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No more night sweats!

2 Sep

1:18 am

Huh. I just read something about night sweats and it jogged my memory: I used to have them, almost every night, for months, maybe closer to years. Well, I remember now that they came bad and almost nightly for at least…a year? Wow, the things we forget.

Anyway, I’d wake up almost every night, two or three times, and have to change my shirt, if not my entire outfit! It was annoying, as it constantly interrupted my sleep. Speaking of which, I used to wake up like four or five times most nights, too, meaning I never slept for more than two or three hours at a time.

Now? No sweats for a long time. So long that I’d forgotten all about them! Haven’t woken up once during the night (well, maybe a few times early morning). In fact, I usually go to bed by around midnight or 1, and then sleep through a full eight hours — just like I always did and how I’ve desperately wanted to for SO LONG. I can’t believe this has all slipped my mind! (I even Google’d “night sweats” many times, fearing I had like, cancer or premature menopause.)

I’ve been wanting to drink that bottle of red so badly the past couple of days, but I just wade through the craving — walking, procrastinating, finally working (reading, writing, and editing, i.e., sometimes too tedious to do when my mind is totally tracked on drinking red wine) — and hope that it passes and I go to bed sober. And, I am going to bed sober again tonight! So glad. So very glad.

Whew. Day 15 and counting…to day 30, again, and then day 60, again. And then…the elusive 90.

Drunky drunky girl says, Wow, I’m really thinking more clearly

30 Aug

11:27 pm

I have to say, the past few days have been relatively…easy. I’ve only known this studio apartment — I rented it last September out of desperation to cut a few minutes off my horrifying 3-hour commute to and from “the Valley” (what tipped me over the alcoholic edge) — as a place where I fretted, thought, got drunk, hated life. Not drinking here hasn’t been the dramatic experience I thought it would be, though. In fact, the place feels empty. The walls and ceiling stare at me in silence.

What I think it is, is a reflection. Yes, a reflection of the good, calming silence staring back at them that is coming from ME.

Sure, I’ve had cravings, but not intense ones. I’ve got the bottle of red on the kitchen counter and I’d love to drink it (I spend way too much time thinking about it, though, too much brain space; but, it does make me feel excited now and again with anticipation, which is worth the $10, I guess). However, this is, well, a superficial thought. In fact, I’ve come to realize how many superficial thoughts, thoughts that come and go, that I have surrounding drinking. Now, deeper thoughts seem to abound — slower, more sustaining brain waves — pushing me through the sluggish waters of craving, of memory, of indecision, of getting stuck on one or two or three negative thoughts.

Could it be that I am getting more practiced at being sober, at focusing my mind on staying sober? Could it be that I have truly changed the way I think, and that one day, I could come back to thinking “normally” about my life, time passing, everyday “mundane” reality? It’s possible. Or, maybe I’m just having a good moment?

It’s not that I don’t want to NOT drink, but I don’t really want TO drink either. Life is boring, get over it. LOL More like, I know the cycle. But, I also feel something…else. Something deeper that’s holding me, filling me up with a simple calm. Which calm will be fucking shattered if I partake. Which calm will be disrupted and may bring rushing back all the bad memories of shit times had in this space while drunk (several noise complaints, an eviction warning, partying one night with a few crackheads off the street and ending with one stealing my bag…the list goes on and on). Reading, watching internet TV, cooking, working, just sitting here — these all seem not only much less vexing to do sober but also much more…OK. Satisfying might be too much of a stretch. OK, yes. OK, in a better way than just OK. Settling. Sustaining. It’s like, I’m coasting on a long surfboard and everything is riding on me staying balanced. I’ve gotten so much more done since getting sober, I’ve invested in actual change — work, projects, travels, relationship(s). Why break my stride?

It’s the concept of being sober that I like, that is so calming. That concept is a reality. My reality is what I’ve created it to be. I am in control. This is sobriety, too, not just NOT drinking when you want to drink. Why would I choose drinking over a long, calm ride down that wave?

