Sobriety: My dirty little secret*

*In response to a post on the booze-free brigade:

Great topic, and I'm enjoying reading this.

I'm on the complete OTHER end of the spectrum, and it is mostly because of my personality. I am an over-sharer, honest-to-a-fault, super outgoing person. I chat with everyone everywhere and generally have no limit on what is "personal". 

I'm 32 days sober right now. My decision to get sober was long-thought out and a long time coming, but just kind of started "off-the-cuff" I woke up one morning and just said "I quit" No specific reason, no "plan"....just, done.

I immediately started telling people. I thought this made me brave, and would help me build a support system, and inevitably more accountable in my sobriety. However, I didn't commit to a forever-quit (still not sure I have) and someone even asked me why I was sharing so much - "aren't you afraid of failing?"....well I wasn't then, but now I am!

First off, I am sharing this sobriety with my husband, literally. I can only speak for myself, but he believes he also has a problem with alcohol,  and recognizes neither of us could do this with out the other (thank GOD! He is my rock) I told my children, who seemed to barely listen (as usual). I shared with my boss and my co-workers who I am close to - enjoying their words of encouragement and support. I have shared with a few close couple-friends - ones I (we) commonly drink with - maybe to head off any uncomfortable situations where there was an expectation we would be drinking.

I haven't told my family, I'm not close with them at all (mostly and likely DUE to my drinking past), but I assume they have heard through the grapevine, no one has mentioned it (which I find somewhat hurtful).

At the end of the day I think I shared and continue to share my adventure with sobriety with people for two reasons. #1 is because I NEED to talk about it! I've gone to some AA meetings (although not lately) but don talk as I have to practice listening and I feel to early in my sobriety to share - I haven't found a meeting I particularly like so much. But I have to talk about it - get it out - off my chest - and my husband (bless his heart) is not so forthcoming. He actually has hardly told a soul. Which makes it a little weird for me. We can talk to each other, but I need other outlets too. This blogging thing REALLY helps (now I'm telling STRANGERS my whole life-story!)

#2 is Id like to believe that this journey is truly one day at a time. therefore, when I tell people, no matter WHO they are that I a not drinking today, that is IT! That's what I am committed to: not drinking today. Tomorrow may be different. I can accept that, but today, and for the last 32 days, I'm off the bottle. Not everyone is going to understand this, and that's OK. They are lucky enough to not HAVE to understand it. At the end of the day, this day, this 24 hours, the only person I need to answer to is myself. Am I happy with who I am today? Yes!

Who gives a F%$& what anyone else thinks?.......

Fantasizing about a relapse

4/23/15
Sorry you haven't heard from me in a bit - but I'm glad to say its not because I've fallen off the wagon. Although plenty of times I've wanted to nose-dive straight into the bottle, last night being the worst yet. Today is better and am standing a little taller for it.

So, day 25 was yesterday. And dare I say, I started to feel as if this whole thing hasn't really been that hard (please, resist the urge to virtually slap me). I had a great day yesterday. Actually they have all been pretty decent. But yesterday I was happy, and bubbly, and personable, and energetic, and productive! I love days like that, especially at work, and especially lately, when there seems to always be a tiny gray cloud hovering over me. I finished my day, even staying a bit late in the office. Hopped in my car, windows down for a beautiful spring afternoon it was.
My first thought: I'm headed home to have a beer on my porch.
Second thought: no I'm not, I cant. I don't do that anymore.
Third thought: Or do I? What am I doing here? I deserve to have a beer. Did I formally take an oath somewhere that I would NEVER do that again? No.
Last thought (before it all became so jumbled and loud in my head I could no longer decipher what came next): This has been easy - must mean I don't have that big of a problem.
***long, heavy, sigh***

I made a couple really funny jokes yesterday. When a co-worker/drinking friend was talking about hosting a housewarming party during the summer, I joked that "my sobriety should be over by then". I later made a comment about how I fantasize about a relapse...a thought that hits a little too close to home. As I DO have this fantasy, often.

The last few weeks I have immersed myself in AA meetings and books, blogs, podcasts, chat rooms, books, and elicited the help of a varying number of people who I have been overly honest with about my state of sobriety. There was a common thread in nearly all of them: relapse. Although the outcome was always the same: it took generally no time for each of those people to get back into their old drinking habits, for the shame and guilt to come in a rush back to them, many times hitting exponentially harder. But in my head, I feel like its a right of passage, and I'm just waiting for my turn.

