Example Essay #7 pg 2

Whiskey love number too snuck up on me when I was busy starting over. I had a nervous breakdown after Jack so I changed majors and colleges and started anew. He was just a guy that was a friend of other friends that I would see in passing at functions, events, and Saturday nights with friends. He was not significant and I didn’t know his name. He tried several times to initiate conversation with me and I politely answered and moved to another room because he was drinking Canadian Club straight out of the bottle. The girls said hey he likes you and I said I don’t like drinkers and they giggled at me and told me I was way too serious. A few days later Jeff, Mr. Canadian Club, showed up at my door and asked me to go out for a drink with him. I politely told him no and that I didn’t drink or go to bars and did a good job of keeping my opinions to myself. The second day he came to my apartment door he asked if I would go out to dinner with him and that is when the past reared its ugly head as I had an out of body experience as if watching myself from above the situation as I regaled him with the story of dead Mr. Jack Daniels. Then if that wasn’t bad enough I told him I was washing my hair for the rest of his life and slammed the door in his face. I felt embarrassed by my behavior and the next day he showed up at my door again and asked me if he could wash my hair. I caved because he was innovative and obvious perused his goal with vigor. I went out on my first date with him to the movie Toy Story on Sept 2nd and one year later on September 2nd I married Jeff, my husband, Mr. Canadian Club. I always believed he would get better because he would stop drinking for months, and then go back secretly. Then he would get help and start again. At year 5 he lost control of the Canadian Club one night and I ended up with three broken ribs and so it went year 6, 7, 8 and always the promise that the Canadian Club would go and he loved me. As a Catholic I believed that marriage was a lifetime commitment so I constantly tried to solve our problem. AA, abuse counseling, marriage counseling you name I tried it or bought the book. Finally I was alerted one night by my best friend that my husband was in a bar with a woman and I didn’t believe it until he took me there and showed me. I confronted Mr. Canadian Club who was with our adult friends’ daughter and they freely admitted a 3 year affair. I went to work the next day and when I came home Mr. Canadian Club was gone, as was most of our stuff, and both our cars as my friend had driven me to work as I was in no condition to drive or work but had gone to work anyways. I surveyed the devastated landscape of my life while I began the business of dealing with the loss of whiskey man number two.
I was beginning the task of forcing my way up from the depths of clinical depression, working 2 jobs to hold on to my home I had only purchased 2 years prior when whiskey man number 3 saved my life. I was in such a dark place and one night worrying about the mortgage that I was barely able to pay since my husband (Mr. Canadian Club) had ran away with our assets and the contents of our bank account and left me with the house and all the bills. I was all alone in my kitchen but alone in my life and I was about to swallow an entire bottle of pills when whiskey man number 3, Todd, my best friend showed up unexpectedly at my door. I suppose I do believe God or some other divine power sent him to me at that moment and he confronted me immediately and flushed all the pills. He took control for me as I no longer could do it for myself. I stopped all the antidepressants, doctors, counselors and tried a new path. Todd, Mr. Southern Comfort, decided I needed to care about myself and feel good about myself and I could for the third and last time start anew. He decided he was going to help me start losing weight so I would be healthier and happier. We undertook a monumental task and 18 months later I had lost 162lbs. I felt better than I had in 15 years, and ran my first 5k race. I was so happy at my job, grieving the