No neat bow here

Staying sober has been easier lately. There was some shift the month before last that made it easier to walk away after one drink, abstain entirely, or just keep my shit under control. I don't know exactly what it was, but it seemed to happen during those two weeks with no drinking whatsoever. It wasn't the length of time, it was thinking, So I don't need to keep this up anymore?

It made me sit up and take notice and wonder who the hell I was asking. Until that moment, it hadn't truly sunk in that I hold the reins. I could steer the other way.

In the last two months there's been only one evening I felt I had too much to drink. And no surprise, it was followed by a morning that felt not-so-great. And though my body didn't feel tip-top, it was more the accompanying thoughts than mild headache that had an impact.

I'm having trouble writing this next bit, so I'll just blurt it out. My husband and I are actively trying to have a kid, and there's no underestimating how much that puts the brakes on drinking. But I don't want to think I'm home free, that getting pregnant or having a child will remove the desire to drink down the line. There are thousands upon thousands of mothers with drinking problems, and I know that while I might not be actively drinking too much with regularity, that doesn't guarantee shit in the future.

There's so much in my head right now that I can't seem to get in order and down on the page. Hope. Trust. Apprehension. Love. Nutrition. Potential. Belief.

I'll take it

I am in the middle of reading Parched (Heather King) and although the history and experiences are different, something she wrote in chapter nineteen really sticks - On day six, I didn't think, Oh I feel so good when I'm not drinking. I'm never going to drink again! I thought, Oh good, I can control my drinking like a normal person; I think I'll have a drink!

And so it goes. Two weeks sober, wonderful! Seriously, that is great, and it's amazing how easy it was to do it for a limited time. But then there's a two-weeks-good-for-you-Hey-it's-Friday drink and the next thing I know it's been a week of Tomorrow.

I like that in the comments Jen said this time two weeks, next time three, next time four. That is something I think I can do. Incremental change. If it can't be (or I won't let it be) a forevermore cessation of drinking, that is something I can do.

And yes, I hear the excuses, the trying to manage instead of simply stopping. I hear it. And yet, it's still an improvement and I'll take it.

(Edited Monday to remove something that wasn't strictly true and was a bit unfair to myself)

New month

My mother had a very strong Clean Slate policy when we were growing up. I can remember feeling utterly wretched when I knew I'd disappointed, and how that turned on a dime with the words, "All right. Clean slate."

Four days of drinking (three moderate, one over the line), and I'm giving myself one of those clean slates. Another fresh start, another day.

The problem, as I see it, is that I don't know that I have a problem. I do know that I felt good not drinking for two weeks. I know that there were no lingering why-that-last-drink thoughts come morning. I know that when my husband said I noticed about the not-drinking, it felt pretty fucking spectacular. And I know that after I'd drank and it ran more than two days, my spirit sagged for a moment. Shit. Not again.

I recognize family history (brother, aunt, grandfather, grandfather, maternal great uncle, paternal great uncle, dad drank a lot for a few years but stopped at some point) and wonder why I'd want to poke that sleeping monster. Do I need it? Am I just self-indulgent or is there a real compulsion?

I'm not sure that I want to give myself over to AA. To days-months-years of Sobriety with a capital S. I want it to be simple. I want it to be that I either have a drink or I don't, but la de da, it's not thought about. I can't tell if I'm making a mountain out of a molehill or hiding my head in the sand. I want to be able to have a drink from time to time without it being an issue. If it were from time to time.

On one hand, wondering whether you have a problem is proof enough that you do. On the other hand, what if it's (and I cringe typing this because I know how it sounds) just a phase? On the other hand again, there are all types of phases. I could be having a health-phase, but I'm not. And that, dammit, makes me lean toward the just to be safe you should cut it out side.

Sober tonight and more than 24 hours under my belt again, but these are the thoughts that keep running through my mind.

And counting

I've thought of drinking this past week, but mostly in the sense of so I don't need to keep that up anymore? Nope. You sure don't.

It's been harder to fall asleep, but that should pass soon. When I do get to sleep, it feels more restful than before (and it is, it seems) and I'm less tired during the day, so it all evens out and it gets a little easier each night.

I felt a nudge last night driving home from my friend's house, but I thought it through and kept driving. The thoughts lasted all of a block and a half. That's been the worst of it, and that I can deal with. Think. Keep driving. Revisit it later if need be, but for right now? I don't want it.

Overall, I'm (very happily) surprised at how slight a pull alcohol has exerted this past week. It's been on the table at bowling, next to the orange juice at the grocery store, lined up behind the pharmacist's counter, and yet there hasn't been any desire to pick it up. It feels separate-from and for-others, and I like that.

