anxiety | Drunky Drunk Girl

Tag Archives: anxiety

How to put this so that it doesn’t sound as bad as it is? I drank.

12:50 am

There, I said it. I did it. I would’ve had six months in a few weeks, too. Why? I guess I just felt…overwhelmed. Depressed. Frustrated. Physical symptoms of maybe a depressive mood swing that just weren’t going away–static brain, sinkhole feeling in my stomach. I had been planning it for weeks, though, so maybe the above, while real, were just excuses.

To be honest, it wasn’t fun–the drunk was boring and mechanical, I never actually felt buzzed, and what little buzz I did feel was abruptly taken away by my blacking out within, oh, about an hour of when I started drinking. Zero to 60 in like, an hour. How lame.

However, I learned a lot. And, while I still have to process some of it (I’ll do that when I’m not hung over) this, in essence, is the gist of it:

1. It still sucks to be hung over. Like, way sucks. I’ve spent today feeling alternately sluggish and anxious. I threw up a little last night (of *course* I don’t remember doing so, just like I don’t remember MOST of the conversation I had with my mom on the phone or passing out on the couch) so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. There’s just a lethargy within, a damp feeling of confusion, uncertainty, sadness–it’s the hangover, and there is simply nothing GOOD here, in this state of mind/being.
2. I can’t drink normally. It doesn’t change. In fact, I went right back to where I left off.
3. Wine takes me to a dark place, a place of the past. I’ve grown used to being in the present, where there is light, where there is looking forward. Last night, I drank and went back, and got upset by events that have happened and aren’t happening anymore, that I haven’t let go. I think I simply NEED to let some things go. Let them be in the past, with no more dwelling.

And, I had SO many “God shots” yesterday, too, it was hilarious in a not-ha-ha kind of way that I drank anyway. From seeing two people I know, driving in their cars to the 5:30 AA meeting downtown as I drove by, en route to the store to buy wine; to having to go BACK to the store a second time to buy a corkscrew; to in between all of this, receiving a long email from one of my friends, complaining about the out-of-control, mean drinkers in her social circle and how proud she is of me for having almost six months sober!

Eh, I’m not really upset about having to start the count over. In fact, counting days is OK for a while, but… I realized today that counting days makes this into too much of a game. This is not a game, this is my life. In ways big but mostly small and subtle, stopping using alcohol as a coping mechanism has changed my life, my lifestyle, my way of viewing my life. And, all I know tonight is, I don’t want to–I can’t–go back to the other way.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, blackout, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, depression, drinking, hangover, hung over, recovery, slip, sobriety, wine, women

Comments 29 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Blackout, Coping mechanisms, Cravings, Depression, Hangover, Recovery, Slip, Sobriety

I no longer define myself by my drinking

6 Mar

9:51 pm

And, no one else can, either!

Sorry about not posting as often as I usually do, but, I’ve had a lot going on. Nonetheless, I’m still here, still sober, and still thinking about drinking–but won’t–almost every day. I mean, it’d be nice, I guess, to have a glass of red. Mainly, I wonder if I can; and if I would, if I could. The thoughts are momentary, though; it’s just not something I’m going to give up the past 21 weeks (as of tomorrow) of mental work/anguish to do!

I’m definitely feeling like I’m coming out from under some sort of anxiety/depression fog, which has been enveloping my brain and hovering around it since December. I feel better, more confident, and well, more like myself, in general. Nothing has to be perfect, and, if they don’t want me, it’s their loss, is MUCH easier for me to tell myself these days, an almost automatic internal reaction–how it was, and should be; the baseline; normal. Not that I didn’t have doubts and self-confidence issues before, but the older I got the better able I was to channel the Fierce. Since I quit drinkin’, I’ve just felt…really unsure. Annoyingly, frustratingly so. More and more, decisions are coming without a lot of back and forth. I can count on myself again, and that takes away a lot of anxiety (which, I guess, I didn’t even know was coming from within).

Drinking was a phase in my life, I see now. I’m now most definitely not in that phase; I’ve grown out of it. Grown up, in a sense. Getting shitfaced messes everything up, and that’s the best it does; I really don’t have the time or desire to mess things up anymore. Drinking to excess has personal and professional consequences; I wouldn’t subject myself to them–and wouldn’t let others take advantage of me while drunk–if I had an OUNCE of self-love. I see that now.

I’m not sure if drinking will be a part of my future, but using wine the way I did–and abusing others and letting myself be abused by others–will DEFINITELY not be. It really is that simple.

I am no longer defining myself by my drinking. And, regardless of what box you fit into (someone I hurt, someone I “lost” along the way to getting sober), I am no longer allowing you to define me by my drinking. (“You” is not, well, y’all, but…well, you know what I mean!) What a liberating revelation! Am I still bitter that some people haven’t forgiven or forgotten, despite my “amends” and apologies? Hell’s, yes! Am I trying to let that–and them–go? You bet. There are SO many people in this world to get to know–that I get the chance to know–to share myself with, to love. And to be loved by. Why would I waste time and effort on those who are still defining me–and our relationship–by my nonexistent drinking? I wouldn’t. And that’s much easier to accept now than it was even a month ago.

