Bye Bye Bottle

Oh no ! It couldn’t be? I found myself in some sort of horror sci-fi movie at the tender age of five. I stood frozen watching my  sacred source of liquid comfort fly through the air in slo-mo, like something out of the Matrix. It had landed in the corn fields, between stalks ten feet high. My bottle had been banned from the village by my older sister. I was going to start kindergarten and she had deemed it time that I no longer needed such an infantile crutch.

In retrospect, I’m thankful now that she spared me the ridicule and sheer terror I would have faced boarding that school bus with a bottle of milk in my hand. She obviously had a level of wisdom I had yet to develop. At the time, I felt like a desperate addict wondering how I was going to get my next fix!

This was a defining moment in my life as I stood at the great abyss, that massive field with hundreds of rows of terra cotta warriors staring me down. I pondered my next move.  Do I risk my life, go into battle and perhaps never return? Do I risk being maimed for life by a land mine or being decapitated by some wild agricultural creature that had yet to be discovered by the scientific community?

Or do I adapt and become a new and improved version of FatRat.   A stronger, wiser version, free of her “crack-cocaine-in-a-bottle” addiction. I  had no AA, no support group to stop this addiction. “ Hi, my name is FatRat and I’m a Milk-A- Holic.” This was cold turkey, old fashioned detox, sweat it out, face your demons girlie…move on.

And so I adapted. I became more resilient. I learned that I could live bottle free. And a funny thing happened on the way to the forum…I liked “me” better! I felt more resilient, more liberated. My sister knew what she had to do to help me advance to the next phase of my life. Thank you my dear sister. Without this act of kindness, tough love, self preservation or whatever you want to call it, I wouldn’t be the strong woman I am today.

At the time, I felt as if my world had caved in on me. I felt I had no inner strength. For five long years, I had been under the assumption that my “life source” sprang from an 8 oz plastic bottle. But low and behold, I came to realize that my “life source” was from within. It was there all of the time. I just needed to impetus to tap into into it.

And so it goes, with MS or any other crazy chronic disease or bump in the road…we adapt, we forge on and we find our inner strength. Its our essence. It is that inner being that allows us to wake up each morning and be thankful for another sunrise, a bird’s chirp, a smile, the hug of a loved one , a warm cup of coffee. And so it goes…One day at a time.

3 Replies to “Bye Bye Bottle”

  1. From abandoned bottles of milk to major bumps in the road of this life. Your courage and determination are quite impressive!!!

    Sending love you way,

    Stacey

  2. I’m laughing out loud reading this today 😂. I can see your little face staring out over that corn 🌽 field. Sometimes life pushes us in directions that are foreign and scary. Reading your words made me realize that everyone gets pushed about on paths we really don’t want to take. But given time…it all works out somehow. I believe that God has a hand in guiding us 😘
    Another wonderful read!!!!

  3. I remember the day the bottle hit the cornfield. It was a horrific event in all of our lives. I thought someone died. Couldn’t believe Lee threw it into the
    Land of No Return. I thought Lee had turned into the evil Witch. I was afraid more threatening moments were about to happen. Having you wean off the bottle was a nightly antagonizing hour of you pleading for the plastic. It finally subsided to my relief. I could go back to sucking my thumb in peace fore the next 40 years. My thumb was my life. I continued sucking my thumb even during the four years I had a full mouth of metal braces. I’m certain it made the process of straightening my teeth more lengthy. I felt so bad for my little sister when her bottle flew through the air never to return. I knew it was horrifying for you. I forgot about my thumb when I was 50. No one was around to notice and I don’t know how it happened. To this very day I don’t know what prompted it . Getting back to your beloved bottles, I hated the smell of them when you drank most but left enough to sour. I found them in various areas in the house. I was terrified by the actions of Lee that horrific day when your bottle went to bottle heaven. I still have my thumb but I don’t care.

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