Maybe this could be my Higher Power? Yeah, I still feel like drinking, but I’m going to go out (I live downtown and haven’t been out at all at night here, for anything, since getting home on Monday) and…get some ice cream. It’s cold here, as usual, and I feel somewhat claustrophobic compared to sleeping literally next to the Atlantic Ocean — walking and ice cream are my friends. (Maybe I’ll even watch more of the RNC speeches — who can resist Clint Eastwood forgetting to finish every other sentence? Gah.)

Never goin’ back to detoxing…

20 Aug

3:40 pm

A short post:

I fell off the wagon twice after 60 days of being sober and man, it sucked. But, it was quite anticlimactic in a way — same blackout, same hangover, same feeling like a piece of shit. BUT, I realized two things:

1. I will never again have to detox and go through withdrawal — both physical and emotional — or cravings like I did during the first 3 to 5 weeks of being sober. That was hard, and for the most part, I was sick, had intense cravings, and felt very, very lonely. BUT, I will NEVER have to go through that again! Sure, I drank last week and did and said some stupid things and spent two days hung over, but…no one and nothing can subtract my 60 days. So, it’s not at all like I’m starting over. I’m simply starting again continuing to build on my stronger body and mind.

2. I like being sober. I like the consistency and the predictability of it. Last night I had zero desire or inclination to drink; we had people over, and I even drank WATER as I was talking to them.

It’s funny, but I used to be a total dork, didn’t drink at all until college, and used to go to frat parties and pour my beers in the garbage cans when no one was looking. (I hated beer.) Then I went to France and discovered wine (and that I had a binge eating disorder), but that’s another story. Point is, I used to hate my old, goody-goody self, the “mold” that I was cast — and trapped, suffocating — in by my family, my small town, my siblings, my friends. (Myself, too, but I felt like a victim.) Which, I’m pretty sure, is one of the many reasons I started and continued for so long to “party” and binge drink, just to prove to everyone how “cool” I actually was.

Now, though, there is nothing to prove and maybe sober IS the new black. At the end of the day, being drunk is a prison, not an escape; learning that there is and never was anything to escape from — I can simply leave, say no, or change my perspective and/or reaction — is key to me staying sober and embracing living sober, or rather, LIFE. Time to be that dork again. 😉

AA is about community, relating, and hope?

20 Aug

1:09 pm

So, I went to an AA meeting down here on Sunday morning (yesterday) at 8 am. Wow. Haven’t been up that early in a long time, actually, and it felt great. Long day, though, of three beaches, a chili cook off, and friends over. 🙂

Anyway, the AA meeting was…good. I mean, I’ve been to meetings before, and my experience has been up and down. The first time it was to women’s meetings in [cold east coast city], the second, to a few meetings in [cold west coast city]. The meetings in [cold east coast city] were awakening and totally refreshing, unless I’m remembering them with rose-colored glasses. At the time, I was an AA virgin. I was a total hot mess, was barely hanging on during my second semester of grad school, and had NEVER gone so far and so bad let alone admitted to or talked about my drinking problem and increasingly horrendous blackouts and hangovers (started to have full-blown, trip-to-the-ER panic attacks). But, I thought the Big Book was ridiculous, and frankly, wasn’t willing to admit that I needed to quit drinking. That was in 2006.

Fast forward to last year, when I tried again to go to AA meetings in [cold west coast city]. They were horrible, just like a lot of social gatherings in that part of the country can be. I’ve lived there for a grand total of 8 years, and I’ve often felt that it is one of the most *superficially* nice places on the planet. When it comes down to it, though, people tend to adopt this holier-than-thou attitude, stay in their cliques, and/or are antisocial. I felt mostly unwelcome — sometimes actively so — at AA meetings there.

Long story short, however, it’s not really about the people or the meeting anymore, it’s about my desire to not drink. The people seemed way nicer at this meeting on Sunday, it really helped to have my boyfriend there with me, and well, most of the ex-drunks were older (like, 50s and 60s and 70s?) so I think the “fresh blood” element worked to my advantage. It’s a small community here, too, so maybe that made the difference in people being less formal and me feeling more welcome. Or, maybe I’ve just grown up a bit and gotten further along on my road toward/of sobriety?