I’m looking forward–finally–to most everything. Finally, it’s not an effort to get excited about a trip, a job application, a road race. I can almost look forward to dinners out sans wine–well, let’s not go THAT far. I don’t know if that’s part of the warped-by-wine leaving me, but I think it is. Why? Because it feels effortless, familiar–I remember all the stuff I USED to do that got me excited, wine or no wine. Somewhere along the way, none of it alone could make me feel excited anymore; the only thing I looked forward to, that truly motivated me, was wine. Getting buzzed. Doubly disappointing was that the by-product became mass confusion and destruction.

Anyway, things are rolling along: I’m *this* close to registering for a half-marathon somewhere; I’m heading to Miami this weekend for a solo “big city” adventure; and well, other stuff that’s too personal or boring to share here. Slowly, but surely, things are coming together. I just have to remember to take it easy on myself when I need to, breathe, and ENJOY the silence–wolfie (the voice of craving, that growls, Drink drink drink drink!) has finally shut up, and is cowering in his dog bed over in the far corner. Yes, I gave him a *dog* bed to rub in his now SO-not-alpha status.

147 days tomorrow, which means 33 days until my 6-month goal! Unicorns, set…and GO!!!

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, cravings, defining self, depression, drinking, psychology, recovery, self-definition, self-love, sober, sobriety, wine, women

Comments 7 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Change, Cravings, Depression, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety

Not PAWS, but maybe PTSD?

16 Jan

3:16 pm

Well, you guys have got me thinking again–so, of course, I have to follow up on my last post.

Lately, I’ve been feeling burnt out by the littlest of things, the slightest pressures, the shortest to-do lists. Or, maybe the to-do lists aren’t that short, but my energy definitely does not match my ambition. I no longer seem to have the get-up-and-go that I used to when I was drinking. Or, rather, the go-go-go, and chase-chase-chase.

I think I was simply running on fumes when I was on The Wine. Like, my adrenaline was constantly up, and my immune system was running on overdrive–no wonder I could do and go and stay up and drink, and it seemed like I felt much more alive than I do now. Or, was I just wired? Actually, I was probably a nervous wreck, and my body was about to go from saying “Hello, we can’t keep you amped up like you’re escaping from a pack of hyenas much longer!” to “We quit, bitch!”.

The more I think about it, the more I don’t really buy PAWS, or, post-acute-withdrawal syndrome. The main issue I have, after having quit drinkin’, is getting used to not being fueled by the anticipation of getting drunk. I have to say, it is still a struggle for me to not feel anxious, sometimes panicky, and often sad whenever I realize (daily, still sometimes more than once a day) that I can’t get buzzed. I used wine as a motivating factor for so long (i.e., If I can get through this day, then I can have wine), as a way to combat the stress and fatiguing aspects of my life. Now that it’s not even an option, what is my go-to source of strength? What becomes my motivating factor? I mean, at this point, I don’t NEED to work full-time and/or compete and achieve in the “real world;” I sort of dread the day I have to go back to that shit. What I’ve come to understand is that while there are plenty of people who use substances to propel them on their career paths, I cannot–and don’t want–to be one of them anymore.

And, while I know about most of the physical damage I’ve caused to my body, I cringe–stricken, to an extent, as if I have a mild case of PTSD–at some of the things I’ve done and lived through while blacked out drunk. Waking up in bed with a stranger? Spending entire evenings out, with only fleeting glimpses of what I might have said or where I might have gone? Cursing out strangers (or friends, or bartenders) on every other street corner on the LES? Getting into a fight, being shoved, and breaking my arm as I crashed my shoulder onto the sidewalk? And then, passing out and having to deal with it the next day, so hung over (and in such excruciating pain) I could barely keep my eyes open as I stumbled from ER to ER, trying to find one where the line wasn’t hours long? Spending nights (on more than one occasion) in jail, alternately screaming belligerently at the cops through my blackout and curled up in the fetal position as I waited for my court papers to come through; communing for days with 20 other women over a non-working toilet, rotten cheese sandwiches and sour milk, and gymnastics mats that served as our “beds” in a 40-degree holding cell? YIKES. I could go on and on.

Moving back to [cold west coast city], pining for a romantic relationship, for friendships, for an old self–all of which had been thoroughly extinguished years earlier (and, if they hadn’t, DEFINITELY flitted out to a mass of dank coals during the ensuing 18 months that I continued living there)? Drinking entire weekends away, so that my first encounter with daylight was at 3 pm on a Sunday, when I would walk to the Safeway to get more wine? Drinking several times for entire weeks at a clip: commuting while drunk, working while drunk, passing out in my cube while drunk? Drinking to obliterate my nerves at having to go back to work the next day, not sure what my coworkers heard or saw, not sure how the shuttle driver deposited me at the train station because I had blacked out hours before leaving work and don’t remember anything of the commute home? I could go on. And on and on and on.

