A fairly bold title, I suppose, but I think it really sums up my history and life succumbing to alcohol.
Both of my parents were alcoholic. Although I think it was fairly typical of my parent's generation to do a lot of drinking (I was born in 1967), my dad succumbed to the sauce gradually until he could no longer cope with living a lie. It turned out that my dad was gay and he had married my mom knowing this truth but unable to face it himself. So, he got married, my parents had 3 children, and 17 years later he came close to hitting his bottom (not quite but almost). I woke up one morning (I think I was 10) and went to wake up him up to remind him to sharpen my skates and he was foaming at the mouth.
It turned out that he had tried to commit suicide with sleeping pills and several bottles of rye. Once my mom got him up, he went to the hospital where he spent 3 weeks in a psych ward. Let's remember this was the 70s and being gay was not very acceptable. Once he admitted this (finally) to my mom, my parents were divorced.
I don't recall my mom having a drinking problem until the divorce when we moved away to a smaller city close to her parents. THEN the drinking really began. Whereas my dad was the stupid passed out kind of drunk, my mother became emotionally and verbally abusive.
To be honest, from that point on, I don't really remember being cared for all that well, and pretty much having to fend for myself.
I was rebel child in the family (middle), and I had been a daddy's girl, so this new scenario was not one that I coped with very well. I became the party girl, wild child and the liberated female who was going to do whatever she wanted.
I started experimenting with drinking and drugs when I was 12 (GOD, 12!!!!). I am thankful the drug taking never stuck, but the alcohol sure did. This is also when a pattern of promiscuity began along with the drinking -- and pretty much has never stopped since (and now I am 45. So sad!)
I was a party girl, and I never succumbed to drinking everyday. It was usually just the weekend. I lost my virginity at 15, drunk and with a man who was almost twice my age. Let's just say, risky behaviour, and many drunken nights of sex were the norm--and often with men who were not very nice. It also isn't surprising that I ended up in a fairly abusive relationship (with a much older man) that involved a lot of alcohol when I was 18.
The only thing that saved me from going too far off the cliff at this point was that this person almost killed me -- he tried to choke me to death -- and almost succeeded.
By this time my father had been sober for at least 3 years, and we had started to rebuild our relationship. I called him, and told him that I needed help and needed to get out of the situation I was in. He let me move to his city and move in with him and his partner. It was actually quite a good time in my life for a few years and a lot of my behaviours around drinking were reigned in--at least for a time. But once I got back out on my own, the pattern of partying slowly started to creep up again (although still not yet as extreme).
In 1989, my dad was diagnosed with full blown AIDS, and succumbed to the illness in 1991. His death, the stigma, the pressue ... that was pretty much the trigger that sent me into a crazy year bender of drinking and lots of risky sex (yes, even after my father getting HIV). Until 1992.
One night I was out partying with friends and woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed. I didn't know where I was, who I was with, what I had done or how I had even gotten there. At the time I was a volunteer educator at an AIDS Centre (teaching about the dangers of unprotected sex), and I woke up knowing that I too was living a lie -- just like my dad had.
Well, that was enough. I quit on that day and didn't look back (for awhile) -- I never drank a single drop of alcohol again for 9 years.
After 9 years of being sober, life as many of you know was pretty damn good. However, one of the areas I had never addressed despite therapy and etc. was my inability to lose inhibitions or really experience life without alcohol. So, I still felt that there was a certain excitement or enjoyment missing from my life. Sigh. In that 9 years, I was pretty much celibate, I rarely socialized and I wouldn't do anything super free like dance in public, or just let myself go. I hadn't really learned to enjoy pleasures as I think I viewed them all as risky!
So, one day, I figured, well I had done enough work on myself that I could start experimenting with drinking again. This happened, I think, the year that I was going off to graduate school. I made it through Grad school with flying colours (sort of), but my drinking was gradually getting worse and so was my promiscuous behaviour.
The journey since then has been a road of lost jobs, lost friends, high stress, lowered self esteem, finance issues, bad relationships and really just awful embarrassing behaviour (of which won't get into the sordid details of at the moment).
It is not pretty when a women in her 40s is trying to party again like she is 15.
I have never tried "real" moderation, and although I am open to the possibility, I am also not going to fool myself after having experienced both sobriety and binge drinking. I want to do some healing and start looking at what the best road for me is to take at this juncture in my life. I had originally thought 30 days AF, but I am thinking now that 90 would be much more productive for me since my pattern of drinking is once a week -- I don't think 30 days would be enough for me to sort through my patterns or problem behaviours.
And yes, I want to take the money I will save from drinking and go back to see a therapist.
So here I am. I thank you all for reading my story, and I am grateful for this site and for all of you.
