September 28, 2002

  • And now, back to the honeymoon…. (part four)

    (part five, if you count the “Welcome to New Mexico, white man,” story)

    Our first night in Silver City, early in January, 1991, it
    snowed.  There was about an inch and a half of soft, warm snow on
    the ground when we came out of the motel. [Yes, snow can be
    "warm".  When it is cold, it crunches; even colder, it
    squeaks underfoot, but warm snow just goes squish.]  As we drove
    across town, Greyfox in the 4-wheel drive Jimmy and I driving little
    Gina, the X1/9, we were the only cars on the streets.  As we ate
    breakfast and listened to people marveling over the snow, it melted
    and the somewhat delayed morning rush hour traffic appeared.

    With my years of living in Alaska, and Greyfox’s having lived his
    whole life where snow was an annual reality, we found many occasions
    that winter for amusement at the different ways people perceive
    cold.  We’d both be in t-shirts when the locals were in parkas,
    and that’s no exaggeration.  By the time we left in spring, it was
    too hot there for my comfort.

    We made many short trips around the area and visited parks and
    museums.  We found Rockhound State Park nearby in Deming, where
    they allow visitors to take home rocks.  The locality has some
    beautiful agates.  Near the entrance to the park, we found the
    Geolapidary Museum, run by a couple of men to whom we both felt
    immediate affinity and affection.  We went back several times,
    learning the geology of the area and fine-tuning our
    mineral-identification skills.  Other mineral museums we visited
    on the trip, from Rapid City, SD, to Soccorro, NM, helped us learn to
    distinguish one mineral from another.

    Deming’s big annual gem and mineral show, the Rockhound Roundup,
    presented such a tempting array of rocks that we both began to feel as
    if, just maybe, we were collecting too many rocks.  At one booth,
    when Greyfox expressed that sentiment, the old lady running the booth
    said, “You can’t have too many rocks.  If you ever get more than
    you can haul, you can always park by the side of the road and sell
    some.”  It seems a prophetic remark, in the light of subsequent
    events.  Greyfox’s Last Stand started out selling rocks, some
    jewelry I had made from rocks, and some herb plants I grew.  When
    Greyfox noticed that most of the people who stopped were women, he
    added knives to his inventory to attract male customers.  But that
    wouldn’t start for three years yet.

    In Silver City, we made a bunch of new friends.  The first one,
    we found at Bear Creek Herbs (left).  Michael is a toad-licking
    shaman who traveled to Mexico twice a year to collect herbs and
    psychedelic toads.  His mentor as an herbalist was Mexican, and
    from Michael I learned about plants I’d never heard of before.

    Michael steered us toward the local food co-op, where members all
    spent time as volunteers minding the store, which brought us into
    contact with people whose interests intersected ours.  After
    Greyfox started the nude modeling and teaching the intro to shamanism
    courses (that’s him at right outside Light Hall at WNMU where he
    taught) we met more, and the business cards we stuck on bulletin
    boards all over town started bringing calls and even more interesting
    people.  We encountered some confusion because we called our
    business “Soulmates Unlimited” and some thought it was a dating service.

    One card I put up in the laundromat in Bayard caught the eye of a
    woman who taught school there and published a little weekly newspaper
    devoted largely to environmental and “alternative” news.  She
    wanted to interview us, and we ended up having her over to our place
    once, visiting her place a few times, and coming to school to show her
    second grade class our rock collection.  When she printed our
    interview, it took up about three pages of the paper and dealt in depth
    with how we met and some of our shared past life experiences. 
    “The Psychic and the Shaman” brought more interest in Greyfox’s classes
    and our work. 

    When
    we started looking for a place to live, it became apparent that Silver
    City, being a college town, didn’t have much to offer in low-rent
    vacancies.  The places we looked at were either too expensive or
    too squalid for us.  We settled in Bayard, a few miles away, in a
    trailer at a small 6-unit court beside the landlord’s house.  The
    view out our windows, past the neighbors’ trailers, was a fantastic
    vista of hogbacks that lit up in glorious colors with the rising and
    setting sun.  Just across an arroyo, another neighbor had peacocks
    and so our honeymoon was spent to the accompaniment of their cries for
    “help”.

    Michael, the herbalist, mentioned to me that the desert was in bloom
    around Saguaro National Monument, and since Greyfox was tied down at
    the University teaching and posing for art students, I took off on a
    week-long excursion alone in Gina, to see and photograph
    wildflowers.  A bit later, between terms when Greyfox had free
    time, we did some excursions together.  Those were fun times, and
    we had a lot of fun in our little honeymoon trailer, too.  I
    wanted an apron and couldn’t find any for sale locally, so I made
    one.  As I sewed, he read aloud to me and it was pleasant for
    both of us.  

