What is the wagon?

Yes, it has been a couple months! Traveling, working, just general summer craziness. I don’t know how people keep up blogs so well. It’s not that I don’t want to… if only I had more time. I feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz who wants to repeat that, “if only I had more time…. if only I had more time…” would that wish come true?

Doubtful. Regardless. I had a few days where it helped to take the naltrexone at night at a very low dose and kept me in nice check. I think I’ve finally figured out how to take it and NOT get sick! Nausea is one thing I will not, cannot, ever endure.

This week is again a try at a full dry week. At least until Saturday. And I say that only because i might have a date. And yes, it is probably better not to drink on a date; however, I don’t want to overpromise myself the amount of strength to do that.

So I went to the store, purchased 1 or 2 of a bunch of non-alcoholic drinks. Ones that make me calm (or tired) and ones that make me energetic (hopefully). So it’s going to be like a normal day with coffee and wine. But hopefully healthier. Wouldn’t it just be a bummer if we all jumped on board of these fancy, vitamin, Adaptogen, mushroom waters and come to find out they cause liver failure?

So they call this being ‘on the wagon’ - I really wonder where that saying came from. All the explanations are kind of dull and boring and had something to do with water wagons that used to clean the streets but I guess because it’s such an old saying. Now we go to the extent of saying “dry” or “abstaining” or even… for some, “moderating.” I think I like the last one the best because there is something about this air of saying ‘never again’ like it sets someone up for failure. Why not give someone a tiny little out in case they do decide to imbibe. Hopefully, that doesn’t mean all their hard work is over.

26.2

I see it like running the marathon. Even when I was training for it (now 12 years ago)… the thing that keeps you going further and further is knowing that you have already come this far and starting over means you don’t get the new distance under your belt. There are training programs (goals) to meet to be able to run a full marathon. You train up to each new distance milestone. You build up. And you have to hit those goals, or you will never build up.

So when you are on mile 15 and your goal is 18 and you want to stop… you say… I can’t just run this 15 miles again tomorrow morning, it took me, (checks watch and wipes sweaty brow) 90 long hard minutes to get here. It’s only another 30 to go. Just get it done and you now can say you did 18 miles! So that’s what I am planning to do. Of course, when training for a marathon you have days where you are sore, you don’t have enough time…. but I have to think of training for this the same way. Eat right, get enough sleep, buy good shoes (good teas or other non-alcoholic beverages), make time for running (make time for meditating) … do the right things so that training for sobriety can stay on track.

Day 4

I sit here and should be beaming with pride. I’m not. I even shared my feelings on a message board of an online “program” that I joined about feeling angered by my own self. Of course members replied with comfort and support. But I’m angry that day 4 is a big deal.

Why the fuck should that be a big deal? Oh I know… it’s because I haven’t had a Day 5 in a long time. Why is that, my idiot brain asks! And trust me, I know, since I buy old school paper calendars every year and when I have a “day” I put a big heart and smiley face near it. Well I flipped through my calendars in recent years and while I could find many Day 1s and even 2s, a smidgen of 3s and 4s. I was probably sick those days…

It’s been years. How could this be? Was I living under a rock?

Now, I don’t think every day was a I drank myself into a disgusting puking mess. Fortunately, those were extremely rare. It was probably more often that I just drank excess… got loopy, ate too much and passed out in bed. I did also have many nights where I had just a couple. For a long time (I think), I drank the one or two glasses of wine or craft beer to relax after work and then probably only over binged on just weekends. But all of that went out the window the last couple years. A slow progression but it became just a weekday with little work at night and I’d imbibe, just as a celebration of not working 12 hours that day. And the weekends… those were turning into not just an evening out, start at 7pm… but an afternoon soiree into the evening. Practically all day beyond the ‘is it noon yet’ moment - I’ll hold it true to my heart that I rarely and I mean rarely drink before noon. And it’s gotta be a celebration or holiday. I held that close tight as my only saving grace.

So I sit here on Day 4… luckily without having gone through one symptom of withdraw… except maybe anxiety but I had that well before I ever imbibed too much, probably moreso than post-lush activities.

And these last 3 days, I’ve been watching all kinds of videos of recovering people, suddenly realizing this time could have never been a second better… I’m trying to stop before physical dependence. That is when for most of these people life changed… life got shitty and the downward spiral hit. It seems that once you are physically dependent, you end up rehabs or hospitals to try to stop. I have to take this as a magical gift from God that I threw up like that in front of my son and finally decided not another day. Not another day.