Post-traumatic stress disorder? Yup, I think I got it.

But you know what? I’m through it, on the other side, and I feel great! Stronger, calmer, and much more capable of taking care of myself. I obviously was taking my anger out on the wrong people, including me, but, that’s behind me now. I am onto a better–and very different–way.

And, all this is to simply illustrate that yes, these things can depress and/or overwhelm, but we get past them, forgive and forget for our own sakes, and deal with the memories of how they made us feel. Slowly, but surely. And in our own time and graces.

All in due time, I keep telling myself. All in due time…

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, depression, drinking, PAWS, post-acute withdrawal syndrome, posttraumatic stress disorder, psychology, PTSD, recovery, sobriety, wine, withdrawal, women

Comments 8 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Depression, Psychology, PTSD, Recovery, Sobriety, Withdrawal

I think I might have PAWS

15 Jan

1:53 pm

And, we’re not talkin’ about the cute kind! (I have baby giraffe hooves, remember?)

PAWS = post-acute-withdrawal syndrome. The symptoms can range from everything from depression to anxiety to fatigue to “physical coordination problems” (uh, had that covered BEFORE I quit), for months or years after you stop drinking.

Say what?! YEARS?!?! Come ON. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

First, I have to go through withdrawal, then I have to make it 90 days, and now, I have to keep going through withdrawal, indefinitely? NOT FAIR. (Well…you did get yourself into this mess, Drunk Drunk Girl; now you have to get yourself out.)

I’m finally, after 90 days, starting to feel less moody, and less pouty, when it comes to drinking. To feel less depressed when I tell myself that once again, No, you cannot drink tonight, or Yes, you have to at least try to convince yourself that this (everything) might be even a little bit fun without wine. Le sigh. I’m beginning to know–in my heart AND mind–that drinking equates to not getting things done, which is what I really want right now. Those to-do lists are simply popping, and I finally want to dive in, like I used to.

However, my body is not really wanting to dive in, let’s just say. I feel TIRED a lot. Like, I only have a finite amount of both mental and physical energy, and then I have to stop and go to bed. My days could very well consist of eating, walking the dogs, and resting/sleeping/zoning. My “go go go” tenacity seems gone, zapped. Like, I cannot IMAGINE, really, holding down a full-time job right now, let alone living again the lifestyle I was in my drinking days: up at 6 am, in bed by 2 am, with an 18-hour day, a full meal, and two bottles of red wine to digest in those 4 hours before I had to get up and do it all over again. I’m OVER the rat race, for sure, but it has a lot to do with realizing that I don’t want to, let alone can’t, spend the next 20 years vying for prizes that mean next to nothing to me, alongside people who are as unhealthy in their outlook on life as I had become.

I DO wonder, though, if my soreness (here, there, everywhere) is not related to too much artificial sweetener (i.e., Diet Coke). I read that somewhere, and it stuck. Lately, my knees, both of ’em, really hurt when I run. I went for a 4- or 5-mile hike yesterday–and am BURNT today. Jesus! I used to (like, less than a year ago) be able to do 10-, 12-mile hikes–and drink to blackout afterward–and feel fine when it came to my muscles and joints. Hmm… I wonder if there wasn’t good stuff in wine that was actually buffering me against the inevitable decline toward old age. 😉

In any case, it’s much better than it was even a month ago, but the physical fatigue is concerning. As is my continuing desire to emulate my dogs (wake, walk, eat, sleep, repeat).

Does anyone have anything to add or contribute? It seems that the defining characteristics of PAWS and its “progression” or “remission” are about as nebulous as the definition of alcoholism, so I’m all ears (or paws–har har)!

96 days and not lookin’ back…right now, anyway. 😉

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, depression, drinking, fatigue, PAWS, post-acute withdrawal syndrome, recovery, sobriety, wine, withdrawal, women

Comments 9 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Binge drinking, PAWS, Recovery, Sobriety, Withdrawal

You have to go through it to get through it

30 Dec

9:39 pm

I REALLY wanted to drink last night. REALLY, REALLY, REALLY. Frustration, disappointment in self, ennui, fear of the past and future, sadness… I spent the day on the couch, feeling ill, too, which only contributed to this pent-up bad juju.

A fog of desire, that’s what it was. A fog of desire to drink. To drown it out, drown it away.

I used to drink when I felt the way I felt last night. OH, YES, I did. NO WAY IN HELL was I going to let that pimple come to a head. What I mean is, I would shut down the emerging thoughts before they fully formed, effectively transfiguring them into something other, something nebulous–something drunken. I would drink, then weep, yet, I never understood exactly what I was crying about; I knew I felt bad, but I never let myself think the real thoughts, only the drunken, fake ones.