    We played cards (Samba) at our kitchen table overlooking the trailer
    court.  We noticed unusually heavy traffic at one neighbor’s
    place, usually at night.  We paid closer attention and soon
    saw what appeared to be money and merchandise changing
    hands.  A few times we saw people in the cars or on the
    porch, passing smokes around.  Our conclusion was that there was
    some drug dealing going on, and that it probably involved the sacred
    herb that we were both missing.  Greyfox finally asked the
    neighbor one day when he saw him out in the yard, if he knew where we
    could get any weed.  He said he didn’t, and I guess we scared
    him, because there was less of that traffic after that.  The only
    weed we had the entire time was a little film can sent to us from
    Alaska by my ex.

    Honeymoons are generally supposed to be times of sexual indulgence,
    and ours was all of that.  “Pleasure breaks” could happen just
    about any time unless Greyfox was depressed or upset.  He was
    having a lot of mood swings that mystified me until he revealed that he
    had run out of  Xanax and was having a hard time with the
    withdrawal.  I saw that as yet another betrayal, because he had
    told me in Harrisburg that he was tossing out the rest of his
    Xanax.  He, even now, attributes his decision to take early
    retirement and move to Alaska to impaired judgement from Xanax. 
    He doesn’t recall how long he was on it, somewhere between one and
    three years.  He didn’t know, until I showed him the PDR, that the
    stuff was only to be prescribed for short-term management of acute
    anxiety.

    Then there was the alcohol binge.  Alcohol deserves some
    comment here because it has been a focus of most of the trouble in our
    relationship.  One reason Greyfox wanted to come to Alaska was for
    healing, to “fight” his addictions.  For many years, he and I have
    carried on a discussion of “fighting” versus “transcending”
    addictions.  I say that “what you resist persists” and that one
    must, to succeed, let the addiction go.  He is programmed
    differently and it has only been very recently that the little light
    bulb went on for him and he grasped that concept of
    transcendence.  I think he now has a chance.

    [edit, November 10, 2005: 
    I must have written this during one of Greyfox's occasional dry periods
    of remorse following a big sickmaking binge.  He did work at
    staying sober from time to time, and from time to time he even
    convinced me that he was going to make his abstinence permanent. 
    It was not until May 23, 2003,
    that he started taking orthomolecular amino acid supplements,
    transcended his old 12-step one-day-at-a-time programming and made a
    lifetime commitment to staying clean and sober.  He has kept that
    commitment for two and a half years now, longer than I had seen him
    stay sober, and goes to NA meetings mostly to play the heretic and tell
    them that, "One day at a time is a back door through which it is easy
    to relapse."]

    But back then, on our honeymoon, he was still playing games. 
    He said he needed to go on a shamanic retreat, that he felt impelled to
    climb the mountain at Rockhound State Park and do a vision quest. 
    He left me in Bayard and went.  What he ended up doing was parking
    the Jimmy in the lot at the Geolapidary Museum and drinking about
    three liters of hard stuff over the course of a couple of days. 
    That was during the filming of the movie, Gas Food Lodging there at the
    museum.  It was, of course, what he planned all along.  When
    he came back later than planned, sick, hungover and professing remorse,
    I was pissed off.  All indications suggest that he had been
    accustomed to getting sympathy when he made himself sick. 
    Surprise, Vodka-breath!  No sympathy here.  Suffer, Asshole.

    I almost took off alone in Gina, headed north.  He cried and
    pleaded.  He promised it would never happen again.  He gave
    me a reassuring line of bullshit I’ve heard, in practically the same
    words every time, a dozen or more times since then.  I recognized
    it as “the addict talking”, something I know a lot about from street
    experience and professional training.  We talked about AA and
    other addiction strategies.  His alcoholism was never a secret,
    and his lip-service has always maintained that he wanted to quit
    drinking, while behaviorally he showed he was in denial about his
    addiction. 

    He is a classic binge drinker and his drunken behavior usually
    involves bizarre public displays.  I took a picture once, in our
    driveway at home, of him naked and dancing on the roof of our
    car.  The pictures I’ve taken and some recordings I made of his
    mooing sounds when he was in a blackout, have been effective tools for
    showing him some advantages to sobriety, but not nearly as effective as
    the time he was jailed when, in my absence as I worked a summer music
    festival, a neighbor noticed him in the yard, naked, waving a gun
    around and raving semi-coherently about killing himself. 

