Author: Lauren Hoegler

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Sometimes you are having a rough morning and your “Grandmother” sends you a message from heaven to tell you it will be ok… Or about a scam.

I still have so many questions. But I feel better overall.

Thanks for the giggle scammer. Tell my Nigerian prince long lost relative I’m still waiting on that cash too.

My grandma passed away in 2010 and she closed every individual instant message with “Love, Grannie.” Glad to know she is tech savvy these days.

#heavenhaswifi

#nottodayscammer

#thebahamasreally

I wasn’t totally crazy, they used to dissect something, EVEN in the distance learning class. I didn’t dare ask what. 😬

There could have been a cat in there! Not really. Probably an owl pellet or something cheap.

I already did the cat thing anyway. Mrs. Teals A&P was legit.

Does anyone know where the bookstore keeps the “more hours in a day” add on pack, Imma need a few of those.

Sam said I had to look like a kid for school. #firstdayfunbuns

So I signed up for a “hybrid class.” That means that you do part of it Online and part in person. For this particular section we only go to campus for an orientation (Friday) and for our tests. So sadly, I have not actually been on campus while it was actually in session.

That being said, perhaps I would have been better served with a class that involves less technology? Oh well, I’m in it now! Part of my very expensive book purchase was actually a voucher for a distance learning lab kit. I had no clue what that entailed, just that I had to sign in to that companies website and then they drop shipped it to me immediately. We will get to that part of my Monday fun shortly.

The school also apparently just changed their online class management program/site/dooflachy at the beginning of the summer. So instructions on online courses is convoluted anyway because no one is used to this current system. Or at least I’m telling myself this because it makes me feel better about my struggles. It’s probably super simple, but I’m three kids dumber now and far more tired than a lot of these young whipper snappers.

I was told I wouldn’t be able to log in to this program till Monday. So Monday morning I anxiously logged in to the 14 pathways to get to the course. There is also a separate deal where we can do our lab work? I’m still all confused but I’m hoping Friday will clear that part up. We had several tasks we needed to complete. The first of which was to introduce ourselves to our classmates and list three things we want to learn. You can’t see what everyone ahead of you wrote till you make your post.

I wrote something fairly generic on being a returning student and my three topics I want to learn more about. Almost instantly I could then view other posts. It was immediately clear the other posters were traditional students. One opened their post with their major, age, and goals for learning. Guess which one of those grabbed my attention. I had a hysterical laugh till I cried moment because it was suddenly very obvious (despite it being an online course) that the other students (that had posted before me) were closer in age to my TWO year old than to me. I have clothes older than my classmates. Said clothes also have a better chance of being their size than mine, but I digress. That’s both funny and a reality check. I got email notifications all day when other classmates did their posts. At least a few are also non-traditional students. I’m 100% certain I’ll recognize them when I see them in person Friday.

Note the dog judging me.

Anyway, I also noted most of the students are hoping to get in to the nursing program. So they are my competition. So I tried desperately to get my first chapter read, log in to the 4 million websites we use, watch the videos, download all the PowerPoints, print the worksheets, etc. All the while, momming. It was E’s first day of school. I had promised S I would take him to Target to pick out something with his money from lemonade stand and for vacuuming my parents car. A was exited to go to Tah-gate but was not so excited to BE there. And she shared her feelings loudly. While we were there I got a notification my “distance lab kit” was delivered. Intriguing. Scary. Screaming kid… MY screaming kid! Totally forgot about the mystery package.

Once we finally left (and I know I brought it on myself by a post I made in a mom group about hilarious but gross things kids do), I hear A in the back seat saying, “I wash mommy!” I look back and her hands are all wet. My brain was unable to process what could possibly be happening and then she commenced licking her hands. “All kweeeeeen!” Vomit in my mouth. I expect we will all have cooties later today.

I get her home and washed her hands (with the soap and water, not by licking them in case you are questioning this). We ate lunch, S worked on his legos, I tried to read and comprehend more pages unsuccessfully. I’m guessing around 1:30 I ran to the front door to get the lab kit.

I’ve taken anatomy before. I saw this box and I suddenly panicked that there was something to dissect in there, at home. I mean every other anatomy class I have had has involved dissecting a cat, a fetal pig, a frog, an owl pellet (it’s a real thing, think owl hairball). And based on the size and former experiences, my mind immediately worried there was a thawing cat in there.

