Hi everybody, I am glad to have found a forum that looks so supportive.
I am a young teacher and insomniac, living and working far from home, so for a while my only support was my long-time live-in girlfriend. Unfortunately, during a stressful time at work, she started drawing away, and (being previously an occasional drinker with little support nearby) I started drinking as a way to while away the long hours that she was at work, and as a way to make sure I at least got some poor sleep.
Being sober, I would not have been surprised to find out she was having an affair with a co-worker, but being drunk when I found out devastated me. That's when I really started drinking... and I didn't even know how terrible it really was. In my sober mornings, she and I would work it out... in my shit-faced evenings, I would rant and rave and call her the cruelest of things. I will never forget getting up in the morning and being confused at her hurt face, because for the better part of two years, I will never remember going to bed (well, couch). I know we are only together now because she was willing to ignore anything I said, although I know it was hurtful and abusive.
I got to the point where I quit measuring out shots of vodka, and just counting glasses. By the end of one, the party had started. Halfway through two, eh, not there yet. I occasionally woke up to find an unfinished glass of three (oftentimes, this was not waking up on the couch). After complaints from adjacent apartments about the shouting, I figured I should try to give up.
I resolved to clean up when I went back east for a month of the summer. I had the drive there to get myself down from 2 glasses to half a glass, and then I'd call it quits. But then, it seemed so reasonable when I got there to hold out until I headed home (come on, summer vacation!) We all know the story from here.
While She supported me (even wanting to take responsibility, which I refuse to accept), my dislike for what I do started to really grow. I'd sit at my desk, many mornings, and give the kids an assignment that didn't require me... because I couldn't. I'd play the insomnia card; "I'm feeling kinda sick" if it was really bad. I'd avoid going to the office in the morning, and stop by at lunch when I didn't look like a mess. Resolved to quit several times; motion defeated each.
Until about two weeks ago. School's out, time to get cleaned up, so I dropped it completely... and it was the most excruciating agony of my life. I was terrified of what would happen if I continued... either drinking or quitting that day. I drank half of what I normally would, to kill the pain and regroup, though I spilled half of it from the shakes.
So for a few days, I've been cutting back gradually, and yesterday would have been the day for one shot. I was feeling great... the skies have never been sunnier, I had never felt healthier... so I decided to skip the one. But my body wasn't done.
Last night was terrifying; withdrawal hallucinations. I couldn't sleep, though drowsy, when I'm suddenly shocked by sirens and a loudspeaker announcing an immigration raid. I (physically) go to the window and look out, and cannot see where it's coming from, but next thing I know, the loudspeaker starts booming out my name. Booming out bad things about me... then reading my mind, shouting out to everyone in town every last private and embarrassing detail of my life, and broadcasting a twisted version of my thoughts. People (that I couldn't clearly see) started shouting at me, and I was scared they were going to come and kill me in a great mob. I decided it couldn't be true, and laid down to try to ignore it.
Laying there was worse. Still the same humiliation blasting in to my ears, and I can feel the deranged way that my mind was spinning. There were also booming voices inside my head, but I resisted them all, fought them all, until it all died down and went away. I drifted to sleep (to bad dreams), and awoke a short time later, paranoid for my life, but there didn't appear to be any activity outside, so I got a drink and slept a bit longer.
Unable to sleep any more, I'm up now. The sun is coming up, and I'm secretly relieved that I still haven't had anyone pounding on my door in anger, although I know it couldn't have been true. I'm a little dehydrated, but I know how to fix that... but mostly, I feel better. My head seems clear, and while my body aches of tiredness and a bit of the booze "blah", I think I may have made it. I haven't the slightest inclination to drink; the very sight of the bottle elicits nothing but disdain.
Have I paid the price of skipping that one last shot? Should I expect more evil visitations? I cannot go to the doctor for this (I haven't the money, and can't afford to lose my insurance or my career). I feel like I've gone through so much, it doesn't matter now. I must be smart, and I must be strong. I'll fight whatever it throws at me, and I will win.
