Drunky Drunk Girl

11:18 pm

And I shouldn’t be!  I should be seeing rainbows and unicorns, but I’m seeing red.  Well, pink.  I chalk it up to the anger not subsiding but getting stronger during this strange phase of withdrawal, exacerbated by my agitation and annoyance at having to grind it out every fucking day.  No drinky makes Drunky Drunk Girl pissy.

First, let me tell you that I do applaud myself.  I do appreciate that it’s getting easier, if only easier to resist the nightly (and sometimes daytime) cravings.  And yes, I feel much better physically.  Yes, I LOVE not being hung over.  Yes, I’ve gotten a lot more done.  Yet…  I feel sad, I guess is the best way to put it (in addition to irritable).  Life is sad without wine, it really is!  Sad in that it’s boring, in a way; uneventful; mellow.  There’s no excitement, no cerebral buzz to look forward to.  “Normal,” mundane life is just not enough.  It never was, I’m afraid.  (Is this me talking, or the mental and emotional crutch that wine is?  I know it’s the latter, at least I hope, but I simply can’t FEEL it to be truth yet.)

Looking back on these two weeks, I’ve come to realize that I’m agitated most of the time by the struggle not to drink, by the desire to get buzzed.  I’ve also come to accept that I drank not only to ESCAPE from reality, but also to ENHANCE my daily existence.  And that’s not a bad thing!  Yes, people, it’s not just about escape, it’s about the good stuff, too.  I like (liked?  sigh) drinking because I like how it augments, or adds, to what would otherwise be a steady, but mundane, list of days, months, and years.  I’d venture to say that’s why most of us drink in the first place.

And, when I think of those people who wrote me off, those who showed such little empathy, I can’t help but fume.  I mean, if it had been more than once for most, if it had been a constant thing, and if I hadn’t apologized so profusely — if I had INTENDED to hurt and this was a common thread that matched my SOBER BEHAVIOUR…  All I’ve got for them is one big, fat Fuck you.  Guess who’s getting sober?  Guess who’s been dealing with the remorse and the self-loathing for years?  Guess who’s gotten stronger day by day in her struggle to recognize her failings and improve?  What have you done, aside from pretend you have no issues and live in denial, which is what allows you to so easily judge others?  To them I say, Good fucking riddance.*

In fact, fuck AA, too.  I have issues with AA, but mainly I resent the approach because not only does the program demonize your problem with compulsive behaviour (which is a brain fart, not a moral failing or flaw, btw), but it also puts the blame squarely on you such that it’s always the people you’ve hurt, inadvertantly, who become the victims.  What about the drinker as victim?  I mean, I feel like part of what made me — and no doubt others — start drinking too much was a traumatic experience early in life where WE WERE THE VICTIMS!  Most people drink to self-medicate some hurt, some previously induced or present pain.  Are not we, too, the victims of our drinking disorder?  Shouldn’t we get some empathy, some understanding, and not simply lumped into a hot-mess pile of “fucked up people who deserve to be unhappy?”

Granted, I take full responsibility for my actions, but all I ask of people, especially those who have written me off either directly or in the back of their minds (Oh, she’s NEVER going to get well, she’ll drink herself to death…  all the while HOPING that I don’t, since that means seeing me happy and productive and gasp!, possibly a competitive threat):  have some empathy.  TRY.  And, just for shits and giggles, because I’m feeling rather irritable, here’s the letter I would write (if I was in the 12-step) to the people I’ve hurt who have written me off*:

Dear Judgmental Asshole:

I’ve already apologized a million times, and I refuse to continue to live in the past, prostrating myself before you over and over.  I’m done apologizing.  You don’t have the right to refuse my apology anymore.  And, let me tell you, as I exit my dark night of the soul and you enter (or will be soon entering) yours:  I hope it’s long, painful, and arduous.  I probably won’t be there when you ask for my help, my understanding, my empathy and dare you need it, my forgiveness.

SEE?  Sobriety isn’t the rainbows and unicorns it’s cracked up to be from the outside looking in.

*Disclaimer:  There are marvelous people in my life — brothers, mothers, lovers, friends — who have done nothing but empathize, check in, deal, manage, and support me and my belligerent alter-ego during the past near-decade of my out-of-control drinking, and I salute, honor, love, and admire them infinitely.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, cravings, depression, drinking, sobriety, wine, withdrawal, women