I was just turning 35 when my divorce started. My daughter was all of seven. I was losing my house because I couldn’t afford it by myself. I already have MS now for eight years. I pretended I wasn’t sad, scared, and everything was happy maybe for the sake of my daughter, maybe for the sake of myself, but looking back on things probably wasn’t the truth. I spent 10 years married three years before marriage with him. That was a long time and when it ended, I probably needed some emotional help but I never did anything like that. I really thought I was fine. I turned instead to going out Friday and Saturday nights (my daughter always slept by my parents) and drinking a lot at a place called Jugs and Strokers.
Jugs was a local bar near to my house that my friend’s friends (at the time I first met them) started going to. A biker bar that brought in all types of people. It had its own reputation. Girls danced on the bar, booby pictures were up on their website, and bras hung from the ceilings. It was a crazy place. I just fell in love with the craziness. We’d sometimes go somewhere first but we always ended at Jugs. I would drink until 4am, when they closed, sometimes both nights yet be at my parents by 10am to get my daughter. Sometimes I’d hang out with one of my guy friends until 7am and still get my daughter by 10am. It was crazy. I remember texting one of my friends just hurting, hung over, driving my daughter to a party and she was saying how she was still drunk on the soccer field. Could you imagine? You know how people smell after drinking? We all probably smelled like a brewery. I was driving my daughter still probably intoxicated.
I look back at my time at Jugs and I see a very unhappy girl. I was escaping my life each weekend but not in a healthy way. I drank a lot to the point I could have seen a big concern if my family ever realized, but I hid it well. I was a weekend alcoholic if that is such a thing. I was in a bar that I was never going to find my Mr. Right in because the girl that was in that bar wasn’t the real me. When I actually met a guy, he had a past and present that was dark. He was hot, built and for some reason this past and present excited me. He was a bad boy, because that’s who went to Jugs. The problem was I like to think I have this dark gothic side to me, but other then maybe my clothes color and hair, I am not dark. It just took me 4 years in a bad relationship and 2 years on a spiritual journey to realize that. When I got into this relationship, I stopped going to Jugs often. As my MS got worse, it became never. Jugs closed earlier this year.
I was in a very bad place during those Jug years, but I wouldn’t give them up. I had many, many laughs and I had many tears. I got my raven tattoo showing this side and it will always be one of my favorite tattoos. It’s a good reminder of where I was. Now I feel so light I could never imagine that life. Even writing about it is amazing that it was really me. Seems so long ago. It was a part of my life that wouldn’t, and couldn’t, ever happen again but the experience of it all still has cherished memories. Tonight I’m having dinner with 3 of my friends who were part of my Jugs experience. I love how we all laugh still to this day and still have the bond of Jugs .