Who knows what day it is?

I am sitting here having woken up at 4 a.m., unable to return to sleep.   There is so much on my mind.

1) I wonder if I will be able to completely stop drinking without seeking inpatient treatment.  I am in Upstate New York staying with my parents about to begin an outpatient program on Wednesday.  I have slipped up a few times while I have been here, not to any one's direct knowledge, perhaps my mom has suspected it.  But my parents have a Ft. Knox-like stash of alcohol in the basement and it has been hard to resist putting just a little in my  lemonade or iced tea over the past few days.  I have not gotten drunk, but definitely used it to take the edge off at times.

2) My relationship with my husband has hits the rocks.  He knows I am here to seek treatment, but since I have been away for almost two weeks, he has not called, ignores my calls, and ignores my texts.  I spoke with him for the first time yesterday and he said he is realizing how much my drinking has hurt our marriage.  He has generally shown more than disgust and anger when I drink; I did not know that it hurt him so.  He has gone so far as to say that perhaps our entire marriage was a mistake.  Three children and ten years later, I am finding this out.  I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even talk about it.

Because, of course, it has hurt him.  How long can you watch someone regularly getting drunk and think that you have a happy, functional relationship and family?   How many times can he listen to my desperate proclamation that I want to stop and that my family means the world to me, when I have chosen to drink instead?  I did not think that I would have to be dealing with the possible dissolution of our marriage, but here it is and I cannot handle it.  It would be a devastating loss and I have no clue how to deal with those kinds of emotions without alcohol.

He does not want to talk about it and has all but shut me out.  His love for me, his desire to continue this relationship, and his faith that anything will change is entirely in question.  I feel helpless, because I have no idea what my future holds in this regard and it is tearing me up.

I want to focus on my recovery, but feel that my fear of losing my marriage has completely overshadowed it.

I would love feedback.

Much love,
Karen

Day Four - Inexplicable Optimism

Last night, I was feeling very lonely - like existentialist loneliness, what am I doing on this planet loneliness, what will happen when I die loneliness, will I be with my children again? loneliness.  And then after those thoughts circled my brain for an hour or so, I began to panic.  I had sweaty palms, a racing heart, I could not turn off my brain, and I felt certain I would die.

So, I did something I do not do very often, I prayed.  I prayed to God to help me through this time when I feel so fragile and so vulnerable.  I thanked God for all the people I have in my life: my husband, my precious boys, my parents, my Aunt Cathleen, and my friends.  I thanked God for my life.  For years, my husband and I barely made it by financially; he was stuck in a dead-end job; I was working full-time at a good job with benefits, but it broke my heart to take my boys to daycare when they were very small; and we were seemingly stuck in a house in a neighborhood that could be nothing but negative for our boys as they grew up.

That has all changed.  We live in a neighborhood where I feel safe letting my boys go outside and play and my husband has a great job that even allows me to stay home with my children.  In other words, I have a life that affords me the opportunity to think about more than just myself and think beyond navigating through the next crisis.  My children's needs are taken care of and they seem very happy, we have a roof over our heads, a garden in an actual yard, and food on the table.

I prayed to God last night in the middle of that panic attack, that when and if, I woke up, I would do everything in my power to show the people in my life how much I appreciate them and I would show the world/universe how much I value the gifts I have been given in the way that I conduct myself on a day to day basis.

I woke up this morning with feeling of pure optimism and an eagerness to begin my day.  I cannot tell you the last time that happened.  I feel for the first time that "it" is going to be okay and I have a life to look forward to, not dread or fear.

Now I have to go live it…

Thank you for being here.

Day Three - Bad Dreams

Great women's meeting today.  I learned  a lot.

But, this sucks.  Not being able to drink, when you cannot sleep.  I did it ALL.

Warm milk, melatonin, tryptophan - no dice.

I am an angry person.  I was called that yesterday by someone that does not even know me, but guess what?  She was RIGHT and it made me mad.  I am so angry that my mother made my childhood miserable and scary; I am angry that my first real love relationship turned out so awfully, I am angry that I was forced into an abortion, and I am angry that I have wasted my talents and passions on alcohol, AND I AM SO ANGRY THAT THAT SEE YOU NEXT TUESDAY (my neighbor) CALLED IT OUT.  She does not even know me, but it is it so obvious?

More tomorrow, I accept that I am an angry person.  Now, what do I do with it?