I really wanted to drink the past two days, actually. I’ve just felt low energy, depressed, frustrated. Numerous points, but always the same theme: I’m not doing enough with my talents, I’m wasting valuable time. What’s it all mean? Why create, produce, leave behind, anyway? I’ve forgotten most of my life (I mean, I don’t specifically remember a lot of the hours I’ve been alive, y’know?), what’s the point of creating new memories? (LOL–SUCH a negative thought!) And, of course, the next thought had to come: In fact, what a SHITE thing to do, to have a kid and subject him/her to what I’m feeling and thinking right now, which HAS to cross most people’s minds now and then, right? RIGHT? And on and on. We rented “Ted,” and that was pretty funny, so the night wasn’t ALL BAD, of course! Yet, the whirring continued until my boyfriend went to bed and I was left on the couch (still), wishing I had bought myself a treadmill for Christmas. Or a sledge hammer!

I’ve always felt pressured to accomplish, achieve, create. It’s become an addiction, I know, perceiving my reality this way and reacting to it, usually negatively. However, being sober–getting sober, the process of, actually–has allowed me to begin to see that NO, I don’t have to keep doing what I’ve always done! I have a choice in how I see the world and how I let it make me feel. I mean, I can choose not only WHAT I think about but also HOW I choose to think about certain things, especially my own ideas of productivity, purpose, and achievement. I get to choose how I relate to my thoughts, my feelings, and my gut reactions.

It’s a process, though, so one step forward, two steps back. Last night, I did the usual: I let my brain go there, and pretty soon, I was clenching my gut, nearly wanting to break my teeth because… I…I…What am I doing? What am I doing with my time? Am I simply not a good writer? Have I become a has-been? And then, the thought of thoughts, the rotten core of the apple:

Have I lost myself in being sober? Which, of course, almost instantaneously morphed into, Sobriety has taken myself away from me!

Evil-doer, DEVIL sobriety.

Today, I’m not sure what to think about this melodramatic conclusion except, it’s sort of true. I am no longer my old self. I no longer have wine to boost my mood, to encourage me to want to do what I thought I wanted to do. Without wine, I don’t do this and I don’t do that, so did I ever really LIKE doing this and that? Was I even good at it?

Moreover, I just feel–feel is the key word; feelings are tricky, remember?–like I’m no longer myself! Sure, I’m a new self, and probably a better one. But, I MISS the old me. The “fun” me. I realized I haven’t danced alone in my room since June! That saddens me. And, I have to say, not drinking has left me feeling more content but less happy. I don’t get to get giddy, to let off steam. Sure, I could do this sober, but…why haven’t I?

So, that thought of “I’ve lost myself in getting sober” was what sent me on a crying jag. No wine, though, to initiate it for no apparent reason…and to instantly turn it off when the wine wears off. You know how that goes: you get drunk, you turn on a song (fuck you, Damien Rice), and you start bawling. It feels good, mainly because you DO have something to bawl about but it’s deep down and you simply don’t want to bring it up, or you CAN’T, or you can’t without the wine; and then, the song ends, you abruptly stop crying, and you refill your glass…likely now laughing. At something equally ethereal and, well, NOT REAL.

Last night, the opposite. Real pain, real tears. A staring-me-in-the-face realization that YES, maybe I will never be the same person, maybe I will no longer be able to identify with that self, which I’ve been living with for a long time. Yes, I am getting older; yes, I might not have children; yes, I might be a has-been, as far as the science writing community in [cold east coast city] goes. Yes, yes, yes. And, it hurts.

But you know what? This, too, shall pass. Cry, sit there and sulk in the dark, and then realize, who the FUCK cares anyway aside from little old you? LOL. Like, if John Doe over there doesn’t even KNOW what I’m going through let alone can even identify with it, is it really worth fussing over? Let it go. CHOOSE how you react to your own Never Never Land of thoughts, Drunky Drunk Girl. It’s not real…

A funny thing happened, then, which is pretty simple: I felt better. When I woke up this morning, I felt like I had made some sort of progress. Moved forward, or at least moved beyond a certain point. If I had drunk to drown out my thoughts and feelings, I never would have processed them. I might have had a fake catharsis (cry, hit someone, pass out exhausted), but I would have woken up in the same place–still sad, still semi-baffled and unclear, and worse, HUNG OVAH.

So, the title of my post: you have to go through it to get through it. For me, desiring to drink these days is much less about wanting to get drunk and happy as it is avoiding confronting my “issues.” Which is a good thing to know, really. Simple, but it takes what it takes, right? Oh, AA, I must thank you for your funny little expressions that I’ve sort of come to adore.

(I’ve decided that the Big Book is a bunch of malarkey, but we’ll blog about that another night.)

AND, thank you, Sobersphere, you’ve kept me once again from ruining my streak with one false move–coming up on 90 days in about a week and a half!