Thank you for listening.
I am a young teacher and insomniac, living and working far from home, so for a while my only support was my long-time live-in girlfriend. Unfortunately, during a stressful time at work, she started drawing away, and (being previously an occasional drinker with little support nearby) I started drinking as a way to while away the long hours that she was at work, and as a way to make sure I at least got some poor sleep.
Being sober, I would not have been surprised to find out she was having an affair with a co-worker, but being drunk when I found out devastated me. That's when I really started drinking... and I didn't even know how terrible it really was. In my sober mornings, she and I would work it out... in my shit-faced evenings, I would rant and rave and call her the cruelest of things. I will never forget getting up in the morning and being confused at her hurt face, because for the better part of two years, I will never remember going to bed (well, couch). I know we are only together now because she was willing to ignore anything I said, although I know it was hurtful and abusive.
I got to the point where I quit measuring out shots of vodka, and just counting glasses. By the end of one, the party had started. Halfway through two, eh, not there yet. I occasionally woke up to find an unfinished glass of three (oftentimes, this was not waking up on the couch). After complaints from adjacent apartments about the shouting, I figured I should try to give up.
I resolved to clean up when I went back east for a month of the summer. I had the drive there to get myself down from 2 glasses to half a glass, and then I'd call it quits. But then, it seemed so reasonable when I got there to hold out until I headed home (come on, summer vacation!) We all know the story from here.
While She supported me (even wanting to take responsibility, which I refuse to accept), my dislike for what I do started to really grow. I'd sit at my desk, many mornings, and give the kids an assignment that didn't require me... because I couldn't. I'd play the insomnia card; "I'm feeling kinda sick" if it was really bad. I'd avoid going to the office in the morning, and stop by at lunch when I didn't look like a mess. Resolved to quit several times; motion defeated each.
Until about two weeks ago. School's out, time to get cleaned up, so I dropped it completely... and it was the most excruciating agony of my life. I was terrified of what would happen if I continued... either drinking or quitting that day. I drank half of what I normally would, to kill the pain and regroup, though I spilled half of it from the shakes.
So for a few days, I've been cutting back gradually, and yesterday would have been the day for one shot. I was feeling great... the skies have never been sunnier, I had never felt healthier... so I decided to skip the one. But my body wasn't done.
Last night was terrifying; withdrawal hallucinations. I couldn't sleep, though drowsy, when I'm suddenly shocked by sirens and a loudspeaker announcing an immigration raid. I (physically) go to the window and look out, and cannot see where it's coming from, but next thing I know, the loudspeaker starts booming out my name. Booming out bad things about me... then reading my mind, shouting out to everyone in town every last private and embarrassing detail of my life, and broadcasting a twisted version of my thoughts. People (that I couldn't clearly see) started shouting at me, and I was scared they were going to come and kill me in a great mob. I decided it couldn't be true, and laid down to try to ignore it.
Laying there was worse. Still the same humiliation blasting in to my ears, and I can feel the deranged way that my mind was spinning. There were also booming voices inside my head, but I resisted them all, fought them all, until it all died down and went away. I drifted to sleep (to bad dreams), and awoke a short time later, paranoid for my life, but there didn't appear to be any activity outside, so I got a drink and slept a bit longer.
Unable to sleep any more, I'm up now. The sun is coming up, and I'm secretly relieved that I still haven't had anyone pounding on my door in anger, although I know it couldn't have been true. I'm a little dehydrated, but I know how to fix that... but mostly, I feel better. My head seems clear, and while my body aches of tiredness and a bit of the booze "blah", I think I may have made it. I haven't the slightest inclination to drink; the very sight of the bottle elicits nothing but disdain.
Have I paid the price of skipping that one last shot? Should I expect more evil visitations? I cannot go to the doctor for this (I haven't the money, and can't afford to lose my insurance or my career). I feel like I've gone through so much, it doesn't matter now. I must be smart, and I must be strong. I'll fight whatever it throws at me, and I will win.
Thank you for listening.
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