Remembering your last drunk

According to Living Sober, that "pamphlet," it's not the last drink that counts, it's the last "drunk." That last time when you were stupid wasted. Well, it's not eventful. I didn't get pulled over or go to jail. I didn't end up in a ditch or take somebody home, but I did get drunk.

It started out a normal day. I was only a little hungover, but definitely still feeling the effects of the bender I'd been on the last two weeks. I came home and was lonely, which isn't necessarily a new thing. In fact, I think loneliness is an every day kinda thing. Just part of living alone, perhaps.

I opened a bottle of wine, just to take the edge off my loneliness, and called around to see who was home. Couldn't get the first few folks, so I decided to return a call from my cousin, you know, the one who wrecked her car. I listened, and laughed, and egged her on. I walked over to the corner store and bought another bottle of wine. I'd have to drink more just to get through all these stories. I thought she was so cool to have gotten out of all that with no consequences! How awesome to trick those cops, to have her family support her and buy her a new car that next week. Wow, what a role model. And as we raised our glasses together over the phone, I shook.

I knew then: this wasn't cool. This wasn't something I should encourage, or even think was acceptable. I was scared. Would I end up like her? Would I be saying these things to anyone who would listen, some day? Would there be anyone left to listen?

I think not.

And so I went to bed thinking how frightened I was. I made one last phone call, to Adam my sober friend. He's been in the program for 5 years and I've always been amazed and proud of him. And now, as usual, he listened to my drunken ranting. He listened as I slowly blacked out and talked about God knows what. But I know one thing: I talked about not wanting to do this anymore. I knew, I couldn't keep on like this.

I woke up Thursday with an idea: I can be saved if I just stop the insanity. I just have to stop. And so I did. That night I attended a party, with my horrible, shaking hangover, and I didn't touch any alcohol. Not a drop. And on Friday I looked up my local AA meeting and walked down during lunch. I listened, I said hello, I got some numbers. I started. All it took was that one step, to take my fright and my remorse and bring it to a place where they've seen it all before. And so I went to my first meeting, clean for a day.