Tags: accomplishment, achievement, alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, coping mechanism, coping skills, cravings, depression, drinking, ennui, goals, productivity, psychology, recovery, sense of purpose, sobriety, triggers, wine, women

Comments 32 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Coping mechanisms, Cravings, Depression, Life, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety, Triggers, Work, Writing

Another mass shooting. What is wrong with this picture?

15 Dec

12:15 pm

Yeah, it’s a little fuzzy, n’est-ce pas?

I won’t ramble for long, but here’s my take.

Here, in “USA, Inc.”, we have issues. We glorify violence, and honor competition. We promote rampant consumerism. This leads to alienation and isolation, anxiety and depression, to name JUST A FEW. It sort of makes you want to drink. Or, shoot people. I’m not being in any way ironic.

I have NO idea (mainly because the mainstream media chooses not to delve into the mental health issue since it makes a less compelling story than, let’s say, “evil-doings,” but I digress) what was going on inside the head of the shooter, but let me tell you something: there was a point–more than one, honestly–during my middle and high school years that were, actually, low enough to make me contemplate killing of beings, namely myself. The self-loathing and anger that resulted from my feeling ostracized/ridiculed at school for being a good student; for being from a family who weren’t, to be frank, hicks; for simply being creative/artistic (let’s not even go into sexual preferences and/or orientation)–it led me to binge eat and then, binge drink. I couldn’t deal, and most of the time, I didn’t know HOW to deal aside from writing and dancing my emotions out. Unfortunately, I was too inhibited to dance in front of others. Fortunately, I clung to my belief in my grades as my ticket out, as well as my writing–my life raft.

I don’t know what’s going on, really, with today’s kids, but by the time I got to my junior year of college, I had already gone through several major episodes of depression, been through the emotional mindfuck that is bulimia, and likely harbored some serious sociopathic leanings that never materialized, due to simply internalizing my hatred for the people who hated me (or so I thought). I was SO overwhelmed by a sense of “there is something seriously wrong with this place” that I HAD to escape. And I did, to France. Anything to get me away from the billboards, the commercials, the emptiness I felt at having everything and having nothing (and I came from a lower middle class family!). I felt suffocated by what I still see to be the ills of our society, which have NOTHING, really, to do with the “freedom” to own guns (there’s a great article in The New Yorker on the history of the first amendment’s “right to bear arms” clause):

1. Consumerism. The idea that things, instead of experiences, people, and places, will make you happy and/or content; that happiness and contentment, like EVERYTHING worth having, can be had by anything but hard work–attained over a period of years, if not an entire lifetime.
2. Glorification of violence. We can see it in everything from our movies to our wars, this “we’re-gonna-kick-your-head-in-cuz-we-can” mentality. (When I volunteered clearing rubble in [beautiful island] after the [natural disaster], the Brits and Aussies nicknamed the heaviest sledgehammer “‘Merica” because it could “smash a lot of shit and leave a mess behind.”)
3. Glorification of competition, egotism, greed, etc. Why aren’t more “feminine” ideologies instilled in us throughout our lives, like cooperation, conciliation, nonviolent conflict resolution? I guess I’m generalizing here, but how many of you would argue against the fact that most (all?) of these mass shootings have been perpetrated my men, and wars are declared mainly (exclusively?) by male leaders?

I wish it was different, but when I left “USA, Inc.” in 1994 for Tours and then Paris, France, I figuratively never looked back. Now, I’m living in [beautiful island], which I might consider a second-world country but would certainly agree that it’s NOT the mainland–and I feel like I can breathe, like I might never return to “that place.”

Anyhoo…how does this pertain to drinking? Well, all I can say is, I’ve never experienced this kind of grief, so I have no idea what I would do. BUT, I hope that I would not pick up. I mean, drinking almost seems pointless in situations like this; which, in a sense, is a testament to its futility in the face of confronting the things life throws our way.

I wish peace to all the families involved in this shiteous crime. That is all.

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, competition, consumerism, death, depression, drinking, grief, guns, mass shooting, psychology, recovery, Sandy Hook, sobriety, social anxiety, societal problems, society, sociology, violence, wine, women

Comments 3 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Current events, Death, Depression, Life, Psychology, Recovery, Sobriety, Sociology

Am I punishing myself by staying sober?

6 Dec

1:21 am

Uh, talk about a heavy question. Then again, AA is heavy, and that’s where I heard someone pose this question recently in response to a death in her immediate circle.

Hmm…

Yes, in a sense, you are punishing yourself. You don’t get to obliviate, and that sucks. It’s a choice to live through the pain, or at least not circumvent it at will. However, in the grand scheme of things, you and us both know that you aren’t. Learning to cope with death–with pain and with grief–is necessary to live. Avoiding moving through it to the other side is escapism, not reward. Sobriety is the reward, as without it, you just keep going back to square one; you keep yourself in the pain, instead of moving past it. You cry, you drink, you cry because you drank. You wake up and wonder why the pain is still there. That sounds like punishment to me! (Easier said than done, especially when I’m not the one grieving a death, *especially* while sober.)