The thing that struck me was not really why or how or whether AA works, or if the 12 steps are beneficial to maintaining long-term sobriety, but how similar these people’s problems with drinking were to mine and how similar the actual progression of the “disease” hit them. It’s the SAME EXACT THING for me, yet I STILL walk around feeling — after over a decade — that I’m the ONLY ONE. The only one feeling this way when I drink, the only one feeling horrible and guilty and *haunted* (one woman used this exact word to describe her feelings of remorse re: her blackout shenanigans) by what I’ve done while blacked out, the only one being reckless and self-destructive and not understanding why but doing it anyway.

I don’t know if I’ll go again, but my desire to quit is as strong as my fear of what will happen if I drink, so…

I had two issues with the meeting:

1. It does seem like every single person in the “room” ended their share (we were supposed to share on “service” and our concept/experience with service — I shared about volunteering in [beautiful island] and my sense of purpose down there practically killing any and all craving to drink) with congratulating AA. Like, they couldn’t stop talking about how great and fantastic and wonderful AA is. I was like, Come on, really? Then again, they talked of their own initial feelings of doubt, arrogance, and self-loathing at the beginning of their participation in AA, so…maybe I, too, just need to “let go and let God.” 😉 NOT!

2. I would not be not drinking if I didn’t want to not drink. I think what is different for me now is the fact that I really don’t want to drink anymore because, frankly, it doesn’t work anymore. It is simply NOT AN OPTION. AA won’t, in my perhaps ill-informed opinion, give you the desire to quit. BUT, what I now see AA as being good if not great at doing is giving you a sense of community, of belonging, of shared experience to help you keep convincing yourself that drinking doesn’t work for you anymore.

In talking with a few people after the meeting, I literally could have been inside their bodies talking about my drinking problem as they were talking about theirs toward the end — that’s how physically, emotionally, and psychologically the same it seems to be for not just us, but everyone who drinks to their end point. The truth is, I am so not alone, so not special, and so…relieved and hopeful to know this. I’m somehow sort of finally convinced that perhaps the confusion, panic/fear, and anger that overtakes me while blacked out is not ME but is, actually, the booze. Perhaps this substance just does the same old thing to everyone? It seems obvious, I’m sure, to nondrinkers, but…well, booze feels intertwined with my personality, my moods, my experiences and therefore, myself. Possibly I can untangle the two and move on with my life? So, yes, I think AA might actually be a good thing when it comes to fighting cravings and “hauntings” that only people who have reached the end of their drinking road can actually particularly relate to.

(We also spent a good amount of time at a chili cook off down here yesterday, and it was hot as a mofo on that beach. Yet, it seemed that quite a few peeps were getting drunk. EVEN IF I COULD DRINK, I can’t even imagine doing so in 100-degree heat…and then having to deal with the hangover and the sunburn? SO NOT WORTH IT.)

Thanks to my readers, I appreciate you guys listening to my ramblings…on day three and finally feeling somewhat not hung over. 🙂

Three strikes and I’m out? Fell off the wagon again…

18 Aug

1:10 pm

…and I’m seriously not happy about this.

Peer pressure. Fuck me! Well, peer pressure combined with a restlessness that I’m sure I’m blaming on everyone but myself. And I don’t mean to, which makes me feel quite sad with myself. It’s not you, it’s me. For real. Yes, I do feel restless and unsure about the next step(s) in my life, and this is NOT EASY to deal with sober, let alone drunk. Fuck me, though.