Well that was embarrassing

It was a friends 50th birthday… I pregamed. I had a few panic attacks I worked through, but the lovely white wine flowed. Then it hit me, the tears, and boom, I fell down. A lovely friend scooped me out of there and brought me walking down the street giving me a pep talk the whole way. I don’t even remember or know how I got to my room and how much she saw, probably not the throwing up. My 19 year old basically asking some friend on the phone what to do with me. I didn’t even make it to the toilet with the vomit. I made it a few feet away and then crawled out onto the rug almost incapacitated.

This is it. I’m done. I know I can’t beat myself up over it. I know I can’t continue to let myself feel shamed. I know my son will do a great job of that for the rest of my life. It ain’t going to be easy but I just have to totally stop.

The hole

I wish I had the time and energy to write more often. I mean I guess I have the time… I could take it from my chill and watch serial killer series, but believe it or not it’s my relaxation to do so! Problem is, sitting and chilling feels so much better with a glass of wine or beer next to me. So now I feel like I have to avoid TV at times so I don’t trigger that habit.

In the last month or so, I can’t say I’ve done the best. I had a trip to Paris, whim thing… lovely, but who cannot drink in Paris? I mean the vin…how could you not? So I guess my latest trips also are not encouraging for trying to remain sober. Guess I should visit a monastery next trip. Oh wait, I think they make beer at some of those monestaries.

Regardless, I am a visual person so I kind of find that visualizing what it’s like to get out of this ‘hole’ as I feel like it is. You feel stuck. It’s odd because I’m not dying without a drink. I’m not in pain, or feeling any withdraws…. I’m LUCKILY not that deep but when will that happen?

Regardless I try to think of how many bottles of alcohol I drank in my lifetime. Like if it was all piled up, would it fill a room? How big of a room? Isn’t that a scary thought?

So I visualize now this idea of getting out of the hole. The trapped feeling like this is my life, and I should just accept being down here because I tried climbing but I’d get up like 5 feet and fall back down. I’d get up 10 feet and fall back down. But I’m not getting close enough to be out of the damn hole!

They say work smarter, not harder. I do try hard. I have bought ever kind of non-alcoholic elixers hoping for that same relaxation I get from alcohol but without the risk. I have gotten it from a few, but with it just is a wave of fatigue. And the buzz from alcohol is different than just relaxation. It’s relaxation and fun feeling. So far none of the fancy new elixers make you feel that. Just a little relaxed or like last night, incredibly tired.

So how do I work smarter? Go to meetings? Go to a rehab where for sure I’ll be alcohol free for 30 days? I doubt though I’d actually qualify. Alcohol hasn’t ruined my life. I actually do very well. A few things have been affected but hey, no one is perfect. Still, what is the smart thing to do. If I picture myself in the hole, I tend to keep trying to climb it with all my strength. Which is exhausting quite honestly. I could ‘call for help’ ask someone to send down a rope. But I’m not willing to open that door. Maybe I could break down the dirt on one side of the hole to eventually raise the ground on the other. That seems wise. It will take some energy and it will be a slow process.

So that’s what I’ll try. Chipping away at the dirt on one side, since the ‘dirt’ in this scenario is the alcohol, I just need to first cut down. And for ever day that I cut down more than before, hopefully I’m laying more ground to raise me up to get out. Eventually all I’ll have to do is step our rather than climb.

So far I’m two days (again) AF, I don’t feel that bad, but nothing has happened stressful yet either. I know that is my trigger so what am I going to do when I get stressed and frustrated?

How did I get here?

You may find yourself...

Here.

And ask yourself, how did I get here?

Simple… college, marriage, kids, beautiful house, work.

Then,

Divorce...

I know for sure my path. It's the same as it ever was. But I look back now and have to sort of chuckle. I knew deep in the darkest part of my ugly intestines that I would end up here. It was the moment I sat on a bench outside my office talking to one of my now, estranged bridesmaids, when I said what do I do?

I can't remember her advice, but I know my stubborn, optimistic, perservering person I am... oh, that's not a real word... ah well, but I did perservere with everything. I knew that I would go forth, even though my brain, my guts said "run."

