A Dry Drunk

Okay. Major confession… I’m sober, but I’m a full blown dry drunk, y’all! My commitment to writing on my blog is a perfect metaphor to my sobriety.

The blog is set up. I have, what I think, is an awesome blog name. With hardly any content or consistency in writing on it.

How does this compare to my sobriety?

I’m sober. Have a pretty decent grip on things. But not getting anywhere on my steps or committing to the things that will help me stay sober in the long run.

Here’s what I have done! Thrown myself into tons of work. My kids schedules. Some dating. A ridiculously emotional, crazy relationship with what turned out to be a fellow alcoholic, who was hitting rock bottom, and had not come to terms with it yet. Went to meetings to get my chips on my big dates. Lost what I thought were ‘very close’ friends. Watched my sponsor and dear friend who was there the day I changed my life move to another state. Found and surrounded myself with some beautifully strong women, in the program and not. I’ve had those break down crying conversations with family members over built-up resentments. I finally accepted my disease as my own and stopped blaming my mother and her disease. (This happened around Christmas and I thought that might be the best gift, ever. ūüėČ ) I Reached out for a sponsor because I had this feeling I was ready to start working the steps. Especially Step 4. That I’d felt they’d been working me organically over the course of the past year and a half. Then quickly admitted to her that I may be a horrible sponsoree, ¬†but I would remain sober.

I’m still on Step 4.

Now, with all that said, a shift has ¬†occurred. I’m calling it a West Texas State of Mind. You can read all about it on my next post…

Blame it on the a a a a a Alcohol

I have officially reached no mans land in way of sobriety, and honestly, feel a world less manic about it.

The first ¬†2 months were an emotional roller coaster that I can’t necessarily blame only on giving up drinking, but life just coming at me from many directions. The factors of not drinking during, ‘life coming at all directions’, forced me to have to deal with things, for the first time, head on. And it hurt something fierce. It was a force that brought me face to face with a bottomless fear of, ‘holy shit, what is going on with my life? I am completely powerless over SO MUCH. Especially drinking.”

Years of accumulated messes brought up for me to deal with sober.

As I’ve worked through the muck, I’ve found one greater truth. The drunk, drinking me, is a weak person who is scared to look. Scared to look at finances. Scared of confrontation. Scared of failure. Scared of success. Scared of becoming me. It’s amazing. Little things, like not wanting to check and budget finances and stressing about them instead. ¬†Not wanting to speak up about how I feel on any given situation. List. Goes. On.

The more I reflect on my drinking self, the more I am aware of the ‘other’ girl it made me. A girl who questioned what she just said. Or a decision she just made. Or what she was doing with who she was with. All confidence gone. I can think back to any given situation, and watch as the real me got smaller and the party in me got bigger. There would always be the inner voice questioning what the party in me was doing. And God knows, in the morning, my real voice was the loudest.

Everyday requires baby steps. And everyday, I become a little less insecure about my dealings. I’m facing things in a way that don’t seem scary or impossible. I can see the outcome I want and I make the decisions to be sure I’m getting there. Right now, some of those things are dealing with self-discovery. Finding out who I am as a person aside from mothering and work. ¬†Filling my time with new activities and evolving from a partier to a person exploring life.

The monumental outcome I want from life is sobriety. I want to know that I will be sober next week, in months, during my last days. I don’t let my mind go that far, because it does bring up fears and insecurities. Fear that I’m too weak to do that. (Funny how the weak party girl in me has endurance and persistence like I’ve never seen.) I literally take baby steps with it. I wake up sober and I go to bed sober. I give thanks for that and all I was able to handle and face during the day.

I’m coming up on 3 months in a week or so. I feel blessed more and more each day as the fog lifts.

 

 

 

At 1st worst…but 2nd best

It was the month of May this year that I decided to give up drinking. I had a very crazy night and couldn’t shake it. (Well, I still haven’t really shaken it, but I have forgiven myself.) My action to give it up was more a result of this one night. Not the years of nights collectively- that will come later.

To sum it up, I approached this spell of not drinking as more of a new lifestyle. But alas, I found myself in an AA meeting. I was invited and I thought it couldn’t hurt.¬†BOY was I wrong. I sat in a room and listened to some seriously messed up people talk about their sobriety. I left there thinking one thing;

“Those people are fucked up. I am definitely not fucked up.”

