses I needed. She was my hero. We squatted in a home most of seventh grade then eventually got kicked out. We moved into a small apartment on the outskirts of palm desert and most of my time I was outside. My mother was getting tried of Bert and she got a job at a local store. She has always been very strict with cleaning and she wanted everything to be spotless. Even if it was clean we never cleaned it good enough, so  when she would get home from work she would spot check then beat us or scream at us. One day my mom never came home and disappeared for two weeks, Bert was really depressed. It turn out my mom met this new guy name Sammy. Bert was never really a father to us but he was the constant male in are life. Its funny, how someone can be in your life for so long than in one second they are gone.


My mother men just got worst, this one was name Sammy and he was a drunk and abuser. We packed up and my mother told me my best friend snuggles could not come. I kissed my dog on the head and told her how sorry I was for what I was about to do. I poured all the dog food on the floor and a huge bowl of water. Went next door to let them know if they want to keep her, than left a note on the front gate saying free dog. The only real love I felt was about to be abandon, we locked the door and I can still her snuggles howling for me. As I walked away I start screaming and crying. Till this day I still have pain from that experience, I feel like snuggles didn’t understand it was not my choice to leave her. Not sure if she is still around but if she is I hope she went a great family she deserved with endless amounts of kisses and lots of yummy treats. If she passed on I hope she knows what deep love I have for her still and I want to tell her thank you for giving so much joy in a dark time in my life, she was the light in a very dim room. We always had pets and we always had to abandon them. My mother ex would drive down a dark street throw are dogs out the car while I scream my head off.



So we moved into Sammy moms home. She was so mean, we were not allowed in the kitchen or to eat food, so we ended up at a motel. We walked with trash bags full of are clothes over the freeway to get to the motel. Motels were second home. For a while we would have to walk over a mile to a school bus stop. One day we walked a mile to get to the motel and notice my mom had checkout so we walked back to the bus stop not knowing where to go. She finally picked us up. Sammy didn’t work but some how manage to get us a place. They would always fight and it would be bloody. Sammy would take us to the store and make me stuff my pants with stolen goods and if I didn’t than he would beat me and call me a pussy. At that time I also was stealing food and eating, lunchables, cheese-string, and reeses cups in the restroom stalls of grocery stores. I just knew if I did not I would go hungry. Stealing was a family bonding time, once my stepfather sent my older brother and younger brother into Wal-Mart to steal shoes, they got caught and my stepfather drove off, so my older brother had to call my mom to pick him up.


I never went to my middle school graduation because I did not have a ride and my mother did not care to see it. My brother and I would always sneak into apartments to use the pool. One day we left and came back to see my mom sitting in a back of a cop car with handcuffs. Sammy just got out of jail for beating up my mother and went back to the house to get his things. I had a feeling that day that I should stay home but ended up still heading to the pool. I guess Sammy showed up with his mom and sister and called the cops saying my mom attacked them. That moment change the course of my life. The cops took my mom away and Bert came and told us we cant’ stay with him. Bert drove us to my great grandmas because my father didn’t want my brother and I. To be continue.


Sober is the New Black.

Stay connect with love, Adolfo


Michael Jackson Man in the Mirror is a perfect song for this post

DAY 63 Sober: A Sober Writer

Hello friends, today is end of Day 63 sober, No cravings for booze, only cravings were for sushi, writing and the Spa. I followed through with all three. I am currently lying in bed sitting with a clear mind. I am working on a Series of Poems all related to Addiction; they are 12 in the series. I kind of want to debut them in an Art show, so I have to look into that. Life has change in the past 63 days. Without that box wine, my creativity is just flowing. I am very grateful for it. I have not touch the fiction I’ve been working on for two years, part of me wants to just start over because I started writing that with a mind tainted with whiskey poison and infected thoughts. I feel my mind is a lot sharper, so maybe I’ll start a remix, keep both and see what’s better. My friend Joel thought me about remix writing. It when someone reads something you wrote and they give you a suggestion on what to change so you do but you always keep the original just incase. Smart idea. 