My first experience with grief came after the [beautiful island] [natural disaster]. I had times there–amazing, life-changing times. I had friends there, and some of those friends were crushed to death. After the [natural disaster], I had horrible sadness, confusion, and bouts of frantic anxiety–usually at night, in my bed. What would happen to me when I died? Would I float off into endless black nothingness? How could life be considered so precious when it was made of such a frail mold? If it could be taken so easily, how could (can) it really be so valuable? I couldn’t fall asleep at night, and would sometimes wake with feelings of being smothered.

I got through it, and for better or for worse, I don’t really think of death as bad anymore. Sure, it freaks me out, but death is. Death just is. I will die; the question is, will I accept this and then, how will I live my life? As a friend told me years ago, when I was in my early 20s and feeling bogged down by my first-world choices to the point of being depressed about life: Good thing it’s short, eh? Right, thanks.

In other words, drinking stalls your process and wastes your time. And, considering how few moments we have here, and how difficult it can be to learn to grasp and cherish them while sober…even if you want to drink, can you really, truly afford to? Life is short, and learning its lessons takes time. Why not start now, end quicker, and get out of class while the sun is still shining?

Going on 8 weeks tomorrow, and then (my second time around) 60 days this coming Monday! And, I’m NOT stopping this train. Drinking is simply not in my cards these days; sure, I’d like to, but when I re-think it, I don’t want to waste the hours drinking and being hung over. I have better things to do, things that provide me with much longer-term and substantial buzz than wine. Plus, I know that drinking wine after this long of being sober–I fell off ye olde wagon, remember?–will not feel good; the buzz’ll feel weird, and I likely won’t have a good time, mentally (static brain) and emotionally (downs for the first two glasses, blunted ups for however long it’ll take me to black out, which won’t be more than 2-4 more glasses). It’s not worth my valuable time anymore. Go, me.

(Still, wouldn’t it be nice…NO! Down, wolf, down.) 😉

Tags: AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, death, drinking, mortality, recovery, sobriety, wine, women

Comments 10 Comments
Categories AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Death, Mortality, Recovery, Sobriety

AA: it’s not just about me! Say what?

29 Nov

9:06 pm

Yup. You heard me. Who IS this person, and where did you stash Drunky Drunk Girl? (Btw, I just cleaned my trunk, so no blood stains, please…)

I know, I know; I can be VERY self-oriented. I’m introverted, I’m a writer by passion and by trade, and I’m very analytical. I tend to be in my head a LOT, thinking my thoughts and thinking how awesome they are. Ahem. They are, aren’t they? 😉

Today, I went “back” to AA after about a week wondering and ruminating about what purpose it was serving in my sobriety (of 7 weeks today!). Why? Well, after all your comments — which I SO appreciated — I realized that one, I have some great, grounding friends online and that impressed me a heck of a lot more than a few douchebags in AA making it seem like they’re the only game in town; and two, well, as I told L. tonight, as she and myself and two other women were walking up the steps of the church downtown after the meeting, “I missed you guys.”

Yes, I missed my AA peeps! I missed hearing about their lives, what they were up to, whether they were still sober for crying out loud! I missed checking in with them; so far, they’re all wholeheartedly sincere in their desire to help little old me who, up until a few weeks ago, was a complete stranger to them.

Most importantly, one of my favorite women, C. (L.’s sponsee), fell off the wagon yesterday and ended up going to the hospital last night (I think she was seeking anti-anxiety meds and they hesitated and gave her something for her blood pressure. Which is bizarre, imho.). Anyway, she and I met about a month ago at the Tuesday night women’s meeting. We’re originally from the same part of the country, and we bonded over the fact that we were both new to the island, both at our first meeting (relatively speaking), AND, both had about the same length of sobriety when we met.

This afternoon at the beach (rough life, I know), I heard that *someone* had fallen off the wagon via a text from E., another lady friend who has about 17 years and is VERY cool in how practical she is toward AA and sobriety. She gets it, as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, it ended up being C., and it sounded bad. This woman does “John, Jack, and Jose,” and based on a short conversation with her, I could tell that many drinks were drank. Many, MANY drinks.

When she came into the meeting late tonight — we were all expecting her, but I didn’t text her out of respect, I suppose — my heart lurched! She looked awful; haggard, tweaked, and frail. Tired. Hungry. Lost. I actually felt a lump rise in my throat and had to look down, to hide the tears that briefly welled in my eyes. This IS a disease, I thought. It really struck me then: C. is not trying, at least consciously, to do this to herself.

