Dr. Abby Lockhart
08 February 2009 @ 02:21 pm
Abby wrote out the check for the rent she owed Cait and then adjusted the balance on the handwritten register she kept in her checkbook. Looking at the pitiful figure, she laughed. It was laugh or cry, really, and why bother to cry now? She’d been playing the game of financial roulette for most of her life. Savings were something other people had debt was what Dr. Lockhart kept (and incurred, grew, expanded and compounded).

She hated the first of the month, every month. It wasn’t that she disliked paying rent or that she didn’t like her ‘landlord’, truth be told she thought of Caitlin as more than a roommate and more than her boyfriend’s daughter. She was a friend. A friend who was head and shoulders above herself where money was concerned—this too, wasn’t unusual for Abby. After all, she counted John Truman Carter, III as a friend and one didn’t get much more disgusting affluent than that, unless you wanted to consider Robbie Fellowes (and Abby really didn’t think of the quasi-celebrity and music mogul in those terms regardless of what he lined his pockets with) and his ilk. She just really hated the reminder that not only was she so far behind, but she was still years away from even being able to try and catch up.

She still had a year and a half left of her residency program to go, a year and a half of being ridiculously underpaid for the hours she worked. Then there would be another year as an attending (please, please, let her find an attending position at her current hospital or at least somewhere in Manhattan) with better pay but not great, not until she passed her boards and became a certified emergency physician. Abby shook her head. Even once (if) that happened and her pay began to reflect something akin to justice for her efforts there were still loans to repay, debt to dig herself out from under and no matter what Carter said, she would give back every single cent he handed her for that final semester of med school.

Maybe some day she’d be able to write a rent check and not bat an eyelash at the figure. Maybe some day she’d write that check and it wouldn’t be for a bedroom in someone else’s condo. Maybe.

ooc babble about money )
 
 
Dr. Abby Lockhart
19 January 2009 @ 01:18 am
 



I'm Abby and I'm an alcoholic.

How many of you introduce yourselves to various groups and communities this way, in the sarcastic and wry tone? Joking. We all do it. It's a tried and tired cliché, right? Wrong. Sometimes, some of us are serious. And the best part is, you never really know which ones. There are an estimated 2,000,000 members in 180 countries, from all sorts of backgrounds and every walk of life. Young, old, rich, poor, educated and ignorant. Professional and blue collar. Male and female. Sober and relapsed.

One day at a time.

That's the mantra. Stay away from one drink, one day at a time. Complete abstinence.

How?

It's different for everyone. Sure, follow the twelve steps. Hand it over to some 'higher power'. Go to group meetings and talk about how drinking, not drinking, drinking again...how it all affects you. Your life. Your family. It's all very you specific.

Whatever gets you through the day.

Sheer force of will? Stubbornness? The knowledge that there are others like you, struggling to maintain sobriety? Wanting to change? Wanting to live a life where alcohol doesn't control every aspect of what you do?

That last one makes me laugh. Sober or drunk, it controls everything. You want a drink. You think about it. Places to get one. The way it would taste. The way it would make you feel. How to hide the fact that you drank it. When you can have the next one. Yeah. It's still there. Always there. Waiting.

Which is why we take it one drink, one day at a time.

Every day is a victory.

That's what these coins symbolize. Taking back control of your life from the alcohol.

Maybe it's a week. Maybe it's six months. Could be five years. Twenty. It doesn't matter how long, it matters that you did it. One drink, one day at a time.

I have a lot of these coins. Different colors. I collect them.

I'm not sure if they help.

But I haven't had a drink in a while.
 
 
Current Mood: discontent