I slipped again two weeks ago. I am finally ready to just call it a relapse. One long drawn out relapse full of slips since last May. Slipped… sober 3 months… slip…sober a month… slipped again. And each time, something bad happened. The first time I lost a favorite dress. The 2nd time I scratched up my shins doing laundry drunk. And this 3rd time, I dropped a shopping bag with a Dali clock I just bought and broke the stand. I am gluing it back together as much as I can but actually hope the cracks will remind me to stay sober!
I keep saying “I am back on track” after each slip. But obviously I need to make a change. I need to do something. I really want to stay sober. I have experienced many of the benefits. I don’t want to face anymore of the horrors. I know everyone is going to say “go to meetings” and “get a sponsor.” I almost went to a meeting last night but decided to go to bed early.
This latest slip was in Barcelona. Well, actually in Figueres after visiting the Salvador Dali museum. Sangria was included in the special at lunch. I got tipsy while talking with an American couple sitting next to me about the Dali museum and travels. Towards the end of my meal and half pitcher, I felt they were judging me. I felt they were disappointed for some reason. “Look at this drunk traveler.” Was I slurring? I think my feelings of guilt were making me paranoid.
I had dinner that night in Barcelona with a friend and her friend. She knows I am sober but her friend did not. They ordered a pitcher of sangria but I declined the glass when the waiter brought me one. My friend apologized for the pitcher when her friend went to the bathroom. I wanted to confess my afternoon drinking session but I was ashamed.
The next day I planned to walk around the city taking photos. I headed to the Barri Gothic area. But I felt an itch everytime I past a place offering sangria. I finally stopped and ordered a half pitcher with pizza. Then I spent the rest of the day walking around, taking photos, and stopping for sangria. I stopped at 3 different places along the Ramblas. I kept telling myself I deserved it. I was relaxing. I was people watching. I came to Spain to see the Dali museum and accomplished that so now there was no hurry.
I got drunk and started to chat with a local guy online. Soon we made plans to meet. I spent the night at his place. We did not actually have sex because he couldn’t get it up. But I am disgusted at the risky situation I put myself in. And the next day, I went back to the room I was renting and slept most of the day. A wasted day.
That evening I did get to an AA meeting. It was a big book meeting. I don’t remember what the reading was but I did not relate to it. I felt out of sorts. The shame and guilt were worse than a hangover.
So I am at 2 weeks sober today. Again. Pink fucking fluffy cloud.