I really thought last night would be it. I left work on a high, and in the 25 minute ride home I had turned to a sullen, angry, tearful, depressed version of myself. I should have gone to an AA meeting but I was too busy. Busy throwing myself an epic pity party. It just happened it was the night for our family counselor. So I did get to cry it out for a while. And talking through it helps...a little. Putting a label on it made it a bit easier to put it on a shelf: I'm in mourning. Alcohol is a relationship I had and I fed and nurtured for many, many years. An extreme love affair where I did all the giving, it did all the taking. And now we have broken up. And it hurts. Because that lover is still everywhere! In my house, in the hands of my friends and the stories they share, in books and on TV, and in my dreams at night...my fantasies during the day. What would my relapse look like?

Short answer: probably like everyone else's. I start off slow, moderating, being aware, being careful and deliberate. I wouldn't drink every day (for the first week), and I wouldn't drink to get drunk (the first few times). But inevitably my story would end the same as the others, maybe worse...likely worse. I feel like I've been jipped out of the last 26 days...and I can MORE than make up for that in no time, I'm sure.

I can feel that first long sip of red wine...I can just taste it! My taste buds leaping for joy, as each and every nerve ending in my body starts to hum and tingle. I close my eyes and I am relaxed. SO. Very. Relaxed. My stress and my cares and my worries and my anxiety disappear within minutes, and I'm peaceful again.

The problem isn't the first sip, however...(or, perhaps it IS!) The problem is closer to the last sip, usually a guzzle and hardly remembered. The problem is the morning when I wake up hammer-headed and gaunt. When I cant remember my night, my conversations with my children or arguments with my spouse. Or worse, the location of my wedding ring. **more on this another time**

All I know is that fantasy, which sounds so good on many days, many times a day, may start out beautifully but will likely end very, very bad.

For today Ill fantasize, but live in a reality which I can be proud of, and feel, and remember.

Another 24 hours down...

I feel pretty

Short and sweet - but let me tell you, the very first thing I noticed within in days of putting the bottle down, I feel pretty! Yes, well actually, I am pretty...I just happened to SEE it for the first time in a long time.

I drink to feel more pretty - or hell, just to not care if anyone thinks I am or not! Oh, the irony!

Its not that I couldn't tell I looked like shit while I was drinking. Id wake up in the morning, bloated, bloodshot eyes. My hygiene was taking a bit of a dive. I knew you were only supposed to wash your hair a few times a week, ya know, for the health of it. But my showers were getting down there too, and I just didn't care. Gross!

Obviously another big thing I've noticed in the nearly 2 weeks sober is how GOOD I feel when I wake up! I swear I had started to feel normal in hangover state. Sure my head hurt, I was groggy, and on the weekends I'd barely leave the couch...but I had wanted to catch up on Netflix after all, hadn't I?

I'm tired as hell though - like going to bed super early and sleeping in. My husband too. I keep telling him this is a product of years worth of poor-drunk sleep, and we have some serious catching up to do.

And I'm calm. Well relatively speaking, I'm calm-er. I wake up, I get ready for work, I get my kids off, I drive to work, all in peace. It gets a little harder to hold on to as the day goes by, but its something. Its good. And it will be better tomorrow. Tomorrow Ill be even more calm.

And pretty.

Selfish

Id like to expand upon my last post a bit, and tell you about myself. Like I mentioned, I'm a 34 year old wife and mother of 3. I work full time. I grew up in a two-parent family (my folks are still together, rare, I know). I have two sisters, both older by quite a bit. All of my immediate family lives within about 5 miles of me, although I'm not super close with any of them.

As I grew up, I can always remember my sisters calling me selfish. Even into adulthood they still tend to make this remark about me, albeit back-handedly. Personally, it gets at me. I don't like this label. I don't understand it either. Ive always felt they only said this about me because I was the baby of the family, and seemingly "spoiled", but I don't understand how this label followed me into adulthood. I think my husband has even taken up the term here or there.

The dictionary states:
selfish [sel-fish] adjective
1. devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.
2. characterized by or manifesting concern or care only for oneself: selfish motives.

I do not agree.

If I had to describe myself as a teenager, well, then that definition likely applied to the fullest extent. Having a teenage daughter myself now is a clear testament to me that I was, in fact, selfish. The caveat being that I believe most teenagers are this way, as merely a part of their ignorance and lack of experience in the "real world".