I realized slightly slower than your average 19 year old that was ridiculous based on many things. It was a box of stuff for experiments that could be done (and stored) safely at home.

No animals. Just this guy. And some beakers, clove oil (I don’t know what for, but it’s is potent). Definitely not a cat though. I need more coffee. I should have totally done a YouTube unboxing video of me opening this.

Ah well, I am off to an interesting start with new college. If nothing else this is going to present some awesome writing prompts for my blog. Or book. How does one write a book anyway? Or monetize a blog? Do you guys just send me checks? Kidding! I know the kids these days (I go to school with them) and they said Venmo is the in thing. My check book is “So extra.”

This was all so much funnier in my head yesterday.

So, I did this thing this week, outside of all the normal things that were going on with school getting ready to start for the kids.

Well really, I did lots of things. I applied to a community college, declared a major, met with an advisor on one campus, met with another advisor on another campus, emailed yet a third advisor, turned in transcripts, got an ID, got a parking pass, registered for a class – Anatomy & Physiology I (A.G.A.I.N., because they like you to have taken such classes in the last 5 years, and that is reasonable*), set up an email, did an online orientation, set up an account for the schools registration/records system, and bought a very expensive VERY large book. If you have known me long, you probably have a snarky comment for me on not rushing in to things (I’ve been talking about this since like 2007).

I have some big hard goals. I have to ace this class. And it’s hard. I have to take the TEAS test this Fall. I have to go get my CNAI AGAIN (never let your certifications lapse, ugh). One day when all the advisors and transcript evaluators and mermaids and unicorns agree I’m ready, I’ll apply to the nursing program. It’s very competitive, they accepted roughly 50% of their applicants this year for example. And it just gets harder from there, I mean that’s just applying to the program. Just writing this kind of makes me a little nauseated. I’m not entirely sure I’m smart enough for all this. But…

Monday is my First Day of like Twenty-Teenth Grade!

Where does one get the hottest Trapper Keeper these days? Or perhaps a Hypercolor t-shirt? Can I get a meal plan at a dining hall for myself and my family?

When you are over 35 and pregnant they call you maternally geriatric, is there a note in my file somewhere that says I’m educationally geriatric?!?

If there is, is there better parking for that? Kidding, I’m sure there is also a note about the “freshman 15ish” and requiring another fitness elective or something.

Pray for me, I’m anxious.

*To get in to the nursing program they want you to have had Intro to Chemistry in high school or college. No time limit, just ya know in this lifetime. They verbally accepted my Honors Chemistry from high school from a few years ago (1996 people!), they were not so impressed with College Forensic Chemistry mind you (also not recent to be fair).

If someone tells me I have to retake Algebra (I actually have a reoccurring nightmare that I didn’t pass it and have to go back, let’s all hope that’s not coming to fruition) I will legit cry and possibly throw myself on the ground kicking (I’m around a two year old a lot). This would be basically pointless too since I’ll most likely find out by an email. Just be warned if you show up at our house and I have the snurps (when you cry so hard you can’t catch your breath “snuurp, snuurp, snuuuuuuuuuurp!”) maybe don’t ask about how school is.

Just say a prayer, and call about an exorcist. There is probably an advisor to help with that.

I’ve had this topic on my heart for awhile and I think today is the perfect day for it.

Happy 65th Birthday to my dad, David Schweppe. It’s bittersweet because he passed away on October 1st, 2004.

He was a month shy of turning 51. I was 24. My brother was 19. The thing is, we don’t often talk about the HOW of it.

My mom and dad were high school sweet hearts. They got married young but both went to school. My mom became a nurse. My dad went to Virginia Tech for his Bachelors and then his Masters degree from NC State. They waited to have kids. I was born when they were 26 which wasn’t that common for their generation since they married so young. As often happens, their days of drinking and such ended with my mom’s pregnancy. Or they did for my mom anyway. My dad lost his drinking buddy (as another family member put it).