Day Two - Again...

As I wrote the other day, I made a mistake and allowed myself to have a glass of wine at a friend's house.  I was close to making a huge mistake and majorly backsliding, but I did not.  Instead, I told my husband what my new drinking patterns have become, where every single hiding place I have for alcohol in the house is, and a few incidents recently that I found personally mortifying and was too embarrassed to share with anyone.  

My husband is supportive and loving, when I am honest with him and pursue my recovery in earnest.  He does not have time or patience for excuses, justifications, or dishonesty.

Today, I stayed sober and will write more about it tomorrow.

I had a run-in with a neighbor today.  I lived in Philadelphia for 15 years and never had a single disagreement with a neighbor.  Apparently, I have been very rude by allowing my children to go down the street (three doors away) and ask her son to play without calling ahead or setting up a play date.  Meanwhile, her son comes over to our house unannounced all of the time.  It never bothered me, because I thought that is what children do.  She told me that I was taking advantage of her kindness.  Though she does not know me at all, she said I seem like a very angry woman and that I that I thrive on creating drama with my neighbors.  She has lived here since this past April and is moving on September 1st.

This really upset me, because, again, I do not know this woman at all and have never had a disagreement with her previously or any other neighbor (roommate, sure.)

The first thing I wanted to do after this bizarre exchange of words was have a glass of wine and a cigarette, but I didn't.  I talked to my husband about it and he said when someone lashes out like that, there is usually a lot more behind it that has very little to do with you.

My instinct is to ignore the situation, instead of resolving it.  We leave this Wednesday for Canandaigua, New York and we will be there for the rest of the summer.  I remember the saying from AA meetings that you should not let another person rent space in your head.  So, this must be what was meant, right?

More tomorrow...

Day Three - Making Excuses

Today, I kept myself as busy as possible.  A friend of mine lost her father and celebrated a birthday within the same week and that week was LAST week.  Though I called her immediately, it took me a week to respond properly.  I kept building it up in my mind.  As every day passed, I felt like more and more of a failure as a friend.

I finally went to her house today, which is a ten-minute walk or two-minute drive, armed with a pan of blondies, a great book (Half Broke Horses), and a pair of earrings.  We spent two hours together talking, laughing, and crying about her father, family in general, and experiencing grief.  When her husband brought in two glasses of white wine for the two of us, I did NOT say no.  I drank it, as I think I felt as raw as she did.  I just wanted to be normal, but I am so NOT normal.

The rest of the today prior, I kept myself busy.  I baked my friend blondies first thing in the morning, I fed the kids breakfast, I packed a picnic lunch, we all went to the gym, and then we all went to the park to play for two hours.  I went to a physical therapist for the first time in almost a year after having ACL knee surgery and physical therapy in the Fall of 2013.  I was told at the time of the surgery that I would still be able to exercise, but most likely never be able to run distances again.  It was very sad news to me at the time, because running made me feel so good.  Today, I found out with certain exercises I could run again with the right strengthening exercises.  I may not be a marathon runner, but I  can make a half-marathon my goal.

This news made me so happy, because exercise, especially running had alleviated the anxiety I feel that often caused me to drink.

In the end, I am disappointed that I did not turn down that drink.  I wish that I had, because now I have to start all over again.

Did I mention that my husband is completely unsupportive?

Second Day Stress

This a typical Day Two for me. I have energy again and am able to do the things I am supposed to do: care for the children properly, make meals, clean the house, walk the dog, etc. However, I feel anxious and short-tempered.




When I was working full-time, today is the day I would generally return to work after having called out sick the day before, put my head down and quietly proceed to my office or cube, and try to get as much accomplished as possible. If a supervisor or colleague asked how I was feeling after being struck down with whatever illness I purported to have had the day before, I would try to keep the answer as short and simple as possible. As a rule, I would never lie about my children's illnesses or injuries (bad karma?), but when it came to my own maladies, I exaggerated them or fabricated them altogether (I even looked up symptoms.) I was petrified that someone would see through my lies and realize there was a pattern to my behavior. Every few weeks, I would overindulge and then find it impossible to get up the next day to go to work. I would call in or email my supervisor, preferably email in order to avoid hearing any annoyance or impatience in my supervisor's voice, and then spend the day in bed or on the couch feeling guilty about the lies and disgusted with the way I was conducting my life. Anyone that is or has been an addict can instantly recognize this attendance pattern in a co-worker. Either I have not worked for addicts or nobody ever confronted me about it and voiced a suspicion about what was truly going on. Oddly, I always wished someone would call me out on it and encourage me to get help.