It was a day or so after my then fiancee didn't come home. That day was normal. We both went to work. Me one direction, him another. But we returned home at normal five thirty, six o clock ish hour and we were standing in our then small, yucky apartment kitchen in the ‘not so nice’ part of our county. Something transpired, a very vague argument. Actually, it all took me by surprise. I remember just having a normal conversation, then it suddenly turned bad, he got mad, and left.

I was so bewildered. I remember the sudden shock feeling. He just up and left. I remember thinking, ‘oh, he'll be right back.’ But I was still questioning, what the heck just happened? He never acts like that. In fact, my gut was screaming, something is not right.

A few weeks before, he had vaguely mentioned that 'some old friends' were coming to town soon and that he wanted to meet out with them in city. I asked to join him... oh, how nice to meet old friends. I don't recall but the conversation just died then. And he never specified the date. That’s just for context…

So back to that night. The bewilderment grew... and the anxiety came in. I was literally just there wandering around in our crappy apartment dumbfounded. I dialed his cell. No answer. And again. The anxiety rose through the next hours. It grew, and grew, and grew like a damn high grade, metastatic tumor of epic proportions. It had to be about 10 or 11 pm. No answer, again and again, even after futile messages of me even begging for a response. Saying, I don’t care if hates me, let me know you are okay.

I couldn't sleep, I could't eat. I was an all out mess. Our wedding was in a month, what does this show a sign of? Who am I marrying? It’s dark, late and rainy and now I'm in the car, and I'm driving to his parents. And that is after calling them asking if they had seen him. I recall asking through tears to my soon to be MIL when I told her he just left, why would he do that? I remember her response, "out of spite?" I didn't even know what that meant. What is spite? Why would he spite me? She was never one of my favorite people.

I drove 30 minutes to his old neighborhood, where his parents lived, just to see if his car was there. Just in case his mother wasn't keen on telling me what the F*** was going on. He wasn't there.

I returned to the small, smelly, overly expensive apartment alone. Crying and crying. Confused and crying. I felt like something happened and I wasn't told what. I called one local hospital. No, no, no sign of a man fitting his description.

The next morning.

I am not sure what time it was... before work for sure... so maybe 7am.

The sun is out already. It's one of the longest days of the year.

He graces me with his presence.

And he's smiling. From ear to ear. I’m so confused. Why is he smiling? My face is sticky, puffy..... I feel like a train hit me. I'm woozy even from just being dehydrated. Unfortunately, not hung over. I am sure I didn't touch a drop of alcohol back then.

I am on the bed, asking, why, what, you scared me, what was the deal, why did you do that, where you been....

He tells me he was just mad and went to the office where he worked to stay the night. I KNOW HE LYING. I can see it all over his face. I know as true to everything in the world he is lying. I tell him so. I say, ‘well, you have to park in the garage if you went to work, where's the parking ticket. ‘ He says he doesn't have it. I tell him, ‘no problem, I'll request one from the garage.; everything is tracked there,’ I say confidently.

The lie changes. ‘No, actually I stayed at my boss's house.’ He and little old, fat, jerk bossy-boy are buds. I say, ‘oh, okay, well then prove it. Call him!’ He knows at this point, I am sleep deprived and ready to cancel a wedding. So, he calls his boss and after a few quick words passes the phone to me where his boss says... ‘oh, yes, Laurel, he stayed here last night.’

While that should have been the biggest relief of my life. While that should have at least removed all the fear of what I knew DEEP down he was really doing, it didn't. I thanked him and clicked the end button of the big bulky cordless phone and rested it back down. I might have taken a breath or two before the phone rang right back.

I grabbed it without hesitation and on the line was fat scum boss's wife. Her tone was that of empathy... ‘Laurel, dear, I couldn't help overhear that call. I just wanted to set this straight. Your fiancee did not stay here last night. I'm sorry...’

I called in sick to work. And how sick I felt seeing his disgusting, lying, grinning face in front of me. I don't remember what else happened. I just knew that that should have have been the moment I said we were over.

Life is looking up

I am truly a believer in everything can’t all work great at one time. Except it finally happened. And great is probably a bit of an overstatements, so let’s switch that to ‘good.’ Right now, life is good. I woke up this morning feeling like things are nice. The kids are safe and healthy, I am safe and healthy, I re-entered a relationship with a good person, financially I’m still okay. KNOCK ON WOOD everywhere!! I feel like almost having the thought or even worse, writing it here is going to jinx everything.