So, I don’t have many friends down here and/or a life of my own (if I move down, I think I’ll put more of an effort into seeking this out), so when two girlfriends of my boyfriend popped over and pressured me (Come on, just one glass!) to drink a glass of red with them, I caved. I caved! WTF? They don’t know that I’m trying to get sober, have NO IDEA what a mess I am when it comes to drinkin’, don’t understand (they seem to be still livin’ it up, drinking-wise), and were just trying to be friendly. I can’t believe I took the bait, though, especially after ALL the social gatherings of late (a wedding, for fuck’s sake!) I’ve endured sober. I must be seriously insecure… Or, maybe just searching for a sense of belonging here. But, yeah, that’s how easy it is to relapse, convincing myself that it’s OK to have “just one,” if, like, I really don’t feel like drinking anyway (yeah, right) and I’m at home and it’s safe and I’m with friends.

I might have cracked on my own, though, since I felt bored, bland, restless, lacking in creativity (i.e., have not accomplished much creatively speaking in a long time, which is grinding away at my conscience — more on that later), etc. I mean, I was in a bad mood and wanted to give the finger to it all.

Anyway, it was totally downhill after that first glass…might as well drink another bottle or two, right? Yeah, right. Now? I feel depressed, nothing’s changed, my boyfriend is pissed, I am crushed at my lack of discipline and possibly having let him down/hurt him AGAIN, and well, I feel hung the fuck over. Was it worth it? Of course, it wasn’t.

Suck it and see? Twice now. I don’t want the third time to happen. I just don’t. I guess I simply cannot drink normally. Then again, I always only seem to drink when I feel bad, depressed or frustrated with my life. Maybe it’d turn out differently…NO! It won’t. Like, I was already thinking about the second bottle (not glass, bottle) before I even finished my first glass. That’s just…weird. That’s just compulsion defined, that’s what that is.

I’m worried, actually, what I’ll end up doing these days. Apparently, I didn’t get crazy in front of the girls, but I know my bf is pissed, so maybe I gave him hell in the bedroom before I passed out? Or, maybe I just passed out? Ugh.

Need new coping mechanisms. Really, really do. This shit ain’t working anymore, especially when the drunky drunk time is not fun either (I remember feeling even more restless, pissy, angry, frustrated, sad/depressed while drunk than before I started drinking). Meh.

And, to top it all off, I’m hung over. AND, I have to start over counting days. Which is why this blog is about “getting sober” and not “being sober,” I suppose. Forgive myself and move forward is all I can do…

So, I fell off the wagon last night…

13 Aug

10:16 pm

…and the same shit that always happens, happened. I drank, blacked out, yelled at/harassed my boyfriend (among other classic “me” moves, like, getting into bed wet from the pool — yes, I went swimming in my blackout in the middle of the fucking night), tried to drink more but luckily, couldn’t get the bottle open, passed out naked on the couch only to wake up and stumble into the bedroom. Woke up with a raging hangover, one that reminded me just how much I HATE hangovers.

Sure, I’m disappointed, but I’m not taking it into tomorrow. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s also made me that much more committed to not letting it happen again.

And, was it even fun? No! I remember feeling…weird, I guess, after the first glass. Dizzy. The second made my brain feel numb, emotionless — quite literally, depressed. The whole point was to make me feel less depressed, and I didn’t even get the buzz! Either it didn’t work or I wouldn’t let myself show it in front of my boyfriend, who tried to stop me from opening the bottle and then had to watch me drink it and wonder how much time he had between that moment and when I’d black out and turn on him… I felt dissociated from myself, as if I was watching myself get drunk, watching myself unable to stop talking, watching myself “play” with the parrot. I remember yelling at my boyfriend for a while, going in for the second bottle (which was half full)…and then I blacked out. Per fucking usual.

The last thing I remember was going in for the white, but not actually drinking it. I don’t remember going for a swim or coming into the bedroom and continually turning the light on and off, talking at and/or yelling at my boyfriend more, passing out naked on the couch, or leaving a used pantyliner in the pool. Eww. I do remember waking up on the couch in the middle of the night and stumbling (literally) into bed, passing out for good.

