So tonight, I'm going to my first meeting. I. Am. Terrified. There's so much I'm worried about. Will I be forced to face whatever it is that drives me to drink? I don't know if I'll be able to answer that question. Am I going to be forced to give up my best friends and all of the social activities I enjoy? I don't think I'm strong enough for that! Will I actually feel my emotions? **shudder** That thought totally freaks me out! Clearly, I'm a mess. How did I get here?
I first got drunk when I was a sophomore in high school. I didn't go to one of those huge public schools where there was a myriad of cliques. I probably would've been better off if I had. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my friends from high school, and I wouldn't have traded my experience for the world. I was a shy kid in a tiny Catholic high school. We graduated with 80 kids. There were no cliques - you either hung out together or you didn't. It was that simple. If you had to label it, I'd guess that roughly half of us were "popular," half of us were not. Most of my friends fell into the former group. The guy I was "with" was in the former group. The first time I got drunk, I realized that I wasn't acting so shy, that I could be open and outgoing like everyone else. Cool. By the time I was a senior in high school, a few of us were drinking every night. We always had a reason - basketball game, school dance, boredom, parents out of town. It was always something. We had a friend with his own place. That was awesome because we always had somewhere to go, where we wouldn't get caught. We didn't get drunk every night, but we got pretty close. The good drunks were reserved for big occasions; proms, New Year's Eve, and house parties where you could sleepover. I never got into any serious trouble, I was never arrested or in any accidents. I was smart and ended up at an amazing college. No real problem, then, right?
So that's how and when I started drinking. I was 14. Chew on that for a minute. 14! My boy will be 14 in ten short years. I can't have him live a life like I did. I was a baby. What could we possibly have been thinking? I imagine these are things I'll have to confront at some point soon.
But for now, I'm just trying to focus on today. I haven't had a drink in five days. Not much, but not nothing! Baby steps.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Rock Bottom
I hit my personal rock bottom. It may not be anyone else's idea of rock bottom, but it's mine. So this is where I start my journey. This blog is a means for me to chronicle my attempt at a sober life. I hope to include all sorts of content, from kids to food, because this is my life, my day-to-day.
The Last Drink
August 6, 2014, was a day like any other day in the life of a stay-at-home mom. From the minute we woke up, we were on the go. You see, my son was scheduled for a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy (T&A to the medical world - NOT the T&A I'm familiar with!!) for the following day. We had tons of last minute stuff to do, plus the stuff I was stupid enough to take on myself. I finally got home around 4pm that day, only to start making sauce and meatballs with the bestie. I'm something of a sauce and meatball guru in my group! It was a stressful enough day, the kiddos were occupied, the music was playing, and the wine bottle was opened. What was meant to be a drink or two while cooking turned into an all-night debacle. We had eaten salad for lunch. I had no breakfast that day. I was running on caffeine and half of a grilled chicken breast. One bottle turned into two, which turned into three. I can't remember if we had more than that. My kids and the bestie's kids ate meatballs for dinner. I didn't eat dinner, I drank my dinner. My husband came home to this. Welcome home honey! Another friend stopped by to drop off pie. I had to apologize profusely the next day, partly because I was out of control, partly because I barely remember her being at my house. People were drunk-dialed and drunk-texted. It wasn't pretty folks...
You guys, did I mention my kid was having surgery the next day? As in, put-to-sleep-and-cut-open surgery? I know, getting tonsils out is fairly routine, but still, there's a risk of complications for all surgeries. I was incapacitated the entire night before the surgery. I couldn't nurse the baby to sleep for the first time ever. Yes, I was this drunk with a nursing baby. She's 13 months, so we aren't nursing as much as, say, a newborn, but still. My poor baby girl had to go to sleep without her mama. I woke up the next morning with that weighing on my mind, and then a much darker thought slipped into my brain. What if that was my last night ever with my boy, and that was how I spent it with him? I know the risks of that were extremely low, but still. What if? I lost it. I don't normally show emotions, my friends joke that I have no soul, but I CRIED. That's big. I don't cry. Ever. But I cried. And that was the start of this venture into sobriety for me.
My sister has mentioned quite a few times that she's worried about me. Addiction runs rampant in my family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents...it's everywhere. But not me. I can control it. I just don't have to drink. Except when I do drink, I can't stop. Ever. So I guess I really can't control it. On this particular night, my parents were on my case. That pissed me off. My mother texted one of my best friends to tell her she was concerned. That REALLY pissed me off. I don't have a problem. Well, I didn't, until I woke up that next morning. So now I'm ready. I'm going to my first meeting on Monday night. I'm terrified, but my kids and family are more important than my fear. I'm doing this. And I hope you'll join me on my journey. I'm trying to help myself and my family, but if I can help someone else along the way, even better!
The Last Drink
August 6, 2014, was a day like any other day in the life of a stay-at-home mom. From the minute we woke up, we were on the go. You see, my son was scheduled for a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy (T&A to the medical world - NOT the T&A I'm familiar with!!) for the following day. We had tons of last minute stuff to do, plus the stuff I was stupid enough to take on myself. I finally got home around 4pm that day, only to start making sauce and meatballs with the bestie. I'm something of a sauce and meatball guru in my group! It was a stressful enough day, the kiddos were occupied, the music was playing, and the wine bottle was opened. What was meant to be a drink or two while cooking turned into an all-night debacle. We had eaten salad for lunch. I had no breakfast that day. I was running on caffeine and half of a grilled chicken breast. One bottle turned into two, which turned into three. I can't remember if we had more than that. My kids and the bestie's kids ate meatballs for dinner. I didn't eat dinner, I drank my dinner. My husband came home to this. Welcome home honey! Another friend stopped by to drop off pie. I had to apologize profusely the next day, partly because I was out of control, partly because I barely remember her being at my house. People were drunk-dialed and drunk-texted. It wasn't pretty folks...
You guys, did I mention my kid was having surgery the next day? As in, put-to-sleep-and-cut-open surgery? I know, getting tonsils out is fairly routine, but still, there's a risk of complications for all surgeries. I was incapacitated the entire night before the surgery. I couldn't nurse the baby to sleep for the first time ever. Yes, I was this drunk with a nursing baby. She's 13 months, so we aren't nursing as much as, say, a newborn, but still. My poor baby girl had to go to sleep without her mama. I woke up the next morning with that weighing on my mind, and then a much darker thought slipped into my brain. What if that was my last night ever with my boy, and that was how I spent it with him? I know the risks of that were extremely low, but still. What if? I lost it. I don't normally show emotions, my friends joke that I have no soul, but I CRIED. That's big. I don't cry. Ever. But I cried. And that was the start of this venture into sobriety for me.
My sister has mentioned quite a few times that she's worried about me. Addiction runs rampant in my family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents...it's everywhere. But not me. I can control it. I just don't have to drink. Except when I do drink, I can't stop. Ever. So I guess I really can't control it. On this particular night, my parents were on my case. That pissed me off. My mother texted one of my best friends to tell her she was concerned. That REALLY pissed me off. I don't have a problem. Well, I didn't, until I woke up that next morning. So now I'm ready. I'm going to my first meeting on Monday night. I'm terrified, but my kids and family are more important than my fear. I'm doing this. And I hope you'll join me on my journey. I'm trying to help myself and my family, but if I can help someone else along the way, even better!
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