He was a functional alcoholic I suppose for awhile. He excelled at his career and we moved quite a bit for him to move up in the ranks. Around the time I was 5ish and my brother was an infant my mom reached her breaking point. I remember a night when my dad had too much and was sloppy drunk. I was 5 so I just remember bits and pieces but I believe he fell and ended up needing stitches in his head? I remember blood on the bathroom floor. I’m not sure of the exact timing of it all but my mom decided that was not the best situation to have us in and we left one night and drove to stay with her family out of state.

There was an intervention, they were separated, and eventually divorced. We had moved to mom’s sisters house and later a townhouse near them in WV. Dad was in Arlington, VA and as far as I knew was doing well with sobriety. But that’s not really a topic adults share with young children.

The years went by and both of my parents remarried. We moved to North Carolina with my mom and Tom. We went to visit my dad when school and schedules allowed. I was under the impression that my dad was sober. I saw him have a drink at dinner or during the holidays but I didn’t see him drunk for the better part of 15 years. I thought he was cured. My brother didn’t even know he had ever had a drinking problem. He was too little the first time around. My dad seemingly turned to a workaholic instead of an alcoholic.

Then things took a turn. I was far enough away I didn’t see it happening and also young and self absorbed trying to work my own way through things in my life.

Within a matter of a few years, both of my grandparents passed away. My mom passed away after battling breast cancer several times over many years. While they weren’t married anymore, they never disliked each other (and for that I am grateful). I know that took a toll on my dad. He took a high up position at a different company after having been at one company for the rest of his career. He soon realized it wasn’t as healthy of a company as he thought (or so I was told) and he left the company. Without another job lined up.

What’s a workaholic to do?

Around 2000 there was a beach trip where I realized he was not sober. I’ll skip the details of the situation, I wasn’t there at first so I was told about it by phone. While I was mad about the situation, I was more worried and scared. WE (his whole family) wanted to get him help. After talking to the family that he saw more often we got a picture of how bad things were.

Over the next few years there were several stays in rehab. If you have never experienced someone that is in true detox from alcohol, it’s heartbreaking. I vividly remember talking on the phone to him and he sounded like he had a stroke. He went to the fancy rehab and when that failed and eventually he was forced to try rehab again, he went to the county rehab and later a halfway house. During that time he had an amazing knowledge of pop culture, movies (I remember his verbal review of Napoleon Dynamite), BET on the shared television, stuff that was just not the norm for my dad before that point.

I am grateful for this time though because over those years I talked to him on the phone a LOT. Adult conversations about cooking, travels, emotions, his drinking, my mom, etc. It was back in the days of yore when you paid for individual minutes on cell phones. I had many cell phone bills in the $600 range, but I didn’t care, even being a broke college student. While I knew I was in some way enabling him by answering and having the same phone conversation 19 times (not an exaggeration) in one day, I was scared and worried for him. He was fragile when he was sober. He was an emotional drinker and was very down when he was drinking. I begged him to talk to his therapist about anxiety/depression medication during that time. My brother and I didn’t visit him much during this time. I regret that but at the same time it wasn’t really possible based on his state and wasn’t in our best interest either. We also didn’t really tell anyone outside of his family what was going on. We didn’t want to embarrass him. The stigma is real, even though a lot of those people wouldn’t judge, and loved him dearly. It just felt like something we had to keep private.

He would have periods of sobriety that were wonderful, but they didn’t last.

In September 2004 (I was 24) I was working in racing and traveling every weekend. We shared hotel rooms and cars. We were not able to take weekends off. That’s just how racing is, even today.

I received a call from my uncle that my dad was in the hospital. My memories are hazy about how it all happened but it was something along the lines of he had hit his head and maybe injured his shoulder as well.

By God’s grace we were in Dover, Delaware. My coworkers at the time were kind enough to let me and a friend use one of our vehicles to drive from Dover to Washington, DC. I went in to visit him by myself. He was awake and coherent but not doing well. He was restrained because he kept trying to pull his IV out and get up. I got to spend sometime with him. Not much, but some. It was so hard to leave.

The next week I got a call when I was home in NC that he had a massive heart attack and they were having trouble keeping his blood pressure up. His organs were failing after all the abuse and he was unresponsive and on life support. Things were very bad and my step-mom suggested that if we wanted to say goodbye we should come to DC quickly. I went to my brothers work and told him. I feel sick just remembering that day. We both packed quickly and started the 6 hour drive to DC praying we would make it in time.