    Greyfox’s latest binge was about two weeks ago.  Several months
    before that I had gotten fed up with his sneaking drinks in the
    evenings at home and told him if he wanted to drink he’d have to do it
    elsewhere.  He has a little travel trailer parked on my lot across
    the highway, and for months he would occasionally say he was
    “going to spend the night across the road.”  He has a hard time
    talking about drinking, but we’re working on that as he begins to
    see the addiction not in terms of “character defect” but in terms
    of neurotransmitter imbalance.  For the first few months of the
    “over there” plan, he would be back in the morning.  That last
    time, however, he didn’t come back when he said he would.

    Midday, I went over and checked, determined he was still alive and
    drunk, and left him there.  That night he showed up on the
    doorstep and I said he had to leave because he was still
    intoxicated.  Then, as I watched him stagger back out the
    driveway and slam into a tree that was nowhere near his intended route,
    I stopped him.  He was soaked with cold rain, and barely
    articulate.  Shivering, all he could say was, “cold”.  I let
    him in and led him to his bed.

    Later, we had our old familiar confrontation about the drinking and
    about the divorce.  The gist of it is that I won’t be his enabler
    and I don’t want to accept the risks he presents with his
    drinking.  One of those risks is my own anger.  On one of his
    binges, a four-day marathon that occurred at a time when he had several
    commitments and I had to deal with the people who came around looking
    for him, I came very close to killing him.  I had had to wrestle a
    loaded pistol away from him when he threatened to shoot me.  Then
    he passed out and I searched his trailer and removed all the
    firearms.  (Rules on his “over there” drinking would include
    no firearms and no motor vehicles.) The search had turned up a
    partial bottle and a full liter of alcohol.  I poured them all
    over his inert form and stood there with the lighter in my hand,
    contemplating the delicious thought of fox flambé.

    Anyhow, that latest cold, wet binge of his, just possibly,
    could really be his last.  [Obviously, it wasn't, quite.]  He
    has changed his tune and begins to see some of the fallacies in his
    belief system that have perpetuated the addiction.  He’s working
    on his neurotransmitters and willingly talking about his
    cravings.  A couple of days after that binge we went on our little
    getaway for my birthday and had the sort of honeymoon I would have
    loved the first time around.  But that first time the honeymoon
    wasn’t so great.

    There
    were good times, definitely.  But being with a dysphoric addict in
    withdrawal isn’t a whole lot more fun than being one. 

    We packed up (note the stuff piled on and around our cars) and left
    our little honeymoon trailer in Bayard.  On the way out of town,
    we stopped back at the elementary school again, at the invitation of
    the second graders who had loved our rock show and tell.  Each of
    them had a gift for us, and we had to find room for another box of
    rocks.  One of those rocks I tried to refuse, but the teacher
    assured me the child and his parents wished us to have it.  It was
    an ancient core stone of agatized wood, from which some knapper had
    knocked flakes for tools.  It is still the centerpiece of my
    collection.  I’m a fool for old artifacts.  They have such
    interesting stories to tell.

    Neither
    of us had ever been to Yellowstone.  Our route north took us up
    through Four Corners again, with stops in Canyonlands, Arches and
    Dinosaur National Monument among others. 

    We stayed a few days in the Inn at Old Faithful, a place I was
    reminded of when we stayed recently at the Talkeetna Alaskan
    Lodge.  Our trip was timed to get us to Bellingham, Washington in
    time to keep our reservations on the Alaska Marine Highway ferry. 
    The trip up the Inside Passage was beautiful.

    For me, getting home was wonderful.  I had Doug on my lap
    before I could get out of Gina.  I threw myself into gardening and
    Greyfox started building a sweat lodge.  He was still dysphoric
    and bitter, completely out of his element in a place where his public
    relations skills (he had been a professional liar) had no
    value and where he would be called upon to slime salmon and swing a
    hammer and axe for the first time in his life.  Still, there were
    good times.  The best thing about our little family (and all three
    of us acknowledge this) is the laughter.  If we didn’t all have
    well-developed senses of humor, this could have turned into a
    tragedy.  But in our house, comedy is king.

