Telling a story

I've finally told all of my close circle of friends that I've joined AA. I got great reactions all around - really supportive.

My closest friend whined a little about not having someone to drink with, but she was proud that I'd done something I felt I needed to do. So last night, sitting with my friend Angela, I had a nice glass of Snapple in a wine glass. It was like drinking Rose with aspartame. Not so bad! It gave me the feeling of participating, and I think it made her more comfortable, too.

This morning, I met with my last friend and she was incredible. The moment I told her she said yes, she agreed. She realized the state of me and the power of the program to help a person in my condition. She gave me a sense that it's really true, I really needed help, and that felt good.

No one tried to talk me out of it, which is nice.

I have 24 days now. It feels really good. I chose this and I'm determined to keep going. I am happy to be here. Really.

Meeting with the sponsor

I just stuffed myself full of Mexican food and laughter. My sponsor took me out to dinner after a meeting and asked me to tell my story. "Well," I started, "I started drinking when I was about twelve, drinking my parent's booze and refilling it with water." "Like any good alcoholic," she said. I don't know why I started doing it, it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

From there I moved on to drugs. I started drinking, taking my prescription meds, and taking as much LSD as I could get my little paws on. In between, I smoked a lot of pot, too. I would keep a bottle of bourbon in my drawer at school and fill up my Pepsi for study hall. I always thought I was being a good girl and taking my meds all the time (well, most of the time), but I was adding so much other stuff on top that no wonder they never seemed to work. I overdosed at age 18, two weeks before graduation, and got kicked out of boarding school. I went on to be the proud owner of a GED. Hooray.

Amazingly, I stopped taking drugs (well, mostly) after that. I just moved on to sneaking the booze out of my dad's cabinet, or meeting people who could get me beer. Once I was 19, I moved out and went to live with an alcoholic boyfriend and went out every night to get drunk after work. One night I ended up sleeping in the bushes. Another, I had to yell for the cab driver to stop so I could vomit. Another time, I woke up in a ditch next to my cousin's car with people calling all over the place for me. Apparently I'd been gone a while.

By age 21 I'd found my bar. A nice little karaoke bar not far from my house, where I lived with the dj at the bar. The bartender was my best friend (really) and my boyfriend was another alcoholic regular. Every night, rain, shine, snow, school, I was down there drinking shots and beers and smoking like a chimney. The only thing to do in a smokey bar is to smoke, otherwise it just gets too much.

And I continued in that manner until I was 26. Suddenly, I had the chance to move to California (the rest of my life was in the shitter, so why not take my problems somewhere else?). This time, I moved on to wine. In California they have good wine. Napa, Sonoma, Santa Barbara, all great places for perfect wines. So I drank them. And since I didn't have the metro anymore, I drove myself from winery to winery, or from parties to home. I started off with a glass a night, until I moved in with another alcoholic (see a pattern emerging?). Then I drank to keep up, until I surpassed him and he had to drink more to keep up with me. I lost my job and spent every day of those four months drinking from sunrise to sunset. Sure, I sent in resumes too, and eventually got a job, but I was a drunk and 40 pounds heavier.

I joined Weight Watchers and limited my wine again. I would have a glass a week, or maybe two, but I kept within my allotted calories. Then, I would plan out my day so I had more calories to use on booze. I stopped eating so much, and lost those 40 pounds. When I began just trying to maintain my weight, I went back to one and two bottle nights twice a week.

By the end, I was drinking something every night, having "4 Bottle Fridays" with a friend, half bottle Thursdays with the girls, and weekends of debauchery. I ended up blackout drunk most nights, and hungover every morning.

And then it hit me: this is no way to live. I don't have to go on like this.

And so I stopped.

Killing me softly

It's always amazing when you go to a meeting and hear someone telling your story. Tonight, I swear the speaker was reading my diary. Her life and drinking were just like mine. Always questioning, "Did I do something stupid last night? Who is this guy? Where's my car?"

She said she listed her "proof" that she was an alcoholic. Her list of stupid things and dangerous things that happened while or because of her drinking. I think that's what my sponsor told me to do when she asked me to describe how my life had become unmanageable. List off the insanity.