I know that I have been quite childish when it comes to ranting and raving about AA. (Of course, I have; I needed to be.) I realized a while ago that meetings help everyone, and only everyone, if EVERYONE shows up! It was, however, a theoretical concept until today, when I heard about C., and then tonight, when I saw her. I can’t promise to come to meetings for her, but I can promise to come as often as I can. I can text her, call her, respond even if she sounds “OK.” I can make myself more available. I realize that part of my problem is isolating myself; it’s partly my nature as an introvert, partly habitual due to years of doing just that out of feeling insecure and worthless, to a certain degree.

At the beach today, as I was thinking about C. and about my own role in “not getting AA,” I actually picked up the Big Book and started reading it. NO, my friends, I have never even read the damn thing! And you know what? Some of what I read is not unreasonable! Especially holding onto anger/resentments, and drinking over them. I’ve done that. I lived in that, for a long time, even though I thought I wasn’t. I still live in that, even though I’m not drinking anymore.

I could even tolerate the God stuff, mainly because the God stuff seems to fully address the fact that most of us aren’t born with a concept of God, and are sort of freaked out by it. (Jesus freaks need not apply. JUST KIDDING.) However, the Big Book directly addresses the fact that we are humans, on a planet, in the middle of the cosmos, trying to perceive a reality that may or may not exist! There is a creative force, whatever that might be; even if there isn’t, who are we to fully grasp this? Anyway, it’s all sort of written like that in the Big Book. Huh, I thought. Maybe I can dig this? Some of this is precisely why I drank…

I think AA appears outdated; it’s why a lot of people, including myself, shun it. What a horrible thing we’ve been taught, really, which is to disregard the past, our elders, our ancestors. Their knowledge, their having gone before, their practiced living — why do we toss it away? It’s a problem in American society, especially among “white people.” I won’t go too far into that, but it’s a toxic byproduct of our culture, and it manifests in ways big and small, conscious or not.

But, I digress. I hope C. realizes that drinking just fucks EVERYTHING up, and that it is no longer working for her. Unfortunately, I can’t make her not drink. I can’t solve her anxiety problems. What I can do, though, is be there for her if she calls, and show up, even when she doesn’t.

Tags: 12 steps, AA, alcoholic, Alcoholics Anonymous, alcoholism, anxiety, Big Book, binge drinking, drinking, God, recovery, sobriety, wine, women

Comments 10 Comments
Categories 12 Steps, AA, Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, God, Recovery, Sobriety

Sex and sobriety — it’s actually possible?

12 Nov

5:29 pm

Yes, indeed. It actually IS.

SAY WHAT?

Without going into too much detail — har har — I have a few minutes before yet ANOTHER PAIN IN MY ASS MEETING takes up the hours that I somewhat dread anyway, between 4:30 and 7; so, I thought I’d say hello and, um, dump some heavy thoughts on you. Yes, I’m good at that.

As has become apparent to me, most people who drink alcoholically are also doing it to medicate, avoid, or in general, escape. For me, I used booze. I used it for many things: to not feel bored, to not feel sad, to avoid confronting existential problems, like, What should I do with my life? and, How am I going to spend the next few minutes? and, If I spend them wrong, does that mean I’m a loser? or, Man, I don’t know what to do first, maybe I’ll drink to avoid deciding? or, I don’t know how to have fun or take a break, so I’ll drink to avoid dealing with figuring that out. And, on and on.

I realized, long before I quit drinking, that I had a very healthy fear of intimacy; sex, of course, but relationships, in general. I used booze to both avoid them and avoid having to deal with this fear while sober. As I discovered, you get exactly what you’re looking for. I was afraid of dating, of having sex sober, so I drank and got what I really wanted: pathetic, drunk sex with partners who were NOWHERE NEAR relationship material. (Then again, neither was I, and maybe that was also a variable in the equation!)

I have only dated three men in my life, long-term; the last actual relationship I was in was oh, about 8 years ago. Yes, I’ve been single for most of my 30s, mainly out of fear of being known; out of fear of someone — who is much cooler and better and more awesome, of course — finding out just how boring, or fidgety, or indecisive, or lazy, or uncreative, or [insert your favorite diss here] I really am. I avoided not just relationships, but sex. I simply couldn’t get myself to do it, sober. Too close, too intimate. What if we locked eyes and I had to reveal a feeling? What if he expected to have a, gasp!, conversation with me, sober? What would I say? Would he be interested? What if I was depressed, or unsure, or crazy, or kooky, but not his kind of kooky? Would he be OK with that? What if (IF? LOL) he was boring, or shallow, or clueless, or lame, or whatever, and I had to pretend to like him because I was lonely; or because I wanted to give someone a chance in order to feel less “strange bird”-esque for preferring to spend my nights — and days — alone, doing my own thing, at ease and deriving pleasure from that?

Best to just be drunk, to avoid it all, and then hung over, to excuse myself quietly.

What a horrible way to live, eh? And, what about me?, I ask, as I read and remember the self-berating monologue that must have been going on repeat in the back of my mind for years. YEARS.