The hangover sucked, the day was ruined, and I got fuck all done. But, I really do believe that this experience has made me even more committed to not drinking. To being sober. I think I needed to do it, to see if things had changed, to just get it fucking over with. Nothing’s changed, and nothing’s different. It’s not fun, and frankly, I can’t afford to drink anymore. I can’t afford to waste days, I can’t afford to offend my boyfriend and/or waste his time, I can’t afford to go there again, into that dark place. I can’t afford to be spiritually drained like that even one more time! I need light, not dark.

Some points:

1. Triggers. Need To Deal Better. I think my main trigger was the sheer buildup of sobriety! Like, the daily fucking grind of always being sober, never getting a break. Add to that hanging out at the beach all day with drinkers; my boyfriend making comments about other chics that hurt my feelings more than I like to admit; a killer PMS mood swing — well, it’s enough to make anyone succumb. I also spent about three hours on the phone with family the day before and realized that one brother thinks I’ve alienated myself from the family and need to call more and the other is still a long way from forgiving me for my batshit crazy blackout on New Year’s Eve. It just felt like major overload. Can’t I fucking do anything right? Where is MY solace, MY relief, MY release, huh? I don’t smoke weed or pop pills or do any other drugs, so wine is it.

The thing it, it’s not going to go away, life. People drinking and smoking. Job interviews and petty jealousy and family problems and life choices. Death. Mood swings. PMS. They’re all here to stay, drinking doesn’t solve anything or make any of it go away so…the only thing TO DO is to deal with it sober.

2. Hangovers. Still Suck. I am about to go suck down some rooibos tea and then Kill This Fucking Day. The shittiest part about this whole thing is that I wasted a day here, on the island. I had such a sense of accomplishment after a day spent sober, and now, well, I definitely feel like I wasted the day.

3. 60 days minus 1? Or, start the count all over? Bf says start over. I’m not sure how I feel, now that I’ve actually broken my stride. I feel much more practiced at being sober now, so I think it’ll be fairly easy to get back on the wagon. I mean, I could have killed myself if I had passed out in the pool. A family friend did just that, at 28 years old. I thought mostly about that today, not about my 60 days and the “game” of counting days. It’s not a game, it’s my life.

4. Next goal: being sober and not just “not drinking.”

I’m disappointed, but tomorrow’s another day to forgive and forget, right? Sigh.

How to not drink…

10 Aug

8:04 pm

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I quit…nearly 60 days ago. Yup, true story! Woot woot. GO, ME.

How do I not drink? Well, I’ve come up with a variety of ways to — as I still see it, rather bitterly — trick myself into thinking and actually believing that drinking four Diet Cokes a day is better than drinking red, glorious red wine. Here’s my running list:

1. Stay busy. Real busy. I’ve realized that the more I do, the less I want to drink, have time to drink, and think about my “need” to drink. I try not to let myself get bored or allow myself too much time to spiral from “thinking” to “thinkin’ and drinkin’.” There’ll be plenty of time to think and ponder, and sometimes, you just have to Turn It Off.

2. Turn it off. Your computer, your work, your TV, your friends, your emails and Facebooks and Twitters and all the fucking rest. Turn it off. You can allow yourself to do that. You NEED to. What do they say in AA? Don’t get too tired, too hungry, etc.? Well, don’t get too thoughtful, basically. Unless, of course, it’s good thoughtful, and not bad thoughtful…

2. Surround yourself with nondrinkers. YAWNS…But, it’s true. Luckily, I have a very supportive boyfriend (Hi!) who happens to not drink, but who also realizes the benefits to me of his choosing not to drink around me. I’ve sort of “abandoned” friends who just want to get drunk…not like I’ve got a huge circle anywhere at this point and anyway, most of my besties are mid-to-late-30s, and we’re all sort of over the shenanigans and blackouts and hangovers.

3. Eat chocolate. And ice cream. Doesn’t matter if you put it on your list or not, you’re gonna end up doing it! Cravings for sugar, HELLO?