It may be harder next month or in the next five minutes, but for right now, this moment, I'm equal to it.

Two days

And looking forward to day three.

From someone who knew me of old

You can revert back to a non-drinker, you know, the place we all start at. People don't change, and I remember you for the most part as not much of a drinker. You were more into reading a book and nibbling at a few Doritos and drinking a Coke ... that's the real you.

I liked that girl, and she's just under the surface.

Thanks for reminding me.

What it comes down to

This morning I felt unsettled, uneasy, jumpy, awkward. I twice flipped my pen almost into the hall just shifting my grip. I came this close to missing my chair when I sat. Everything felt a few degrees from normal.

What the hell is this? Work isn't the best place to soul-search, but I wanted to nail it down before I tripped down the stairs or fell into a recycling bin.

I took some time at lunch to purposefully relax and a few thoughts kept surfacing: What if I can't? And if I can, does that mean I have to haul this shit around for the rest of my life? Will I ever become a thoughtless non-drinker?

I admonished myself for putting the cart before the horse, but part of me said LISTEN, dammit and so I did. Valid questions. Unanswerable at this point, but valid nonetheless, and that's when I recognized what the nerves and the flinging pens and all meant.

Fear. Simple as that.

Fear that I can't, fear that I won't, fear that I will but my relationships will change. Fear that I put it out there. Fear that I won't follow through, fear that it will get worse if I don't. Fear that I'll feel that raw needy off-footedness I felt when I stopped drinking last time.

And then I breathed. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

That off-footedness isn't going to kill me. I have friends and family who are aware and would completely understand if I pulled myself out of rotation for a few weeks. It's that simple. If I need to I can say, "Hey. I need two weeks to burrow into the bedsheets. I love you but I am one raw nerve and don't want to talk, don't want to email, can't deal with interaction."

Quite likely I won't need that, but lately I've been feeling the need to shrink, to focus, to not spread out all over the place. I've wanted to check out, but it doesn't feel like withdrawal, it feels like instinct. Like I need to curl into a corner and lick some self-inflicted wounds clean.

The post stays, Melissa

It's very hard leaving the most recent post up, but a perfect example of why I lie to myself and keep it from others. Because the reality is embarrassing. And that's exactly why I wrote it - to put some heat on my cheeks. If I don't like it, I know what to do. Change that reality.

Accurate data

So, we're starting an experiment today. I will be accountable here for every single drink.

Words from the very first post to this blog. I haven't always been honest in the past, but here I go. I'll account for every single drink today. In chronological order:

24 oz. can of beer
2 rum and cokes
1 bottle of beer
4 bottles of beer
3 rum and cokes

By my reckoning, that's 12 drinks. And the rum and cokes are probably one-and-a-half drinks, so that's 14+ drinks.

Inexcusable.

I need to be honest. I can't pretty it up for me or anyone else. As I calculated the list above, I could hear Self Indulgence weigh in with But it's Sunday! You're talking ALL day! You spread it out over 12 hours and you're only now feeling a little buzzed and you're heading to bed! That's responsible! Just look at the numbers, though. That isn't normal by any stretch of the imagination. And please stop with all the exclamation points, would you? Your rush to reassure just hurts my head.

I used to think - well, I used to think a whole bunch of things. I keep typing and erasing all the things I've thought: I can control my drinking, AA seems helpful but to be fully engaged I'll have to stop drinking and I'm not quite ready for that, CAN I control this, is this habit, what is my liver doing, does anyone smell it at work, dammit my words slurred again. Who needs this shit?

Seriously. Who needs those thoughts? When there's help there for the taking. When there's support on all sides. When I want different. What is it that makes me think Tomorrow?

A "duh" moment

I absolutely adore my husband. Hands down, this is the guy for me and vice versa.

Here's the thing. I don't want to fuck that up. On the nights I drink, I hang out in the kitchen or bathroom or computer room while he watches TV in the front room. We're in the same house, but there may be only a few exchanges of conversation after dinner and before I go to bed. And why? Because I'm tipsy and I don't want him to see.

I was talking with a woman after Tuesday's meeting about how alcohol has impacted our relationships with family and friends. I was saying something about how I didn't think Matt fully knew the extent of the problem, and explained how I keep away and collect myself before giving him a kiss goodnight. She started to speak, held it back for a second, then said with an oh honey look, "He probably knows more than he's letting on."

And I thought, "Shit. Of course he does." Although he has never come out and said he thinks my drinking is a problem, I think his true feelings showed the first night I went to an AA meeting.