Cheers to you all, LJ
Both of my parents were alcoholic. Although I think it was fairly typical of my parent's generation to do a lot of drinking (I was born in 1967), my dad succumbed to the sauce gradually until he could no longer cope with living a lie. It turned out that my dad was gay and he had married my mom knowing this truth but unable to face it himself. So, he got married, my parents had 3 children, and 17 years later he came close to hitting his bottom (not quite but almost). I woke up one morning (I think I was 10) and went to wake up him up to remind him to sharpen my skates and he was foaming at the mouth.
It turned out that he had tried to commit suicide with sleeping pills and several bottles of rye. Once my mom got him up, he went to the hospital where he spent 3 weeks in a psych ward. Let's remember this was the 70s and being gay was not very acceptable. Once he admitted this (finally) to my mom, my parents were divorced.
I don't recall my mom having a drinking problem until the divorce when we moved away to a smaller city close to her parents. THEN the drinking really began. Whereas my dad was the stupid passed out kind of drunk, my mother became emotionally and verbally abusive.
To be honest, from that point on, I don't really remember being cared for all that well, and pretty much having to fend for myself.
I was rebel child in the family (middle), and I had been a daddy's girl, so this new scenario was not one that I coped with very well. I became the party girl, wild child and the liberated female who was going to do whatever she wanted.
I started experimenting with drinking and drugs when I was 12 (GOD, 12!!!!). I am thankful the drug taking never stuck, but the alcohol sure did. This is also when a pattern of promiscuity began along with the drinking -- and pretty much has never stopped since (and now I am 45. So sad!)
I was a party girl, and I never succumbed to drinking everyday. It was usually just the weekend. I lost my virginity at 15, drunk and with a man who was almost twice my age. Let's just say, risky behaviour, and many drunken nights of sex were the norm--and often with men who were not very nice. It also isn't surprising that I ended up in a fairly abusive relationship (with a much older man) that involved a lot of alcohol when I was 18.
The only thing that saved me from going too far off the cliff at this point was that this person almost killed me -- he tried to choke me to death -- and almost succeeded.
By this time my father had been sober for at least 3 years, and we had started to rebuild our relationship. I called him, and told him that I needed help and needed to get out of the situation I was in. He let me move to his city and move in with him and his partner. It was actually quite a good time in my life for a few years and a lot of my behaviours around drinking were reigned in--at least for a time. But once I got back out on my own, the pattern of partying slowly started to creep up again (although still not yet as extreme).
In 1989, my dad was diagnosed with full blown AIDS, and succumbed to the illness in 1991. His death, the stigma, the pressue ... that was pretty much the trigger that sent me into a crazy year bender of drinking and lots of risky sex (yes, even after my father getting HIV). Until 1992.
One night I was out partying with friends and woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed. I didn't know where I was, who I was with, what I had done or how I had even gotten there. At the time I was a volunteer educator at an AIDS Centre (teaching about the dangers of unprotected sex), and I woke up knowing that I too was living a lie -- just like my dad had.
Well, that was enough. I quit on that day and didn't look back (for awhile) -- I never drank a single drop of alcohol again for 9 years.
After 9 years of being sober, life as many of you know was pretty damn good. However, one of the areas I had never addressed despite therapy and etc. was my inability to lose inhibitions or really experience life without alcohol. So, I still felt that there was a certain excitement or enjoyment missing from my life. Sigh. In that 9 years, I was pretty much celibate, I rarely socialized and I wouldn't do anything super free like dance in public, or just let myself go. I hadn't really learned to enjoy pleasures as I think I viewed them all as risky!
So, one day, I figured, well I had done enough work on myself that I could start experimenting with drinking again. This happened, I think, the year that I was going off to graduate school. I made it through Grad school with flying colours (sort of), but my drinking was gradually getting worse and so was my promiscuous behaviour.
The journey since then has been a road of lost jobs, lost friends, high stress, lowered self esteem, finance issues, bad relationships and really just awful embarrassing behaviour (of which won't get into the sordid details of at the moment).
It is not pretty when a women in her 40s is trying to party again like she is 15.
I have never tried "real" moderation, and although I am open to the possibility, I am also not going to fool myself after having experienced both sobriety and binge drinking. I want to do some healing and start looking at what the best road for me is to take at this juncture in my life. I had originally thought 30 days AF, but I am thinking now that 90 would be much more productive for me since my pattern of drinking is once a week -- I don't think 30 days would be enough for me to sort through my patterns or problem behaviours.
And yes, I want to take the money I will save from drinking and go back to see a therapist.
So here I am. I thank you all for reading my story, and I am grateful for this site and for all of you.
Cheers to you all, LJ
. I don't mean to simplify your situation but it seems as though you have done most of the work. Keep it up.
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