Typically my life is where I’m doing well business wise, happy to be free of financial worries, but then my love life is in the shitter. Or my love life is great, but I’m dealing with some ex or kid dramas. At any given time, I never feel like everything is okay… I can be calm, relaxed and happy.

So this morning when I woke up, I did something quite different than I typically do. And I know it may come off as sounding cheesy or like those uber religious people (which I am not) but I said a prayer of thanks to God. I just thanked him. So many times am I asking and praying for help… but this time, I have to thank her.

Now, this doesn’t mean all thus life problems are solved in the life of yours truly. No. I am still not happy with my weight or difficulty not drinking. I try… try… try again. I repeat in my head like that silly little blue fish, Dori, ‘just keep swimming, just keep swimming…’ and I will swim as long as my little fins are on.

I had a good thought…

Then it went away… So, by the time I figured out how to re-log in to my Square space account, I forgot my good thought. It drives me nuts… all the usernames, passcodes. Yes, in the name of security, it’s great! But you forget one passcode, and then it leads you down the path of another, and then you are remembering not only your last passcode, but the one before that, and then the one before that… and you can’t remember which sites you have the new one, vs. the old, old, one so you spend this ridiculous amount of time (in your whole life, mind you) trying to figure out a passcode and updating it.

Sorry, I have digressed. Oh, how I like that fancy word. So here I am.. It’s a Thursday night. I’ve had yet another lovely sushi dinner with my oldest. And lots of wine. My favorite, sushi and wine.

But my son, he’s a tough cookie. I love him to death but he’s hard to break. He’s a stiff as a board with anxiety….. oh, now I remember what I was going to share! But yes, he is… stiff as board with anxiety. All in those shoulders. He’s full of the ‘what ifs’ and on edge for the world to end. Just like I was. I remember someone shaking me and saying, ‘relax, why don’t you!’

But I have to say, our dinners over $100 sushi are nice. He talks…and I think he feels very comfortable. Being with mom… it’s now our little routine. Since he was a little boy he was always ‘high anxiety’ — which is exactly how I was too as. child/teenagers/young adult. Well, until I started drinking.

So this is where connections are made. I just realized how this all came to be. I lived a long time, being stiff. The deer in headlights pose. Or could it be more like the evaluating the situation, to take aim and go… probably the latter because I’m no scaredy cat. But I may need a second to evaluate…

That was the majority of my youth. I worried about everything. I was on alert… all the time. I was ready for the tornado, the potential rape, the tsunami, the fire…. I lived most of my life with the fear of something is going to happen. Because I heard it on the news, I heard it happened to my aunt, it doesn’t matter. If you say E. coli poisoning, I said, it’s in my food. I’m boiling everything. I don’t know what caused this innate fear of everything. This fear of if one thing happens, even across the world, I needed to be on top of it.

So my son, is ironically is totally straight edge. Right now. He’s against all drugs, alcohol, anything.. Even at age 19. A moms dream, right?

I mean I was fearful as a young adult, but I at least imbibed a little. But sadly now I see… he is more at risk than I even was. I eventually learned that to take a few sips of alcohol, it calms you. It lets you feel, ‘oh, fuck it… who cares if that even happens.’

So that’s why I do it. It takes down my everyday feelings of disaster to giving less fucks. But… and this is probably why I’m high functioning Even with alcohol, I’ve never gotten to the point of no fucks. I still care, and still worry, but not like ‘it’s end of world’ worrying. Sometimes seeing yourself in others explains it all. Now I just want to know, why did I… and why does my son… react to news and other things with such high energy/investment? Why are we on such alert?

So what’s happened

Well New Orleans came and went. How do I feel about the trip? Mixed. I had some fun… and also made good work contacts. I was a good girl, no bar fights, no going home with a stranger…. however, I did drink quite a bit. The thing about NOLA and in particular, Bourbon street, which was just inches from my hotel, is that drinking is the Number 1 activity. All day, all night people are drinking in the streets. There is bar, after bar, after bar. Music, people, tons of action. The streets essentially smell like a frat party and the next day certainly looks like it too with the many littered plastic cups, big sippy bottles emptied of their frozen alcoholic slushy, beads, feathers and mess. When you look at it at a high level, it’s just down right gross. In fact, the first day I was like, ew, why do people do this… but then I started getting the “well, when in Rome” mentality and I started to enjoy the loud music, the annoying crazy drunks and the stench - well you can just get used to it after a few days. Needless to say, all was going well until my last day.

