I spent the next week and a half living in my parents basement with my children. The house was filled with out of town relatives, but everyone was sleeping. My husband was still in the hospital, so there I sat in the basement, crying, watching my children sleep. It felt like my life had ended and I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.
I have never been much of a drinker, but the refrigerator in the garage was full of Smirnoff Ice. Thankfully my parents computer was in the basement, so I got on facebook to read all the messages people had left me and I updated my status - I don't know what I am supposed to do now, so I guess I will just get drunk. I was desperate for someone to talk to.
A woman I went to school with heard my cry for help and messaged me. We didn't really know each other, but she talked to me all night. Or at least until I was so drunk I couldn't type anymore. I don't know if I ever told her how much it meant to me to have someone to talk to that first night, but hopefully she will know if she reads this.