As an adult though, I snub this comment. I think I am a "carer" - scratch, I KNOW I am a carer! I am forever in battle with myself about what other people think and feel, how can I help them through a difficult time, putting myself constantly in the shoes of others...bleeding heart, to a fault. I love volunteering, committing myself to an understanding that we never know what another person is going through, and try to never pass judgement. I would describe myself as hard working, driven, outspoken, outgoing, a perfectionist, a little OCD, a lover, a fighter, loyal, honest, over-acheiver, spotlight seeker...but selfish? No.

As I have aged, I like to think I am becoming a little selfish, however. As a single mother at the ripe age of 20, I worked my ass off to be a great mother, self-sufficient by all means. After leaving my daughters father when she was 9 weeks old, I moved in with my parents for a mere 6 months before I got my own place, managed never ending court battles with her father, climbed the ladder at my full time job, and rarely went out. When I turned 26 I started looking for and bought my first house, by myself! I met my husband shortly after that and everything just seemed to fall into place. I knew very quickly that he was "the one", fell desperately in love, let him move in and slowly gave up some of the responsibility I had eagerly harbored for 6 years alone. He was capable, and I was happy to have a break. We've been together 8 years this month, and slowly, Ive learned to lean on him a lot more in order to take better care of myself - be a little bit selfish and get back to doing some of the things I love. I love reading, gardening, cooking, watching mindless reality TV shows, and drinking. I love drinking.

Also, as I mentioned in a previous post, I have a self-proclaimed "addictive personality". When I enjoy something, I ENJOY it, to the max. And man do I enjoy drinking. I have a pretty bad anxiety disorder and have battled depression in and off in my life since I was a teenager. Drinking is like self-medicating. No doctor appointment or prescription needed. In fact this medicine is available everywhere, any time of day, and certainly in no short supply in my home. I buy wine by the case and by the box (cause I'm classy, duh) Cant even remember the last time I bought beer in anything smaller than a 30-pack, and even then the local convenience store could expect to see me twice a week - refueling. Drinking calms me after a hectic day, rewards me after a productive one. Drinking reduces my anxiety about everything - dealing with my kids, dinner, a messy house, bath time, any and all of the mundane daily tasks which are necessary to keep a household. Drinking reduces my anxiety about being social, hanging with friends or family, or strangers, even better! You know what else drinking does for me? Helps me be selfish. Yup. I feel some selfish right of indignation once I get through a glass or two. Its helps me accomplish my tasks and chores with fervor! And after the first couple drinks, it helps me sit down and do nothing, precisely what I want, me-me-me-me-me!

NOTE: I'm using present tense here, but I am not, in fact, drinking right now. I am 13 days sober actually, but really I'm just getting thorough the day. Present tense is still true as I talk about my love for alcohol. It is an abusive relationship, but I don't wanna break up...so right now, me and the bottle, we are just separated. And that's all I can commit to right now.

But back to selfishness. My addictive personality says well Penny, if you're going to give up one thing you had better replace it with another. I am currently addicted to my sobriety. OK, not really even mine, I'm addicted to everyone else's too! I'm going to AA meetings and listening, I'm reading books, watching documentaries, subscribing to blogs and listening to podcasts in nearly all my free time. Im soaking up resources like a sponge. Im arming myself with knowledge, hoping that if I become smarter, it will be safer, eaiser to quit.

Something else Ive learned in this obsessive nearly two weeks of sober life, is there is a LOT of emphasis on being selfish during your recovery. *GASP*! Selfish?! The very nature of being a drunk is selfishness. Its put me and my feelings of fake euphoria above my children, my family, my social life, my education and sometimes my job. And in recovery, they want me to continue to put myself first? Seems like a raw deal to everyone else...but FINALLY, I have a good excuse to be selfish :)

Here are a few reminders of how I can and should be selfish right now, to stay the course:

• Plan your days around a meeting - Ive entered every meeting within a 30 mile radius into my personal calendar, and have visited 5 different meetings already
• K.I.S.S. - keep it simple stupid! IM not going to try and do too much during this time. Sobriety needs to be my priority.
• Sit with your feelings - Im recognizing my emotions, rational or not, and I'm feeling them, and trying to take some comfort in the fact that I can feel them.
• HALT: Hungry, Angry/Anxious, Lonely, Tired - before I react or overreact, assess whats real

Sincerely,
Selfshly sober

Playing Hooky

Tuesday, April 8, 2015
I'm playing hooky from work today. Not because I'm hungover, for a change. You see, I'm 10 days sober today. I'm kind of celebrating. I am committing my day to my new addiction: my sobriety.