NOLA is one of those cities close enough to the border of time zones that honestly I kept forgetting it was an hour behind. I had in my mind, get up, pack, check out, go do the souvenir shopping and be at the airport by 330. Once the plan was in my mind, I never questioned it. I should have because I did a double wrong calculation - which actually should have made me earlier but heck, I had a few drinks. The shopping was fine but then I thought, one more pit stop for a bite and drink. And then Jason walked in… Jason, my favorite name in the whole world. Jason, my age, kind of good looking, starts conversation - about the one-woman singer who is singing all our favorite tunes.

Jason talks exactly the way I would - he’s like me, only a guy. I am in instant connection and he even says, darn, it sucks you are leaving today, we could hang out. I bet my unconscious mind took over at this point. That and my food was taking forever but the time was ticking and I hardly paid attention. Finally, my food came and some little bit of sense hit me. Jason gives me his number anyway (just in case) and off I fly to get my bags and hop an Uber. It’s now 330, and when I should be there… no Ubers. I am. panicked. I run to the front desk asking if they know why there are no Ubers. For one, I should have realized it was the last day of the conference and everyone in Gods green earth is leaving NOLA. That’s about 30K people who were at my conference. I ask what to do, and she, who is actually a he says they can call a cab but it will take 30 minutes. But she warns on top of it, they get rush hour starting at 4, 430 and that will set me back another 45 minutes so we are now talking essentially an hour and half which is way too long. After fumbling with a half-active brain I make the call… I am going to miss my flight, book another room, stay, get drunk and call Jason. The ramifications of leaving the next day hadn’t hit me yet as I am forgetting that I have calls from 10-6pm straight with no breaks.. how did I even think I’d make this work? Meanwhile, the stupid margarita, or cosmo or beer I drank because it’s all a blur in NOLA is clouding any positive thoughts at this point so I sheepishly return to the desk, and fortunately get back another room for the night.

I book another flight, luckily there was even one available the next day… again, not thinking out the full plan but figuring, if I have to cancel calls, so be it. I unpack only the minimum and figure - head back out, no use sitting here wallowing in my error. Plus, I have Jason to text. I send him a note and he says he just got checked into his hotel… a half an hour away. I was like, why are you staying that far from here? I asked myself that, not him. Regardless I thought, he’d be a fool to return so I set myself up anyway to have fun. I knew my mistake was made by poor decision to not stay on top of the time but have a few drinks and float like I didn’t care. I decided - get my tarot cards read, that will help. On Bourbon and the surrounding streets random “psychics” sit about with a little table and their cards. I met a lovely young woman with a few random piercings. While my reading was pretty spot on… it only gave me a good and bad vibe. Needless to say, I went back to enjoy the music of the local bars and laugh at people. There are plenty of characters. Even was approached by 2 guys, who didn’t know each other but we sort of all three hung out. One ended up leaving, thank goodness because he looked like a creep while the other stayed and even proposed hooking up. He told me he and his wife swing. I was like, no, you probably don’t…but that is one way to try to get some when you already showed me a. picture of her when we first started chatting. Why do men do that… oh look, here’s my pretty wife… now will you make out with me? Sick. I returned to my room safely - knowing my mother would kill me even though I’m 46 years old for the debacle. The next day, all I can say was nightmare. From the airport, to trying to work, to the delays. One of the most stressful days of my life. I will.. never… miss a flight again.

Waiting

Note: I started this post Nov. 28th apparently didn’t publish it until Jan!

Some times I feel like I’m waiting for the right time to stop. There is always a holiday, a vacation, a work trip, something… that I know I want to be able to drink for. So because of that, why stop in between? Why mess with my system?

Well that is happening, and of all the places a person who wants to stop drinking is going, where am I going? New Orleans. A party mecca. Oh yes. And while it is a work-conference trip and I don’t “have” to drink, I know I very much will want to.

But I do see this trip as an “end to an era” a true, let’s go wild and then be done. Will I still feel that way after?

