Second Week

Passing one week of sobriety feels like a huge milestone. It's both rewarding and scary. As the shiny newness of being sober wears off, how am I going to handle the inevitable desire to drink? Also, I can't even use the word "sobriety" with my husband. I have filled him in on my plans, and even told him I'm reading some books about "not drinking." But that's it. Even our conversation has been somewhat casual. "I don't think I want to try to have a healthy relationship with alcohol anymore. It's just not working." I haven't told him I realize it's more than just not drinking, that I need to DO sobriety. We'll get there eventually, I suppose.

Prior to last week, my alcohol intake hadn't really been as dysfunctional as it was at various other points throughout my drinking career. I've had a lot of thoughts swirling through my head today about dysfunctional things I have done in the past. Even though I wasn't doing all of these things recently, I was actually living with the assumption that I would probably be right back to them, maybe even worse, once my children are grown and out of the house. I actually figured I would probably end up as a miserable, depressed all-day drinker. How awful is it that I reached a point where I accepted that as my fate? I don't have to worry about that now. Without further ado, here is my list of dysfunction. These is just my post-marriage list.

• When we used to visit my mom for the weekend, I'd pack a 1.75L bottle of vodka in the toiletries bag that I kept in the bathroom so I could sneak away for shots throughout the day and evening.
  
• On Christmas Eve, while we are unwrapping presents, I would always find excuses to sneak away and chug drinks. If I was open about the fact that I was making a drink, I'd try to sneak a shot while no one was looking.
  
• Just a few years ago I took all my husband's pain pills after he had dental surgery and didn't need them. When the pills were gone, I had him stop at a head shop so I could buy kratom, a legal herb that supposedly has a similar effect to opiates. When I ran out and wanted more, I drove with my two boys to a local head shop and sat in the parking lot trying to figure out which was better - to leave the kids in the car while I went in, or to take them into a head shop with me. In the end, I drove away, but I actually drove there. With them in the car. Not an alcohol story, but this is how far my brain will go to feel altered.
  
• I found out I was pregnant with my daughter just a few weeks before my husband and I were scheduled to host a Christmas party. I didn't tell anyone until after the party so I would be able to drink as much as I wanted without anyone knowing I was drinking while I knew I was pregnant.
  
• I often made drinks while my husband was in the room next to me, and I would wait for him to look away so I could slam back an extra shot.

For some reason, as I write this out, it doesn't even seem that bad, which is scary. Maybe that's because the inner turmoil has been the worst for me. My trajectory has really been the opposite of your typical alcoholic's, probably because I've been terrified from the time I started drinking at age 20 of descending into alcoholism. It's in my family, and the only drinkers I ever knew growing up were alcoholics. Because of this, I have fought hard against going down the spiral. In my twenties, I missed work, almost lost jobs, got a DUI, slept with strangers, and all the other alcoholic things you can imagine. By the time I was 26, I'd had enough of this, so I became a hermit. I got a 9 to 5 job, went to work, did my job, came home, and drank alone. I went to bed early so I would always be able to wake up for my job despite my alcohol intake. By the time I met my husband, I was drinking 12 to 16 ounces of liquor every single night. I would literally stand in front of the freezer with a 2-oz shot glass and a bottle of cheap liquor, knocking back shots before bed. I cut way back when we got together, and having kids caused me to cut back even more. But the desire has always been inside me, driving me. I have spent so much energy trying to feed the beast just enough to keep me going without falling over the edge.

In Lotta Dann's review of Allen Carr's The Easy Way to Stop Drinking, she says, "He talks about the 'critical point' being when the drinker has two parts of their brain working just as strongly as the other.  One part wants to drink as often and as much as you want, the other part now sees your drinking as a problem. ... He says the problem is that both parts when working make you miserable, they work in complete opposition to each other. So the only solution is to stop drinking but doing it by (what he calls) the 'willpower' method doesn't work as you'll still feel miserable that you're depriving yourself of something desirable. You have to use his method (which is what I've been doing!) and retrain your brain to realise that you're not giving anything up you are freeing yourself of something you don't want or need."

I have been there for EIGHTEEN YEARS. Eighteen years. I've been locked in a terrifying war against myself for my ENTIRE adult life. What a waste! No wonder life has seemed unsatisfying. No wonder I'm never at peace.

I do not want or need alcohol. I do not want or need alcohol.