The following is an excerpt from my book Saturation A Memoir. You can find it on Amazon here: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B0067BBNKM
Today, I consider my decisions and departure during that time emotionally and psychologically violent. I was merciless and utterly selfish in my intoxication. I spared no one.
Both of my sons settled into their lives with their fathers. My oldest son’s Daddy and I shared joint custody. This meant that my son’s move to the mountains to live with his dad full-time wasn’t a complete and utter shock due to it being a new environment. He already lived there part-time anyway. His environment and friends stayed the same for the most part. And the drive down to Boulder to see his friends near our old home was only an hour away.
My youngest son had to adjust a bit as I had sent him to the east coast. While his father and his relatives all lived out there – my son had never lived with any of them, including his father except when his father and I were married. However, he did just fine. He had cousins his age and kids on every block to play with and he was adored. Like his big brother, he was and still is, extremely good natured, likeable, and approachable.
Without being fully aware of this – I’d done both of my sons a great service by sending them to live with their dads. I was snowballing headfirst into my drinking. Of course, had I gone to treatment then – or at least addressed my drinking, that would certainly have been a great service too. I will forever own what I’ve done and who I am.
All three of us were fortunate. I feel fortunate now because I know that I’d chosen very good men to father my children. My sons were fortunate to have dads that loved them and welcomed the opportunity to raise them. Both of my sons were set up in supportive, loving, and encouraging environments. However, knowing this did nothing to relieve me of my guilt and shame, and I drank to suppress this turmoil. The depths to which I sank as a member of the human species are nearly unbearable to recount. I had surrendered my own children. I left the fucking country without them.
I envisioned Dick and I settling into some kind of manageable living arrangement and that we’d send for my kids at the beginning of the school year. By August at the latest. However, as the law would have it, it turns out I was unavailable that August and wouldn’t see my sons again until the following December. I spent the first week of that August in jail. The remainder of the month was spent in an in-patient treatment center.
Things began to change in ways I could have never predicted.