My first week
So, I had my last drink on Thursday of last week so this is my 9th day sober. The first few days were horrendous. Terrible withdrawals, shakes, some vomiting. My Doctor prescribed Librium but being terrified of pills I didn't take them. He also signed me off work for a week. That's two weeks sick as the first was the monumental bender I was on. From Friday, my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't write or sign my name. I also couldn't enter my pin number into the debit card machine at the hairdressers and had to pay cash. I could hardly eat and sleep was either non existent or very short and sweaty.
But day by day it did get better. By Tuesday I felt heaps better. All during my withdrawals I was all over the internet learning as much as I could. This site was invaluable of course and I must have read hundreds of threads here.
I was dreading Tuesday as there was a family barbecue in the evening and the alcohol would be flowing. I knew if I took just one I would be right back where I started. I had confided in one family member so I wasn't completely alone. I prepared myself. I had armed myself with lots of positivity about myself and so many negative thoughts about AL. I wrote a long letter to AL, I suppose you could call it a break up letter.
I spent hours visualising the different drinks that would be on offer and equating them with disgusting things. For example, a glass of chilled white wine would actually look, taste and smell like stale urine. For fresh urine, see beer, and so on and so forth. Maybe because my withdrawals were so fresh in my mind, this strategy on this occasion somehow worked. I was offered wine, I said 'no, I am driving', and that was it. All of the other adults ended up drinking a lot, and I spent most of the evening hanging out with my teenage nieces, trying to keep them away from the boozing with games etc.
I watched the drinkers through their eyes, and it made me very sad. To them, this is normal behaviour and I knew that normally I would be as pissed as the rest of them by nine o' clock. I made it through. I drove some of them home, listening to them repeating themselves and slurring and I knew that if I had said yes to that glass of wine, I would have been drunker than the rest of them.
I really hate AL. I want it out of my life for good. There is no glamour, no romance, it's all a big lie.
Incidentally, one of the drinkers fell down her front steps that night and broke her ankle. She blamed the steps, saying one of them was loose.
Sorry for the long post, but it's been a very strange week and I just wanted to document it. I thought I may as well post it, for the sake of people who are feeling as horrible and strung out as I was this time last week. You will get through it.
I want to remember every minute of this week, the horrors of the withdrawals, the shame at the hairdressers, the looks on the faces of my nieces as they watched the drinking, I want to remember it all in case I ever get the notion again that watching the sunset with a nice glass (just one of course!) of vino is somehow preferable and more 'romantic' than with a glass of fizzy water.
So, I had my last drink on Thursday of last week so this is my 9th day sober. The first few days were horrendous. Terrible withdrawals, shakes, some vomiting. My Doctor prescribed Librium but being terrified of pills I didn't take them. He also signed me off work for a week. That's two weeks sick as the first was the monumental bender I was on. From Friday, my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't write or sign my name. I also couldn't enter my pin number into the debit card machine at the hairdressers and had to pay cash. I could hardly eat and sleep was either non existent or very short and sweaty.
But day by day it did get better. By Tuesday I felt heaps better. All during my withdrawals I was all over the internet learning as much as I could. This site was invaluable of course and I must have read hundreds of threads here.
I was dreading Tuesday as there was a family barbecue in the evening and the alcohol would be flowing. I knew if I took just one I would be right back where I started. I had confided in one family member so I wasn't completely alone. I prepared myself. I had armed myself with lots of positivity about myself and so many negative thoughts about AL. I wrote a long letter to AL, I suppose you could call it a break up letter.
I spent hours visualising the different drinks that would be on offer and equating them with disgusting things. For example, a glass of chilled white wine would actually look, taste and smell like stale urine. For fresh urine, see beer, and so on and so forth. Maybe because my withdrawals were so fresh in my mind, this strategy on this occasion somehow worked. I was offered wine, I said 'no, I am driving', and that was it. All of the other adults ended up drinking a lot, and I spent most of the evening hanging out with my teenage nieces, trying to keep them away from the boozing with games etc.
I watched the drinkers through their eyes, and it made me very sad. To them, this is normal behaviour and I knew that normally I would be as pissed as the rest of them by nine o' clock. I made it through. I drove some of them home, listening to them repeating themselves and slurring and I knew that if I had said yes to that glass of wine, I would have been drunker than the rest of them.
I really hate AL. I want it out of my life for good. There is no glamour, no romance, it's all a big lie.
Incidentally, one of the drinkers fell down her front steps that night and broke her ankle. She blamed the steps, saying one of them was loose.
Sorry for the long post, but it's been a very strange week and I just wanted to document it. I thought I may as well post it, for the sake of people who are feeling as horrible and strung out as I was this time last week. You will get through it.
I want to remember every minute of this week, the horrors of the withdrawals, the shame at the hairdressers, the looks on the faces of my nieces as they watched the drinking, I want to remember it all in case I ever get the notion again that watching the sunset with a nice glass (just one of course!) of vino is somehow preferable and more 'romantic' than with a glass of fizzy water.
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