I have always loved writing in high school I was in English honors and college prep classes in English. Receiving Academic awards in English. Love to write and not so much reading. Reading is important and I force myself to read. It helps with writing. In school I would always quick read and still get an A. Same with drama, on my Drama final I would just improve my monologue. The writer and the reader are a duo,  a partner in a delicate dance. The writer takes the lead and the reader follows. I have to try and keep the reader glued and on the tips of their toes. I Always have a vision of were I want to take the reader but writing short scripts, fiction and poems are really different. I find scripts the hardest for me because I love details and in writing scripts I create the skeleton. The director is the one who creates the heart, flesh and organs of the film.

I never knew I had a passion and talent for writing until recently, when I was in middle school I wrote something and it got publish and I did well in high school but growing up with that childhood than my teen years ( which I am working on that long read) I just never believed someone who had my kind of past can become something great, I had so much pain I wanted to stay a victim so I can blame my parents and maybe I thought somehow my demise will sober them up.  I use to dream of me being in a casket while my family crying around me and I am laughing at them scream you did this! You did this! Twisted right! and maybe ill finally get that love, those hugs and kisses as I lay dead and lifeless. I was angry in high School, I was on my way than  my Junior year of high school I became homeless. Ill get into that on another post.

 I use to think, I need to drink to create art but I am realizing all the stuff I wrote was so empty and false bullshit. I am not creating from the divine of my soul, the Essence of my being, I was creating from a sad victim, Angry and most of the time I was so drunk it took me two days to write two lines, so than ill do two lines snow white and that will get me going. It never flowed and I would forget my ideas. I am grateful for Sober is the New Black, For my Readers, And for the Love I found in Sobriety.  

Stay Connect with love, Adolfo

After the spa

After the spa







DAY 52 Sober: A Child Thief

Hello friends, today is Day 52 sober. I am back to the grind of the week. This week I need to focus on staying positive at work and getting enough sleep. Having to be up at 330am is hard even for a morning person but I have to man up and be a responsible adult. I have always been a hard worker. I started working at very young age, My first job was in middle school around 11years old, I would help set up tents at a local market on the weekends for like 20 bucks a day. The man I helped sold glasses. I also helped him sell. After that ended I became a paper boy outside grocery stores selling papers, that did not last long I was only making a few buck a day.  I kind of had to work if I wanted to eat, I knew at a very young age anything I ever needed or wanted I had to get on my own.


Sometimes illegally, I remember being really hungry and walking into groceries store in middle school and grabbing a lunch able, cheese string and a Reese than heading to the restroom were I would sit in the stall and eat because I knew I would go to bed hungry and there was plenty of times i did go to bed hungry. When i was younger In elementary school I remember my Mom and her boyfriend putting me in people doggy doors because i was tiny and steal food from their kitchen also they would make me and my brothers walk in Walmart change my old shoes and walk out with new ones. My mothers boyfriend sam would beat me and yell at me if i did not steal from stores, it was stuff we needed.  Its funny because I still have guilt for stealing at such a young age, as crazy as is it sounds. Middle school for me was the worst of my childhood because that’s when I realize I had to balance a crazy home life with middle school. There is this one incident that still brings tears to my eyes, I remember walking in my Apartment complex parking lot and seeing a car window rolled down and a purse sitting in the passenger seat. I grab it and ran inside a storage area that held the apartment dumpster. I took all the cash and threw the purse in the trash. When I open up the wallet I seen it had a food stamp card that people used to cash their checks. I was terrified but knew that money would help when I look back I knew that I stole from a poor person who had kids and need that money. When I went back home I gave it my mother her face showed relief and joy, I told her I found it. Later that day the lady son was walking around and asked me if I seen any guy walking around with a purse. I said know. I know at that age I had to survive and had to do stuff I am not proud of but I need to forgive my childhood self.  


I would love to find that family and pay them back one day. I am still writing my childhood down on paper, its difficult but I am pushing trough. My childhood Is very layered, complex and profoundly misfortunate. It did teach my how to be a survivor and how endure life and pain. As I got older I used booze to help me drown my past so I wouldn’t have to deal but the past will always learn how to swim and float back up to the surface… I love Frida Kahlo and she once said “ I drank to drown my sorrows, but the damned things learned how to swim”  I am grateful for the past lessons,  for writing and for my survivor skills that helping me survivor this mental and body disorder that is called Alcoholism. I will rise and nothing going to stop me now. Sober is the New Black..I recently heard this song by B.O.B-John Doe feat JoJo. I am coming home to myself.




Stay connect with love, Adolfo