I started lurking here around this time last year; I started posting several months later. In that year I have stopped-started-stopped-started - never even making it to 30 days. My tendency is to go two to three weeks then 'slip' right into a binge. In all that time, while I've had a growing understanding of alcoholism and also how much better I actually feel when I don't drink, I haven't been able to really, truly, deep down commit to being totally and permanently alcohol free. "Breaks" have felt achievable but not drinking, ever? A step too far. Until now.
This month, I went 17 days AF, then 'slipped' - a great euphemism for careening into a murderous black hole. While I suffered the consequences afterwards mentally and physically, that night was dangerous as it felt really fun at the time. But still, I came back right away and 'quit' again - actually progress as previous slips have led to a binge drinking bouts - and went another two weeks AF. Then, last night, I had a 'slip' that was not fun at all. It was sheer alcoholic craziness and it took me to that awful dark, empty, lonely, self loathing pit of misery that brings so many of us here.
As much as I've read in the last year - here, other websites, and around a dozen books on alcoholism and addiction - my mind still boggles at the sheer mind-bending insanity of this disease. On Saturday I felt TERRIFIC and so solid in my sobriety I went to a bar and didn't drink and had a great night. I did, however, have a sip of a cocktail - just to taste. Didn't think much of it. Didn't feel it 'counted'. I was just 'tasting' a drink I'd never heard of before. (I am a food and wine writer after all - hell it's practically research.) I wonder how much of a role that - and the triggers of being in a bar - played the following night.
Last night, a friend came over for dinner and brought a bottle of wine - for her, she's done that before and I've not drunk and it's been totally fine. I encourage it in fact as I really don't want my friends to feel that they can't drink at my house because I'm not. I had NO plans on having any. None. No fear I would either. Even when I'm drinking I don't drink red wine anymore. I love it but it makes me allergic in an unpleasant hay fever way.
But, somehow, over the course of dinner and seeing it sitting there on the table, I decided to have 'just one or two'. Fast forward to me probably drinking more than my share of the bottle - I was very aware how fast I was guzzling it once I started and how slowly she was drinking in comparison - and, and I'm so ashamed to admit this as I adore this friend and I had made us a lovely dinner - but I really just wanted her to leave so I could get more to drink alone. But by the time she left, Sunday night, the local bottleo was closed. I went to the seedy scary pub nearby that I never go to - because it's seedy and scary! - and begged the closing up bartender to sell me a bottle. (Humiliation thy name is alcoholism.) No dice. I got in a TAXI and went and got one elsewhere. Drank it all and clearly vomited at some stage. Don't remember that at all but when I woke up there was red-wined stained vomit on my white bathroom wall across from the toilet. I can hardly even quite work out how this happened except I must have projectile vomited while sitting on the toilet.
I am posting this shameful, gut-wrenching stuff publicly not to gross you all out but because I want to be able to look back on how I felt today - and what last night honestly was - should I ever start listening to those euphoric recall crazy voices about 'just one' (or 'just a sip' even, apparently) and because I seriously hope to *&^% this is my last ever Day One.
When I compare how I felt Saturday with how I feel today any other choice seems like complete madness. It is NOT worth it. It is doing NOTHING good for me except occasionally a fleeting sense of 'fun' and far, far more and ever-increasing misery. Every time I stop the subsequent drinking is worse - the cravings are heightened; my drinking is faster; the aftereffects are worse; the blackouts more common. Or, in other words, textbook progression of alcoholism. It's time to stop kidding myself on any level.
I also want to remind myself how good the last month has been without booze. I have lost 2 kilos (4.4 pounds). I have been eating really well and sleeping well. I have been exercising a lot. I have read six books. I have gotten more work accomplished. I have had lovely sober nights out with friends - even friends who were drinking. I have felt calmer, happier, clearer, more focused, more productive, more content. I felt the inklings of my self esteem and pride returning. I started Boot Camp in the Nest and have felt like a proud mother hen watching other Nesties join up. My depression lifted. My anxiety eased. My insomnia vanished. I slept long, hard and deep. I felt at peace.