Well, here goes.

I blackout a lot and talk to people about God knows what, and probably tell secrets.
I drive drunk a lot, too.
I drunk dial people, mostly my parents, which is insane.
I bring home or go home with people I shouldn't and put myself and others into dangerous positions.
Sometimes I get into fights with people or break things.
I go to work hungover or still drunk.
I ignore my dog's need for a walk because I don't want to take my wine glass with me.
I lie.
I drink on my meds and then blame depression when they don't work.
I tried to kill myself.
I hurt other people.

And that's a life that is unmanageable.

The definition of insanity

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Actually, according to Webster, insanity is "a : extreme folly or unreasonableness b : something utterly foolish or unreasonable."

Foolish and unreasonable. Well, foolish I've got covered. I've done some horribly foolish things in my life, including drinking to excess, of course. I've driven drunk numerous times. I've snuck out of the house into the dark night when I was a little kid and wandered in the woods. I've slept with people without protection. I've said hurtful and foolish things. Foolish: lacking in sense, judgment, or discretion.

Unreasonable: exceeding the bounds of reason or moderation. Moderation, eh? Everything in moderation, including moderation, they say. Well, I sure couldn't moderate my drinking.

My insanity. I kept moving in or dating alcoholics expecting different results. Expecting they were going to suit up and show up. And then when they didn't, I was disappointed. Being disappointed in someone for acting like themselves isn't exactly fair to the other person, or to myself. Like it's been said in meetings, you have to realize that the other person is sick, too, and show them the compassion you would show an ill friend or family member.

I kept expecting my mom to change, too. I kept expecting her to be like a mom. To comfort and guide me, and not to have to mother her myself. I kept waiting for that moment when I could believe in her. When I could be proud. It wasn't until I had a paradigm shift and saw the little things she was actually doing to improve, that I could be happy with her and take what little she could give.

Insanity. Expecting different results, performing the same tasks. I suppose everything people end up doing is insanity in disguise. Insanity: Extreme foolishness; folly.I think I've got foolishness covered.

The thirst

Remember that movie the Neverending Story? Where Atrayu is trying to fight "the nothing" and eventually has to face his worst fears to conquer it?

At a meeting the other day, an older man said that each time his life seemed messed up, he would take a deep look and realize it was the "thirst" that was getting him. He would meditate on it, and find that deep in his subconscious the thirst was trying to control him.

That's what I immediately realized when I quit, was I'm THIRSTY for alcohol. I want it. When I start drinking, I immediately want more. I can't stop until I can't possibly drink anymore (and then I pass out). I just want to keep going cause I'm thirsty.

According to others, the thirst subsides, and goes underground. A lot of people lose it completely. I think these are probably the people who are dealing with their issues, and like Atrayu, fighting the demons inside. I want to fight. I want to go through the adventures of the steps and reach my scary wolf cave and fight the nothing that is controlling me.

It's all clear to me now

It's amazing how clear your head can be when you're not hungover.

I've noticed in the past few days how much better I can think. Not like suddenly I'm a genius or anything, but some how my fog has lifted. I always thought it was just depression, but I think it may have had something to do with the booze....

I also have a shit ton of energy. I've been cleaning house and my backyard like crazy. One night after work, instead of killing a bottle of wine, I killed some bamboo. Well, ok, so I just trimmed it down to a nice column. I also got down on my hands and knees and cut weeds with a trimmer. I don't have a lawn mower or a goat, though my dog does love to eat grass. I also found a dead squirrel among the weeds, but he hadn't been dead long. I suppose if I hadn't gotten off my ass and cleaned, my dog might have found him first and rolled on him. Ugh.

My favorite pass time, reading, has also come back to me. For months I just couldn't read anything. Now I have 5 books open and I'm highlighting good sections. I'm reading a great book called "Care of the Soul," written by a therapist who talks about the different aspects of soul and how to give yours the room to grow and thrive. It's really an interesting take on inner life.

All this energy keeps me busy enough to not notice that I would usually be drinking while doing all these activities.