Comments (11)

  • You are so brutally honest that it sometimes takes my breath away.  As you are still together, I guess you have worked out some of the problems of the early days…you are a very tolerant person to persevere through the honeymoon.  Spot

  • I’ll cop to being tolerant, but Greyfox is the one who perseveres. Just recently, the day after his last drunk, I asked him if the only way I could get him out of here was to go through the legal business of filing for divorce and a restraining order. He admitted it was.
    He followed me home from the honeymoon. And he really is a fun person to be with most of the time. He just had some unfortunate family and cultural programming, and we both have addictions, only to different substances. We are soulmates, and it is easy for me to see these hassles between us as challenges to my own growth and transcendence. I need challenge. Without it, I just coast along, growing stagnant.
    Did I mention that I love him? I really, really, wholeheartedly and unconditionally love him. It is just some of his behavior I don’t like. I’m not an easy person to live with, either.

  • Ah…love.  I’ve watched my sister in law put up with the same shit (er…’scuse me) from my brother…the only man in my immediate biological family who’s not a recovering alcoholic…he prefers to practice it daily w/abandon.

    My house feels like a sweat lodge right now.  Who told summer it could come back in September??

  • I hate alcohol with a purple passion. Can’t we all just smoke some dope?

  • the one problem with dope is that it can turn you into an incredibly boring person.

    well that, and the paranoia that accompanies it on occaision.  (every recent occaision for me).  at least its decriminalised here.

    in any case, im with Susu.  Love pulls you through no matter what.  I can say this with some definitiveness as I am also with an undecisive Libran who doesnt realise when shes lying or hurtful but loves me completely and i love her.  eh.  lifes a sheet of glass presented to you and you blow your own bottle to sit in..

  • I liked how you said Vodka breath..suffer asshole LMAO

  • Sorry I haven’t been past recently… I’ve been busy having a life and haven’t put much time into Xanga.

    Alcohol is a weird drug.  I’ve never found it addictive – I can binge or have a brew a night and then have a dry month and not miss it in the least.  I think the key is that it was never an escape for me.  I either never had anything scary enough to retreat from or I just forced myself to deal with my crap dry.  In fact – looking back at my life the times when I have gone grog-free are the times when I was under most stress and just dealing with it without the crutch.

    Then again – some people DO have a physical tendency towards addiction to the drug and I’m not going to judge them in the least.  I think the difference between a physical addiction and a psychological one is significant and probably makes for a lot of the difference in the transcendance vs forebearance debate you mentioned above.

    YMMV

    Ged

  • You ARE going to make this into a book, right? I think it would do quite well….just keep it comin’! *HUGS* & Pax~Z

  • Whew! I’m glad it ‘s workin’

  • “Surprise, Vodka-breath!  No sympathy here.  Suffer, Asshole.”  *lol*

    Your relationship makes mine look pretty tame.  That gives me much hope for a more positive direction. 

  • I just finished the blog. Really very helpful.
    Thanks for sharing such an amazing blog.

    Tacoma Roofers

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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light List Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”62″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light Grid Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”63″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Shading 1 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”64″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Shading 2 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”65″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium List 1 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”66″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium List 2 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”67″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 1 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”68″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 2 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”69″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 3 Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”70″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Dark List Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”71″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful Shading Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”72″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful List Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”73″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful Grid Accent 4″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”60″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light Shading Accent 5″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light List Accent 5″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light Grid Accent 5″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Shading 2 Accent 5″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium List 1 Accent 5″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium List 2 Accent 5″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 3 Accent 5″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”70″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Dark List Accent 5″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”71″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful Shading Accent 5″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”72″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful List Accent 5″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”73″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful Grid Accent 5″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”60″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light Shading Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”61″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light List Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”62″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Light Grid Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”63″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Shading 1 Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”64″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Shading 2 Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”65″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium List 1 Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”66″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium List 2 Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”67″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 1 Accent 6″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 2 Accent 6″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Medium Grid 3 Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”70″ semihidden=”false”
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful List Accent 6″/>
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    unhidewhenused=”false” name=”Colorful Grid Accent 6″/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”19″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” qformat=”true” name=”Subtle Emphasis”/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”21″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” qformat=”true” name=”Intense Emphasis”/>
    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”31″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” qformat=”true” name=”Subtle Reference”/>
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    <w:lsdexception locked=”false” priority=”33″ semihidden=”false”
    unhidewhenused=”false” qformat=”true” name=”Book Title”/>

    /* Style Definitions */
    table.MsoNormalTable
    {mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
    mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
    mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
    mso-style-noshow:yes;
    mso-style-priority:99;
    mso-style-parent:”";
    mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
    mso-para-margin-top:0in;
    mso-para-margin-right:0in;
    mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
    mso-para-margin-left:0in;
    line-height:115%;
    mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
    font-size:11.0pt;
    font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
    mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
    mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
    mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
    mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
    mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
    mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}

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