I had a lot of social anxiety growing up, and it manifested in extreme shyness, in overstudying, in spending most of my non-school-related time alone, writing or reading; and then, sort of following my twin (or, did he follow me?) to the same university; and then, finally, discovering binge eating and binge drinking as a way to avoid it all AND make it feel better at the same time. Fast forward from my 20s to my 30s; I kept drinking the wine, and left all the other stuff behind. Or, so I thought.

Funny thing is, I had a LOT of intimate, and amazing, relationships with women over the years. And, with men who were not men I wanted to date or have sex with. So, it wasn’t all bad, but it got a lot WORSE when I started to drink to ridiculous excess, put work and career success way ahead of love, and isolate.

These days, I’m basking in the fruit of my labors: I ended up entering a relationship with a friend who I’ve known for 10 years, and I feel safe. I don’t know if he knows how difficult it was for me to basically feel the fear and do it anyway, but I’m glad I did. I don’t think there’s a magic bullet; like everything sober, it takes personal work to talk myself out of actually believing that it matters when there’s an “awkward” moment. I don’t think sober folks deal with anything different, either; they may have just learned to confront love and sex earlier than I did. Who knows?

Anyway, I could go ON and ON about this, but I’ll stop for now. Off to a new meeting. I’m a bit…anxious? I’ve never been to this one, and well, I haven’t heard much about it. My gut says that it’ll be weird, and awkward, but hey, Weird and Awkward are my closest friends these days and I promised them yesterday that I’d come out and play again today, so…

Bye, y’all! 32 days, btw!

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, depression, drinking, recovery, relationships, sex, sobriety, social anxiety, wine, women

Comments Leave a Comment
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Depression, Recovery, Sex and Relationships, Sobriety, Social Anxiety

Settling in…

14 Oct

1:26 am

The past two days have been…difficult. However, I’m strong, must move forward, and must hit the return key on the autopilot program if necessary. I am not drinking, period.

I drank on the plane and then with dinner on Thursday night, and while Thursday and Friday were productive and great (it’s really nice to see my boyfriend again!), today felt ROUGH. After spending most of the day shopping for new household items, food, and general stuff, we came home and had a quiet night here. I went for a short run and saw the most stunning “shooting star.” It looked like a ball of fire slowly streaking across the northern sky, slow enough that I thought it was an aircraft. Please don’t abduct me, I thought to myself. Even though I’m only on Day 2 (Day 3 today), I still want to win this game called sobriety.

I feel happy to be here in [beautiful island where I now live] — I feel at home, for the most part. Yet, I’ve also got this just-went-off-to-college feeling, which is strange, since I correlate this with leaving family, the nest. Isn’t this my family now, my nest? Apparently, it’s going to take time. I think giving up my place, my “single life,” my independence in a way, well, it’s left me feeling a bit uncertain. Apprehensive. Scared, even! I know it takes a while to settle in somewhere, and even longer to make friends. I just have to have patience and not let my brain get the better of me.

Tonight, I really wanted to shut it down with wine. The “it” is not the anxiety, per se; I feel like I just can’t think. Like, all the grey matter has been sucked out of my brain by a medium-sized vacuum cleaner. Even my writing is stilted. ARG. Maybe I simply need to stop putting so much pressure on myself and treat this next few months like I’ve been treating my time here, as a “temporary vacation” (during which I freelance)?

Anyway, I’m sad about not being able to medicate this feeling away, as it’s very uncomfortable. Little puffs of anxiety, a gloomy sense of lack of direction, a looming fear of what-now and what’s-next. Shit! However, I know intellectually that booze is the last thing I need. So, I resisted a very strong urge tonight, and while it still hasn’t subsided along with this feeling of having no neuronal activity, I’m committing again to 100 percent abstinence. I GOT THIS.

Looking forward to sharing more soon re: the stuff I mentioned the other night.

Day 3 today! (And unfortunately, I have the feeling that the canvas color will be long and tedious, with small pockets of mania, welcome splashes of pure joy, and speckled dots of certainty. Such is life.)

Tags: alcoholic, alcoholism, anxiety, binge drinking, cravings, drinking, moving, sobriety, wine, women

Comments 2 Comments
Categories Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, Binge drinking, Cravings, Moving, Sobriety, Uncategorized

← Older Entries

Newer Entries →

Search

Drunky Drunk Girl

How to put this so that it doesn’t sound as bad as it is? I drank.

I no longer define myself by my drinking

Not PAWS, but maybe PTSD?

I think I might have PAWS

You have to go through it to get through it

Am I punishing myself by staying sober?

AA: it’s not just about me! Say what?

Settling in…

Hi, it’s DDG!

Follow Blog Via Email

Blogs I Follow

Blogroll

Recent Posts

Archives

Search

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Hi, it’s DDG!

Follow Blog Via Email

Blogs I Follow

Blogroll

Recent Posts

Archives