We hadn't had a chance to talk the night before (when I decided to go and looked into meetings) and he was out when I got back. I headed to bed before he got home, but left the 24-hour coin on a note saying, "Guess what I did tonight? I really really liked it and think it will help." I was drifting off when he got home, but heard the coin slide off the note as he read it.

I opened my eyes when he came into the bedroom and saw a huge grin just before he swooped down to give me a kiss. No words, just a really big smile and a very sound kiss. I haven't seen a smile like that in a long long time. He should smile like that every day. And I wouldn't mind another swoop - that was pretty nice.

I'm finally realizing there doesn't have to be fighting or arrests or hangovers. If it's meant to be better (marriage, life, fill in the blank) and I'm suffocating it with booze, that's problem enough.

And I'm going out to join him in the front room right now.

Promise

Promise it won't always be so hard.

Promise I can do this.

Promise this corner can be turned.

********

I read in someone's recent post (wish I could attribute - thank you if it was yours) that they always managed to take at least one thought away from every meeting. Tonight's meeting cemented something I've been thinking about this past week - namely, that I ought to get out there and become familiar with other meetings. More days, more times, more people.

This second meeting made me realize that while every group may be slightly different, the support and well-wishing is present whether the meeting is in Lansing, Houston, Chicago, or New York.

Again, I was blown away by the stories everyone shared and how willing they were to talk to a newcomer. One woman in particular struck up a conversation afterward and made sure I recognized my strengths while also pointing out where I will learn a few things. She never gave me a full head or frightened me, just made it clear that while the path may be rocky, I could make it with some help.

And that's exactly what I needed to hear.

Relief

I'll go again.

I kept waiting to feel odd or out of place tonight, but instead felt a lot of warmth washing up on all sides. They were on Step 7, but took a vote and started back at Step 1 to accommodate the newcomers. Midway through the going-round of stories, the lady to my right handed me a blue envelope with names and phone numbers written on the back. I added mine and passed it along to the woman on my left, who wrote hers down and handed it back to me, whispering, This is for you, to call one of us if you'd like to talk.

When it came my turn, I almost didn't recognize my voice, and I kept it short because I didn't see any tissue handy. I said that I'd had enough of saying and meaning one thing in the morning and another at night, and that after 20 years of smoking or drinking regularly, I want to see what life is like without this veil. (That veil may have gotten thicker over the last ten years, but I started trying it on for size way back in the day, and it's time to set it aside.)

My mind is scattered right now, but my initial impression of the meeting is This is a very very good idea.

One foot in front of the other

I'm giving AA a try tonight. I don't know if it will work, if I will hate it or love it or think it's helpful, but it is something I am doing.

One meeting can't hurt, right? And what if it helps?

Wouldn't that be something?

Sigh

I've been reading blogs by other alcoholics tonight - most notably, Baby On Bored and the Don't Get Drunk Fridays posts - and what punches me in the gut is how many of the stories I relate to. Sneaking. Minimizing. Friends and family who think (hope) it's habit rather than a problem. Countering thoughts of "It's a problem," with "Yes, but I'm still getting the laundry done."

Over the last year I have slowly come around to recognizing myself as an alcoholic. It blows my mind to spell that out, but what else could this behavior be called? I don't know when it happened, when I allowed myself to actually articulate that, but there came a point there simply wasn't a way around it.

I vary the stores I visit. I stop adding up drinks once the sum gets too high. I check out and think tomorrow is soon enough. I wish there were no obligations interfering with the space I want to deal with things. None of these are good signs and all point to a real problem.

There's Antabuse in the medicine cabinet and refills waiting in the wings. Yet, so far (other than those lovely three weeks last summer) I haven't been successful in taking it more than three days at a time. With a LOT of time in between. The lack of checkmarks on the calendar would be laughable if it wasn't so not-funny.

Dear Adam

It feels so good to see you fight.

KICK THAT BASTARD-BOTTLE'S ASS.

Then welcome yourself home with open arms.

I love you,

Melissa

New month

Two days in, two checkmarks on the calendar.

I envision the entire month filled with tiny checkmarks. I want to see that, and I WILL see that.

And tonight

So yes, I took a pill Wednesday and was able to put a checkmark on the calendar. That is the only checkmark in the month of February. I took a pill Thursday morning and eased into drinking after work, thinking there weren't enough pills in my system to cause real problems. My cheeks heated up after the second beer, so I sipped my third even slower. We came home with two friends and a 12-pack and played cribbage, euchre, and golf. And I drank more and felt fine. And I felt fine in the morning, too.