Celebrate

It’s 7:21 PM and I can’t believe I’m saying this… I have no urge to drink. Maybe I should take my temperature. Maybe I should get a brain scan. Maybe I’m possessed. Maybe I should just celebrate this moment. No, then I might think about drinking and that would defeat the purpose. Honestly though, even though I usually fear evening coming and want to resort to my ritual, I just don’t want to tonight. It could be because my GI system has been a little off. It could be the guilt of what I know I’ll feel for doing it is finally overriding my urges. Who knows but I will celebrate with some nice tea and who knows, maybe a cookie too.

Love - Hate

I never thought there would be anything that gave me the same feelings of being married to my ex. But indeed, yes, alcohol does. I have the same love-hate feelings about it. I love the excitement and buzz and careless feeling of it, but I hate the sneaky stuff it’s probably doing to me. And the longer you are in a relationship, the harder to break free. I mean you have so many good memories together, so much familiarity, so much routine. And my ex was fun, and exciting at times, but ultimately, he was so damaging to be with. I didn’t even know how bad it was until I was so deep in. His talent for being conniving and gaslighting were incredible. But again, he was a charmer. It didn’t take much for him to weasel himself into making you love him again.

And all those good things are why I went 17 years. You put up with the bad, even when’s its very bad. Alcohol is just like that… and breaking free is going to require the same amount of strength… which by the way, took monumental force because my ex was so damn persistent. He said he’d make my life a living hell. I think alcohol wants to do the same. Trying to think about what ultimately got me free of him though… was just patience, my own persistence, good support system and time.

Motivation

I was thinking about better ways to motivate myself. Yes, I have some prescriptions. Unfortunately, one makes me nauseous and tired. The other basically makes drinking difficult because you get dangerous side effects. For some reason, messing with my body in that way makes me nervous. It’s an odd feeling I have about that medication. In a way, it’s like making a commitment to not drink because it stays in your system so long. And even though I want to make a commitment, I don’t want to do it with a drug. I guess I either don’t really want to commit or that making the commitment makes me not want to commit. I think it goes back to that feeling of if I know something is forcefully taken away from me, I want it more. Crazy? May be…

Regardless, I found 4 new ways to keep myself dry.

1) Learning as much as I can about the damage I could be doing. Luckily I love anatomy. I mean my degree is Biology for heaven’s sake! So learning about how we process alcohol (or ethanol to be scientific) will keep me out of the Ignorance is Bliss drinking mindset. I watched a great video of a dude fondling lots of cadavers organs to show how alcohol is processed. If you all interested, check this out. https://youtu.be/6q1RH8A3O3c (don’t worry, it’s not that gross!)

2) New drinks… oh yes, the market is booming with non-alcoholic, supposedly euphoric drinks. So I hopped in the car yesterday to spend a typical liquor store spend on these zero proof beverages. So far, they help. A little. Putting in a wine glass added a tinge of familiarity but I can’t say any gave me the slightest buzz. More to come here. I’ve only tried a couple!

3) Distraction. The kids swindled me into buying an Oculus. Well.. I must say for once those teenagers made a good decision. It is pretty darn cool. I had heard about the use of VR (virtual reality) in the treatment of many conditions so heck, why not? It’s a double win too because you can exercise with it too. So I threw on a little Beat Saber, which had me swinging away distracted easily for a half an hour and yes, it felt literally like 5 minutes! Then I moved over to the Youtube videos… relaxing in a forest, oh so lovely trying a little yoga. Again, you think of nothing else in there besides the sounds and sights. This could really work.

4) Last but not least, and this goes along with number 1… Loving my liver. I don’t know why I never thought of my own organs in this way but if you love something, you don’t hurt it. The liver is trying to heal itself and guess what? It is one of the only organs that can do that… but only up until you kill it off too much. That’s pretty amazing function and shouldn’t be taken for granted. But the poor liver can’t heal if you keep bathing it in more toxins. It’s like picking a scab. The wound wants to heal, but it can’t if you keep messing with it. So, now when I think about grabbing a bottle of vino, I remember my poor little liver finally getting a breather. Finally getting time to just chill. It’s like being burnt out at work. Not to say that I give it a vacation and then burn it out again and again… but I imagine in my own head that is what the liver is begging for. A break. Because ethanol isn’t the only toxin the liver takes care of… it has many others, of which we can’t control.

So there it is… my 4 genius ways of sticking to this.

