ByrdLady, I'm taking your advice and writing out my story.
When I look back at my drinking, I believe now that I have been a dangerously heavy drinker on again off again since I became "legal". To my credit, I was not a teenager that drank in HS. I just didn't see the point at that age. However, that changed the older I got. By the time I hit my mid 20s the pattern was set. I would drink more and more, then someone would point out how much I was drinking or what an ass I had just made of myself in X situation. I would either get mad, tell that person "I don't Have a problem!" and proceed to prove them wrong by cutting way back... or I would berate myself over and over until I would stop drinking. But it never lasted long.
My rock bottom was a one two punch from reality. Last Friday I had a horrible fight with my beloved (he lives in a different country). According to my cell phone, we fought for 2 hours on the phone... I don't remember anything past the first 20 minutes or so. I don't remember the names I called him. I don't remember telling him we were through. The fact that I could black out and keep functioning is just frightening. But that was not rock bottom.
Rock bottom was waking up sprawled across my bed and smelling dog pee and dog excrement. My poor beloved Border Collie and peed and pooped all over my bedroom... because I had been too drunk to care for her. While I was crying and coaxing her out from underneath my bed and cleaning up my cell phone buzzed with a text from my beloved. He had been so frightened with what I had said and the way I had acted on the phone the night before that he had immediately booked himself on the first international flight he could catch to the US. The text just said "You're scaring me... I'm on my way to help you."
I could not have been more humiliated if I tried. Here I was, in a bedroom reeking of excrement, smelling of sour wine, with a beloved pet hiding from me and a love whom I had scared badly enough that he was flying across multiple time zones and an international border to keep me from killing myself.
I cleaned like a madwoman. I cried. I picked up my beloved at the airport. We snuggled my other beloved (the one with the four feet). He promised to hold my hand no matter how hard it got to go AF.
... and now, here I am.
My ultimate goal is to have a AF home from now on. What that means for me as far as "social scenes" go I'm not sure. I am a hard core chef, so the loss of wine in my cooking is a blow... but until I can cook with it and not drink it out it goes. I'm going to go 30 days AF, then see where I stand.
Thank you for listening and being a great community. :h
When I look back at my drinking, I believe now that I have been a dangerously heavy drinker on again off again since I became "legal". To my credit, I was not a teenager that drank in HS. I just didn't see the point at that age. However, that changed the older I got. By the time I hit my mid 20s the pattern was set. I would drink more and more, then someone would point out how much I was drinking or what an ass I had just made of myself in X situation. I would either get mad, tell that person "I don't Have a problem!" and proceed to prove them wrong by cutting way back... or I would berate myself over and over until I would stop drinking. But it never lasted long.
My rock bottom was a one two punch from reality. Last Friday I had a horrible fight with my beloved (he lives in a different country). According to my cell phone, we fought for 2 hours on the phone... I don't remember anything past the first 20 minutes or so. I don't remember the names I called him. I don't remember telling him we were through. The fact that I could black out and keep functioning is just frightening. But that was not rock bottom.
Rock bottom was waking up sprawled across my bed and smelling dog pee and dog excrement. My poor beloved Border Collie and peed and pooped all over my bedroom... because I had been too drunk to care for her. While I was crying and coaxing her out from underneath my bed and cleaning up my cell phone buzzed with a text from my beloved. He had been so frightened with what I had said and the way I had acted on the phone the night before that he had immediately booked himself on the first international flight he could catch to the US. The text just said "You're scaring me... I'm on my way to help you."
I could not have been more humiliated if I tried. Here I was, in a bedroom reeking of excrement, smelling of sour wine, with a beloved pet hiding from me and a love whom I had scared badly enough that he was flying across multiple time zones and an international border to keep me from killing myself.
I cleaned like a madwoman. I cried. I picked up my beloved at the airport. We snuggled my other beloved (the one with the four feet). He promised to hold my hand no matter how hard it got to go AF.
... and now, here I am.
My ultimate goal is to have a AF home from now on. What that means for me as far as "social scenes" go I'm not sure. I am a hard core chef, so the loss of wine in my cooking is a blow... but until I can cook with it and not drink it out it goes. I'm going to go 30 days AF, then see where I stand.
Thank you for listening and being a great community. :h
Comment