Body-wise, that is. Mentally, I was kicking myself.

And yet the next night, more drinks. Antabuse must have a bit of a delay, because although I hadn't taken one that morning, my heart was beating hard and my cheeks were flushing. So I laid on the couch to relax for a bit, then had another one or two once I felt normal again.

And tonight, Saturday. Bowling. Pitcher, pitcher, pitcher.

Matt and I had a great conversation on the way home. I'll never be able to remember it all, but the high point is that I could use a hand. A light hand, but a hand nonetheless, and I would appreciate him asking "did you take your pill?" Monday morning.

See, I know me. I don't need strong finger-wagging or disgust or embarrassment or letting someone down. That would kill me. What I need (and what I'd like to be able to do for myself but somehow can't) is someone saying, "I see you. I see that. I don't like that. It could hurt us."

We talked about how we might be too easy-going with each other. We both have or have had our issues, and we're get-along sort of people. Which is wonderful in the day-to-day, but could hamstring us if we want to help each other change for the better or need help getting there. We talked about loving each other no matter what, but also seeing what is enriching and what is detrimental to us as a couple and a potential family.

Quit day: Monday

Re-do

This was originally written and posted Tuesday, February 23. I pulled it the following morning because I felt some vulnerability was showing, but hello. That's what we're here for.

*******

I still haven't managed to take that pill in my pocket.

I woke up this morning thinking, "You've been drinking reasonably and getting to work and not smelling of booze, but you didn't shut it down very well last night, did you? Nope. Not good, honey."

So with all kinds of fortitude I stuck that pill in my pocket again with the intention of taking it at 10:00 this morning. And then 9:30 hit, and I thought, "There are still drinks at home and you have tomorrow off. Sure, you could take that at 10:00. But there are drinks at home. And you have tomorrow off."

And here I am, drinking rum and cokes and doing my eye makeup and spritzing perfume and looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

Someone I love had a different sort of problem not too long ago. I want to emulate how he looked at his life, looked at the consequences, and said, "That's it. DONE." But he hasn't complained. He hasn't said, "Hey, honey? I'd like you to be present."

I see what that says there. I shouldn't need someone to complain before I make the change.

I shouldn't care that tomorrow I'm bowling and Thursday I'm meeting a friend and Friday I'm meeting a friend so maybe I should take this pill on Saturday? Oh, but I bowl again Saturday, so maybe Sunday? I don't want to drink. I want my friends who don't have this problem to do whatever comes naturally. What helps is everyone doing what they would normally do and I order lemonade instead of a beer. That makes it easier and feels like less of a spotlight. But I recognize I just need to do what I need to do, regardless. My decision.

***

HOLY SHIT.

My husband's urologist just called. Artificial insemination looks entirely possible after last summer's surgery. This changes everything. If my smile would fit on the computer screen it would be cracking it left and right. HOLY SHIT.

Oh boy, I want to cry right now.

When there is no possibility of children, what I do with my life is my business and the business of those who are already here. But the possibility of a family? 100% different.

Example of alcoholic thinking

I devised a new strategy and made a checkmark on the calendar for February 2 before I'd even left the house in the morning. Resolve was strong. That will make it official. No drinking today. Tomorrow you can go back to making a checkmark after the day has passed, but let's get a pre-emptive check in there first.

Hmm. Had to cross that one out. Didn't count. Didn't make it through the day.

Okay, the next day then. Check!

No. Didn't take Antabuse, had some drinks. Had a lot of drinks, as a matter of fact. Cross it out.

Thursday? Well, I had half a pint left and that seemed like too much to simply throw away. I know! I'll finish it tonight and start fresh tomorrow! Good plan.

Oh, but Friday. It's Friday, after all. I should probably get some booze to replace what I finished. After all, friends are coming over, it's social, and I can start fresh on Monday. Or Sunday. But probably Monday.

Liar liar

Ah, how we pull the wool over our own eyes.

For months I've been thinking I have this under control, that it's not so bad, that it's not impacting my day-to-day life, and while on one hand that's true, it's still a load of horseshit.

It's still a problem. I look back over these posts and immediately see what I've edited out, what I've minimized. The fact is, plain and simple, it's a problem.

It's a problem if you have zero money and you buy a pint of Bacardi. It's a problem if you've carried Antabuse in your pocket to work each day for weeks but don't take it when it is time.

I have to get past the idea that I can be sober Monday through Thursday and drink on the weekend. Even a beer with friends - simply not a good idea. I need a complete shutdown.

I want to be a better wife, a better sister, a better daughter, a better friend, and a better me.