The other thing about Day Two, is that the day the I drank and the physical aftermath seems like a long time ago. It was 48 hours ago! Yet, my brain remembers the night like it was weeks ago. I recently learned that I am literally allergic/addicted to alcohol. The first time, hell fifty times, I drank, I got really ill, as if I had food poisoning. When I had food poisoning from sashimi when I was 12 years old, I did not try sushi until I was 24 because the experience was so awful. When I got ill from drinking two Heineken beers when I was 15, a few more times when drinking in high school, and many times after overindulging in college - I kept going back to it. I suppose throwing up after drinking was a rite of passage for many when drinking, especially in college, so it seemed normal. It would take years for me to develop a high enough tolerance to drink without physical illness and simply have fun and a few more years for drinking to turn ugly.




Today, I went to the gym, took the boys to swimming, went out for a snack at Whole Foods when I picked up a few items for dinner, and took the boys to choose a new book at Barnes and Noble. I am happy I was on the other side of the window today actively participating in my life, but I know that I could not entirely appreciate the time I spent with the boys, because I was so edgy. I lost my patience a few times as well when I should not have. But I am home now, I am satisfied with the day I had and am planning to attend an AA meeting tonight.

Journey to Thirty

Days like today are always the easiest. The day after I drank way too much and smoked way too may cigarettes. The day after I stayed up too late feeling lost and so alone. The details of the previous are murky, but the ultimate outcome is very clear. I am an alcoholic.




Today, like so many hundreds of days after the night before, is the day that I promise myself that I will never drink again and I mean it; that I cry and beg God for his help to "make" me sober; that I watch old episodes of "Intervention" in the hope that I discover some magical secret to getting sober or at least do not feel like such a failure; that I am utterly useless and cannot do the things I promised I would take my children to do - the park, the pool, to eat ice cream, that I feel so sick that I cannot eat; the day that I am so thirsty, but I cannot keep down water. This is the kind of day where I watch the glorious blue sky float by, breeze blowing through the shiny green leaves, and I hear children playing outside laughing from inside my house, from my couch where I am laying crippled with a headache, nausea, and regret.  It has happened so many times and around 6 p.m. when I finally feel normal again, I think, I just let another day of my life pass me by.




I have been abusing alcohol for the past ten years after two years of sobriety. I never drank when trying to get pregnant, while pregnant, or while nursing. There was no temptation during these times, because there was another life dependent on my choices and I loved the baby I was carrying or caring for. Why I cannot treat myself with the same care is perplexing to me.




I have tried to get sober about fifty times over the past two years. I ended up in the psych ward of a local hospital due a panic attack so severe, I felt certain I would die. My mind raced, the heart nearly beat out of my chest, and I felt that I would do anything to stop that feeling that there was no healthy future for me to look forward to. I participated in an intensive outpatient program, for eight weeks. I was sober for nearly one month and then I slipped up.




Since then, I have gone a week, two weeks, three weeks without drinking and truly felt like this time was going to be the time I stayed sober. Then I would deceive myself into drinking again, making excuses, such as: I am lonely (my husband works a lot and I never know when he will be home), I am stressed out (due to being home alone so much, caring for the children falls almost entirely on me, or I am happy or have a reason to celebrate (I will only have one drink, maybe two, I would say to myself, but I would drink and drink until I was drunk. Each time swearing I could control my intake, but knowing full well that I had no idea how drinks I would consume in the course of the evening.)




Recently, there was a shift in my drinking patterns that scares me and has forced me pursue a sober life by any means necessary. There is no way to look at the habit that is forming and say it even close to normal or healthy. I do not drink during the day, I do not drink and drive, I do not drink everyday, but I do try to hide my drinking.




In the past ten years, I have not been ably to put 30 days together (with the exception of pregnancy and nursing.) This blog is going to document my journey through the next 30 days and 30 nights. I am determined to live without alcohol.




This was not supposed to happen to me. This is not the life I was supposed to have. I have wonderful things in my life that I treasure, I want the chance to give them the care and attention they deserve. I want to give myself the care and attention that I deserve.