You cannot prepare yourself for seeing someone like that. My dad wasn’t there anymore really but just seeing his body on all those machines, anyway…

He was stableish but not responsive I guess. We stayed there all day. But the timing of it all now has slipped away or been blocked out. I know I stayed there on a chair through the night and sometime the next day my step-mom and grandmother forced me to go to her townhouse and take a nap. Later that day we went back and after hearing from the doctor that he was brain dead, my step-mom, my brother, and I made the impossible decision to remove him from life support. We were there with him. He never took another breath when they disconnected the machines.

I often wonder what the hospital staff thought or knew about him in those times. Not that it matters, but they didn’t know the real him or us. He was a well educated, successful man with a wife and children. They couldn’t have know that though. His disease hid all of that. To them he was probably just another drunk.

The next few days as we worked out funeral arrangements and his cremation I felt like I wasn’t living real life, I was walking around in a nightmare.

It was a small service. While he was a hilariously witty, intelligent, just fun, and loving person to be around, his alcoholism the last few years taken a huge toll on his relationships. My step-mom asked me if I would like to talk at the service. I have extreme terror about public speaking but I wrote out what I wanted to say.

I found it this week while I was packing up as we prepare to move. I didn’t read it at the service. I just couldn’t.

I’ll share that now on what would be his 65th birthday.

“I think we can all agree that the last few years have been very trying for our family. I want to look back and remember the happy, silly, and important times with dad…

I want to remember playing dress up.

I want to remember playing board games and going to the children’s book store.

I want to remember beach trips and dad’s special tanning abilities. He had three colors; white, pink, and red.

I want to remember learning most of what I know about cooking, whether it was meatballs or elaborate chocolate desserts.

I want to remember watching dad play with my younger cousins and the infamous “happy feet” game.

I want to remember the cards and flowers that dad sent on every holiday and occasion.

I want to always be grateful for having two parents and three step-parents that always got along.

I want to remember the sacrifice Dad made by letting Carl and I stay in NC, our comfort zone, after mom died.He truly put our needs above his own even though it was so hard for him.

I hope that we are all able to focus on the happy times and funny stories we have. Dad had the gift of a wonderful sense of humor. I think Carl and I both were lucky to have inherited this gift from him and our mom. I know that the humor, happy memories, and wonderful family will be what brings us through the times ahead.”

I apologize for this being so long and sad, but that’s how life is sometimes. As I get older I appreciate the time I did have (even the expensive calls and sad times).

I often dream that he is alive but I can’t get in touch with him. Or if I have a cooking question or recipe that I love, I think for just a second I’ll just call him about it. But then real life hits me.

My point here is this. Alcoholism is a terrible disease. The stigma around it and all addiction make it that much harder.

Twice a week my schedule puts me at a place where I see people leaving an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I noticed it right away a few years ago. They don’t necessarily post that’s what is happening (it’s supposed to be anonymous and all) but after living around alcoholism I think I’m just very aware of it around me. I see the cars and I silently cheer those folks on when I see the same cars there. I pray for them, their sobriety, and their loved ones. I kind of want to go in and tell them our story from the side of their loved ones. These are the things you miss if you aren’t here, your grandkids, the weddings of your children… But again, it’s anonymous and I don’t want to intrude. Plus, I would have kids with me, awkward!

Do you know someone that has an addiction problem? While you cannot make them change, I encourage you to tell them how it makes YOU feel and encourage them to seek treatment.

Do YOU have a problem that you need help with? Be brave enough to know it’s OK to ask for help.

I won’t pretend to know how to help, I have lots of sadness, guilt, and anger of my own on not fixing my dad. But I couldn’t. The disease was bigger than him. He couldn’t even fix himself, and he did try. But I’m OK and the happy memories overpower the sadness now.

Addiction doesn’t discriminate. And it’s growing. I fear for my children.

Let’s as a people try to address the stigma surrounding addiction. Let’s talk about it. Let’s support each other. Let’s teach our children.

Here are just a few organizations out there to help. If you know others, please post them too. Maybe just one person needs to see this today.

https://www.celebraterecovery.com/

https://www.aa.org/

Thank you for letting me share.