I didn’t have a problem. I had a bad night. I just needed to use some moderation….set some boundaries. Needless to say, after 10 weeks of staying sober, I went back out. By out I mean, to my couch, with a glass of red wine. That glass turned into an every night occasion…and 6 weeks more of some pretty crazy nights. That yes, I’ve added to my, ‘not shaken, but forgiven’ list. When I finally came to my knees in an absolute emotional breakdown I was advised to give up drinking. And I did. I agreed to attend at least one meeting a week. (which is NOT enough, but my schedule is consumed with 2 children and a business)

When I agreed to do this, my first thought was, I’m NOT going back to that room of crazy ass alcoholics from my first meeting.

So I found a group, during the day, that is basically filled with people on their lunch break. It’s been nice. I always go thinking that I won’t talk, but it’s small so I end up sharing. With my hands shaking and heart racing. They were the first people I admitted to that I was an alcoholic. That I have a problem. That everything they were saying resonated with me.

I celebrated my one month with this group.

My 2nd month of sobriety fell on Christmas.

I haven’t been to a¬†meeting in almost 2 weeks. I was invited earlier today to attend ¬†a meeting tonight…the group meeting I first went to. I thought, why not…besides, it’s so big that I won’t have to share and I can just listen. I just need to go to a meeting.

After a few minutes of listening I looked at my sponsor and told her, I REALLY like this group here tonight and what they have to say. I laughed it off with a ‘how ironic’, and then she looked at me and said, ‘that’s because you weren’t ready yet.’

I also told myself that I wanted to wait to get my 2 month chip with my home group. Tonight, when they went around asking if anyone was celebrating, they started with years. My heart started jumping out of my chest and as they got closer to my month, it started to calm down…

Anyone celebrating 2 months?

I am.

I proceeded to tell them how fucked up I thought they all were. And be that as it may,  I was just as fucked up.

 

Get out of your boring feelings

Today I woke up annoyed.

Couldn’t sleep last night.

Christmas break is never ending.

No one is in town.

And then, as if to make things better, my mind went to a place that it would normally only go to if I were drinking. Literally thought about and had an urge to do things that I might only do 3x a year- strictly recreational things. The icing on that… I wanted a cigarette-

I DON’T EVEN SMOKE.

I realized these triggers, for me today, are out of boredom. Feeling discontent. Too much time on my hands. So I did what any smart addict would do- I went to work. (Actually I bet a REALLY smart one would have gone to a meeting. I need to do that too…)

Consumed myself and surrounded myself today with people.

I felt;

Normal.

Social.

Successful.

Funny.

The work day is ending.

I didn’t once think about drinking or anything extra. As a matter of fact, several people I interacted with mentioned getting drunk or being hungover. I thought, ‘I’m so happy I won’t be hungover tomorrow.’¬†As quick as I thought about it, it was gone.

This is the ‘me’ I’ve wanted to be for years.

Like my sponsor has said before;

‘Get out of your boring feelings’

I’m grateful to have turned this day around.

No really, I’m an alcoholic.

I swear, I feel like Portia De Rossi coming out of the closet when I admit to anyone that I have a drinking problem. No one believed her. She spent years hiding it, and when she finally told her close friends and family, they didn’t believe her. There was no room for shock, only denial.

It’s the only reference that I can come up with to explain what it’s like to tell people close to me. They would say that THEY are the alcoholics. They would say that I could do anything in moderation, look at everything else I’ve done. They would tell me, your mother was an alcoholic, and you are not your mother…They would, and could, go on and on.

Or, as if completely baffled by the idea of my not drinking;

You mean, like not just a glass of wine with dinner?

But they are serving the best champagne at this party, you have to have just one glass.

Don’t give me any of this ‘I’m not drinking shit at my birthday dinner’.

Does everyone have a drink?? Oh, wait. YOU are not drinking.

Sometimes, I just want to say, “You know what? I don’t wear panties everyday either.”

What’s the big fucking deal?

I want to scream and shout about my rock bottom, ask them if they are going to be there for my kids, or help take care of my drunk ass?

AND then I remember to breathe. The truth is, I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’m making a choice that is personal. Whatever the reasoning, it’s mine. And I find some serious strength in that.