Let me give you a brief background; more to be expelled in future postings, I'm sure. I'm a 34 year old wife and mother of 3. I work full time at a university, my husband owns his own business. I'm smart, attractive, generally healthy...but I have what I like to call "an addictive personality".

I recall several years ago, I was living alone as a single mother, about 23-24 years old. I had been visiting my dentist regularly (after not visiting for a while) and was having some significant work done. I'm a self-proclaimed "woosie" so she prescribed me Vicodin, often. I found the Vicodin didn't work well for removing the pain of my dental work, but it did have this wonderful side effect of making me want to clean my house, and do it with fervor! I would take a couple extra on Sundays and scour the place!  Then I realized how much it helped lessen my anxiety...in social situations...in non-social situations...in every situation. I began hoarding them, and hiding them, then popping them like gumdrops when I needed the boost.

One day, about 9 months into this affliction, I was perusing a magazine, presumably Cosmopolitan - since that taught me everything I needed to know - I read an article about this very thing: young mothers, young single mothers even, were turning to narcotics, alcohol and even the big guns: tranquilizers or crystal meth, to get them through the daily grind of motherhood, wife-hood, and mundane chores. A personal recount of one single mothers addiction to Vicodin spoke to me - it was me, and I knew something had to give. How can I raise my daughter to be a strong, independent, successful woman, when I cant cope myself? I was addicted. That part was easy. Quitting? not so much.

More recently, and certainly less trivial, I can recall little things, like trying Vanilla Chai tea for the first time: it was delicious! I drank it obsessively every day for months. We joined a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) so we could try cooking with vegetables we hadn't tried before. I tried beets. they were amazing. I ate them every day for an entire summer. My poop was purple!

As a young girl, as early as fourth grade, I can remember being obsessed with a boy, Tom. I chased him around the playground, I rode my bike miles to his house in hopes of catching a glimpse, I took pictures of him playing baseball on my 10mm camera with a Minnie Mouse insignia, and plastered them to the walls of my bedroom. I was in love with him. He barely knew I existed.

Over the next 8 years of school I did this often - obsessed over boys. I wasn't the prettiest, or very popular, but I was funny, and I could "hang" with the guys. And if they didn't want me around, I would make them want me around. A blow job, a handjob, Id let them feel me up behind the shed in the parking lot of the high school. Id sneak into the woods, into the back of friends vans and fool around during football games. Id conveniently "show up" at places where they hung out, and put on a show. (god, I feel sick thinking about this, and the fact that I'm now raising two girls of my own)

My parents smoked like chimneys when I was growing up. The baby of the family, "the forgottten one", the one they hardly had energy to pay attention to after raising 2 other girls nearly to adulthood, I wanted to try everything, and I pretty much had carte blanche to do so. I stole half smoked cigarettes from ashtrays and smoked them, hanging out the window of my second floor bedroom. Then I got brave and stole a whole one here and there. I started smoking with my friends, even though they didn't, I was clearly the cool one. Twenty-two years later, I'm still a smoker. Hey, I gotta have at least one vice, right?

But it hasn't been just one vice, ever, has it. I've always had a little bit of something I was "addicted" to. Barbiturates, boys, beets, butts...booze.

I could never consider myself an alcoholic - the "A-word". Even now, somewhat clear minded I look back and never really thought of my drinking as "problem drinking", although I can certainly remember many more than one shameful moment growing up. And many, many more which I cant remember, I'm sure. Its the more recent stuff that I can and cannot remember which makes me cringe with guilt and disgust, and shame. (That word, shame, its so painful, yet so accurate)

Anyway, Im not delving into each story now. Im not sure I can even tell you what specifically made me stop. None of these stories are a one-off, easily shared in a few sentences or paragraphs. They each have an emotion surrounding them, usually not the same, but the all end the same: guilt and shame.

What I DO want to share is today, day 10 without alcohol, I feel NO guilt, no SHAME. Not for today. Not sure I can even say I regret what I've been through to get here, because, in fact, I got here. I am here. And today I'm enjoying it, I'm celebrating it. Remembering today, yesterday, and the last 10 days. Not hurting my friends and family, myself. Going to meetings (my medicine), talking about it, sharing my experiences, enjoying the feeling today.

Thanks for letting me share it with you...

"I have the only illness which tries to convince me that I don't have an illness"
~AA Member