I want all that. I do not want the misery of alcohol. I am done. Please dear lord (says this atheist) please let me find the strength, wisdom and support to really be done.
This month, I went 17 days AF, then 'slipped' - a great euphemism for careening into a murderous black hole. While I suffered the consequences afterwards mentally and physically, that night was dangerous as it felt really fun at the time. But still, I came back right away and 'quit' again - actually progress as previous slips have led to a binge drinking bouts - and went another two weeks AF. Then, last night, I had a 'slip' that was not fun at all. It was sheer alcoholic craziness and it took me to that awful dark, empty, lonely, self loathing pit of misery that brings so many of us here.
As much as I've read in the last year - here, other websites, and around a dozen books on alcoholism and addiction - my mind still boggles at the sheer mind-bending insanity of this disease. On Saturday I felt TERRIFIC and so solid in my sobriety I went to a bar and didn't drink and had a great night. I did, however, have a sip of a cocktail - just to taste. Didn't think much of it. Didn't feel it 'counted'. I was just 'tasting' a drink I'd never heard of before. (I am a food and wine writer after all - hell it's practically research.) I wonder how much of a role that - and the triggers of being in a bar - played the following night.
Last night, a friend came over for dinner and brought a bottle of wine - for her, she's done that before and I've not drunk and it's been totally fine. I encourage it in fact as I really don't want my friends to feel that they can't drink at my house because I'm not. I had NO plans on having any. None. No fear I would either. Even when I'm drinking I don't drink red wine anymore. I love it but it makes me allergic in an unpleasant hay fever way.
But, somehow, over the course of dinner and seeing it sitting there on the table, I decided to have 'just one or two'. Fast forward to me probably drinking more than my share of the bottle - I was very aware how fast I was guzzling it once I started and how slowly she was drinking in comparison - and, and I'm so ashamed to admit this as I adore this friend and I had made us a lovely dinner - but I really just wanted her to leave so I could get more to drink alone. But by the time she left, Sunday night, the local bottleo was closed. I went to the seedy scary pub nearby that I never go to - because it's seedy and scary! - and begged the closing up bartender to sell me a bottle. (Humiliation thy name is alcoholism.) No dice. I got in a TAXI and went and got one elsewhere. Drank it all and clearly vomited at some stage. Don't remember that at all but when I woke up there was red-wined stained vomit on my white bathroom wall across from the toilet. I can hardly even quite work out how this happened except I must have projectile vomited while sitting on the toilet.
I am posting this shameful, gut-wrenching stuff publicly not to gross you all out but because I want to be able to look back on how I felt today - and what last night honestly was - should I ever start listening to those euphoric recall crazy voices about 'just one' (or 'just a sip' even, apparently) and because I seriously hope to *&^% this is my last ever Day One.
When I compare how I felt Saturday with how I feel today any other choice seems like complete madness. It is NOT worth it. It is doing NOTHING good for me except occasionally a fleeting sense of 'fun' and far, far more and ever-increasing misery. Every time I stop the subsequent drinking is worse - the cravings are heightened; my drinking is faster; the aftereffects are worse; the blackouts more common. Or, in other words, textbook progression of alcoholism. It's time to stop kidding myself on any level.
I also want to remind myself how good the last month has been without booze. I have lost 2 kilos (4.4 pounds). I have been eating really well and sleeping well. I have been exercising a lot. I have read six books. I have gotten more work accomplished. I have had lovely sober nights out with friends - even friends who were drinking. I have felt calmer, happier, clearer, more focused, more productive, more content. I felt the inklings of my self esteem and pride returning. I started Boot Camp in the Nest and have felt like a proud mother hen watching other Nesties join up. My depression lifted. My anxiety eased. My insomnia vanished. I slept long, hard and deep. I felt at peace.
I want all that. I do not want the misery of alcohol. I am done. Please dear lord (says this atheist) please let me find the strength, wisdom and support to really be done.
I am determined to beat the bastard and live a better life and hopefully help others find their way out of the hole while I'm at it. 
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