4. Remember the aforementioned shenanigans, blackouts, and hangovers. Remember them very clearly and, however painful, try to keep them accessible if not at the forefront of your mind. (One of these posts, I’ll include a list of “shit I’ve done” in order to have it written out, for you and for me, to refer back to whenever the urge to drink hits.) Like, I know this is cheesy, but as Candy Finnigan said on an episode of Intervention when one of the weepy victims asked her how she quit drinkin’, she said simply, “Well, I had had enough.” I’ve had enough. And I sure as hell don’t want to black out and do or say something that, once again, I can’t take back. So over it. So, SO over it.

5. Remember that:
a. Drinkin’ doesn’t make a problem go away, it’s just a vacation from it. BUT:
b. Drinkin’ is NOT a vacation. Bummer.
c. Drinkin’ is NOT a reward, it is a punishment — mentally, emotionally, spiritually, not to mention, physically. You’re awesome and you deserve BETTER.
d. You will black out, and you will be hung over. (And if you’re not, then it’ll be the first time in like, EVER. Accept that the experiment has failed and your experience has succeeded…in allowing you to see this pattern rationally, from an objective standpoint. You’d get an “F” in Statistics if you actually drink after tallying all this data up!)

6. Find something to distract you from the craving, and then convince yourself that it’ll be better, way more of a sustained (longer and more nourishing) buzz than drinking. Read. Watch a movie. Walk. Run. Write. Paint. Look at the sun or the clouds or the moon or the myriad of life and animals and plants around you — just look, they’re pretty distracting. Do yoga. Meditate. Whatever takes you out of your head, even for a minute, is another step toward re-building your mind, toward *practicing sobriety.*

At the same time, I can hear the call of red wine, even as I type this. So, once again, I have to check in with myself. Seems like I spend SO much time going back and forth in my mind, mainly cuz I guess I still haven’t accepted that I cannot drink. Le sigh.

Of extremely large iced coffees…

9 Aug

9:04 pm

Nope, I didn’t cave and drink that bottle of red I bought yesterday afternoon. I hope to hold onto it like I did the last bottle I bought — on the top shelf of someone else’s wine rack, ready to uncork and serve…to someone else, some other day when I’m long gone from this housesitting gig.

I feel pretty good about it. Mostly that has to do with me making choices, and sticking with them. A not insignificant part of it, I must admit, has to do with being able to have and savor the moment when I tell my friends and family, Nope, bitches, I haven’t had a drink in 90 days. 180 days. 360 days.

(And, why do I care so god damned much what other people think? Do I even know what they think, or am I just assuming? I mean, I’d say that the people closest to me — my handful of friends who have literally saved me from accidentally killing myself while shitfaced, my family members (both brothers, mom, dad, and uncle…and some cousins, I’m sure) who have seen me black out and get crazy confused and belligerent on their asses — I’d say that all of these people would be nothing but happy, relieved, proud that I’ve quit. It’s the one or two or four assholes in my life who have taken a blackout and held it against me for years, or unfriended me, or treat me like a piece of shit whenever we hang out (but do it quietly, of course) cuz they know they’ve got an upper hand on me; it’s these people whom I dwell on and let piss me the fuck off. Why? What is wrong with me that at my age, I can’t just LET IT GO. Good riddance, and btw, I’m happier now, I’ve moved on, I’m no longer in that place, and I hope to God(dess) that you’ve got something better going on in your lives, too. Though, the vindictive bitch in me, I’ll admit it, hopes that they’re sad and stuck and haven’t moved on! Anyhoo…Jesus. Hello, rambling, negative thoughts! I don’t care, though; these torrents of thoughts are what make me drink, but also what make me able to have decent conversations with good, open, curious people.)