Random thoughts

It’s amazing how good I am about not drinking in the morning, lol… or afternoon. And I can even wake up and say I’m going to not drink tonight. And I don’t feel the slightest bit worried about it.

Then 4 o’clock, 5 'o’clock, 6 o’clock come and suddenly I say to myself, “I could use a little wine right now.” Maybe it’s a nice sunny night and I’m enjoying the deck or maybe I’m making a good dinner… regardless, these become excuses to open a bottle. And once it’s open… well I have to finish it.

I remember a time years ago out to dinner with a boss and somehow we got on the conversation. She said her and her husband drink wine with dinner. I think I asked how long an open bottle of wine lasts. She said, “I don’t know, my husband and I always finish it.” She kind of chuckled and I thought, “wow, they have a bottle of dinner every night?” I can do that myself now. In fact, I am pretty much a bottle and a half.

While I’m on the ledge here, I might as well admit that besides the nagging worry I have about my liver, or getting head and neck cancer someday… drinking has to have been the culprit of this weight gain. I work out a lot… walk the dogs, do a lot of constant housework. I go to the gym 3-4 times a week. I have muscle, but it’s a solid weight that I am. It feels heavy on me. I’ve never been this weight even when 9 months pregnant. And it sort of looks like I’m pregnant. I wonder what is in there… is it fat, is it fluid… is it a tumor? It’s probably a giant grape, being that I’ve drank so many.

Blank

It’s amazing… in my head when I’m nowhere near my computer I can think of 20 things to write here. The words and feelings flow like a raging waterfall. I can’t even contain the creativity flowing from my 86 billion celled brain. How do they even estimate that number of cells? I mean it’s like not looking at a clear glass jar filled with jelly beans. They better have some scientific way they figure that out. And does it matter? Oh yes… gray matters! Lol, I just made a really stupid joke, but oh well.

What really gets me is that when I do get myself sitting pretty in my chair about to write something, that lovely organ of a brain just draws a blank. Total blank. I have suddenly forgotten or can’t conjure together any of those brilliant thoughts. Maybe I should start audio recording them so I don’t forget. Yes, that is what I’ll do. I promise, I’ll write something worth a read. It’s coming.

Oh the days…

I now realize why these day 1, day 2… day whatever the f’ are annoying me. It’s like when I used to run long distance. I’d push that extra mile because… I was on my 8 and to get to a goal of 10… I had to. You don’t want to start over. You made it this far. Eight long ass miles with only 2 more to go to say, “I did 10 miles!” and maybe next time, I’ll do 13. But non drinking days, oh, it feels different. I don’t have the same motivation. I should, but I don’t. I wonder if it’s because I haven’t hit that darn rock bottom yet. It’s not like I’m wanting or wishing for it; but I do wonder if I just need more motivation to get there. So I’m on day 0. Again. In fact, just saying that is depressing. I guess honestly I never did that when running. I still always achieved something more. What happened?

Snakes

I don’t know why I was swimming in a dark black lagoon with no end in sight. I shouldn’t say I was actually swimming, more like trying to get out. In the water there were these long biting snakes. There were other people in the lagoon with me. I honestly don’t even recall who they were. I just know we were trying to distract and get around the snakes. At one point, a couple of the people figured out how to kill a few of them. For a few moments I thought we’d get out. But then there were more. At one point, I thought let me close my eyes and just make run for it. There is no where else to go and if they bite me, they bite me.

This dream was the first I’ve had of this kind. I’ve had lots of horrible scary dreams in the past, ones about being chased, shot at… and then the annoying ones that repeat at certain times in my life. The roller coaster road dream, the elevator dream, the packing up in a rush dream. Those are the ones that came at different periods in my life. I’m still I think living with the packing up dream unless after last night, it will now be on repeat of snakes.

I wish it was clear what they meant and how to make them go away. I often wake up during my dreams and can remember almost everything. At least clearly for the first few minutes. If I write it down, longer.

There is definitely some irony to it. Today I was talking to a patient who compared one of her surgeries to a snake. To even hear her say “snake” was creepy.

Day 4

While it is only Day 1 of my blog here, it is day 4 of sobriety. I almost feel silly saying that. Like I should say, day 4 of not drinking. Am I allowed to say sobriety? Most would read this (and I, myself, will probably too in the future) as being just denial. I am torn between where I want to ‘place’ myself and I think the biggest reason is because you can’t go back. You call yourself an alcoholic, you are forever one. I don’t want to be ‘labeled’ - just like the kid with ADHD or Asperger’s… sure, is it part of them, yes, but is it all of them? No.

