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!