The problem I have now is, how to go out and not drink? Like, sure, I’ve gone out and even gone to a wedding without having drunk, but it wasn’t like, Woo hoo, I’m GOING OUT! It was more of a grit-my-teeth-and-pretend-to-smile affair, at least that’s how it felt to me. I want to WANT to go out and not drink. Not care about it. I need to learn how to be social without the “fun” that booze promises. In fact, and I’m not seeing this go away with sobriety and improved mood on my part, I really have ZERO desire to socialize, meet new people, hear their stories. Maybe I’m too old for the “fun and games” of your 20s and 30s (I’m 38), maybe I’m a burned out journalist (one of the hazards of that profession is eventually coming to treat people like commodities, and getting tired, oh, so tired, of listening to their stories), maybe I erroneously equate “relating” to drunken babbling over the top of a bar, so I’m turned off by it. Really, I’d rather stay home. And, it’s not totally because I don’t want to go out and not be able to drink. I gotta fix that. Or do I? Hmm…

I have to constantly remind myself that drinking that bottle of red IS NOT A REWARD; that’s the booze-fiend in my head talking. Drinking that bottle of red out at a bar doesn’t make the conversation more interesting to anyone but YOU; that’s the social anxiety drama queen in my head whining. I don’t need to drink to socialize, and/or sit at bars, and I know I can do it. What if…I just embrace and accept that my drink of choice will be a decaf iced coffee? The rest I’m going to have to confront — why I don’t want to meet new people, why I want to delve into myself most of the time these days, reading, writing, yoga, meditation, long walks alone — but I can do it on my own time, I guess…

Btw, thanks to one and all — and especially my friends online who commented last night — for giving me that extra reason/incentive to NOT imbibe last night. I hate to say it, but I might try and find an AA meeting soon and give it a chance…

(All that being said, I still want to drink and I’m still mulling that bottle over… Sigh. 57 days and 21 hours…)

Of dopamine and security blankets…

9 Aug

2:30 am

I bought a bottle of red wine today, the first time in over two months, and got it chillin’ in the fridge… But I hope to God(dess) that I don’t drink it! Do I like to torture myself? Am I really that much of a masochist? Apparently so.

Yup, I broke down and actually purchased a bottle of red wine tonight at Kmart (of all places, and a shitty $7 bottle at that!). OH, NO! Oh, yes. BUT, I made it past the craving or whatever it was today (severe PMS bipolar dip?) that made/allowed me to buy it and cart it home, so that’s good. I got distracted, I guess.

Did it help to get that bottle? What purpose is it serving if in the end, I choose NOT to drink it? Well, for one, it makes me feel excited. I recently watched a doc or something on TV about the neuroscience of addiction, and how people can’t, actually, say no to drugs and booze when they’re addicted. Why? Their dopamine circuits are too fucked up, and that is difficult — and deeply seated — brain chemistry to ignore. The interesting part for me was when the expert said that addicts will get a buzz just anticipating the using and boozing, and that the buzz is real. Yeah? Yeah. In fact, I’ve experienced that! It’s like, a total high from just anticipating, planning, looking forward to drinking.

When I bought the bottle, it wasn’t as huge as it might have been eight weeks ago, but a weight was lifted from my mind and chest (literally, my heart aches for red wine!) — I felt lighter, happier, excited about drinking. I had something to look forward to! Indeed, I might even become funnier, crazier, sexier, younger — or, at least, identify with that old (and DELUSIONAL) emotional self I constructed around drinking red wine. Point being, I’ve felt this anticipation and excitement before, just from having begun the planning process of drinking. My mood was noticeably altered.

I also did it to provide some kind of relief, solace, sense of security. Shit, whatever it takes, right? I know, it’s dangerous, but there’s a lot of booze in this house that I’m house-sitting for, and I haven’t touched a drop. And, the reason is not just cuz I don’t want to break my sober stride, but I also don’t want to have to deal with the fucking drama of replacing booze that may be expensive or have sentimental value for the owner. Been there, fucking done that. So, I’m learning to rationally apply what I’ve learned from my mistakes while drinking to my sober choices…at least up until this afternoon at the checkout in the big K.

It’s just grapes, my bad angel says. Just one glass.

The good angel’s getting better at holding her own, though. Why do it to yourself? Do you really need the buzz when half of it comes from just buying the bottle and bringing it home? Come ON, it’s shit wine, are you really going to go out on cheap red? What if, like last time you drank after being sober for a few weeks, you didn’t even get drunk, you just felt…weird? Will breaking your stride before you hit 90 days be worth it over four glasses of bad red wine? What about everyone who says you can’t do it (yourself included), friends who think you’re a drunk and always will be a drunk and are just waiting for you to slip up and start drinking again? Don’t you want to prove them wrong? What about your 57 days, your self-respect, winning the game?