My history of getting to drinking too much was slow. I can’t remember exactly when it began but I can remember when it started becoming something I felt bad about. Which for me, isn’t all that hard. Maybe it was because I was raised in Catholic school but I think I feel guilty about everything. Tried cigarettes at 16, guilt. Was too clean with my room, almost OCD (probably actual OCD), guilt. I could feel guilty about anything really. Working out too much, guilt. Not working out enough, guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

I also suffered from perfectionism. And that definitely was hard. No where near perfect but at some point in my life I thought, if I did this just right, then maybe people will like me. What that left me was just quite exhausted because quite honestly perfection is very hard to achieve.

So it was slow. Now I don’t wake up in the morning and crave a drink. I don’t even usually take a sip of a drink until dinnertime. But, then it can go until I fall sleep.

It doesn’t stop me from what I have to do. Life is still priority. If I have to work, I’m not struggling not to drink. If I have to pick up my kids, I’m not struggling not to drink. I do what I need to do and do it mighty well. I don’t wake up hung over. I don’t go out to the store to even buy alcohol if I don’t have it. But, I am technically drinking alone. I am drinking when I don’t need to and I do feel guilt the next day.

So I started slow too with deciding to stop. I tried a few days each week making it a point to not drink. It wasn’t excruciating. I would distract myself if I thought of it. I also asked for medication from my doctor in preparation who prescribed naltrexone which made me nauseated, which made me wonder… was that the point? I can’t drink or eat anything when I’m nauseated so win win. And later Antabuse, which quite honestly just deterred me from taking it vs. drinking.

But when I came to the point of saying, I’m just going to stop, I did it without anything. Or at least nothing else so far… come on, we are only on day 4 now. Still, I did my research, will I have withdraw? What if I had DTs? My goodness the internet will scare you. Taper, don’t taper. It’s a mess of information out there. I figured, just do it. If I felt something bad, just go down and grab some rum and take a few shots.

Well, here I am, feeling fine. Nothing feels different. Luckily, not even a shaky hand. Still, I guess I thought I’d wake up and see some beautiful glow, be a couple pounds lighter and feel like magic. The only thing that does feel better for sure is my conscience. While it’s still only 4 days, it’s four days without the nagging guilt of putting those extra calories and poison in my body the night before and that is something worth it.

Where I am

So it begins. I find myself in a fiercely wicked battle.
It seems so simple.
It doesn’t make sense.
It’s everywhere but nowhere.

What am I talking about?

Alcohol use.

I almost have to whisper it because it feels like a dirty word. It feels like admitting to drinking too much alcohol is like saying you are a dirty whore. Which, for some, could be both. Still, in society, isn’t it shameful to say that you drink too much alcohol? Or that you have a problem with it? You feel like everyone else can go about drinking that glass of wine with dinner a night while you finish the whole bottle. Why don’t you have as much self control?

That’s what it feels like.

From what I have seen going online so many people who get to the point of seeking help have already hit some kind of rock bottom. They have lost their jobs, maybe their marriages, even kids. Some talk about rehabs or having dual addictions with drugs. I feel like I just don’t identify. Maybe I’m not in the same boat as they are. Heck, maybe I don’t have a problem!

But then I read, the recommended amount of drinks per week is 7 and not more than 2 a day for women. We women always gets screwed don’t we. Men able to drink twice as much without being called a dirty little alcoholic.

And they describe this as ‘heavy drinking.’ Hell, I think I’ve done that in a day! Well, not every day… but over Saturday. A few day drinks, like a nice rum drink or fancy cider while gardening or doing yard work and then going out and a few more in evening with friends.

Regardless, according to statistics, I have a problem. I am a heavy drinker. I am baaaad….

Then according to the websites I seek for stories and advice, I’m just a little angel, no harm done, no major loss or court ordered classes.

So where I think I am… is just on the ledge… hence the name of this blog where I will continue to journal this experience. Hopefully, helpful to anyone else who doesn’t identify with people who hit rock bottom or for that matter, any rocks. I’m not saying I haven’t had a few bumps but maybe I’ve just been lucky.