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day one
Last Sunday should have been a great day. It was my first week that I just work two days. I was staying positive. I didn't get shoved around at work once (OK, only once). Husband found a wad of cash in a parking lot, and inside it was a Wal-mart gift card with $375 dollars left on it! Yeah, should have been great.
But we took some of that cash and bought a bottle of Sobieski rye vodka. It's our go-to drink. It WAS our drink. It's sad, I'm going to miss it a little. But it has to go. Because of what happened on Sunday.
We started mixing this apple/ orange cider I got from work with the vodka. Kind of like a screwdriver. We had finished two of those each before dinner was over. By 2AM we drank the entire liter of booze and 3 bottles of hard cider. The room was beyond spinning. It was fading in and out like a black hole strobe light. I didn't even finish the last drink because I had enough sense to finally try to go to bed.
On the way to the bedroom, my husband lost his balance and fell into my art supplies. He knocked the cart with all my paints and brushes, etc. across the room. Things got broken and went flying everywhere. Some art in frames that was next to it got destroyed. I remember telling him it wasn't a big deal, that is was an accident, and at least he wasn't hurt. I was too fucked up to try to put everything away, so I started kicking things under my desk.
That was the last thing of that night that I remember clearly.
It's probably for the best, because the bits and pieces I do remember are nightmarish and horrifying.
At one point was a lot of running around from room to room. I was trying to be alone, but my husband kept following me saying he wasn't going to let me leave. I know I was screaming as loud as I could. I think I was foaming at the mouth. I know the next morning my eyes were so puffy from crying I could barely open them. And my throat was painfully sore.
I remember at one point I was in bed, trying to sleep, but my husband kept shaking me yelling “You're faking it, you're not asleep, you're just ignoring me. I need your help!” I guess some framed art fell off the wall and glass had gotten everywhere. I couldn't move but he kept screaming at me. I heard myself snoring and I couldn't open my eyes.
At one point I remember getting some energy and charging at him. But I don't remember why. I definitely blacked out for awhile, because the next thing I remember he was shaking me awake again and he was screaming at me that I had pulled out his hair and ripped his shirt. I saw the shirt the next day, and it is done for. It is ripped from the neck all the way down the side. And I don't even remember doing that. My hands hurt like hell. I think I was hitting him as hard as I could. I don't remember pulling out his hair. I do remember being angry. Really angry. More angry than ever, but I don't know why. I remember I got conscious enough at one point to take off my ring and throw it across the room.
We stayed up until 7 AM screaming and yelling and I remember at one point I took everything off my nightstand and started throwing it at him. He woke up with a bad injury on his foot. It might be broken. And he can't remember what he did to it. I don't know if I did it to him or not.
One thing I do remember is breaking down crying and screaming “I need help.” But I wasn't talking about picking up broken glass. I meant that I need help to stop drinking.
I can't not drink if booze is in the house. I've never had lack of willpower like this before. It's frightening to keep doing something that I don't really want to, just because of a voice inside me compelling me to.
Stressed out? Have a drink. Angry? Better have a drink so you're too slow to cause problems. Have reason to celebrate? Well, that calls for a drink. It's Tuesday? Party time.
And maybe it would be OK if I could stop at one. Or two. Or even three. But I can't. Once a bottle is open, that fucker is gone. I can't even count how many nights in the last two months I've stayed up to 2 AM drinking. How many times I've woken up, and have no memory of how I got to bed. Of waking up and seeing things broken or things left all over the floor in strange places. Things go missing. Money goes missing. Life goes missing.
I don't have a choice anymore. I have to stop drinking. I only started because I couldn't get X any more. It might not make sense to some, but that's why.
Alcohol is cheap. It's easy. It's fun (to a point). And it's one of the most normal things I've ever done. It's acceptable. It's advertised on TV. It's shown in movies. It's available free at work when guests leave it behind. Sometimes they leave it with some cash, like it's part of my tip. Like, everyone drinks. So go ahead. It's OK.
But it's not OK. I wish I could sit around sipping over proof Irish whiskey and still function like a normal person. But, I am not a normal person.
I am a fucking addict.
Booze or street drugs or sugar or sex or food or whatever. I overdo everything I enjoy. My brain is faulty and It is hardwired for disaster.
I think my husband finally saw that he has to quit too. I was screaming like an animal. I was pacing like something wild that got thrown into a zoo. I can't do this alone and I can't live with a drinker. And I can't live without my husband. It's nice that he chose me over booze. I honestly wasn't sure if that was going to be the case.
Not because he's a bad person, or that he doesn't love me. But, he's an addict too.
A stupid ass shrink once said to me “We don't recommend addicts living together.” Meaning, my husband and I should separate.
It was at about that point I stopped seeing that bitch. I don't know how I could survive without him. They call it co-dependent, but that is bull shit. It's called care.
Even my husband has trouble not drinking, and he got himself off meth. I remember about two days of him being clean from meth, when I went to see him at work for lunch to make sure he was OK, only to have to watch him sweat through his clothes in a dirty stairwell twitching and dry heaving. And then having to watch him go back to work. And being helpless to do anything but hold his hand and tell him I loved him.
I guess it made an impact.
I don't want to stop drinking. I don't want to NOT stop drinking. I don't want to feel like shit for weeks or months. I want to feel better. I don't want to have to rebuild my life. I don't want to have to rewire my already fried brain.
What if I do something wrong and it blows up on me?
I guess we'll see. Because we made a pact that we are done drinking together. If we want to keep living life together, that third party has to leave. If I want to just stay alive, I have to quit.
So, I have.
There's this thing that runs through my head:
Day one.
Day one again.
Day one again again.
Again.
Again forever.
It's a little OCD rhyme that got stuck there. Because after a bad night of drinking, there it was waiting for me. That “I'll never drink again” saying. That “I've quit” badge of honor.
That day one.
Day one of sobriety.
Day one again. And again. And again.
Worst fucking day of my life.
Over and over again and again and again.
I've even thought of going to AA but I can't sit in a room and pretend there is a god just so I don't drink my wages and send my liver down the drain. And they say it's not my fault. But it is. Fuck yeah it is. I knew the green demon lives in that firewater. I've seen it consume most of my family and friends. It was a choice.
Thought about out patient rehab. My last shrink told me to go. Don't know why he couldn't counsel me about it. Maybe because he was a fucking retard. I joined the Women for Sobriety forum, but they don't have actual meetings in my little hick town. I've never actually logged into their site. I don't do chat rooms.
I have never needed help before. Whenever I've really needed someone, they are not there anyway. So I just trained myself to be as self-sufficient as I could be. In the past, if I set my mind to something, it happens. Manifest what I want, and I got it.
For this, I need help. I have known I needed help. But there was no one there to help me. Misery loves company, I guess.
It's scary as hell having to rely on someone else but I am glad I won't have to do this alone.
8:03 PM - Tuesday, Nov. 07, 2017
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