(Sigh. So many thoughts for just one bottle of red wine…)

Addiction and AA? Hmm…

4 Aug

12:46 pm

Getting closer to 8 weeks sober, and that’s pretty much all that’s keeping me from cracking open a bottle of red and guzzling it these days. I just FEEL like drinking — it’s been taking all my concentration not to drink, actually. Then again, I’m much (yeah, much, I’d say MUCH) better at coping with the cravings using rational thought. As in:

If I drink one glass, I’ll likely finish the bottle, probably move on to two, or three, since I haven’t drunk for a while. Then, I’ll black out and well, who KNOWS what might happen at this point. At the very least, I’ll be hung the fuck over the next day, which will ruin it. And, I haven’t had a bad, ruined hung over day yet here (this time on island), and I’d really like to keep it that way. So, drinking equals hangover, which sucks.

I have to say, it’s amazing to me that I’ve “re-trained” my mind enough to WANT to choose not being hung over to drinking/being drunk. I’ve regained my sense enough to be able to see that while it’d be great — marvelous — to be drunk, it can only lead to bad things. Is three hours of drunkenness (or less) worth 24 to 48 hours of feeling horrible? Nope.

Again, it’s amazing to see just how you can re-train your mind, how you can overcome addiction, which is of the mind, not the body. AA would say otherwise. AA would also say that once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. And I would say what I always say, fuck AA. Get over your dogmatic, outdated, and possibly never in-sync-with-addiction-science mentality, will ya?

Maybe I should give AA another shot, though. It is a community and once you’ve gotten over the hump of staying sober, it could simply be nice to have friends that get it. People who know what I’m going through, that could be there for me when I’m feeling sorry for myself and wanting to binge drink.

I dunno. Everyone talks about how helpful AA can be, and I agree that it IS helpful — to some, and as a way to quit. It wasn’t for me, as every time I went to a meeting, I totally felt like drinking after! All that talk of booze and blackouts…! It’s also a semi-load of bullshit: who made up those 12 steps? Not to mention, AA has always felt to me like you’re replacing one addiction — booze, sex, food, whatever — with another, meetings. Instead of looking inward at the circular thoughts of addiction, at your own reasons for using, or drinking, or binge eating, you’re told to look outside? To a “program?” I guess it’s a start, a method that you can use to quit drinking. Sooner or later, though, you’re going to have to STAY SOBER, which has nothing to do with 12 steps, saying you’re sorry, and turning to “god.”

In fact, I think it’s the (fake) religion of AA, like all religions, that serves the purpose of making folks believe that they’re actually managing their addictive tendencies when in fact, it’s the program that’s distanced them from these tendencies. It’s infinitely harder, I think, to take responsibility for managing an addictive personality or addictive thoughts on your own — but it’s the only way to stay sober, mentally and emotionally, and to be glad to be sober physically.

Like I said, the closest I’ve come to a “higher power” was that ONE TIME a few months ago when I felt an absence of craving. Remembering that moment takes me back, again and again, to my late teens, a time of immense…flow. Excitement. Anticipation. Creativity. All without booze. It’s possible, it reminds me, that I once felt that way SANS BOOZE, and that I can, therefore, feel that way again.

What made me start drinking? Where was that fork in the road? Was it a gradual process, a response to my social anxiety that turned into a dysfunction? Of course. Did it get out of control even further, years later, when my mind had come to rely on those circuits being turned on so that others would be turned off? Sure. I could go on, but the point is, I don’t think anyone can tell you whether you’re going to be a drunk for the rest of your life. I don’t think anyone can draw a line in the sand — your sand — and do the work for you by substituting a program with an inner healing process. In that regard, AA is as elusive a fix as some of the drugs and booze we were using!

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