The worst evening of my life: Wednesday, March 29, 1967   1 comment

March 30 1967 WW

Every March 29 & 30 I relive the worst night of my life and the day that I started the rest of my life.
 (The following are notes from previous years of posts and my diaries from 1967.)
On Wednesday evening, March 29, 1967, I left the Brass Rail, a restaurant I was working at in NYC on 47th Street and 7th Avenue, got drunk, stopped at the Stage Deli and had a Hymie’s Special (a triple-decker sandwich) with a side of French Fries. Stopped at a bar near Columbus Avenue and 75th Street, close to where I lived, and, oh yes, I might mention I walked from the deli about a distance of 30 blocks and had a nightcap which consisted of 3 scotch on the rocks. I left the bar and went next door to the pizza place and got a large pizza with everything on it to go.
I was 31 years old, fat, drunk, nauseated and hated myself for many reasons but, as I ate the pizza, mostly for being fat which I blamed all my failures on. I wanted to commit suicide but I didn’t know how or have the guts. (Pardon the pun.) I didn’t have the nerve to slash my wrists. I didn’t know how to get a gun and if I shot myself in the head I probably would have botched it–though I had been an ace shooter in the Marines–and wind up being a vegetable seeing and hearing everything but being unable to communicate. I couldn’t/wouldn’t overdose as I might botch that up too. Hang myself? What in my apartment would hold me up long enough?
I ran out of my apartment and walked from 75th street to the Everod Baths on 28th street stopping at a few bars along the way. I walked out the next morning feeling helpless, hopeless and not knowing where to turn.
Condensing the next 10 years into a few sentences: On Thursday, March 30, 1967, I walked into a Weight Watchers meeting at 12:30 PM on 57th street. I went on to lose over 100 pounds getting down to 167 pounds (for at least a week!LOL) I went to work for WW as a lecturer, meet the man who trained franchise owners to be, we became partners, moved to Memphis where we opened a franchise. In 1972 I went into Transactional Therapy which took me through the next 48 years with a lot of ups and downs but never thought of suicide again!
Today, 53 years later, I am so glad that I didn’t commit suicide. l smile remembering the so many good things I have experienced and dismiss the many failures I have had since then because I woke up this morning to a beautiful day–Monday, March 30, 2020!

Posted March 30, 2020 by greatmartin in Uncategorized

One response to “The worst evening of my life: Wednesday, March 29, 1967

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  1. We’re very glad you’re here to tell about it as well!

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